#I like how I said I wasn’t gonna render it AND THEN I DID.

[thehoneybeestings]

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐮𝐦

𝐯𝐢 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Word Count: 2.3k

Synopsis: After years of competing for the title of Star Senior at Piltover Springs Dance School, the hatred that Violet Lanes and Y/n Y/l/n have garnered for each other is rendered a waste when in a turn of events, they are both awarded the distinction. When this forces them to confront what feelings they have for each other outside of unbridled loathing, they find that the line between hatred and lust is much finer than they thought...

Continuation of this headcanon (can be read alone, though; you'll just miss out on some context)

Content/Warnings: nsfw, smut!, top! vi, bottom! reader, low-key softdom! vi, lowkey subby! reader, reader has female anatomy, reader referred to with feminine terms/pet names (princess, good girl, etc.), oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), semi-public sex, mirror sexxxx, lots of consent checks bc vi you are so sweetie, can't not think of Wicked when i hear the phrase "unadulterated loathing" so i am sorry if you are in the same boat

A/N: okay guys... here it is teehee. thank you SO much for all of the love on my dancer! vi x dancer! r headcanon; I honestly did not expect it! i really really enjoyed writing for this little plotline and I'm glad you guys enjoyed it, too; and i hope this scene brings it justice... enjoy! mwah ha ha

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐁𝐞𝐞 ୨ৎ

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; Vi, with a knee slotted in between your legs, hands splayed across your torso as she kissed you, and you, pinned between her body and the ballet bar behind you, whimpering into her mouth as you rode her thigh… 

The two of you were staying late at the dance studio to see if you could finally manage to perfect the lift in your duet that had been kicking your ass, and somewhere along the way, you’d found out just how fine the line between hatred and lust could be. 

What possessed you to step- no, leap- over said line, you didn’t know, but you resigned to mulling over that later, when your sworn enemy wasn’t pulling at the hair on the nape of your neck.

Her tongue traces the line of your throat before she latches on; it isn’t long before she gets carried away and you let out a hiss at the pinch of her teeth on your pulse. 

Her movements come to a halt. “Shit,” she’d exhale, “Sorry, didn’t mean to-”

“Keep going.” 

She raises a brow, rearing her head back to look at you.“Yeah? I'm gonna leave a mark if I do.”

“I don’t care what you do, just want you to keep going.”

Who is she to deny such a sweet request?

She resumes her attack on the sensitive skin until the mark on your neck is to her liking. She pulls back to assess her handiwork, and you can’t help but chuckle at her concentration through your haze. 

“Seriously? I think you're good, Vi.”

“Just makin’ sure,” she’d say with a lop-sided grin. 

You shoot her a grin of your own. “Don’t worry; I know you don’t like to share.”

“No,” she begins before leaning in, her smile barely brushing your own, “I don’t.”

Your lips would meet again, tongues moving slow and languid against each other as she rocks into you just the same. The contact- however delicious- isn’t quite enough, and it’s starting to drive you crazy. Your breath is getting heavier, your whines more shameless, and you’ve started meeting each rock of her leg with the rock of your hips. You’re chasing more- you need more- and Vi can tell. 

She’s not going to make it easy for you, of course. 

She plants the heel of her foot back on the ground, separating her knee from the heat between your thighs.

“Wh-what?” You plead breathlessly, “Why’d you stop?”

“You sure you can handle this, sweetheart? You’re falling apart and I’m not even inside you yet.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet hers, wild and desperate. 

“What,” she’d ask, cocking her head to the side, “Is that what you want? You want me inside?” 

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, please, that’s what I want.” 

You swear you can see her pupils blow out. You were begging for her. You’d been icing her out for the past seven years, and now, here you were, begging for her.

If this was a dream… then she was sure she’d wake up soon, and she wanted to taste you first.

“Can you hold out for just a little longer?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “I mean, yeah… why?”

And then, Violet Lanes is on her knees in front of you.

“Oh. That's why.” Your smile is bashful as you look down at her, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Can I?” She peers up at you, hands toying with the waistband of your sweatpants.

“Fuck yes, you can.”

A satisfied smirk spreads across her face, and she tugs the sweatpants down to your ankles, leaving you to step out of the rest of the pooled material.

“Alright, baby; toss your leg up,” she commands, guiding your leg over her shoulder with a hand behind your thigh. Your hands grip the ballet bar behind you, and you hope to God you’ll be able to hold yourself up through the feeling of her mouth on you.

“You good? Holding on tight?”

“Yeah, yeah; I’m good.” 

She nods from below you with a smile, and her hand comes trailing up the calf swung over her shoulder to the plush of your thigh seated next to her head. She’s got an arm wrapped around your other leg, securing you in place.

Your breath begins to stutter as she places open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh, your body twitching and tensing in anticipation each time she grows closer to where you need her.

“Relax,” she purrs, thumb rubbing circles into the meaty flesh beside her.

You nod, closing your eyes and leaning your head back with a sigh; and when she finally places a kiss on the patch of wetness soaking through your underwear, you fucking melt.

“Good girl,” she draws out, feeling your weight press into her fully. “You still good with this?”

“Violet, I’m gonna lose my mind if your mouth isn’t on me in-”

You yelp as she pulls your underwear to the side to lick a stripe up from the nectar pooling at your entrance to the hardened pearl above it. 

“Not sure you’re in any position to make demands here, sugar plum.”

Your eyes roll back into your head when she attaches her lips to your clit, and when she sucks, your hand shoots down to grab at the hair on her crown. 

She moans into you- noted- and her tongue darts back down to lap at your wetness, trailing up, then down, then up, then down, collecting as much as she can on the tip of her warm tongue. 

“Fuck, princess; you taste so fucking good.”

She barely lets herself finish her sentence- words muffled in your pussy- before she’s back on your clit, swirling her tongue in circles around the swollen bud. 

The grip you have on her hair is tighter now, your thighs trembling, your features knit together in pleasure; you look down to find Vi so lost in between your legs that you don’t even think she notices how close you are.

You loosen your grip on her hair to tap rapidly on her shoulder. “V-Vi, baby,” 

As pussy drunk as she is, her head still snaps up at the sound of the pet name on your tongue. Her lips are swollen and glossy with your slick, her cheeks flushed red as the hair on her head. 

“What’s up, princess?” 

“J-just… gonna cum soon,” you pant, “want you inside first…”

“Yeah?” she smirks, gently guiding your leg off of her shoulder. She stands up, hand gripping your waist as she leans to press a sloppy kiss on your lips; and fuck, you can taste yourself on her mouth. 

“Wanna cum on my fingers?” She asks in between kisses; and you nod against her mouth, hand on the back of her head pulling her impossibly close.

She chuckles into your mouth before pulling away to drink in your features; your pleading eyes, your soft lips, the rapid rise and fall of your chest.

“You’re beautiful.” 

There was that look: so soft. So soft that you could hardly stand it, your head lowering in order to escape it. 

“Oh? You’re shy now?” 

You giggle- and she wonders if that sound had always been so sweet- before pushing at her chest.

“Shut up. I'm not shy.”

“Oh, yeah?” The raise of her brow and the cockiness of her voice says she’s got something planned. 

“Turn around for me, then.”

“I-I… what? I’m-”

“Turn. Around.”

Her grip on your waist tightens, and she’s twisting your hips until suddenly, you’re face-to-face with your own reflection.

“There’s my pretty girl,” she lulls, head dropping down to plant a kiss on your shoulder. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Y-yeah… yeah,” you breathe out. You’re watching yourself come undone for her.

“Look at me.”

You’re a little embarrassed at how quickly you obey.

“You look away, and I stop, yeah?”

You whine. “Vi, really? Just-”

For a moment, the intensity of her gaze disappears, as if she’s dropped whatever persona she’d been assuming; as if she was making herself smaller for you

“If you don’t like this, just let me know. Don’t want you uncomfortable or all in your head, yeah?” 

You quirk a smile at her consideration. “No… I like it. I trust you.”

She smirks at you. “Just being a brat, then?” 

Your eye roll answers that question.

“Just being a brat. Got it. Eyes on me then, baby.”

And then, she’s pulling your- now soaked- underwear down to your thighs, reaching down to glide her middle and ring fingers through your slick, and your eyes flutter shut, and you’ve already broken the one rule she gave you.

“Y/n,” she scolds, her fingers halting. 

Your eyes fly open to find her again, and you’re muttering out a desperate apology, rocking back on her fingers, seeking any sensation you can get. 

Her free arm comes around to circle your waist, holding you in place so that you can’t chase your release on your own. “I gave you one rule, sweetheart. Keep those pretty eyes on me and I promise I’ll make you cum.”

You nod frantically, eyes never leaving her own, even as she brings her fingers up to rub your own wetness into your clit; even as those fingers sink into you from behind, three knuckles deep.

“Jesus fuck,” she curses, “fuckin’ swallowing me.”

Your thighs are already shaking, your walls fluttering around her fingers as they adjust to the new fullness.

“Gonna move now, okay?” she warns before pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“Yes,” you nod, “yes- fuck!”

You call out as her hand flips over, fingers rotating inside you to press into the ridges of nerves on your front wall.

“That didn’t take long to find…” she muses.

“Fuck you,” you scoff to the best of your ability- although it doesn’t really pack a punch when you look so blissed out- and Vi laughs at you.

She fucking laughs, and you remember for a moment what makes her so damn annoying; but then, she’s pistoning into you, and your mind goes blank.

You feel high off of her fingers, limbs tingling and head fuzzy, completely out of control of whatever sounds are coming out of your mouth. You can vaguely hear “fuck, yes,” and “shit, shit, shit,” and “please, Vi, please” in your own voice. You can vaguely hear the obscene sounds of her fingers moving in and out of your slick, which is, no doubt, dripping down your thighs by now. You can vaguely make out her focused expression through the stars you’re seeing.

When she brings her mouth to the shell of your ear to speak to you, though, it’s her voice that brings you back down to earth. “You with me, sweet girl? Focused on me?”

If you focus any harder on her fingers slipping in and out of you, or on the way her breath picks up in your ear, or on the furrow of her own brow, you’ll cum.

Wait… shit, you're about to cum.

“Vi,” you call out, eyes widening, “I’m gonna- I’m so close- fuck, please.”

In a second, the arm around your waist is unraveling, and she reaches down to rub tight circles onto your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge.

You can’t fucking help it; your eyes roll back, head falling back onto her shoulder, breaking the one rule she gave you.

“Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry, I can’t-” 

You’re near tears as her hands continue their ministrations. “ ‘S alright baby,” she coos, “You’re doing so fucking good, just want you to cum for me.”

And with a guttural noise you’ve never heard yourself make, you’re doing just that; spasming on her fingers, legs shaking underneath you, knuckles white as they grip the ballet bar you’re practically doubled over. 

Vi works you through your orgasm until your hand is shooting down in between your legs, shooing her own away. “Shit, that’s enough… ‘m all done.”

She’s careful pulling out, taking the two digits into her own mouth before pulling your underwear back up in place. Her hands return to your hips, turning your body back towards her. You still haven’t opened your eyes; still trying to catch your breath.

“Hey,” she speaks softly, pulling you in, “You okay?”

When you open your eyes, she’s smiling down at you like she adores you. It’s so tender, so gentle; so much so that in the come down off the high you’d just experienced, you start to tear up.

“I’m sorry,” you begin with a sniffle, “for being such an asshole all this time.”

“Woah, woah, woah- first of all, so was I; but more importantly, you’re fucked out right now. Just worry about catching your breath for a few minutes, okay love?”

You give her a weak chuckle as she pulls away to gather your previously discarded bottoms. She leans down in front of you, guiding your legs as she directs you to put “one foot in… okay, now the other,” before pulling them up to their place on your hips.

You thank her with a smile, and she waves you off in response.

“Do you, uh…” she’s nervously rubbing the back of her neck as if she weren’t just demanding that you keep your eyes on her while she plowed you, “do you think you’d wanna come back to my place? Powder’s over at Ekko’s and my Dad has game nights with his friends every Wednesday, so it’ll just be us. We can just chill, watch a movie or something, order food if you want. Just… don’t wanna ditch you or anything, wanna make sure you’re all good after-”

“That sounds perfect, Violet.” 

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

You’re not quite sure how seven years of pure, unadulterated loathing between you and Violet Lanes had led to this; a sleepover at her house, watching shitty action movies together, splitting a pizza, and falling asleep on the couch with your limbs tangled together.

But here you were. And it really was perfect; and everyone knows that you don’t settle for less than perfect.

𝐄𝐍𝐃 ୨ৎ

Taglist: @spidercat-soccerfan, @lipglosskxsses, @baylegend6

[ddarker-dreams]

I'm clutching on the bars rn pls give us more bf blade content before I explode

I GOTCHU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i'm joining you in rattling the bars of my enclosure .... bf blade is making me feel Things ... .

warnings: fem reader, not sfw implications

While changing into a new shirt, a deep voice drawls your name. 

Your heart jumps in your chest. If it weren’t for the recognizable timbre, you may have shrieked. It’s a small blessing that you’ve been spared this indignation. Huffing, you turn on your heels, pulling down the bunched-up fabric to cover yourself. 

“I thought you promised to stop jumpscaring me,” you chastise. 

The jumpscare in question — Blade — fixates on your previously exposed midriff. You note how his eyebrows pinch together, though you’re unsure what to make of it. He doesn’t acknowledge your comment. Not even with what Silver Wolf’s decreed his ‘limited NPC dialogue’ (a grunt, hum, nose exhale, or the occasional chuckle, solely procured by your antics). 

“Lift your shirt,” Blade requests. 

“Eh?” You stare at him like he has three heads. “Sorry, I’m waiting until marriage for that.” 

He gives you an unimpressed look. 

“Fine, fine, whatever,” you grumble, acquiescing to the strange demand, “And they said romance is dead…” 

Blade kneels onto one knee. Before you can reiterate the marriage comment was a joke, his gloved fingers hover over the sides of your hips. The leather is cool against your rapidly warming skin. Once you overcome your initial confusion, you consider his countenance. He’s frowning, his eyes playing host to emotions you can’t quite place. His thumb rubs circles into the skin, softly enough to be mistaken for a ghost’s kiss. He appears to be in deep thought. 

You’re rendered speechless — a most commendable feat. 

“These bruises,” Blade murmurs, his voice hollow and haunted, “Did I…?” 

Realization crashes into you like a meteorite. 

You yank the fabric down. “Well, uh, yes, but—” 

(He goes pale as a sheet, further increasing the urgency behind your words). 

“—It’s okay! You didn’t— it wasn’t— I didn’t mind,” you reassure. Clearing your throat, you continue, fighting against the embarrassment scorching you alive. “If anything, I… was into it, so…” 

You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. His arms fall limp to his side as he mulls over what you’ve said, clearly unwilling to accept it at face value. Uncertain of what else to do, you join him on the ground, sitting on your shins. You take his face in your hands, brushing aside his bangs that’d obscured his eyes. His hair’s silky smooth, thanks to your products and insistence on combing through the knots. 

“Hey, old man,” you hum. “All that frowning’s gonna make you look your prehistoric age. You don’t want some young, dashing whippersnapper to steal me away, do ya?” 

Blade scowls. Smiling softly, you boop him on the nose, to which he scrunches it up. 

Your voice takes on a more serious cadence. “You didn’t hurt me. You could never hurt me. I trust you, so… trust me on this, okay? Just this once?” 

It’s gradual. He relaxes his shoulders, then the taut muscles of his face, basking in your closeness. He leans into your touch, reminding you of a stray cat that’s steadily being domesticated. You let the silence linger for as long as he sees fit. Eventually, his gaze meets yours. 

“... It’s a dangerous game you play, girl.”

I’m dangerous, the insatiable hunger in his eyes screams. I long to devour you, mind and soul. 

To this, you grin. 

“It’s a good thing I’ve already won, then.” 

[chvoswxtch]

by any means necessary

pairing: matt murdock x fem!reader

summary: matt finds out who's pulling the strings at s.h.i.e.l.d.

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood and violence

word count: 2.9k

a/n: it wouldn't be a marvel series without a cameo. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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When Matt regained consciousness, he could feel the intensity of his blood pumping through his vessels too violently, causing an incessant throbbing on the side of his skull. With a quiet groan, he lifted his hand to tenderly touch the source of the pain, grimacing at the soreness. He felt a little off equilibrium, but as he fully woke up, he realized he was in a room he didn’t recognize.

He also realized his cowl was gone. 

And so was his suit.

Before he could panic, his ears perked up at the sound of a familiar heartbeat. The room smelled sterile, almost like a hospital, but there was a unique blend of spiced vanilla intertwined with jasmine. A scent he’d come to associate with only one person. His sightless hazel eyes fixed over in the direction where he knew she was sitting.

“Where am I?”

“S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters.”

He could feel her watching him, studying him. She was as calm as ever.

“There’s water and Advil on the table.”

Matt slowly pushed himself to sit up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed he’d been laying on, but he didn’t reach for the water bottle or the pills.

“What the hell did you do to me?”

“I tased you.”

Matt whipped his head in her direction, his thick brows knitting together in the middle of his forehead as his lips parted. He hadn’t even noticed she’d had a taser on her wrist. God, no wonder that had been so fucking painful.

“And I knocked you out.”

Matt pressed his lips together in a firm line. She could see his sightless eyes blazing with untamed fury. He was pissed. 

“If you’re looking for an apology-”

“I’d never expect anything decent from you.”

Matt snapped suddenly, rendering her silent for the first time since he’d met her. He could tell his words had struck a nerve. It was subtle, but he caught it. She sat up a little straighter, and her nails dug into her palms harshly. 

“You didn’t tell me you were gonna kill them.”

“Because it wasn’t your business.”

Matt turned his body in her direction, his expression pure vexation, although she could see a hint of disgust that sunk like a stone in her stomach, but she steeled herself against it.

“You lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“You don’t think omission isn’t a lie?”

Matt asked incredulously, tilting his head to the side as his brows furrowed in annoyance.

“I never said we were going to do this your way.”

Matt let out a dry scoff, shaking his head as he let it drop slightly between his shoulders. He gripped onto the edge of the bed, clicking his tongue against his cheek.

“And is this S.H.I.E.L.D.’s way? Murdering innocent people?”

“They were hardly innocent. You know what they are. You know what they’re doing.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to execute them. That’s not justice. Whether you like it or not, there’s a system. There’s laws. They’re innocent until proven guilty-”

“Innocence is relevant to what side of the fence you’re on.”

Matt clenched his jaw so hard it made his teeth ache. His nostrils flared as his breathing became heavier. The more his temper became incensed, the harder his blood pumped in his veins, his throbbing headache now pounding like his head was being slammed against a brick wall repeatedly.

“That’s a dangerous way of thinking. You can justify anything with that logic, no matter how evil it is.”

“I don’t believe in evil, Matthew. There are horrible people in this world who do horrible things, for greed, power, or pleasure. It’s not my job to figure out which one it is. It’s my job to prevent it, by any means necessary.”

“Even if it means doing unforgivable things yourself.”

Matt’s voice was dripping with venom and disdain, his bruised knuckles going stark white as the skin became tautly stretched over the bone from his iron grip.

Her eyes narrowed when he looked at her like that. The accusation was clear as day in his tone.

“And you think what you do isn’t unforgivable?”

“I’m not a killer-”

“Well you’re not a fucking saint either. You think because of your little golden rule, and because you spend your days defending people in a courtroom, that excuses what you do at night? How many bones have you broken, Matthew? How much blood have you shed in your own city, in one way or another? How many people have you left permanently damaged in this self imposed crusade of yours? Because I can count at least four just from last night.”

Matt clenched his jaw tightly again, the bones of his teeth grinding against each other, the unpleasant noise making him twitch. He wanted to argue. He wanted to lash out, let his stubborn pride win out, prove to her that she was wrong.

But he couldn’t. Because deep down, she wasn’t wrong. And he hated that.

“If you want to throw on a costume and pretend that all the shitty things you do are committed by some darker part of you that you can’t control, then fine. That’s your business. My moral compass may not be as squeaky clean as yours, but at least it doesn’t change depending on which one of my personalities takes over.”

Matt was seething as he sat there, unable to formulate a rebuttal. He had nothing to combat with. They both knew it. She saw right through him, and that made him feel unsettled.

“Quit being stubborn and take the goddamn Advil. You look like you’re about to have an aneurysm.”

She swiftly stood up and turned to walk towards the door, her heeled boots clicking against the floor. Matt rubbed his hand down his weary face, his fingers brushing against the fabric of the shirt he was wearing. A frown tugged down the edges of his mouth, and he grimaced.

Cotton.

His previous frustration gave way to puzzlement. This wasn’t his shirt. He didn’t own anything cotton, it was too rough on his sensitive skin, like sandpaper. The shirt also felt two sizes too small. Brushing his hand over his thigh, he felt a blend of cotton and polyester, and his confusion mounted even further. These weren’t his sweatpants either.

“Where’s my suit?”

“In the duffel on the floor.”

Matt turned his head in her direction, cocking his head to the side.

“Did you undress me?”

“Did you want me to drag you through headquarters with your horns on?”

Matt’s lips parted to speak, and then closed abruptly, creases of confusion indenting his forehead. 

“I don’t understand. I thought S.H.I.E.L.D.-”

“Only a handful of people know.”

Matt didn’t even realize how concerned he was about that until he felt the weight of relief lift off his shoulders. The idea that an entire government agency knew his secret was daunting, but hearing that only a handful of people knew made him feel more relaxed. But then his brows furrowed again as a follow up thought crossed his mind.

“So you brought me in naked?”

“You had your underwear on. But if anyone asks, you’re a civilian who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I stopped by your apartment and grabbed you some clothes-”

“How do you keep breaking into my apartment?”

“You don’t lock the rooftop door, and I know how to pick locks.”

The rooftop door. So that’s how she was getting in. 

“Get dressed. Take the Advil. Someone wants to talk to you.”

Without another word, she slipped out of the room, leaving Matt with more questions than answers. That seemed to be a common theme in their encounters.

»»———　　———««

Matt grasped his cane in his right hand, tapping it back and forth on the floor as they walked down one of the hallways of S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, his left hand grasping her elbow. He picked up bits and pieces of different conversations from passing employees, some of it generic small talk, some of it details of important operations. He never stopped to think about how much intel they must have, not just on New York, or even on this planet, but all the ones that existed beyond it. 

Aliens were another thing Matt had never stopped to think about. He was a man of faith, he believed in God and the Devil, but the idea of alien existence had always seemed…silly to him. A childish ideology that required an active imagination and the ability to suspend reality in a limitless way.

But then aliens had come out of the sky and attacked New York in 2012. They were real. There was another god besides the one Matt had been raised to believe in that could conjure thunder and lightning, and he was real. People with abilities were real. And all of it made Matt feel small and insignificant and…human if he stopped to think about it too long.

“Y/L/N!”

A man’s voice boomed from behind them, his heavy footsteps echoing against the floor as he advanced towards the pair, pulling Matt out of his internal conflict. Beside him, she let out an annoyed breath.

“Not now, Owens.”

Suddenly a man appeared at her side, his hand reaching out to grip her arm to force her to stop walking, tugging her to face him. Since Matt was holding her elbow, the action forced him to stop walking as well, shifting slightly in the same direction. He stiffened at the stranger’s action, his grip tightening on his cane, taking half a step forward to intervene, but he felt her hand reach up to give his wrist a subtle double tap, a silent communication. 

“I’m escorting a civilian.”

“He can escort himself.”

“No he can’t.”

The man looked down at her in annoyance before his blue eyes landed on Matt. He looked him up and down, noticing the dark red tinted sunglasses and the cane, managing to put two and two together. Clearing his throat, he stood up straighter and held his hand out, making an attempt to be polite after realizing Matt was blind. 

“My apologies, sir. I didn’t realize you were…I’m Captain Scott Owens.”

Matt made no move to reach out and shake his hand.

“He can’t see that dumbass.”

The edges of Matt’s lips twitched in amusement at her blunt callout. Scott’s lips pressed together in a firm line as he looked down at her.

“It’s common courtesy.”

“What? To be polite to a blind man only after you notice he’s blind? I thought they raised you Southern boys better than that.”

Matt could sense the man’s blood pressure raising, and it took every ounce of self control to not snicker at her smooth verbal lashing. Her sharp tongue and dry wit were entertaining when he wasn’t the one on the end of it. Clearing his throat, Matt gave him a faint nod.

“Matthew Murdock.”

“Mr. Murdock, can I have a moment alone with Agent Y/L/N?”

“Whatever you wanna say to me you can say in front of him.”

“He’s a civilian-”

“He’s my lawyer.”

Scott’s face twisted up in confusion, his taupe brows knitting together as he glanced between her and Matt in barely concealed disbelief.

“Lawyer? We have a legal team.”

“And?”

“Why do you need a lawyer if we have a legal team?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Scott clenched his jaw, his nostrils flaring as he stared down at her in disdain. His hardened gaze flickered between her and Matt before landing back on her.

“Fine. You want him to stay, he stays. He can hear all about how untrustworthy and conniving you are, although if he’s your lawyer, I’m sure he knew that already.” 

“Is there a point to your rambling, or do you just really like the sound of your own voice.”

“Goddamnit Y/L/N, that was my fucking operation. My men are the ones who went undercover to gather most of that intel. It was my men that found out that Constantin was going to be there last night-”

“He wasn’t.”

“It doesn't matter. It was still my intel. You wouldn’t have had it without me. You wouldn’t have gotten Tarasov last night without me. And I can’t even fucking interrogate him because thanks to you, he’s in intensive care with a concussion and a bullet in the knee, breathing through a goddamn tube.”

Tarasov wasn’t dead. She hadn’t killed him. Matt felt some of the weight lift off his chest at that. It also made him feel slightly guilty about his outburst earlier.

“He’s not yours to interrogate.”

It seemed as though Matt wasn’t the only one that got pissed off by her unnerving calmness. Matt could feel how wound up Scott was, like he was seconds away from exploding.

“You fucking-”

“You’re arrogant.”

Scott had taken a step forward to get in her face, but abruptly paused at her indelicate comment. Pure offense twisted up his features as he stared down at her.

“Excuse me?”

“I said you’re arrogant. You wanna know why you weren’t chosen to lead this operation? Because your ego gets in the way of your effectiveness. Your pride causes you to make stupid mistakes, mistakes we can’t afford. And quite frankly, you don’t have what it takes. You can’t make the hard decisions that need to be made. This isn’t the Boy Scouts. This is the grey area between black and white. It’s messy, it’s complicated, and sometimes you get your hands dirty.”

Scott stood up straighter and squared his shoulders, glaring down at her with a dry scoff. 

“I’m a Captain in the Army, you think I haven’t gotten my hands dirty?”

“I think you prefer to make other people pull the trigger so you don’t have to. And you fall back on shifting the blame to whoever your orders came from so that you don’t have to be the bad guy, because you can’t stand not being the hero.”

Scott took another step forward, letting out a dry humorless laugh as he stared down at her. Matt stiffened once again, preparing to intervene.

“And you don’t mind being the bad guy, that it?”

“No. I don’t.”

The way she said it made the hairs on the back of Matt’s neck stand up. She meant it. Her heartbeat didn’t waver. It was more strong and steady than he’d ever heard it. Scott clearly hadn’t expected that answer either, or the intensity of her delivery, because her icy tone seemed to melt his anger, and he promptly took a step back. 

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have somewhere to be. Unless you wanna come up and explain to him why I was late?”

She cocked her head to the side, and Matt could hear the taunting challenge in her voice. Whoever she was talking about, Scott did not want to piss off, because he immediately cleared his throat and backed off, shaking his head.

“No. We’ll uh…finish this later.”

Giving Matt’s arm a gentle tug, they continued walking towards the end of the hall. 

“Who the hell is he?”

“Dimestore Captain America wannabe.”

“He’s a super soldier?”

“No. He’s just another blonde haired blue eyed white guy that did well in the Army, and now thinks he’s special. He’s also delusional enough to compare himself to Steve Rogers, and to even think that he’s worthy to be the new Captain.”

“I thought Sam Wilson was the new Captain America?” 

“Sam Wilson is Captain America.”

“So what does that make Owens?”

“A narcissist.”

Matt let out a chuckle despite himself, following her into the elevator.

“Well, I think we‘ve finally found common ground.” 

As they slipped into the elevator, Matt let go of her elbow, holding his cane vertically in front of his body with both of his hands.

“Director’s Floor.”

“Matthew Murdock does not have clearance for Director’s Floor.”

An automated female voice sounded through the speakers, and Matt’s brows furrowed in confusion hearing his name.

“Override and update access. Y/L/N, Y/N.”

“Confirmed.”

With that, the elevator doors shut, and they began to ascend.

“What was that?”

“Security protocol.”

“The elevator knows my name.”

“The A.I. security protocol knows your name.”

“How?”

“Facial recognition.”

“What if I don’t want my face to be recognized?”

Letting out a deep sigh, she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“For fucks sake Murdock, I just gave you clearance that ninety percent of the people in this building don’t even have. Are you always this bad at accepting gifts?”

Matt opened his mouth to fire back, but then the elevator doors opened with a ding to signify their arrival, and a voice called out. 

“Mr. Murdock.”

Matt’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. He’d heard it before. It was unmistakable who it belonged to. He hesitated for a moment before stepping out of the elevator, but he only took three steps forward. Steady footsteps grew louder in volume and closer in distance until they stopped right in front of Matt.

“Welcome to S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters. Pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Nick Fury.”

tags: @the-swift-escape @lambmurdock @lunakkey @Lfdybadgirlsdiw @devilmurdock64 @moonyinthestars @suits-and-smirks @day-dreaming-goddess @natashasotherhalf @rebel13lion39 @pixelfaery @ebsmind @mattmurdocksscars @ahhhhhhhydbhdg @ayupcap @thepassionatereader @awenthealchemist @zomtart @superrbffun @buckypops @snicksbabe @redroomproperty @angel113431 @18raven @a-sunflower-in-bloom @shadypaperwitch @lizziela @givemylovetoall @dreadful-secrets @dreadfulxives18 @jjprxntiss @bigratbitchsworld @s1xthirty @daisy-the-quake @raven18 @hipwell @scorpiovelaryon @yiiiikesmish @mel-thefrog @ponyosmom35 @daisydark @xoxabs88xox @punkshyteee @abbyhaslongshorts @wolvierinee @snowflames-world

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[mushroomflood]

Can I ask how you’re feeling about the new trailer? :)

Ok, buckle up, you’ve opened the floodgates :). I am so glad that the trailer has finally been released. I followed a “days until sonic movie 3” page (that has now been deleted 😞) back when there was ~600 days left. There is now 114!! Thats practically right around the corner, I am salivating at the mouth for this.

They have been giving us nothing of this movie so far. Like small scraps of “this is Maria’s actress!” here and “Keanu might be voicing Shadow” there. Finally we’ve gotten something, and I think Shadow looks amazing. I love him riding his motorbike, doing the little drift, beating everyone up, and just being cool in general. Im so ready for him to wreak havoc and I can tell there’s gonna be a lot of Shadow and Sonic rivalry (to friends arc) going on. Also, Maria!! I cant wait for her demise (sorry Shadow). I just wanna see where they go with his backstory, and cute little snippets of him before he hated everyone.

The movie models are just so well rendered, so I am looking forward to seeing new scenes of all my boys (no girls it looks like). While a lot of people are really disappointed that it seems like Amy,Rouge, etc. won’t be in the movie, I never really thought they would be, and don’t necessarily want them to be either. I think the movie would be better focusing on Shadow and Sonic(+Knuckles+Tails).

I am a bit worried about critics, as the Knuckles Series got a lot of hate when it really wasn’t bad. Like, it had some childish and/or unfunny parts, and it did focus more on Wade than I would have preferred. But at the end of the day it was centered around my absolute fav character, and any new Knuckles content I will eat up. We would never have seen him in his silly little hat if it wasn’t for the series, so who cares if it wasn’t the best. It gave us hours of new Knuckles scenes to talk about, and I think a lot of it treated him pretty well.

But, if people start hating on the new movie like that, it will really sap the joy out of it. So I hope everyone will try to find stuff to enjoy, instead of stuff to nitpick. …That being said, I really hope they don’t treat Knuckles like a joke. He gets put into ‘comedic relief’ way too often, and even though Boom!Knuckles holds a special place in my heart, I would rather Knuckles’ character be treated seriously. He has so much potential, and I don’t want him to slowly slide back into the meathead character bc he’s way more than that.

The trailer didn’t exactly do him justice, but all of the boys got beaten real easy, so I’m holding out hope that he won’t continue to blunder. Since the movie is gonna be focused on Shadow and Sonic, I don’t think Knuckles (and even Tails) will get as much screen time. And while that does suck, it’s not horrible. If we get some family bonding and brotherly interactions, I’ll be happy. I just hope that they do Knuckles right for the time he is there. Please treat him carefully sonic movie universe, I beg you. He is my baby.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

ℭ𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔡!𝔗𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔵 ℭ𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢 𝔘𝔰𝔢𝔯!ℜ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝑴𝑫𝑵𝑰 🎀Age in bio or blocked🎀

Summary: When Toji is contracted to kill you, he doesn't expect this to be how the situation turns out. He really should have read your file before the hunt...

Warnings: gratuitous smut, no real plot, porn without plot, toji is whipped for reader, mentions of murder, toji is contracted to kill reader.

A/N: In the words of the great poetess Megan Thee Stallion, "Men are objects to me."

Thank you to @ominouslywritinginmyhead for doing such a quick job of proofing this.

As always likes and reblogs are appreciated 🩷

Toji couldn’t remember how many times he had come close to the edge only to be harshly pulled back from it again. 

He had been chased by a curse while trying to hunt you down. A curse that zapped him of his strength and rendered him unable to move. Unable to use his weapons to, not only defend himself but also to attack and kill you. 

You, more beautiful than he’d expected – the pictures shown to him didn’t do you justice. You, more dangerous than he’d expected – the file he hadn’t read about you not properly disclosing your abilities. You. 

Now you sat above him, skirt bunched around your waist, pumping your swollen pussy onto him, over and over as he pleaded and whimpered.

“Please doll, don’t. Please let me come this time���Fuck–” 

But all you did was smirk at him and continue, slowly drawing out each movement, each slow thrust. 

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to do whatever I liked with you, Toji?” you quipped back. 

Toji felt lost. You had both his arms pinned above his head with just one of yours. Your cursed technique that had made him kneel in front of you and beg for his life hadn’t done this. No, this was all you. Your scent, your eyes, your gorgeous body. Toji felt like he had never seen a woman so alluring. And here you were, on top of him. Doing exactly what he’d begged you to. 

Your full plump lips parted and he watched as they formed words that he couldn’t understand, his ears instead, filled with the sound of his rushing blood. “You promise, right? You won't come after me again if I let you finish?” 

“Fuck—please doll, I need you…” 

But you pouted and stilled your hips. “I need to hear you, Toji...I need you to promise.” Toji desperately bucked his hips up, trying to create any stimulation that would help him reach his climax, but you were too strong, slamming him down with your own thrust. “Promise me, Toji.” 

“Fuck, woman – you’re killing me.” But all the man could do was moan under you, tiny tears squeezing out of his closed eyes. Your small hands pinned him down with ease. You kissed his forehead, deliberately pushing your breasts into his face and driving him wild. 

“Tojiiii…” You drawled. “I’m not fucking you properly until you promise me…” As if to make your point, you leaned forward on his chest, just about rubbing your clit against the base of his dick. 

Toji could have cried. His arms didn’t work anymore, so no matter how much he wanted to lift you and slam you onto his cock, he couldn’t. His legs felt so wobbly that even if he wanted to pin you against a wall and take you like a virgin, he was convinced they would give out. “Fuck you, demon woman! Fine. I promise…I’m not going to kill you! I don’t care how much they offer me, just please help me cum!” 

Your pussy was wet and weeping now. The stimulation from just rubbing your clit against him had done wonders for you. You raised your torso off him with a giggle and said, “See, now that wasn’t so hard!” Toji could only grunt in reply before you pumped his cock, pussy holding him in a vice-like grip despite the ample lubrication dripping from it. 

“’M gonna come, doll,” he groaned, hips thrusting up to meet yours in a wet slap. 

Your hand cupped his cheek. “I think I’m close too. Will you come with me, Toji?”  He nodded. “Fuck– just a little more, Toji… Good boy. Fuck– come with me!”

“Shit, baby, I’m coming. Fuck, take my cock like that-god.” His release painted your insides as he came with a cry. You collapsed onto his torso, the two of you slowly riding out your highs, both coming down gently, feather-like. 

When you looked up, Toji was smiling at you half dazed. His chest lifted you with each deep breath. You quickly pulled yourself off him, leaving a little kiss on the scar at the edge of his mouth. Your panties were ruined…he’d torn them apart when he’d initially thrust into you, so you smoothened out your skirt and turned to him – still lying on the forest floor where you had first caught him – and said, “Well, I’ll be off then! See you around Toji – or better yet, not!”

“Wait!” he yelled, “At least undo the fucking curse you put on me, you minx! I can’t move!” 

“Oh, that?” You giggled, “The effects of my curse only last for about five minutes, Toji.”

AN: I just wanna make mean man cry ok. :)

[kithnkiss]

KISS headcanons: You're disabled They can be sweet and spicy (mostly sweet)! 😉😏

➜ you have a disability

warnings. disabled!reader, autism, dysgraphia, anterior cord syndrome, diabetic retinopathy, fluff

notes. so I had to do a bit of research for this, but i tried covering all types of disabilities such as physical, sensory, learning, and developmental disabilities. for those wondering what the listed disabilities are above; dysgraphia impacts a persons ability to write, anterior cord syndrome is a spinal cord injury where the anterior spinal artery is compromised and restricts blood flow to the spinal cord, diabetic retinopathy is a diabeties complication that damages the blood vessels in the tissue at the back of the eye, and autism is a disorder that affects how person communicates and interacts with the world (this obviously, as we all know, differs from person to person due to their levels on the spectrum). thank you anon for the request, i decided to keep this sweet, so i hope you enjoy :)

PAUL STANLEY

There’s no one quite like Paul when it comes to understanding the challenges of living with a disability. Born with a condition that rendered his right ear completely deaf, he has firsthand experience of the difficulties that come with it. However, Paul believes in the power of triumphing over obstacles, which is why he was very supportive when you first told him you had diabetic retinopathy.

Your condition was the result of neglecting the needs to care for yourself with type 2 diabetes in your childhood. But after trial and error, you've established a solid routine that includes a healthy diet and light exercise to keep your diabetes in check. However, with the addition of diabetic retinopathy (DR), you've had to expand your regimen even further.

But luckily you had Paul.

The most important part to managing DR is closely monitoring your blood sugar levels, and Paul was incredibly attentive in this regard. He consistently kept an eye on the clock and was always ready to get your glucose meter kit ready when it was time for a checkup.

“Baby, we gotta check your levels again. Where did you put the alcohol wipes again?”

He’s never forgets to give a kiss to your finger before cleaning it with an alcohol wipe. While your finger dries, he prepares your meter and then picks up the lancet device.

The first time you taught him how to prick your finger, he has put it upon himself to always do it for you, convinced that you shouldn’t have to do that part yourself (unless you specifically ask to do it yourself, but he makes it very clear that he’ll be right by your side when you do).

At times, you wonder if Paul forgets that you’ve been managing this for years. He knows he doesn’t need to remind you how well you’re doing or how brave he thinks you are, but you deserve to know.

Besides, he wouldn’t stop if you said something anyways. He’s gonna make sure you know how amazing you are to him.

ACE FREHLEY

When you first requested Ace to write down the grocery list, he didn't think much of it. However, the next time you handed him the notepad and paper to write a letter for your cousin, he was curious. Yet, you seeking his assistance made him happy, so he simply nodded and penned down what you wanted to say in the letter with small smile on his face.

This continued for several months. There was even an occasion when you asked him to complete some paperwork at the doctor's office, but it didn't bother him at all. What mattered most to him was that you wanted his help, so he gladly obliged.

This left you confused. Why wasn’t he asking any questions? Didn’t he have any curiosity or even annoyance about the tasks you have practically assigned him? As time went on, you found yourself growing a bit anxious, but mostly you felt self-conscious about the situation.

You had received the diagnosis of dysgraphia in your mid-teens, which meant you had spent years enduring ridicule for your handwriting as a child. Those experiences had left their mark on you, shaping your feelings about writing and how others perceived your abilities.

What would Ace think if you told him? Would he find it weird? Would he grow tired of having to write everything down for you? At first you maybe it was best to just keep your diagnosis to yourself, but after asking him to write something down for the fifth time in the matter of thirty minutes and seeing him do so with a smile, you just couldn’t hold back.

“Hey Ace?”

When he looked at you, his eyes softening, you felt a little more courage to keep going. After asking him why he just wrote things down for you without complaining, his answer was simple.

“I just like that you need me. I’d write a hundred pages a day for you if you ask.”

You could feel the tears welling up inside you, prompting him to pull you gently into his lap. As you opened up about your dysgraphia, you shared the bullying you had faced and the challenges you had endured over the years. He listened intently, but never showed an ounce of judgement. He was extremely proud of you and made sure to let you know with hugs and kisses.

One time you decided to try writing some things on your own, but Ace's was appalled. You never imagined you would witness a grown man pouting because you hadn’t asked him to write down a sentence.

GENE SIMMONS

Gene had noticed you were different from most people the moment he had met you. You were quiet, you liked quiet, and kept to yourself. At first, Gene thought you were standoffish, perhaps even a bit rude. However, as he got to know you better, he began to understand that your behavior stemmed from something deeper and was beyond your control. Despite this, it didn’t stop the growing attraction he felt towards you.

He turned asking you out into a bigger challenge than it needed to be. However, once he understood that he didn’t have to change himself to meet your needs—something you had explicitly told him (and very bluntly)—he found himself falling for you even more deeply.

He never viewed you as someone he needed to “get used to”; you were simply yourself, and that was exactly how he wanted you to be. Together, you both learned and nurtured a bond that grew deeper than either of you had anticipated.

Was it challenging at times? Absolutely. You both faced struggles along the way, but Gene never blew things out of proportion, even when you found yourself overwhelmed. You had your moments of difficulty in grasping the thoughts and feelings of others, and forming friendships was often a hurdle. Yet, none of this ever deterred Gene away, and for that, you felt a deep sense of gratitude—even if expressing it was sometimes a struggle for you.

Gene was unwaveringly on your side, even when you might have been in the wrong. Yet, he never made you feel guilty about it. It took him some time to find the right words and actions, but you could see his genuine effort.

You found yourself wanting to communicate your appreciation for his support. After a few months, you made it a point to ensure he never went a day without knowing just how much he made you feel emotions you had never experienced before.

“You make me so happy Genie.”

“Yeah? You make me happy to hun’.”

ERIC CARR

Your disability isn't something you were born with; rather, it’s a challenge you had to adapt to over the years. Following an accident in your youth, you found yourself relying on a wheelchair for mobility, a reality that shaped your daily life and experiences. Despite the obstacles, you’ve shown remarkable resilience in navigating this new path.

That’s what captivated Eric. While many people might have overlooked you, he was immediately drawn in the moment he laid eyes on you. Seeing your strength and spirit gave him the confidence to take ask you out.

After a few dates, you noticed that Eric never treated you any differently because of your wheelchair. While he was always accommodating, offering to push you where you needed to go or helping you transition to a more comfortable seat, he never acted as if he was doing you a favor or trying to play the hero.

He just did it. And was happy to do it. He never made a fuss or expected anything in return. His actions felt natural and genuine, which made you feel valued and respected. It was refreshing to be with someone who saw you for who you truly were, rather than just your circumstances.

Now, after a few years of dating, Eric has become quite protective when it comes to your care. He rarely allows anyone else to handle things for you, unless it's your parents or his. He gets visibly uncomfortable when he sees someone else pushing your wheelchair, and heaven forbid someone tries to lift you. His instinct to look out for you has only deepened, showcasing just how much he cares for your well-being.

And you weren’t complaining.

“Doesn’t he know I’m right here?“

“Eric, honey, he’s a nurse. He is literally doing his job.”

©️ kithnkiss 2025, Rights Resevered

[kittynugg]

you're not gonna believe this. that fic i wrote yesterday has context that i havent fully written yet.

1 . . . next ->

words: 1,430

ps: kindly reblog this if you like it so more people see it!

summary: A traveling fair is in town! Ford takes the kids, la dee da, they have fun. But when he's down for the count with a sprained ankle the next day, who's there to take them again? Soos, of course! Promises are kept, plans aren't broken. But what doesn't go according to plan is Soos coming home with something that might cause.. a little dilemma. Little. Hint hint.

----

Ford let out what had to be his fiftieth sigh that hour, glaring at the brace or strap or whatever he felt like calling it at that moment on his ankle.

He was bedridden. Or, well, couch-ridden, as he still hadn’t figured out the whole bedroom situation, but that wasn’t important. What was important was the injury that would surely worry everyone once they got home. A sprained ankle that he couldn’t quite walk on.

Ah, he remembered it like it was this morning (because it was). The excitement to visit that traveling fair in town with the kids, the tumble taken down the stairs, being helped to the couch by Soos of all people.. Credit where credit was due– he did offer to take them in his stead and saved him from seeing Dipper and Mabel disappointed about not being able to go. And they’d been gone for a few hours now.

So.. that’s where we are right now. There was your recap.

He sighed again. He wished he was at the fair right now, not cooped up in his living room alone and stuck watching infomercials for.. Door– Door Wax? That was what the TV was A) screaming at him and B) displaying in neon text that hurt his eyes. 

Any sane person would just grab the remote and shut off the TV, right? Wrong. The remote was on the TV stand, all the way across the room, and he’d learned the hard way that these fancy modern televisions only had voice commands sometimes. Did not respond to Siri, Cortana, Alexa, or even “please just shut the Hell up”.

Soos had him set up with everything– snacks, drinks (including beer), the strongest pain medication they had on hand which was Tylenol and useless, but not the TV remote. And he couldn’t even drink the beer because of the Tylenol because he valued his liver!

Woeful was a man with undrinkable beer! ..maybe that was dramatic. No, poetic. Oh, stars, was he going insane?

The front door opened before he could decide on that. Mabel scurried inside first, a cone of cotton candy in her hand, then ran up to him. “Grunkle Ford!” She greeted in a chirp. “Soos said you got hurt so I saved you some emotional support cotton candy!”

Without giving him a chance to process her sugar-fueled declaration she shoved the cone into his hand. “I took a few bites out of it.” ..That she did, he noticed, looking over the somewhat-uneven shape. He chose not to think about the germs and instead picked off a small chunk of it.

“Thank you, Applepie, that’s very sweet,” he murmured before popping it into his mouth. “And so is the flavored sugar!” A chuckle escaped him, but he sobered as he noticed Dipper eyeing his injured foot.

He flinched as the back of a pen carefully prodded at the bottom of his foot. “How bad is it? Can you walk?” Questioned his nephew, an eyebrow raised. “And since when did you have six toes?”

“I’m going to let you answer that,” Ford deadpanned in response.

After a moment’s pause Dipper slapped a palm to his forehead. “Right. Duh. Man..” he lamented under his breath. “But, like, are you okay?” 

Eh.. besides the lingering pain in his ankle, the thought that he was rendered unable to walk by a staircase and the fact that he was still hearing about that stupid infomercial? By no means! He was Stanford Filbrick Pines, of course he wasn’t okay. No Pines family member was okay. 

“Of course I’m okay! When have I not been okay?” He smiled confidently, then winced at Dipper’s blank expression.

After a pause, the boy muttered, “kind of a lot.”

“..Okay, fine, but in this particular moment I am.”

“I mean–”

Soos interrupted Dipper, ushering him and Mabel toward the stairs. “Dudes, let’s give him some space.” He urged to Ford’s relief. Don’t get him wrong, he adored those rays of sunshine, but now was not the time. It took a lot to resist the urge to comment when he heard Soos muttering something about him being cranky and needing a nap, eliciting a giggle from Mabel as they climbed the stairs.

And he was alone again.

Emotional support cotton candy, help this pathetic man.

Before he could spiral into his third bout of melodrama that day Soos walked back down the stairs. “Handled them for you, dawg,” he reassured as he moved to join him near the couch. “But, uh.. Listen, dude, I had something I wanted to show you, dawg, kinda wanted to see if you could see if it was the real deal.”

Could he go one sentence without saying some.. Teenager slang nickname word!? Humor him, Stanford, he’s not a bad person. And besides– he was trapped on the couch anyway. It was either this or be forced to watch those “animes” with the irrational hair and incorrect lip syncing. “What’s that?” He inquired, shifting to make himself comfortable.

“I got this at the fair from some old witchy dude,” he began as he took a vial of clear liquid from his pocket. “She said it came from the fountain of youth and maybe you and Mister Pines could use it.” Ford must have scowled at that, because Soos rose his hands in a placating gesture and chortled. “No offense, dude!”

Well, some taken! Ford had aged like a fine wine, thank you very much! Stan was more like.. Milk in that sense. Maybe he was right about Stanley but– did he just say “Fountain of Youth”? As Soos might say, “fat chance”! The fountain of youth was.. Probably deep within some inaccessible cave somewhere! (Sue him, it’d been a while since he found it.) And even if it wasn’t, a carnie wouldn’t go around selling its water for an affordable price.

It was his turn to laugh, then, and he facepalmed. “You’re joking, aren’t you?” He reached out and took the vial between two fingers to examine it. “That’s funny.” The liquid looked like tap water. Sure, any water looked like tap water because tap water was.. Water, but this was suspiciously mundane. The only interesting thing about it was the fancy glass vial.

“..Uh, actually dude.. I was thinking you could, you know..” Soos tapped his fingers together anxiously, a habit he’d no doubt picked up from Stan. How he looked up to him astounded Ford. (And.. how he himself always had.) “..take it to the lab? Run some tests with your fancy science-y doohickeys?”

Doohickeys!? His equipment was state of the art thirty years ago! He invented new equipment! And he was calling them doohickeys!?

He let out an irritated huff, then uncorked the vial. “Look, I don’t need ‘doohickeys’ to test this for you,” muttered Ford, then he brought the lip of the vial to his mouth and downed it with the confidence of a seasoned alcoholic to Soos’ horror.

“Dude, NO!!!” He called out desperately, reaching out to stop Ford, but it was too late. By the time he had the chance to take the vial from him, but a drop remained in the bottom. They watched each other for a moment, not a breath breaking the silence between them, and to both of their horror, something incredible happened..

Nothing. Literally nothing.

It was water.

“..Um.. I suppose it tasted a little sweeter than your average tap water?” Ford muttered, scratching the back of his head and awkwardly glancing away. “You, er.. That ‘witch’ scammed you.” He did air quotes with the word “witch”. 

Soos was too busy stammering incoherently in terror and pointing at the empty vial to respond.

“Soos,” muttered Ford in a bid to get his attention. Honestly, he was almost a little disappointed. He aged well but that didn’t mean he couldn’t stand to be a few years younger! Oh, well, he figured he’d help Soos before he falls into some sort of crisis. “I can assure you that nothing is going to happen. You bought it from a carnie– I- I mean did you actually expect anything to come of it? You were hoodwinked, that’s all.”

..Maybe he wasn’t the best at comforting people, he’d admit, but Soos was blowing this out of proportion! 

“Oh, dude..” he muttered, biting at his nails and casting a glance around, then he turned and sprinted out of the room. “I gotta tell Mister Pines!”

Listening to Soos’ footsteps down the hall, Ford decided that now he was alone. 

And the remote was still out of his reach.

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: Last Friday Night

Cowritten with the lovely @livingtobethevillain, who's idea set us off on this road ;-;

Summary: Damian wasn’t one to go out of his way to cause scandals or to give the masses something to gossip over. He tried to distance himself from his family in that aspect. He liked the way his name was kept out of the papers, unlike his father or siblings. It was something he took pride in.

Or something he did take pride in. Because as the saying goes, love makes you stupid. And well, Jon wanted Damian to have fun. Damian had reasoned that a couple drinks wouldn’t hurt. But once Damian had passed the threshold of ‘a couple drinks’ that's when the trouble really started.

TL;DR Damijon + friends go out and party, Damian gets a bit too drunk and everyone thinks this is hilarious

Anyone who knew Damian would know that being caught by the press doing anything “improper” was simply unheard of for him. 

His brothers and father had hundreds of scandals, memes, audios on the internet but surprisingly, even having been brought up in the spotlight, he’d rarely had any.

But of course, Jon had to change that.

There was an awful lot of truth when people say love makes someone stupid, and as much as Damian was loath to admit it, he was as weak to the emotion as anyone, and it had led to many things he’d come to cringe at.

Although, admittedly there hadn’t been any as…spectacular as this one, though.

It was not a special occasion by any means that led to these events, just a meet-up with some friends at a local bar near Met U. They’d parked a few blocks away and were walking down to the entrance, hands swinging between them.

Damian took a deep breath, letting the warm air slide in and out of his lungs before looking at his husband out of the corner of his eye.

“Jonathan, if you have something you’d like to say you are welcome to say it.” Damian said, the corners of his mouth quirking up in amusement.

“Well-I-I just-” Jon stuttered before clearing his throat and gathering himself. 

“I wanted to ask if-well I couldn’t help but notice that you're always the one in the group that stays sober on the nights we go out and I wanted to ask if this time, would you want to be the one to, y’know, party.” Jon rubbed his neck with the hand not intertwined with Damian’s, the other man raising an eyebrow. “This isn’t like-a scheme to get you drunk by the way, I know how it sounds. I just…I want you to have fun.”

Damian's expression softened. “Thank you, love. But you don’t need to worry, okay? I have plenty of fun even when I am off to the side.”

Jon snorts and Damian scowls playfully. 

“Last time we went out you were so high strung that you nearly drop-kicked a guy ‘cause he bumped into me.” Jon laughs.

“He shouldn't have bumped into you if he didn’t want to face the consequences.” Damian responded dryly. 

“Yeah okay,” Jon says, rolling his eyes. “Just-try to let yourself have fun. I'll be the one that plays lookout tonight, alright? You don’t have to worry about anything.” 

Damian hums in acknowledgement. “You feel very strongly about this.” 

“I do.” Jon gives a crooked smile and Damian can’t help but give a small but genuine smile back. 

“Well, we’ll see when we arrive.”

That was neither a yes or a no, but a small victory nonetheless. They weaved through the crowd of college students, staying in a comfortable silence until they reached the inside of the bar. 

They were quickly spotted by Kathy, who dragged them over to where Colin and Maya were sitting, already with drinks in hand.

“Damian!” Colin slung an arm around his neck, not quite drunk but enough alcohol in his system to be rendered tipsy. 

“Wilkes.” Damian ducked under the grasp, momentarily regretting the evening. 

“So, who’s gonna stay sober this evenin’?” Kathy called from where she was hanging off of Jon, much like Colin had Damian a few seconds before. “Y’all can count Colin off the list.”

“Jon is, I believe.” Damian responded, slightly awkward.

Cheers went up, and Maya tipped her glass towards him. “All grown up, aren’t you, little brother? Gonna join the grownups for some fun?”

He scoffed, taking a seat next to her. “Hardly. Just because I did not join the rest of you imbeciles in becoming inebriated doesn’t mean I was less of an adult.”

“Hey!” Jon put a hand to his heart, mock-offended. 

“Not you, of course,” He was quick to remedy the statement, both sharing soft smiles that left their friends gagging. 

“I’m too sober for your disgusting PDA,” Kathy announced, waving a hand to get the attention of the bartender. 

“Amen to that!” Maya sipped from her cup, Damian’s answering unimpressed expression being undermined by the blush that heated up his face at their words. Jon only laughed in response, placing a chaste kiss on Damian’s cheek, before then starting up a conversation to update their friends on recent solo missions, although they were worded to sound like typical civilian jobs to any possibly prying ears.

Kathy brought over a refill for Colin and Maya, as well as Damian’s first drink of the evening. 

“Figures.” Colin snorted, looking over at the glass. “You’ll never grow out of rich boy shit, will you?”

“This is perfectly acceptable.” Damian sniffed, looking mildly insulted. Jon patted his shoulder, nodding along. 

”Whipped.” Kathy muttered into her drink. Jon coughed, the rest of them snickering.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

They went on like this for a good five minutes, Damian on the brink of losing his mind for all of it. It was better to save his grievances until the night was in full swing, as things would only escalate from there, and there was no use in wasting his breath when it wouldn’t be heard over the loud music.

It wasn’t long before the group needed another round of drinks. Jon volunteered to grab them and motioned for Damian to follow. Damian tilted his head in a silent question but followed anyway. The pair made their way through the crowd, their hands naturally linking back up as a way to stay close. 

“Are you alright, Dearest?” Damian asked upon arriving at the main bar area. 

“What? Oh yeah, I'm fine. I actually wanted to check on you again.” Jon admitted sheepishly. 

Damian huffed a laugh, rolling his eyes fondly. “Of course,”  

Jon fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “You know I wasn't trying to pressure you earlier right? You don't have to get balls to the wall wasted-I just-”

Damian squeezed Jon’s hand reassuringly. “Beloved. I know you didn’t mean any harm. I am well aware of my autonomy, believe me. And if I do get ‘balls to the wall wasted’ that is my choice. Okay?”

Jon laughs and his shoulders slump in relief. “Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Is that-like-the plan then?”

“tt-of course not. Who do you take me for? Richard?” Damian scoffed, his face scrunching up at the mention of his older brother. 

Jon grins. “I mean-”

Damian glares. “Finish that thought, Kent. I dare you.” 

Jon barks out a loud laugh. “Wouldn’t you call me ‘Wayne’? I did take your last name.” 

“You’re an imbecile.” Damian said, the effect was lost of course seeing as the pair’s hands were still connected and there was an unmistakable fond note in his tone. 

It wasn’t much longer before Damian and Jon were able to get the group's desired drinks. Sliding back into their claimed seats, Damian stayed tense, back straight as he sipped on his drink and surveyed the room. He was quickly offset as he felt a light smack hit his shoulder. 

“Relax, Darlin’.” Jon said, looking exasperated. 

Damian sighed, rolled his shoulders and focused on the conversation that was being had at the table. 

“And then, you’ll never believe this, he tried to hit on me!” Kathy waved her drink around, Maya and Colin cackling.

“I was like, excuse me sir, does this look like the face of someone ready to drop their panties? No! I have a knife to your throat.” 

Damian snorted at that, Jon looking over, pleased. As time went on, the music seemed quieter and the lights not as blinding. Damian had already well entered tipsy-zone, onto his fourth drink now, and the world blurring together into a perfect mess.

The rest of their friends were past the safety zone and on their way to an early morning monster hangover. 

“Beloved, have I told you how much I love you today?” Damian had draped himself on top of his husband, looking at him with adoring eyes, caramel skin dusted with a pink flush. 

“Yes.” Jon chuckled, keeping him close. “But I’d love to hear it again.” 

Damian hummed and leaned in close enough that their breaths mingled and Jon could smell the alcohol on his husband's breath. 

“I love you.” Damian said quietly in the very little space between them. His husband leaned forwards to close the distance and place a chaste kiss on his nose.

“Love you too.”

Damian laughed in response and leaned back just enough to breathe, his arms comfortably wrapped around Jons shoulders and one hand propped to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. 

“You’re pretty.” Damian mumbled. 

Jon flushed immediately, ducking his head with a small laugh. “Thank you, darlin’, you’re not half bad yourself.”

Damian tilted his head with an indulgent smile. “I'm absolutely stunning and we both know it.  What’s that one song? The one that’s like-'I'm sexy and I know it’? Yeah, that's me.” 

Jon coughed, unsure whether to burst into laughter or blush harder. “Sure is, D. You've always been the more confident of the two of us.”

Damian groaned. “Well yeah, but do remember-you have every reason to be confident in your appearance as well. I mean-I love you for many reasons but one of them would absolutely be how ethereal you look at all times.”

He went with the ‘blush harder’ option, resisting the urge to duck his head again and instead peppering Damian’s face with little kisses. “You’re so sweet when you’re like this.”

Damian laughed in response to the kisses, lightly pushing Jon away and rolling his eyes. Jon gives a crooked smile and Damian takes another drink from his glass. 

“I'm not sweet, Jonathan,” he scoffed. “I’m simply an honest man. And the truth I'm living is that you're the love of my life.” 

Damian leaned in to steal another kiss from his blushing husband before leaning back again and sipping from his drink. 

This time Jon did hide his face a bit, sure he was burning from the words. Their friends who had previously been on the dance floor returned, Kathy leaning on Maya and Colin stumbling over with a grin on his face.

Damian sat up upon seeing their friends. He downed the rest of the drink he had been drinking and waved them over. 

“Hello peasants.” Damian smirked. “Glad to know none of you are passed out in the bathroom.” 

“If anyones ending this night passed out in the bathroom, it’ll be you. I’ll eat my shoe if I can’t hold my liquor better than you can, assassin training or not.” Colin challenged, leaning over.

“Yeah sure, Wilkes. Whatever you say. I’ll bet you check out before we even get started. What, with how you're leaning off to the side?” Damian scoffed, pointedly ignoring the way he was also leaning a bit too far to the side when he wasn't paying attention. 

Colin called for a round of shots, leaning towards the other side at Damian’s observation. 

“C’mon, how many do you think you can do? Before passing out, of course.”

“More than you, I'm sure.” Damian challenged.

“Bring it, Wayne.” he picked up a shot glass, the rest of them looking on, Kathy and Maya cheering while Jon looked mildly concerned.

Damian patted Jon’s fidgeting hands reassuringly. “Stop looking like that,” he said, picking up his own glass. “Go back to being embarrassed. That was cute.” 

“Hey!” Jon protested, his voice going unheard as the girls counted down.

“1, 2, 3!”

Damian and Colin both swallowed down their shots, both of their faces screwing up for a moment at the strong taste.

“Gonna give up?” Colin grinned, picking up a second one. He tipped it towards the other boy, a challenge clear in the gesture.

Damian scoffed and snatched another shot. “I hope you’re prepared for the hangover you’ll experience tomorrow. I’ve heard blackouts are worse than normal hangovers.”

“You’re gonna eat your words, rich boy.” 

By the fifth shot, both were beyond the bridges of completely wasted, Colin more so then Damian. Jon plucked the 6th glass from both of them, giving them both glasses of water instead. 

“Okay, no one’s getting alcohol poisoning tonight, thanks.” 

“Aw, why not?” Damian pouted, head tilting in amusement. “Go big or go home, right?” 

“Mm, yeah but I'm the one taking you home, and I love you too much to let that happen.”

Damian slid off his chair and leaned into Jon, standing between his legs, chest to chest with his husband. 

“I love you too, beloved.” Damian tilted his head up and caught Jon’s lips with his own. Jon made a surprise noise before melting into the contact. Damian's hands coming up to tangle in Jon’s hair before Damian was pulled away by the collar of his shirt. 

Damian turned and glared at Kathy, while Jon was catching his breath. “Excuse you.” 

Kathy grinned in response and shrugged. “Keep it to the bedroom, lovebirds, I don't wanna see it.” 

Damian muttered a couple unsavory words under his breath but sat back down in his own seat. 

Jon momentarily mourned the loss of his husband, joining Damian in shooting Kathy a less-than-pleased look. 

“Like you haven’t done worse,” He scoffed. “At least you haven’t walked in on us, unlike some people who don’t understand the concept of locked doors.” 

She seemed to have been silenced with that, only snickering a bit as she snuck a sip from Maya’s half-empty glass, sitting abandoned on the table.

From there time flew by, Jon sat in place for a long while, just observing and having lost Damian at some point. Jon exasperatedly looked around throughout the crowd and it was only when Maya stumbled out of a dance circle that he was able to ask where his husband had wandered off to. 

“-eah i don't know, i think he and Colin are dancing somewhere. I know Kathy went to get them some more water.” Maya laughed. “Never thought I'd see the day that Damian Wayne got shitfaced in some random bar but here we are.” 

Jon snorted and let Maya stride over to Kathy. Jon–now with a direction in mind–headed over to find Damian on the dancefloor. 

Jon wasn’t disappointed by what he found. Damian and Colin were each having the time of their lives drunkenly dancing and then proceeding to laugh their asses off at the other at the drop of a hat. Jon’s eyes wandered back to Damian and Jon let out a choked noise upon seeing the man's newest attempt at dancing. This time he moved his hips and let his hands drift up his sides. The lights above them washed over his handsome features nicely, his dark eyes feeling like something Jon could get lost in. 

Someone bumped into Jon and the spell was broken by another round of laughter from Colin and Damian. Jon strode forward and wrapped an arm around Damians waist. 

“Hey, darlin’. Having fun?” He said fondly. 

Damian twisted in Jon’s hold and pressed close, as he had done multiple times that night. Jon was beginning to sense a pattern.

“I am, thank you for asking, dearest. Me and Colin were dancing.” Damian said, only slightly slurring his words. 

“I think it might be time to head home, hun. It’s late and I can guarantee that tomorrow you're going to want as much sleep as possible.” Jon stated, rubbing his hand soothingly up and down Damians back.

Colin whined. “Awe c’mon, night’s barely begun. We’ve been here, what? Two hours?”

Jon laughed. “Try again. We’ve been here for about four and a half.” 

“Damn, alright.” Colin shrugged. “Just make sure to tell Kathy when you leave. You don’t want her losing her mind when she can't find y’all at the end of the night.”

“Will do. C’mon, D.” He led his husband back to where the girls were, Damian doing as much as possible to stay close to Jon, hanging off of him like a baby koala. 

They stopped at the table, Jon being pulled into a seat while Damian unlatched himself and proceeded to sit in his lap instead of the many available seats, arms going around Jon's neck.

“What’re you doing?” He chuckled.

“Is it illegal to take a seat now? Unbelievable.” Damian scoffed.

“I-Okay, we need to get you home.” Jon shook his head fondly, before pulling out his phone and sending a quick message to the group chat.

“There. Now they know that we’re headed home. Are you okay to walk or do I need to carry you?” Jon said, only half joking. 

Damian huffed. “I can walk perfectly fine.” 

Jon raised an eyebrow.

“You’re lucky I'm madly in love with you or else your disrespect would not go unnoticed.” Damian said, sounding fond. 

Jon smiled softly. “I wouldn't have thought that you’d be an affectionate drunk, but here we are.” 

“M’not drunk, I'm just…hm. In a good mood.” Damian insisted. 

“Of course, of course.” Jon rolled his eyes, before sliding Damian off his lap and steadying the both of them. 

“Time to go home, Dames.” 

—--------

The light was much too bright out, Damian decided as he opened his eyes, despite the protests of the hammer going off inside of his skull. The blackout curtains were drawn shut, but the tiny sliver of light coming through them seemed much more like a flashlight shined directly into his face.

With what he’d admit was mild discomfort, he shifted in bed, drawing a small noise from his husband, who was apparently not asleep.

“Good morning.” The words were whispered but sounded like a megaphone, causing Damian to swat at him.

“Speak quieter.”

“I guess the hangover isn’t treating you as well as you’d hoped.” Jon’s voice was much more amused than he would have liked, but at the moment, he hadn’t the energy to comment on it, only grumbling.

“This is all your fault.”

“It always is, isn’t it?” Jon gently pushed back a few loose pieces of hair around his face. “You didn’t have to get as…compromised as you did, but you Bats can never back down from a challenge.”

“And you kryptonians do?” Damian snorted, wincing as the action jostled his body. “Beloved, if you ran from a challenge, i don’t believe we’d be here.” 

Jon hummed in acknowledgement. “So, moral of the story is we’re both stubborn and competitive. Yeah? Me slightly more than you, of course. ‘Cause you’re just a sweet baby angel aren’t ya, honey?”

Damian scoffed and subsequently cringed again, Jon’s previous snark was replaced with soft, exasperated affection.

“I’ll grab you some painkillers and some water. I'll be right back, darlin’.” Jon clambered out of bed and shuffled himself out of the room. 

Damian closed his eyes and willed the headache to go away. 

“Hey, we’re both off today from day jobs so that’s nice–oh and I was planning on calling Bruce and asking about us sitting out of patrol for tonight-” Jon rounded the bed and quickly handed off the aforementioned items. 

“No.” Damian mumbled. 

“You really can’t think you’re alright to patrol tonight-” Jon said slowly.  

Damian glared tiredly and Jon crossed his arms. 

“I’m fine, Jon. Stop coddling.” Damian insisted. 

Jon sighed in response but didn’t push. He crawled back into bed and picked up his phone only for his eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the mass amounts of notifications on his homescreen. Tiktok, instagram, snapchat. Any kind of social media and there was someone mentioning him, or trying to get his attention. It wasn’t too unusual. Not really. Jon always had at least a bit of attention due to marrying one of Gotham’s sweethearts. But even then, this was excessive. Curiously Jon randomly opened one of the Tiktok videos that people had been sending him–and Jon couldn’t help the laugh that shook his body upon watching. 

“Shut up,” Damian uncurled just enough to glare at his husband. 

Jon didn’t even attempt to stifle the chuckles that escaped his mouth. 

“You’re famous, Dami.” Jon snorted. “Again.”

Damian huffed and sat up to snatch Jon’s phone. It took all of five seconds for Damian’s face to flush upon recognizing himself from the night before. 

It was an edit, Damian vaguely remembers himself and Colin dancing with each other and apparently the people had  not only seen but recorded, uploading the clips onto the internet for frivolous purposes like these.

Damian glared at Jon and gestured pointedly with the phone, ignoring the looped music playing from the device. “This is your fault.” 

Jon laughed harder. 

Their ship name was trending again, along with different variations of Damian's name. The rest of the morning was spent with his horrible husband watching various edits and reading posts aloud to him.

Of course, it was all followed up by being doted on the rest of the day, which may or may not have made up for everything.

When the evening came and he slipped on the suit, Jon tried to talk him out of it again. 

“Really, Dami, I think they’d understand, people have called off patrol for less.” He plucked the mask from his husband’s hold, putting out the puppy eyes he knew made the other’s resolve crumble.

“Jonathan.” Damian huffed, reaching up for the mask, eyebrow raising as it was held above his head in a childish gesture. “I will not be brought down by a generally harmless illness and an unfortunately timed headache.”

“A hangover, babe.” Jon kept the mask above his head as if they were bickering preteens and teens all over again. “You never drink enough to get properly wasted, so now that you have, it’s not going to be kind to you.”

“You’re being childish, give it to me.” Damian scolded instead, refusing to lower himself to the grounds where he’d jump. He’d need a running start to reach above Jon’s height, and frankly, he was not in the mood for this, nor willing to waste what little energy he had left.

“Just stay tonight, i’ll stay with you,” He pleaded once more. Damian sighed, looking out of the apartment window at the darkening sky.

“I will end patrol two hours earlier.” He offered, headache thanking him as it thrummed in his skull. 

Jon scrunched up his face, analyzing him, before handing him the mask, resigned. “You shouldn’t even be going out. I’m a horrible husband for condoning this.”

“You were a horrible husband when you let me go viral due to my antics while inebriated, no matter how pure the intentions.”

Jon whined. “You’re so mean.” 

“So I've been told.” Damian snorted.

Jon sighed and handed over the mask, it was quiet for a moment as Damian checked over his gear. 

“You have to admit that the reality of you being a party drunk is pretty damn funny-” Jon said, breaking the silence.

“Jonathan.” 

“I know you’re embarrassed, it's okay honey-'' Jon grinned. 

“I am not embarrassed-” Damian huffed. 

“You totally are!” Jon laughed. 

“You are on thin ice, habibi.” Damian turned away from Jon and made his way out into the night.

“You know you love me.” Jonathan chirped, following close behind. 

“I suppose that’s why I married you, isn’t it?”

—--------

Damian was beginning to wonder if he should have listened to his husband.

The sudden jolt of nausea had caused him to nearly miss a swing from his grappling hook, looking downwards not helping whatsoever. He made it finally to the designated rooftop his siblings had told him to go to. On a normal day, he would have seen where it was going, but at this point, he was much too out of it to care too much.

“Hey Demon.” A voice from behind him caused him to jump and he turned, seeing his second oldest brother grinning at him, helmet under his arm.

“Todd.” he crossed his arms. 

“He got you, didn’t he, Baby Bat?” Tim appeared next, a smirk on his face. “Must be a bit disorienting for you, huh?”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re on about, Drake.” Damian sniffed, turning around and silently begging every deity known to man that his siblings wouldn’t mention his…late night escapades. 

Of course, God is dead and Damian could always count on the others to stir the pot even more.  Dick hugged him, and mentioned nothing, thank fuck, but Stephanie was another thing.

“You’re all over the internet, Dami!” Steph cackled, shoving his phone in his face. The brightness was too high for his liking and he batted it away, grumbling.

“Little brother, not in shape for patrol.” Cass said, sounding serious but the mirth was dancing in her eyes.

“Baby’s first awful hangover!” Jason cheered, ruffling his hair. “Surprised your gorgeous husband whom you love so much and is the best person in the world didn’t make you stay.”

Damian cringed at the use of descriptions, just one of the things from when he was drunk off his ass and waxing poetic about his partner going viral on the internet. 

“He attempted it. I am perfectly fine, thank you.”

“You’re too young for this,” Dick wailed. “This is my baby, you guys, this is not right-!”

“Grayson.” Damian grumbled and his oldest brother clung to him. “Stop.”

Jason snorted. “C’mon don’t beat him while he's down. Plus. You’re, what? Ten years old?”

“I am twenty four!” Damian hissed.

“Four?” Tim echoed, shit-eating grin splitting his face open. “Holy shit you guys, he’s still a baby.”

“Drake.” Damian growled as he was held tighter. “Sleep tonight and you will not wake tomorrow.”

“Dami,” Dick whined. “You got drunk-” 

“Yes, we’ve established this.” Damian grumbled. 

“You’d think with all the bitching you’ve done at us, you’d never even touch alcohol.” Steph said, still scrolling on her phone. 

“I am an adult. I am allowed a couple drinks-” said Damian. 

“More than a couple.” Cass shook her head while the rest of their siblings stifled their laughter. 

“Need to go home.” She declared, poking at him affectionately.

“I’m fine.” Damian would never admit to the whine that laced the words, swatting at Cass’s hand.

“Uh-huh,” Jason snorted.

“I blame Jon.” Damian grumbled. 

“How could you say that about the love of your life?!” Steph gasped in mock offense. 

“He’s the one who encouraged me to ‘have fun’. I was merely making him happy and…got carried away.” Damian flushed and elbowed Dick at his responding coo. 

“God, you guys are so gross. Ew, Look you’re practically grinding on him-” Steph flashed her phone in Damian’s eyes again and Damian hissed. 

“He is my husband. Stop being a voyeur, Brown.” Steph’s face screwed up in disgust. “And I swear you turned up the brightness on that vile device just to spite me.” Damian scowled. 

“Maybe I did, what’re you gonna do about it? Stab me? When you can’t even walk in a straight line?” Steph grinned. 

“You’re all dead to me.” Damian deadpanned. “Also that is a gross dramatization. If I was that compromised I wouldn't have come to patrol at all.”  

At the responding looks of skepticism, Damian sighed. At that moment there was a thump and the crunch of gravel as another person joined them. None of the young adults had to look to know it was their dad, or as he was now, Batman. 

The immediate silence weighed over them, louder than the previous conversations. Anticipation hung in the air as he cleared his throat, seemingly waiting for a greeting.

“Father.” Damian glanced at him, seemingly unconcerned over the possibilities this exchange might bring.

“Damian.” Bruce responded stiffly, looking rather uncomfortable. Damian raised a brow, seemingly scandalized.

“Names on the field, Batman.”

“Right, well, how has your day been?” Bruce coughed, much to Damian’s confusion.

“Fine..?” Damian narrowed his eyes at him. “What are you getting at?”

“Last night seemed to have been very eventful for you.” There was a choked wheezing noise from behind him, undoubtedly one of his brothers. 

Damian flushed, crossing his arms and looking much like a petulant child then the adult he was supposed to be. “I’m far past legal age, father. I’m married, I no longer live under your roof, there’s really no need for-”

“I don’t think we really ever had a talk about safe drinking, son.” Bruce cut him off with a seemingly concerned tone of voice.

“Father, we absolutely do not have to-”

“You should always have a limit, and I know that you do, but please remember to have a designated driver, and stay hydrated.” Bruce’s voice was tuned out by Damian’s own fuming thoughts, his siblings barely concealed laughter echoing in his mind.

This was humiliating. Here he was, surrounded by absolute hypocrites, all clowning on him and giving him talks. He was Damian Al Ghul Wayne (Kent), for fuck’s sake! He’d been building up his tolerance since he was a child, granted not that it had been exercised recently past a glass of champagne at a gala, but still. 

“-amian? Damian, are you listening to me?” He snapped out of his thoughts, Tim seemingly doing a dolphin impression next to him, high pitched shrieks and rumbles of barley held back laughter.

“No.” Damian scowled. “You’re all hypocrites, how dare you have the audacity to treat me this way when each of you have had much worse versions of this than I have! At least I didn’t go around trying to flirt with anyone other than the person I am actually with.”

”Pretty sure he just called y’all hoes.” Steph stage-whispered, Tim now in a fetal position on the rooftop and rocking back and forth while Jason cackled loudly.

“Furthermore, yes, while my tolerance isn’t exactly what it used to be, it certainly looks better that I am actually of the correct age for something like this, and everyone seems to have taken it as positive publicity. This was my choice, no matter how other elements may have influenced it.”

He let out a long breath, looking up with annoyed glance. “And besides, I was kept safe by Jonathan, who didn’t let any of us go past a limit, and cared for me and attempted to get me off of patrol.”

”Whipped.” came from somewhere in the crowd, followed by a gagging noise and something that sounded like a dying vacuum. 

“Tt.” Damian turned. “I’ve had enough of you imbeciles. I’m retiring for the night, and you’ll do well to stop gossiping for God’s sake.”

The tips of his ears were dusted pink, betraying his mortification over the events. He moved to shoot his grappling hook, tripping and landing on his face due to the dully pounding headache at the back of his head that was meddling with his senses.

That was the tipping point for his siblings, and the poorly concealed laughter began to scream out near hysterically. 

“What, were you all hit with laughing toxin?” Damian brushed himself off, looking moments away from stomping his foot like a toddler. “You’re insufferable, the lot of you!”

He swooped away, entire body burning in shame. God, he should have just listened to Jon. Not that he’d tell him though.

—----------

Damian was considerably less flustered by the time he entered his home but the tips of his ears still felt warm when he thought back to the mortifying encounter with his family. 

“Of course all of them had to be present to humiliate me. None of them can be bothered to make time for any event of actual importance but oh as soon as there's blood in the water everyone shows up. Sharks, the lot of them.” Damian muttered angrily. 

“So how was patrol?” Damian looked up to see Jon leaning against a doorway nearby. 

“It went well, nothing interesting.” Damian said, lying through his teeth. 

Jon looked amused. “Liar.” 

Damian held back a groan. “And why do you say that, Jonathan.” 

“Aside from the fact that you look more pissed off than usual, you have your tells.” Jon looked fond. 

“What may these tells be, exactly?” Damian raised an eyebrow.

Jon shrugged with a grin and finally made his way over to Damian before wrapping his arms around his waist. 

“You inhale a bit through your nose and deliberately make more eye contact when you lie. I’ve always assumed it was to keep your heart rate controlled and to make what you're saying be taken more seriously because usually you hate direct eye contact.” Jon explained.

Damian did groan aloud at this and Jon laughed quietly. Damian scoffed but couldn’t help the way his eyes softened at the sound and the way he leaned into Jon’s touch. Damian and Jon were again chest to chest but this time they just existed in each other's arms and swayed slightly to the soft sound of a song that only the two of them could hear. 

“Seriously though, are you alright?” Jon pulled away slightly before he finally spoke again after an indiscernible amount of time had passed. His voice was soft and slightly concerned. Damian sighed and pulled out of his arms completely in order to get out of his suit. 

“I’m fine, I promise, habibi. Slightly embarrassed due to my family's idiocy but fine nonetheless.”

Jon hummed. “I’m going to take a wild guess and assume they saw the videos online.” 

Damian snorted. “Stephanie made it her mission to scroll through as many as she could.” 

“Of course she did.” Jon rolled his eyes. 

Damian pulled off the last bits of armor and quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants that had been lying around as well as a shirt he didn’t doubt belonged to Jon seeing as it hung a bit loosely off his frame. 

“I would like to go to bed now.” Damian said, coming to lean into his husband’s side once more. 

“Sounds good to me. I did put out some water and painkillers for you if you need them, though.” Jon said. 

 Damian's headache abruptly made itself known now that Damian’s attention was brought back to it. 

“Ah, yes. Water and medication, then sleep.” Damian winced. 

Soon, Damian and Jon were able to fall back into bed and wrap themselves around each other under their duvet. Damian hid his face in the crook of Jon’s neck and Jon tilted his own to the side in order to rest his chin atop the soft strands of Damian's hair. Before long, both were fast asleep and soft snoring filled the room. 

It was quiet, save the soft noises of sleep. And despite the darkness of night, the love that they held for each other was as bright and clear as day. It would continue like that as long as they would stay together, a shining beacon of light through the harder times and lighthearted chaos. For now, though, they were content to stay like that, their bubble of home, warm and soft and full of love.

[sakarrie-creates]

Here’s my 2024 Art Summary, terribly late as usual! We’re back to including some black and white in this year and my months were very clustered, but all things considered I was actually surprised I ended up with as many decent samples for the collage as I did. I was kinda expecting them all to be messy sketches this year lol.

Just like with my writing summary, this year the questions are a bit abridged since I didn’t do a ton of art. That said, I’m still a rambler haha, so the reflection questions are answered up the cut. The template I used is available here in case anyone else wants to use it!

What events did you participate in (with art)?Player Appreciation Week (old art), Fandom Trumps Hate (offered), CS Case Files Zine (comic!). Not really the type of art this summary is for, but I also created my first cosplay for RCCC!

What was your biggest challenge this year? Definitely motivation. Last year was a creative slump with a lot going on mentally making stuff hard. Mostly in start up energy, since once I got going, things seemed to go alright.

Did you try anything new this year? I got into a comic zine, which was new and exciting! My original plan was far too long for the creation period, though, so I spent a ton of time trying to widdle it down to 3 pages. I also did super messy spot art sketches for a friend’s fic, which ended up being a lot of fun! I also took some screenshots and then drew other characters into the show, somewhat trying to match the show’s style, which was definitely interesting.

Where do you think you most improved? I’m going to go with rendering again! I really love playing with color and lighting, and several of my collage pieces this year were just adding rendering to old pieces. I have a lot more confidence with it now, though I still sometimes feel like my pieces don’t end up as dynamic as I’d like. I also did a lot better at following inspiration and not being as perfectionistic this year.

What are you most proud of? I’m really proud of getting into a comic zine, even though it likely wasn’t that competitive. The fact that I got in for comics despite never having done art for a zine before is crazy to me! I was a pinch hitter, so I wasn’t originally selected, but I’m still honored I got picked eventually. I also am really proud of the August fully rendered piece of Player screaming. I did that one in almost one sitting, probably around 4ish hours, and it was one of my first times doing full color/rendering without cleaning the sketch much at all. Overall, I was very excited at how well it turned out and I feel like the messy emotions really come across!

How’d this year compare to your 2023 goals?Shoutout to past Sakarrie for giving me a straight bullet point list. MUCH easier to work with lol.

2024 Goals Met:  -Number One Priority: Create for me and don’t put myself in a place to get crazy burnt out and still have requirements. If I meet this goal, then it’s okay if I don’t meet any of the others. (It would be sad.... But I would still count it as meeting overall goals.) -Participate in Summergen and PAW Week (Art or Fic) -Have a fully usable Zine Portfolio (Currently need more merch samples and rendered pieces with backgrounds) -Apply to new TOH Zines or other loved fandom zines. If I end up getting into any, I can pull back, but since that doesn’t seem likely, I want to get into the habit of always being ready to apply with what I have. -Play with different brushes and rendering styles -Not exactly art, but I want to have a finalized long-term merch display plan for all my items -Do ONE of the following:     1. 30 minutes digitized so it can be shared with music       2. Open Up Your Eyes fully thumbnail       3. Fanworks for other people’s fics      4. Participate in an extra bang or exchange with art      5. Design and manufacture a pin

The ones that don’t have strikethrough are a bit of a stretch, but I’m gonna give them to myself. While I haven’t added more pieces with backgrounds and need to reorganize my zine portfolio, it is in a decent place where I feel like I can use it and it will accurately represent my best work. I also didn’t really purposefully experiment with rendering or brushes, but it did happen naturally a little, so giving that to myself too. As for the ONE of the following list, I actually did digitize my 30 minutes thumbnails! It’s just not to music, so doesn’t count. Also holy dang, last year Sakarrie was ambitious with the proposal of manufacturing a pin haha.

2024 Goals NOT Met:-Design Handplates charm as anniversary gift (November) -Design CS Charm-Make an ongoing project list to pin to my tumblr. This applies mostly for fics, but that way people coming to my page can see what fandoms I’m actively creating for and what they can look forward to (as well as have an opening to ask questions if they’re interested). -Post more (at least 10 times throughout the year) and add my best pieces to instagram (8+ pieces by end of year). -Draw something from scratch every month, no matter how small

Yeah, these all I absolutely failed with. Oops. Probably gonna be using a fair few of these as my new goals haha.

Alrighty then, now it’s time for 2024 goals!! I think I want my main focus to be to try to draw more frequently. I’ve found that so much of what prevents me from drawing is startup energy, and once I actually get going, it all comes much easier. 

Specific goals: -Organize a go-to zine portfolio for comics, merch, page art, and spot art applications -Try to draw every month (even the tiniest phone doodle counts) -Design Handplates charm as anniversary gift (November?) -Design CS Charm-Make an ongoing project list to pin to my tumblr. This applies mostly for fics, but that way people coming to my page can see what fandoms I’m actively creating for and what they can look forward to (as well as have an opening to ask questions if they’re interested). -Post more (at least 5 times throughout the year) and maybe look into Cara or whatever the non-instagram art app is. -Experiment more with drawing in sketchy art style with full color/rendering -Experiment more with screenshot redraw/character replacements -Do ONE of the following:     1. 30 minutes put to music      2. Open Up Your Eyes fully thumbnail      3. Fanworks for other people’s fics       4. Participate in an event with art       5. Draw and post for a new/niche fandom (Infinity Train, Sym-Biotic Titan, Irondad, The Flash, etc)

Overall, how’d the year go? Better than I expected when I first started pulling up my art haha. I didn’t push myself on anything but the CS comic, and that was pretty early on in the year. I also did a fair few doodle/sketch projects and followed the muse when it wanted to do rendering without drawing.

[hlficlibrary]

HL FIC LIBRARY ✤ AUTHOR REC

AO3: lunarheslwt

Tumblr: @lunarheslwt

STATS:

✤ Number of fics: 35

✤ Posting Since: 2015

TOP 5 FICS:

1️⃣ Wind beneath my wings {E, 93k}

“You shouldn’t be here,” Harry gritted out, wild-eyed. “You should be scared of me.” Louis opened his mouth to speak, to cut him off, to disagree, but Harry was pushing. “I could hurt you.” “You won’t hurt me,” Louis said, simple and assuredly. Calm. “I’m capable of hurting you.” “But you won’t. That’s not who you are, Harry. I trust you,” Louis whispered.

As an omega carer that works at a rescue and rehabilitation centre for feral alphas and omegas, Louis has experienced all sides of ferality. So Harry- a cold, near mute, non-receptive alpha- was a challenging case for everyone at Phoenix Rehab Centre. Louis wasn’t expecting to feel drawn towards an aloof Harry, or to form a slow bond with him. He certainly was not expecting for his entire life to change in unforeseen ways.

2️⃣ Breathe me in, breathe me out {G, 14k}

Louis was just passing the autumn collection, when an unfamiliar but addicting scent tickled his nose. Cinnamon. He turned as he realised something. He felt calm. Relaxed. The permanent agitation that he carried was melting away the more he breathed in the scent, as faint as it was. Consumed by the crazed desire to seek out the specific candle, Louis began picking up candles and sniffing them madly, when a deep voice piped up, startling him. “Uh, sir, we don’t allow candle fetishists in here.” Louis froze mid sniff in mortification. Willing himself to not blush, he turned, a retort at the tip of his tongue. Except, it died in his throat as he took in the man before him. “I uh,” Louis blurted out accidentally, temporarily rendered speechless by the frankly unfairly beautiful man before him. Only at the man’s grin widening did he regain his wits. “You’re gonna kink shame me?”

Or, Louis is drawn into a quaint candle shop in his desire to find ways to soothe himself while struggling with touch depri. It takes him two more run-ins and with the lovely alpha sales assistant, and a drop, to figure out the source of the scent that imprints upon him and calms his omega. Idiots to lovers

3️⃣ Devil in my brain, whispering my name {E, 9k}

“Tell me, angel, are you curious? To know what it’s like, to be touched…” Louis tapped his lip lightly, “here?” A short, harsh breath fanned across his finger. “Or,” Louis drawled, bringing their hips together with a sharp pull, making Harry gasp once again, louder, “here?” “Louis…” “Or maybe even,” Louis skimmed a taunting hand past the curve of his clothed arse, merely grazing, “here?” Harry shuddered viscerally. “Please.” “So polite, so proper,” Louis mocked, “will you let me taint you just a little, hmm? Let me show you how good it feels to give in to temptation?”

Or, Louis, a demon, shows Harry, an angel, just how good it can feel to give in to temptation and sin.

4️⃣ Swap me for your shadow {E, 16k}

“…I’m just … so in love with him.” Louis blinked. What??? This hushed revelation from Harry came like a gunshot- loud - and made his heart plummet. He could hardly process it, as he stood there freezing in the wind, hidden behind the balcony door. Harry was … Harry was in love?? Since when?? The shock and confusion that had fallen over him like a bucket of ice was slowly washed over by a feeling that ran hot and acidic. Somehow, it gripped around his lungs tighter, more cruelly. Harry was in love with someone….and it wasn’t him.

If Louis thought being in love with his best friend was a knife that continually twisted into his heart before, it was nothing compared to when Harry started to go around talking about having fallen for someone else. A 5+1 fic; 5 times Louis has to listen to Harry’s vague confessions of love for his ‘omega friend’ and the 1 time Louis snaps and confesses his love for Harry.

5️⃣ On a starlit night {M, 24k}

“Then… then, what is your motive?” “Must I have one?” Louis scoffed. “What, so am I to believe you just woke up one day and thought ‘Yeah actually, I would like to be one of the suitors of my pack Luna’s ceremony’?” “There’s no motive, nothing like you’re thinking,” Harry replied, glancing at him. “I don’t know what the alphas out there want. I just want a chance to show that I can be a good alpha that can fulfil your needs, both as your mate as well as in supporting you in your Luna duties. Just a chance to show you how well I could care for you, if you were to pick me.” Louis was floored by his sincerity. “That’s all you want? Just that?” Just me? “Yeah.”

Or, omega and future Luna Louis is holding a mating ceremony to find his mate, but what he doesn’t expect to see amongst the alphas vying for his hand, is a familiar, yet unexpected face: Harry Styles.

HIDDEN GEM:

💎 Everything I need, I get from you {M, 6k}

“I’m sorry for ruining our Valentine's Day plans :(“ Louis was shaking his head at Harry's text before he even gave the phone back. “You haven’t ruined anything, Haz. Don’t say that. We can have a day in, and it’s still going to be just as good.” Harry didn’t look convinced, as he typed in something else. “But it’s because of me. I’m sorry Lou.” Louis nudged his chin up gently. “Haz, look at me. You don’t have to be sorry, okay? Where we are or what we do does not matter to me. What matters to me is that you’re happy and okay." Louis did not give Harry time to protest, before he was adding, “Besides, who says Valentine's Day needs to be cancelled?” Harry’s eyes fixed on him curiously, cocking his head as if to ask, ‘what?’ “We can have our own version of Valentine's Day at home, hmm? A quiet day in. We watch a film, have something to eat, and cuddle?” Or, it's Valentine's day and Harry wakes up fatigued. Louis shows him that a change of plans is not a bad thing, and that the day can still be perfect as long as they spend it together. A quiet day full of love ensues.

[fireinthefireproofvault]

Hogan's Heroes Characters on a Period Cramp Simulator

Special thanks to @anna-pineappel and @frau-wilhelm-klink for encouraging this crackhead impulse 😆

Colonel Robert Hogan

“So this thing is gonna put me in your shoes, huh?” Skepticism dripped from the cross-armed colonel’s words, and as badly as you wanted to smack it off his face, you had a piece of technology that was going to do that for you. All you did was agree lightly as you stuck electrodes to his bared skin. Anticipation rose, floating up your chest like a balloon, at the thought of finally seeing the infamous Robert E. Hogan’s tough act crumble. He didn’t give you the satisfaction at first, just a wince. A whitening of his knuckles about his elbows. “Yeah, this isn’t pretty,” he remarked, trying his damndest to keep casual. “No,” you agreed with a shake of your head, “But it’s still workable. You could put in a full day like this, eh?” His eyes tightened a bit, but he agreed. “Good thing this is baseline, huh? Now how about our worst days? This is days two and three for a good number of us,” you added, clicking four more times, “This pretty?” “Beautiful.” Shaking your head, you chuckled to yourself. For once, Hogan was quiet. You could get used to that. “How about now? Ready for a good eight hours?” “Alright, you got me there. They don’t give you sick days for this?” “Nope,” you shook your head, “And you men don’t like giving us breaks, either. How’s about a little sympathy next time?” “How’s about a lot of sympathy?” “That’s more like it,” you answered with a grin and a cheeky salute.

Corporal Peter Newkirk

"Are you sure you want to do this?" You gave him one final out before anything was attached, but Peter shook his head, adamant. "After everything I've been through? I can handle it, love." You smirked as the machine was set up. Peter had never fully understood how the pain had you incapacitated at times, even going so far as to wonder aloud if it was really that bad and of course piss you off in the process. "Alright," was all you said as the second electrode stuck. You watched Peter with raised brows and otherwise mild expression as he began bearing less than half the full brunt of your simulator job. “Handling it?” For once, Peter Newkirk had been rendered speechless. Nothing smart in response, just a nod. “Then care to join me in a day’s work? Some drills perhaps?” “God, no!” “Well, you’re not nearly as strong as a woman,” you shot back, positively grinning that time. “Why, you—” Bam. Eight. Choking on whatever he was floundering to come up with, Peter finally dropped his composure, hips bending. Instinctually folding. Yep. “You what?” You asked, adopting a sweet tone. “You absolute angel,” he finally breathed, daring peer up at you, cockiness finally melting to awe.

Sergeant James Kinchloe

Whatever you’d done to deserve Kinch, you hoped you’d do it again and again. What other man would voluntarily subject himself to pain to understand you? To, in his words, know what helps you best? You found yourself maintaining a gentle touch as you attached everything as if it wasn’t about to contract muscles and nerves into oblivion anyway. Kinch’s eyes surveyed the working of the device with curiosity as you dialed it on. “Holy cats. This is no joke. I think I’ll quit making those jokes about your mood from now on.” “See how a person might get a little down in the dumps?” At that, he just nodded. “The real kicker is that this is background noise for me. Not even half what this thing can do.” “You’re kidding.” “For my sake, I wish I was. Did you wanna know what a bad day feels like?” “Never,” Kinch shook his head, but waved a hand, “But go ahead anyway.” Stoic as he often was, even your steadfast rock Sergeant Kinchloe let loose a grimace when you took the sensation up four more notches. You found yourself reaching out to hold his hand as if he was going into labor or something. He peered into your eyes as if he’d never seen them before, speaking your name like a question. “Yes?” “After this, we’re going to the nicest place in town, on me. I feel like I owe you plenty of apologies.”

Corporal Louis LeBeau

“I was shot once. If any man can take this, it will be me,” Louis bragged. For your part, all you did was snort and bid him to prepare the area the electrodes were to be attached to. A small shock of guilt crossed your chest at the nerves he tried to hide, but still had flashing across his eyes. It faded, though, when you remembered he asked for this. Swore it would be alright. You didn’t want to see him in pain, but the understanding hopefully achieved would be satisfying. One, two, three, four. Louis’s eyebrows furrowed in silent, momentary question only to shoot back to normal as his eyes narrowed. “You put it on the highest setting right away, didn’t you?” He asked, attempting an even tone. “This is less than halfway, Louis,” you suppressed a snicker at the suspicion burning in his dark eyes. “Less than—” “See for yourself,” you told him, waving a hand over the four illuminated on the screen. “You cannot be serious with this! This thing makes you feel like a chicken being carved.” “Need I remind you that I do get carved out? A whole organ’s worth of—” “I feel faint.” “Better or worse than getting shot?” “Well…” Six, seven, eight… “Worse. I didn’t get shot that hard.” “Worse than getting kicked in the—” “Yes. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

Sergeant Andrew Carter

Andrew had always been pretty understanding of what you went through. He didn’t like pain, you said you were in it, he didn’t question it. It was hard, then, to derive any satisfaction from the naïve eagerness on his face when the machine is hooked up, drawing his focus with its workings. Curiosity was all you saw on his face until the moment the dials were turned, beginning with ramping the painful stimulation up to a 4. A 4 which was considered in menstruating terms a low to average. “Yowch!” Big puppy dog eyes yanked away from the machine to stare into yours. “You didn’t have to kill me with it right away.” “This isn’t even half as far as it goes,” you replied, feeling even worse. “No kidding? How bad can it get for you? This bad?” “It can get twice that,” you told him. “Gee, no wonder they say girls get a little mad sometimes. I’d sure have a hard time being nice if I had a day like this.” “Try three to seven.” Andrew’s eyes bugged. “Three to—” “That’s right.” “They oughta send you guys to war, then. You’re invincible! …Boy, after this I’m gonna go out and buy you the biggest box of chocolates and bouquet I can find!”

Sergeant Richard Baker

Somehow the resolve in his eyes has you the one feeling bad, almost having second thoughts. “Don’t worry about me, all right?” His voice, low and reassuring, cuts into your swirl of concern. “I want to do this. I may kick myself for it later, but I want to understand what you go through.” Nodding, you allow him to pull up his shirt and receive the electrodes. “Not every man would ask for this,” you tell him, “I appreciate it, you know.” “Remember that if you catch me crying,” Richard joked. “It’s you who should remember that when I laugh,” you fired back, getting started. He tilted his head slightly, winced. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s…pretty bad. I feel like a jack-o-lantern getting my insides scraped out.” “Well, that is exactly what’s happening.” “Hey, isn’t this bad enough? No need to make me sick, too!” “Oh, don’t make me laugh, honey! Just let me know when you’re ready to feel a peak day.” “This wasn’t? Sweetheart, I’ll be busting out the fans and grapes next time if it gets worse than this!”

Colonel Wilhelm Klink

“So this is going to cause me some sort of electric pain?” Wilhelm Klink was afraid. You could see it in his eyes even if it didn’t also weave its wavering way around his words. “Think of it as muscle contraction,” you replied soothingly, “That’s what this does, after all. You’ll feel like I do and maybe even stop quipping about a woman’s moods.” The last bit came with a pointed gaze and raise of your eyebrow at him as well as several ramping clicks of your device. “You forget, my dear, I am a German officer. A Klink! The greatest military stock to…oh dear. I think you accidentally turned it up a little too high,” he chuckled nervously, offering you a comically wide smile. A smile you just shook your head into. “I’m afraid not. This is it.” “I’ve seen you working like this! With these… these knives carving you from the inside! There is no way!” “No way?” “…no way save for you being understandably a little bit short sometimes.” Five, six, seven, eight. Pure whimpering from the colonel, a sight which did make you want to spare him. “My dear! Why have you never told me it could be this agonizing?” “I did. You didn’t believe me.” As you shut the device off, relief flooded his blue eyes and he grabbed your hand and kissed it. “Next time you shall have breakfast in bed, and blankets, and…and…” “A hot water bottle?” You supplied. “Two hot water bottles!”

Sergeant Hans Schultz

“So these little things are going to hurt me?” You frowned slightly at that. “It sounds sad when you put it like that! This is just so you understand what it’s like when my week hits.” “It’s a week?” “You thought I dumped it all out in one day?” You raised an eyebrow. Schultz, for his part, immediately winced and got quiet. Click, click, click. “Oh!” You’d expected a bit of dramatics, but you hadn’t expected the satisfaction rushing through you, the immediate vindication. “I thought the bad part was if you had the baby!” “That’s worse. This isn’t even that bad.” “You have not tried it.” One glare shut him back up. “Alright, you have made your point, now make it stop, please!” “Not until you feel what it’s like on a bad day.” “You call this a good day?” “Wait and see what you think,” you replied. “Oh, please!” Eight had been reached. “I will give you anything you want! A-ny-thing!” “I don’t want you to give me anything,” you replied, resting a hand on his shoulder, “I just wanted you to understand.” “I understand,” he nodded, blue eyes wide, “I understand that you are amazing!” “And you might think twice before making any jokes about women being weak, huh?” “Oh, yes!” “Then you have given me what I want already.”

General Albert Burkhalter

“You think your little machine can scare me?” “No,” you smirked, resting a hand on your hip, “But I think it can hurt you.” “Ha! You forget, my dear, that I am a General. A general who has fought, and won, plenty of duels.” “Well, then just think of this as if you’ve had a little saber accident,” you remarked as he got hooked up, “Just…quite a low saber accident.” The general laughed at that and you shook your head, aware he’d likely stop laughing quite soon. Sure enough, he was silent at one, silent at two… He tensed at three, glanced down with raised eyebrows when you didn’t stop. “So there are five settings on this, then?” “Ten, my brave general. I’m starting you off easy. Why? Having a hard time picturing doing your day-to-day marches and drives like this?” “Not in the slightest,” he challenged, fire burning in his dark eyes despite his shaking hands. Grinning wickedly, you turned the general up to a bad day with great haste and, more importantly, no warning. Dropping him just as hastily to his knees. “You’d think someone threw a grenade in here, sir. Get up, you’ve got work to do.” “You are mocking me. Turning this thing up to a ten!” “This is an eight,” you corrected, “And science will tell you that many—” “To hell with science, turn this thing off!” “I had a feeling you’d say that,” you purred, patting his cheek.

Major Wolfgang Hochstetter

“Feels a bit backwards, doesn’t it?” You asked, smirking unabashedly at the major. “Normally it’s you doing the torturing, not the other way around.” “Bah,” he waved a dismissive hand as the simulator was dialed up, “With all the things I have seen, you call this torture?” “I don’t call it a relaxing evening,” you sassed back, arms crossed and smirk growing when you saw him bolt suddenly upright, “But you see that now, don’t you?” “I, I could still work under these conditions,” Wolfgang protested, but you saw an entirely different answer glossing over his eyes. It took everything in you to suppress a snicker as you glanced over to the simulator, which was only on a four. A four. A low to average day depending on the person. Five. The Gestapo major tried his to disguise gripping the back of the nearest chair as a casual shift in posture. “Awww, want me to hold your hand?” “Nein!” “What, turn it up to a nine?” You continued teasing him. “No!” Urgency. Pleading. A complete drop of his facade. “Alright, we’ll only do an eight. That is what a bad day for me is like, after all,” you told him, enjoying the grit of his teeth and white of his knuckles a little too much. Only because he’d talked so big. When the eight dialed in, he crumpled immediately, body folding clean in half. You felt it. You understood. But at the same time? You worked like that. You put on a façade when that happened as best you could. Had god knows what other symptoms going on, too. Not that you were a sadist, but his pain almost had you laughing. “Perhaps the Gestapo could use this device,” Wolfgang panted, his kneed still buckled, “Any man would talk beneath this.” “Keyword there being man,” you shot back, “Care to apologize?” “Never!” “Alright, if it’s not that bad I’ll keep it on th—” “I apologize! I apologize!” “That’s what I thought.”

Colonel Rodney Crittendon

He could assure you, he had been trained for this. Trained for all sorts of injuries, and he supposed you had been too if you got a wound of sorts every month. This was a method of more thorough training, a way to experience what many he stood among had not, and just as importantly what you had. “Alright, all ready whenever you are!” “You’re awfully eager for someone whose body is about to be forced into a series of painful involuntary movements.” “All for you, love. …Well, and the additional endurance training, yes.” You took the all for you part and smiled, giving a fond shake of your head. “Just to show the depths of my own training, I’ll not even—” The colonel’s words died upon his lips in favor of a choked sound and a frantic reach for the lip of the table. “Right. Yes. I’ll maintain this posture as a show of resistance. …I say, isn’t this a bit much? This certainly couldn’t be what it’s like every time.” You just smiled right into his nervous chuckle, eyelashes fluttering. “Every time.” “By jove, I certainly understand why they say be kind to your wives and mothers!” “Does that mean you approve of my training, then?” A nod. “That you’re going to be kind to me?” A swallow, another nod. “Certainly.” “Then we can end this early if you’d like the chance to leave it there.” “There’s more? Good heavens, how on earth do they call you the fairer sex?”

[lazarusawakens]

Don't Mine At Night (Unless You’re Holding Hands)

Summary:

After the defeat of Malgosha, Steve returns to his pixelated world expecting peace. Instead, he finds his home glitching—walls flicker, torches hum with static, and strange memory loops echo things he never said out loud. With reality breaking down and something unseen stalking the code, Steve reaches out to the only person he trusts to make sense of it: Garrett, the real-world game whiz with a serious grudge against Minecraft and a stubborn refusal to acknowledge just how badly Steve missed him.

Now stuck in Steve’s shelter, side by side with a laptop, some haunted data, and far too many apples, they’ll have to debug a world that’s remembering too much—and maybe confront the feelings they’re both pretending not to have.

(But definitely not holding hands. Yet.)

Wc: 2.5k

Chapter 1: New Beginningd

Garett was counting the till when the lights flickered like they were winking at him. He scowled.

“No. Nope. Not today, Not again.”

The speakers let out a burst of static like a dying fax machine. Then came the pop—like bubble wrap under pressure—and something warped in the air near the back isle.

Then he heard it.

“Heyyyyyy, Garett.”

Garett froze.

No. No way. He refused to turn around. He was imagining it. Hallucination. Stress. Low iron. Something like that.

“I come bearing friendship and mild existential dread,” repeated the voice, far too upbeat.

He turned.

Steve was standing there. Or sort of standing—he flickered slightly, like a video buffering mid-frame. He still had the same smug grin. Same scruffy hair. Same objectively stupid blocky boots.

“You are not real,” Garett said flatly.

Steve gave him finger guns. “Eh, Debatable.”

Garett blinked slowly. “You are not supposed to be here, aren’t you supposed to be, you know… mining?”

“Neither is the glitch eating the biome back home, but here we are.”

“I don’t do this anymore.” Garett pointed a finger at him. “No more magic cubes. No more weird quests. I retired.”

Steve held up his hands. “Whoa there, Mr. Midlife Crisis. I'm just asking for a little help. You were the guy who saved the day last time.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That.” Garett jabbed a finger at him. “That passive-aggressive cheerleader thing. And—what did you say earlier? Something about being soulmates?”

Steve winced like he’d been caught saying something unruly. “Okay, yeah, maybe that was a stretch.”

“It was weird and unnecessary.”

“Got it.” Steve mimed zipping his lips, though the motion glitched and looped twice.

Silence.

Garett ran a hand through his hair, breathing through his nose.

Behind them, the coffee machine sparked and coughed out a cube of dirt.

“I think I might’ve brought some of the glitches through with me,” Steve said sheepishly.

“Of course you did.”

“So... you coming or not?”

“I’m not holding your hand again.”

“I never asked you to.”

“You tried.”

Steve gave a sheepish shrug. “It was a dark cave, and I have bad night vision.”

Garett glared. “Whatever. Are we gonna do this or not?”

“Most certainly, replied Steve, follow me!” He led Garrett outside the back of his shop, down a dim-lit alley.

Then he saw it, the portal.

It fizzled like a dying neon sign. Steve poked at it with a stick.

"Totally safe," he said brightly. "Well. Eighty percent."

Garett crossed his arms. "I feel like that number keeps going down."

Steve looked up at him with a grin. “I’ve crossed over with way worse odds.”

Garett muttered something unrecognizable and stepped forward.

His foot hit the grass.

But it wasn’t grass. Not really.

It looked like grass but was too smooth, like a game engine forgot to render textures correctly. There was no sound. No ambient birds, no mobs. Just silence and a sky that shimmered like a broken TV screen.

Garett turned in a slow circle.

Everything felt... off. It's like walking into a stage set where all the props are slightly too small.

“I hate this,” he muttered.

“I missed it!” Steve said, hopping up beside him. “Well, most of it. Not the glitch mobs. Or the cave bees. Those are new. And horrifying, listen to me when I tell you, You DO NOT want to get stung.”

Garett gave him a sideways look. “You are taking this way too well.”

“Adapt and thrive baby,” Steve said, slapping him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him into a chunk error. “Or adapt and scream. Both work.”

He strolled ahead, humming some awful, chirpy overworld music like a typical Tuesday. Garett followed, stepping around a floating pig frozen mid-oink, its body flickering in and out like a hologram.

“I’m not staying,” Garett said. “I just want that clear.”

“Absolutely,” Steve said. “You’re here to help me diagnose an interdimensional glitch, fix corrupted biome code, maybe fight a few eldritch horrors, and go home. Super casual.”

Garett stopped walking. “You’re joking.”

Steve turned around slowly, his smile slightly too wide.

“…Sort of.”

They stared at each other.

Somewhere in the distance, sheep baa’d backward.

Garett sighed through his teeth. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

Steve patted his shoulder. “That’s okay. I’ve got extras.”

—-

The forest shimmered in the low light—sun slipping behind square-edged hills, casting long shadows between the blocky trees. The leaves rustled like static, and the grass flickered between two shades of green every so often, like the texture couldn’t make up its mind.

Garett ducked under a low branch, swatting away a glowing particle with a frown. “Is that... supposed to be floating?”

Steve glanced back. “Define supposed to. Some updates have... personality.”

“Is that your excuse for everything glitchy? ‘It’s just quirky’?”

“Hey,” Steve grinned, “quirky built this world.”

Garett stepped over a flower that dissolved under his boot like smoke. “Yeah? Well, quirky’s trying to kill my sense of depth perception.”

They walked silently for a while, their boots crunching on gravel, interspersed with occasional patches of what Steve mumbled were “just mildly cursed terrain.”

Garett slowed a bit, noticing the sky above them beginning to pixelate at the edges. Clouds jittered like bad buffering.

“You seriously didn’t think this was worth mentioning before?” he asked.

Steve didn’t answer immediately. His jaw was tight, eyes fixed ahead. “I noticed it a couple days ago. Thought maybe I was... seeing things.”

Garett narrowed his eyes. “Let me guess. You were also conveniently running on two hours of sleep and trying to solo-build a Redstone auto-farm simultaneously?”

“…Okay, rude, but yes.”

Garett huffed, adjusting the satchel strap slung over his shoulder. “Unbelievable. You ever think of asking for help?”

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t think you’d want to come back.”

Garett blinked. That stopped him.

Steve didn’t look back when he added, “I mean, I figured once you went home, that was it. Curtain call. Happily ever after, post-epic-quest fade to black.”

“I own at a game store in Chuglass,” Garett deadpanned. “There’s no ‘happily ever after.’ Just a lot of counterfeit game cubes and passive-aggressive receipts.”

That made Steve laugh—just a little. “Fair.”

They passed into a clearing where the light suddenly changed—just a shade off, like the sun was rendered in a lower resolution. Steve slowed, then pointed to a slight rise ahead.

“There. That’s it.”

A structure peeked from the hilltop: part cottage, bunker, cobblestone, and oak with a slightly lopsided chimney. It looked cozy—at first.

But Garett squinted. Something about it didn’t sit right.

“The shadows are wrong,” he muttered.

Steve looked at him. “You see it too?”

“I’m a visual thinker. Sue me.” He pointed. “The torchlight’s bending weird. And there’s something off about the door—it keeps jittering.”

Steve stopped just shy of the porch. “It was fine when I left it. Like... peaceful. Static-free.”

They stood there for a moment in the fading light, the silence between them stretching—not uncomfortable, but thick.

“You still sure you want to go in?” Steve asked, trying to sound casual.

Garett exhaled. “Well, you didn’t bring me here for a sightseeing tour, did you?”

“...I did consider that as a cover story.”

“I hate you.”

“You definitely missed me.”

Steve smirked and opened the door.

Inside, a faint light flickered, and the glitch gave another low, distant crackle somewhere more profound in the house—like electricity arcing in the walls.

Garett muttered, “...Okay. You weren’t exaggerating.”

“See?” Steve said, stepping inside and offering a hand. “Quirky.”

Garett didn’t take the hand. Just walked past him into the darkness.

“Fine,” he muttered. “But if I get glitched into a decorative lamp, I’m suing you.”

Garett’s footsteps echoed in a way throughout the house that didn’t feel like it matched the room size. The interior looked fine—at first glance. Cozy wood-paneled walls, item frames here and there, a crafting table pushed into the corner, a few banners Steve probably made in a phase.

But the light… flickered wrong. Torches didn’t flicker, they looped. Every few seconds, they’d reset, casting the same exact flicker pattern again like a GIF on repeat.

Garett walked toward a chest in the corner.

“Do not open that,” Steve said quickly.

Garett paused, hand hovering. “Why?”

“Last time I did, it played cave noises in reverse and spawned a pig in the ceiling. Don’t ask.”

Garett stared. “And yet you live here voluntarily.”

“I have a strong attachment to the place!” Steve protested, then added, “…And nowhere else to go.”

Garett eyed him sideways but didn’t press it. Instead, he turned to the bookshelf nearby. The journals caught his eye first—sloppy handwriting, dog-eared pages, and one volume in particular with the title written sideways in blocky text:

“///MEMORY.LEAK.SHELTER//: DO NOT READ (Garett, if you’re reading this I’m fine probably)”

He picked it up.

“Hey—” Steve tried to stop him, but Garett had already flipped to the first page.

Nothing but scribbles. Frantic loops, numbers, lines that crossed themselves out violently. There was a sketch of Steve’s face—shaky and slightly warped like whoever drew it didn’t trust the lines to stay in place.

Then the next page.

“The sunset rewinds sometimes. The same skeleton shoots me in the same place every time. I think I’m stuck in a save file.”

Garett slowly looked up. “Okay. I take back the ‘quirky.’ This is full-on existential nightmare fuel.”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I wrote that on day… uh, glitch-hundred? It’s all kind of blurry.”

Garett flipped to the next page—and this time, something hissed.

Like static in the walls.

The writing shifted. The words rearranged themselves on the page. Garett watched, stunned, as the letters twisted into a binary line.

Then a voice played.

Soft. Croaky. It came from nowhere and everywhere, like a broken record caught in a loop.

“Garett… come back… Garett…”

Garett slowly closed the journal and set it down like it might bite.

“...Did you record yourself being haunted?”

“That’s not me,” Steve said, voice tight. “I don’t know what that is.”

The room went quiet again. Garett turned, slowly taking in the house’s layout with new eyes.

The mismatched shadows.

The low glitch-crack coming from the empty furnace.

The way Steve’s reflection in the window blinked a half-second too slowly.

“…Okay,” Garett muttered. “This is definitely above my pay grade.”

Steve exhaled, finally slumping down into a chair. “Welcome back to Minecraft.”

Garett crossed his arms. “Yeah. Thanks. Thrilled to be here.”

Then, softer: “We’re gonna fix this.”

Steve looked up. “We?”

Garett glanced at him. “Well, I’m not letting you get turned into corrupted furniture or whatever. Besides, I never got to finish that absurd tower build.”

Steve smiled faintly. “The one shaped like a llama?”

“It was an architectural masterpiece, and you know it.”

Something clicked in the walls again. But softer this time. Like the house was… listening. Like it was waiting.

Steve’s eyes darted to the corner where a mirror used to be.

“It’s getting worse,” he said. “Faster.”

Garett adjusted his satchel, already pulling out a notebook and a USB drive that definitely wasn’t standard Minecraft issue.

“Then we better get to work.”

“Let’s see if I can connect to a metaphysical codebase that may not even exist.”

Steve leaned over the back of the couch. “You say that like it’s hard.”

Garrett shot him a look. “You get sugar from skeletons now, Steve. I don’t trust this world’s logic.”

The screen booted up with a faint ding, and he typed something rapid-fire. A small blinking interface appeared, overlaying blocky coordinates with jittery noise maps and a long list of corrupted chunk names that read more like a horror story than a debug log.

VOID_141-NOISE-MIRROR

SUNSET_REDO_03

SHELTER_ECHO

Steve peered at it, brows furrowing. “That one’s my house. Right?”

Garett nodded. “That’s the part that worries me.”

The room had dimmed considerably. The torches flickered out of sync, creating an almost strobe-like effect across the walls. Steve lit a lantern and set it between them, casting a warm, flickering glow across Garett’s concentrated face.

For a while, the only sound was clicking keys and the occasional sigh.

“...So what are you looking for?” Steve finally asked, half-curled on the couch like a large, anxious golden retriever.

“Anomalies. Patterns. Weird energy pulses. Anything that screams ‘the code is unraveling.’”

Steve watched him work for a moment, lips twitching like he wanted to say something but didn’t.

Then: “You always work like this?”

Garett raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Frowny. Intense. A little... feral.”

Garett blinked. “Excuse you—this is my focus face, and you should have seen my face in 1998.”

“It’s also your ‘I haven’t eaten in ten hours’ face.”

“...Okay, fair.”

Steve got up and rummaged in a chest. After some light cursing, he returned with two apples and what might’ve once been a suspicious stew but was now just suspicious.

Garett stared. “Is that steaming in reverse?”

“I’m not gonna feed it to you,” Steve said and tossed him an apple.

They settled into an almost-comfortable rhythm: Garett typing, Steve occasionally poking at command blocks or muttering about chunk borders, both of them trying very hard not to look like they were glancing at each other more often than necessary.

A line of code blinked across Garett’s screen.

>> ECHO DETECTED: USER_ID_STEVE // REPEATING MEMORY LOOP INITIATED

Garettvfroze.

Steve leaned in. “What’s that?”

“...You tell me,” Garett said, voice low. “You have a memory loop running.”

Steve’s face paled slightly. “I—I don’t know what that means.”

Garett clicked into the log. A crude video file opened, pixelated at the edges.

It was Steve—standing outside the shelter and talking to no one. His voice warped, repeating the exact phrase.

“You can go home if you want. I get it. I’d leave me too.”

Then it skipped. Back to the start.

“You can go home if you want…”

Steve looked like he’d been hit.

“I never said that out loud,” he muttered. “I thought it. But I never—”

“You’re glitching your memories.” Garett looked up at him. “Steve, this place isn’t just falling apart—it’s remembering things you never said. And it’s replaying them.”

The lantern light flickered again. A little brighter. A little closer than it had been before.

They both stared at it.

“…Okay,” Garett muttered. “That’s new.”

Steve sat down beside him, closer than before. “If this place is reacting to me…”

Garett slowly closed the laptop. “Then we need to be careful what you think about.”

Steve’s eyes met his for a second too long. “That’s… going to be a problem.”

[miintsprigz]

Casanova, Crushed

Half-baked Dadspy hurt/comfort drabble, go

Ok fine, bigger explanation: Scout asks out Pauling, she says no, whether it’s because she doesn’t like him like that, because she’s a lesbian, I don’t know exactly what’s canon.

Either way, Dadspy tries to help.

Had this idea for my scout OC and her spymom, but decided to try it with the canon characters

—

It was quiet on the base. Much too quiet for a team with a Scout.

The other mercenaries sat around the table, smoking, playing blackjack, slinging a couple drinks.

Spy sat back, a silent observer even amongst the members of his own team. Seemed that even in the casual moments, he was still a spy first.

But even now, he noticed only seven other men in the room. The eighth, the noisiest one, was suspiciously absent.

His son, as much as he’d never admit it, was nearly as good of a hider as he was.

How could he admit it though, he thought. The kid hated him, and why shouldn’t he. He was a mercenary before he was a man. There wasn’t much there to like, let alone love.

Jeremy had been especially loud earlier—something he himself couldn’t recognize as nervousness. But Spy did. He was shocked at how well he knew his own, despite his careful dodging of the actual responsibility of raising him.

“Arright, arright, shuddup! Cuz I’m actually gonna do it today.”

“Ye always say that, lad.”

“Well I mean it dis time! I’m gonna tell ‘er.”

He had a feeling that he knew what that meant…and if he was right, Scout’s absence meant things had either gone miraculously well, or…

“I’ll be back.”

“No rush, Frenchie! Haha!”

The boy’s room was suspiciously vacant.

Now. If I was an idiot, where would I hide…

Climbing up the side of the fort, sure enough, he got his answer. The limber figure sat hunched on the edge of the roof, his feet dangling over the edge.

Oh…

In a split decision, Spy decided to render his footsteps audible, despite knowing a tumble off the roof could be easily explained away as stupidity. If he was right, and it looked like he was, then the last thing the poor fool needed was a few broken bones in addition to a broken heart.

His hearing sharp, Jeremy turned to look over his shoulder, but not before quickly rubbing at his eye.

“‘Ey. What’sa matta? Got real borin’ wittout me down there, huh?”

Spy rolled his eyes. “Bored to tears.”

He motioned with a tilt of his head to the spot next to Scout, and was surprised when he moved over.

“What are you doing up here, Scout.”

“Could ask you da same.”

“…fair enough. It wasn’t obnoxiously loud enough in the game room, so I went looking for a good source of noise. Found it.”

Jeremy scoffed, shaking his head softly, then fell silent. Unlike him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“…are you alright?”

Scout’s eyes widened. The Spy noticed his jaw lock slightly.

“…yeah, yeah I-I’m fine. I uh…I had a weird day.”

“Mm?”

Spy felt a pit in his stomach as the boy’s voice went soft.

“I uh…asked Pauling out. For a date. An’ I called it dat.”

He arched an eyebrow, biting back a smile. Although he’d never own up to it, he knew the look. He’d seen it in the mirror. Although it sometimes felt like he’d been born the devilishly charming rogue he played, he knew deep down that it was learned. Seeing Scout in such a state defrosted memories of more than a few failed passes.

“Well…what did she say?”

“…”

Scout kept his eyes down. Not a sound out of him, other than a soft exhale as he took a gulp.

“…I’ll change the subject.”

“No.”

His eyes went half-lidded.

“She said no, Spy. Long ‘n’ short of it.”

“…ah…”

“Said it ain’t nuthin’ personal. Don’ really wanna get into it, don’t think she’d like dat. But…yeah. So…dat’s it.”

“That’s it then.”

“Yep.”

The two men sat in silence for a while. The Spy pulled a cigarette from the case in his pocket and lit it, taking a short drag before watching the blue-gray smoke twist upwards in a plume as he exhaled.

Ugh. What do I even say to this? Why do I want to do anything at all? I missed my chance for this…he’ll probably punch me if I try anything even resembling comfort.

And yet…he tried. Lifting his free hand, he gently put it on the Scout’s shoulder. Scout didn’t budge. The normally fidgety, hyperactive young man had been still as stone for this whole conversation, as if it had taken all his energy just to sit up there.

“Well…you can never know unless you actually come out and say it. So I’m glad that you did that.”

A smile tugged at his lips, barely there.

“I see why you like her. Dangerous, but sweet. Not bad. Not bad at all. Let me guess: she was polite, but didn’t pull any punches…”

Jeremy nodded, looking up at the watchtower across from the fort.

“Yes, that’s our Pauling. Well…it’s too bad that it didn’t go the way you wanted it to. Even though she was surely graceful about it.”

Spy couldn’t believe the nonsense that was coming out of his mouth. And the fact that it…wasn’t really nonsense. This was stuff nobody told him when he was the one staring into space with a hole shattered through his heart.

Things he needed to reassure himself of, before he was the world’s greatest. When he was just…whoever that was that stared back in the mirror when the mask was off.

“But it really is much too quiet in there, and Soldier thinks he’s the best at blackjack now, so…I know you’d hate that.”

Scout turned his head ever-so-slightly, and Spy could just barely see his face. A dull pang struck his chest.

Jeremy’s eyes were full of tears.

“I’m…sorry, Jeremy. I know how much you liked her. I’ll be honest, I don’t have much experience with this side…”

Liar.

“…so I don’t know how to hel—”

Spy reeled back slightly as Jeremy’s arms snapped around him, locking him in a rough embrace.

“…Spy, I dunno what ta do…I…I love her, but...”

It was so uncanny to hear the normally bold, cocky voice so shaky. So fragile. As if concerned that the boy would dissolve if he touched him, Spy gingerly closed an arm around Scout, giving the closer of the two shoulders a slight squeeze.

He remembered saying those exact words again and again about a woman they both knew very well…

I love her, but…I can’t be with her.

“…I know, Scout. I know.”

Spy felt his stomach twist as Jeremy lowered his head over his shoulder, arms rattling with silent sobs as he fully latched on. He could feel tears dampening the back of his suit, and yet…as much as this would normally repel him—it certainly felt wrong—he couldn’t bring himself to let go of his boy.

His boy.

While the other men did God only knows what down below them, Spy rethought those words.

Could I have been with her?

If I had…

This would be happening under much different circumstances.

He stayed quiet, letting the fellow mercenary get all of his emotions out, eyes falling closed as he held the boy just a bit tighter.

I’m sorry.

[xbruised-peachx]

I NEED MORE GROMSKO SHIBARI IVE BEEN RE READING THAT SECTION FOR DAAAYS (specifically him in shibari you wrote it so good please 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺)

𝔾𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕚

bc this has been rotating in my mind for a while as well (apologies to anon im sure this was written a while ago but i finally got to it so!) render by me, full version on my pat :3c Word Count: 3,946 Tags: Shibari/Ropeplay, fem!reader, denial/slight edging, lots of teasing, language kink (reader only slightly knows Polish aka me I've been learning lol), slight size kink, riding, creampie, not proofread (aka eve is gonna kill me for the Polish in this fic LMAO) Translations at the end 🔞+ STORY MDNI

“Here... Let me just...” He was talking under his breath, trying to adjust the meters of rope to find the middle. It wasn’t perfect, not some nice silky rope either, he said he didn’t want that. Instead it was brown and twine-like, like the one that always hung around his waist. He folded it again, leaving it in a nice quarter for you, or at least as close as he could get from just eyeballing it. “There... Now, we’re at step one.”

He chuckled softly as you looked off to your side, a printed guide with many steps over there. He gave you the rope, a look of sympathy on his face. You probably weren’t hiding your nerves too well from his expression. He gave you a soft kiss on the cheek, unable to stop smiling as he did. “Masz to, kochanie... I trust you, you know that...” 

You smiled, nodding as you met his eyes after looking up from the instructions. “I know... Hmmmph... But the first step is having your arms behind your back. How are you gonna help me like that?”

He chuckled again, shrugging his shoulders. “I mean... kind of the point of it is that I’m slightly helpless but here...” He bounced his leg slightly, signaling for you to get off his lap. It made you laugh slightly as a jolt of pleasure ran up your spine, no doubt he had other motives as well as you were both undressed. His thick thigh rubbing against your pussy released just a little bit of tension from you. He turned once you were off, facing the instructions as he held his arms in position behind him. You held the bite of the rope cautiously, looking slightly over his shoulder. “I’ll try and tell you, and I’ll tell you the knots, just like we practiced.”

You nodded, still looking over his shoulder, your nose resting on it as you slowly pulled the bite under both his arms, letting the ends hang down. You pulled up on the bite, giving yourself some more room as you started to wrap it around his wrists three times. He told you himself he’d probably need more reinforcement, even if he didn’t resist you. He was a big, strong military man, through and through. But, God, it made you want to see his big body tied up even more. You tried to not fantasize too much in your head as you wrapped, just wanting to experience it all first hand. You kissed the back of his shoulder as you lifted up, letting your breath linger with your smile against his skin as you looked back at the strong rope holding him. “Okay... what knot first, Sobi?”

He cleared his throat lightly, taking a deep breath as he looked down at the notes. “Mmm... I’d say a box tie.” You nodded, remembering him showing you all the types of knots and ties you could do safely. He joked while showing you, saying the military was useful for more than just survival to him... that it was finally coming into use in the bedroom. He felt you tighten it, nodding to give approval that it felt good, secure and not too tight. “Now just wrap it around my left arm, bring it around my chest, then around the right.”

You remembered him saying not to place it too low so it wouldn’t hurt him, nor too high lest it just slip down. Cautiously, you brought it up and around, letting it touch his bicep before lightly pulling it across his chest as your other arm held it onto his bicep. “Right here?”

“Hmm...” Still able to move his arm slightly, he wiggled it slowly, making your hand softly caress his flexing bicep in the process. From the outside looking in, he didn’t seem ripped, but easily he could out-lift anyone he knew, his strong abs and muscles protected by a nice, soft layer of fat that made him so inviting to you. Like your own big teddy bear. “A little higher, like... above the bicep, barely where my shoulder ends... if that makes sense.”

You nodded, listening to him, he had to know himself the best. Slowly, with your arm still caressing him, you pushed the rope up. You heard him take a deep breath out of his nose, truly taking in the feeling of your soft hands against him, your naked body pressed against him. You pushed it even more, leaning up to his ear as you continued pulling the rope across his chest with your other hand. “Like this~?”

He gasped softly as the rope wrapped softly around his other arm, around the same area, taking in the feeling of your soft hands and the rough rope. “Tak~... Y-yes, I like it, kochanie...” His eyes were shut, only cracking open as you started to chuckle.

“No, no... like, ‘jak to?’ As in, is it okay there for position?”

“Oh... heheh, y-yeah, feels perfect there.”

He looked back at you, already his pupils starting to dilate from pleasure. “Mmmm...” you playfully scolded him, “you’re already losing yourself, baby. Got to keep it together, we’ve barely even started.”

He pouted back at you, just playing into the lighthearted joking. “I know... Mmm~... I guess you’re just a natural at it... already making me feel good.” He smiled at you, giving you a wink as you started blushing. He looked down at the instructions, squinting at the next step before taking a harsher breath out. “O, ja pierdolę... right, you have to go around more times now... So, uh, you’ll go under that one on my left and just wrap around... Don’t tease me too much, please, kotku?”

You smiled devilishly, doing as he said, pulling the rope under, but letting your fingers trail up his arm to his shoulder as you pulled it around. “No promises...” As you pulled the rope around his chest, you let your fingers interlace on the rope. They trailed gently across him, his soft hair and chest being teased, also acting as a double check to make sure it wasn’t too tight. He rolled his neck back, a soft kurwa escaping his lips as he loved your delicate touch against him, contrasting beautifully against the ropes that bound him, hugging his body roughly, but also comforting. You chuckled, catching his mouth as he leaned back, continuing to pull the rope around. Instantly, the kiss was deepened as he groaned softly in your mouth, his tongue trying to enter as soon as he could. He was desperate, even now, even just at the beginning. It was cute in its own way, but you couldn’t let him have everything, especially with the way he teases you himself. You let your tongue meet his for a moment, but quickly pulled away with a cheeky grin, watching as his face turned from confusion to frustration, letting out a little huff out of his nose. You looked over his shoulder at the directions again, because lord knew he wasn’t looking.

You pulled the rope under the stem, leading it over and around, then over and around again, until you repeated on the stem. It was hard to read the instructions from here, but you could tell the knot was secure but adjustable. He took a deep breath, leaning his head up slowly as he looked back at the directions himself. He attempted to wiggle his arms, but couldn’t get much of anywhere, ensuring it was perfect. He smiled softly as he read. “Okay... there’s another rope over there, you’re gonna attach it to the other one. Remember the ‘lark’s head’ knot?” You nodded, reaching over to grab the other long rope he had already prepared for you.

“It’s so nice how prepared you are, Sobi,” you smiled, genuinely complimenting him. He smiled softly, chuckling in response.

“Mmm, what can I say? A lovely lady like you who trusts me with her heart asks me if it’s okay to do one of my fantasies? Heh... Am I not supposed to make her life easier?”

You smiled, pulling down on the knot as tight as you could to keep it secure. “You say that like it isn’t a fantasy of mine as well... You’ve tied me up and just... I wanted to see you in it.”

He looked back at you, a smile on his face as his cheeks flushed red softly. “How are you liking it so far?”

“Better than I imagined even,” you said with a big smile on your face, pulling the rope around his arm, this time going under his chest, your pinky playfully twirling in the hair on his chest leading down to his stomach. “I really love how it looks on your arms... Mmm, you already know how much I love hanging off them as is, so...”

He laughed softly, his laugh trailing into a heavier breath as your fingers continued dancing softly on his skin. “That you do... I imagine we have a similar feeling when I wrap it around your thighs, see that little bit of squish.”

“Probably it’s something similar... but your arms are too firm to squish,” your voice trailed off, bringing one of your hands up to run along his bicep again as you brought the rope around a second time, leaning up to his ear, letting your breath softly trace the shell of it. “So big and strong... everytime I touch you like this I just... mmm~, I want those arms doing something else to me.”

He smiled a devilish smile, just barely turning towards you as you slowly nuzzled yourself in the crook of his neck. “Mmm~, and you are worried about me getting worked up? Seems you are working yourself up, kochanie... I can feel your hips rubbing on my back right now.”

You hadn’t even noticed it, but he was right. A blush further spread across your cheeks as you backed away, finishing pulling the rope around. You did the same sort of securing, pulling it up and around a few times around all three branches of the rope. Looking back over his shoulder, he beat you to it, leaning to read himself. “Now’s time for the front.”

You smiled widely at him as he gave you a knowing glance. “Lap time again?”

He shook his head softly, “Not quite, it’s just you have to wrap it around my shoulders in the front, then you can get back in my lap... Trust me, I want it more than anything right now.”

You chuckled softly, pulling the rope through his arm to the front, starting to wrap to his shoulder. “Hehe... I can tell,” you said as you looked down to his growing hard on. It was clear he was into this, his tip pink and barely poking out. You smiled deviously, reaching down with your free hand to pull lightly to get his foreskin fully out of the way, making him quickly suck a breath through his teeth at not only your touch, but the feeling of the air hitting his sensitive tip.

“K-kurwa~! Kotku, I-... shit, you can’t just do that without warning...”

You smiled, feeling a little guilty but you knew he wasn’t too serious, just frustrated from all the teasing... how the tables have turned on him so suddenly. “Mmm~... sorry, you just looked like you needed just a little release...” You pulled the rope over his shoulder and to his back, pulling around and under to meet his other arm, pulling it through. “You seem so pent up, Sobi. Am I wrong?”

You tilted your head cutely as you asked him a question, sitting at his side as you sat there, waiting for his answer. He shook his head, his eyes almost pleading with you as he met yours. “No... God, no you aren’t. I really need this, baby please...”

You smiled at him, pity in your expression as you pulled the rope over his shoulder, reaching the end of it. There was one more rope left, this one a little shorter than the other two. You leaned over his lap, arching your back to tease him more. Your breast against his thigh as you read the instructions, your ass in the air so tantalizing to him, he groaned, cursing under his breath and making you smile more. “O mój kurwa boże...”

“Hmmm...” you played ignorant of your teasing, just reading what comes next in the directions. “Oh! Now it’s lap time!”

“Ohhh... great~...” His voice dripped with sarcasm as he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at him not being able to take such teasing. Though you suppose, this was a whole different level for him; rather than him just touching along your inner thighs, teasing the outside of your lips, or making his hand go the same pace as your grinding hips. His hands were literally bound as you were bent over in front of him so alluring, your naked body literally right within reach, but was physically incapable of being the palm of his hands.

You tied the last rope in the back, pulling it up and through his arm then letting it dangle, the rope tickling at his thighs. He bit his lip as you saw you readjust, coming back around to his front. Meeting his eyes, you picked up the rope, letting the end graze along his thighs in a tantalizing way, holding it in your other hand as you came to straddle his lap. He looked you up and down, his breath getting heavier moment by moment, seeing how close you were to him, hell, even able to feel the heat from your pussy as it sat inches away. “Don’t tease me too much... I know I keep saying it but... Kurwa, I don’t know how much more I can take...”

His voice trailed off into a more desperate tone, almost sounding like he was whimpering, begging you to give him what he so desperately wanted. You only gave him a pitiful smile, “I’ll try... But it’s a little... hard when I feel you so excited under me. Mmm~...” You let your hips just barely scoot forward on him, earning a groan from him but you said to yourself it was just you adjusting as you pulled the rope across the right under the opposite collarbone. “ It’s just so tempting...”

He chuckled, barely bucking his hips up to yours, making you gasp softly and nearly lose your grip on the rope. “I can say the same for you, kochanie~... So, so tempting...”

You giggled, feeling his cock nestled right at your entrance but unable to enter. Unintentionally, he just led himself into this little trap... a little trap that left him yearning to be inside you even more. “It’s only a little more, miśku... then I’ll have my way with you...” You let your hands trail more on him as you pulled the rope across to the other side, going over then under, making sure to take your time tying a decorative knot at the front of him. You watched him intently as his chest rose and fell rhythmically, despite the deep breaths he was taking. His own eyes watched as your small, delicate hands tied the twine on him, watching those perfect hands expertly work the frayed, imperfect rope.

He whined softly as he wiggled his hands, feeling your wet pussy pressed against him. He knew you wanted this, though your hands went slow, it was just to mess with him more. So you could just feel him get harder under you. He didn’t even think he could get so turned out, but the harsh ropes binding him, making it so he couldn’t touch you. He could only groan in frustration, though the denial only excited him more.

You pulled the rope under the one by his arm and pulled through his arm, letting it rest behind him. You leaned up to his ear, unintentionally grinding yourself on him again as your sultry voice whispered in his ear, “Just one more knot... then I’m done.”

His breath hitched as you spoke, his hips desperately rising to meet yours again, anything to help with this painful hard-on he had. But you didn’t help at all, wrapping your arms around him and leaning over his shoulder, nuzzled close by his neck as you tied the final knot. So close to him, you were able to hear the little whines he let out under his breath as he grinded himself into your core. You bit your lip, suppressing yourself from letting out your own moan. “Pragnę cię tak bardzo, kochanie... Pr-... Pleeeaase~...” He desperately whined as he grinded himself further into your now sopping wet cunt, trying to tie that knot faster as you couldn’t resist him anymore either.

You finally finished it off, pulling your arms out from around him and immediately locking them around his neck, pulling him close as you kissed him messily. He didn’t help at all with the mess, barely able to control himself as he pushed himself into you, his tongue running along your bottom lip within seconds. You welcomed him in though, fingers interlacing with the bottom of his hair as you pulled him even closer.

Still grinding, even with your tongues interlocking, he was wanting so much more. He pulled away his eyes half lidded as his pupils dilated with lust. “Proszę, baby, fuck me already~... Boże, I can feel how wet and I just... Potrzebuję cię, kochanie~... I’ll do anything...”

His begging turned you on even more, it made you not want to do as he said... just so you could hear it more. But you couldn’t resist it either. Slowly you pulled yourself off his lap, just to tease him more, build more anticipation in him. He helped out, wiggling his hips down the bed more so they were parallel with it. You reached down to him, holding him by the base, feeling it throb with just your fingers as you lined yourself up. Slowly slipping your entrance on him, you expect some more resistance with the lack of foreplay, but after a couple little pushes, you were able to take him in, moaning as you slowly slid down, taking him to the base. He watched for as long as he could, until he just succumbed to his own pleasure, moaning softly and closing his eyes, head falling back just barely. You smiled devilishly, seeing him already losing himself in you. You wait for his eyes to open, looking at you with such desire before you asked, “...You ready?”

He chuckled softly, biting his lip as he bucked his hips up, egging you on to continue, “As ready as ever... How about you?”

You rolled your eyes at him light-heartedly, putting your hands on his shoulders as you slowly moved up. “Mmm~... maybe I should tie your legs next time too.”

He laughed, letting out a deep exhale through pursed lips, “Don’t know about that one, baby... Nggh~... already... hard enough as is.” As you slid back down, he leaned forward, getting right by your ear as you gasped, him doing another little thrust to push himself deeper inside. “Nie masz pojęcia, co mi zrobiłeś... How badly I want to grab your hips and fuck you so hard right now.” His voice came out as a growl... so deep and nearly threatening... but with him restrained, he was unable to act on such empty threats of good times.

“Heheh~... But your hands are tied, quite literally...” You ran your hands down his shoulders, running them down to where the ropes crossed in front, holding onto that for balance as you pulled yourself up again. He groaned, kissing onto your jaw as he cursed under his breath. “I’m the one in control here, Sobi... Mmm~, and I’ll fuck you so good if you just sit back and enjoy it...”

You felt him nod softly, lifting off your jaw as he met your eyes again, reaching right by his head before going down again, starting your rhythm of riding him. He watched you carefully as you took him in so expertly, his mouth sitting slightly agape as his breath got heavier. You started to roll your hips, earning a more needy moan from him as his head went back, and you saw slightly behind him, his hands balling into fists as his moan turned to a whimper. You felt so powerful right now, turning this huge, strong man to whining and begging under you, despite you still having to look up at him as you hit the tip of his cock. That thick hard cock too... you couldn’t get enough of it. When your hips rolled just right, it hit that spot inside that had you shutting your eyes as well, clinging even harder on the ropes. So focused on riding him, you could only let out heavy pants but once he bucked his hips, seeing him hit the spot inside you, you couldn’t help but cry out, cursing under your breath.

As you continued, he kept up his own little thrust inside you, making you moan more and more. Part of you wondered if he was chasing his own climax, or if he was just trying to make you feel good. Everytime you moaned though, breathily saying his name, you would see his arm wiggle, shoulder desperately trying to reach to you but being unsuccessful. He pulled himself forward, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he moaned more, his thrusts getting slightly more erratic. “Mój Boże~... proszę, baby... I’m so... Kurwa~, I’m so fucking close, are you?”

You giggled softly, feeling yourself on the edge but just barely there yourself. “Just about~... Ahh~! I-I’ll get there soon, just finish whenever, babe...”

“C-can I cum inside you? Please, please, please, kochanie, I want to so badly, pleeeeaase~...” He desperately whined, whimpering as he started to increase the pace of his thrusts, making you moan and your own climax approached just as quickly.

You giggled softly, leaning over to whisper in his ear. “Oh~... you will finish inside me... Nggh~... Come on, Sobi... Do it, cum inside me make me yours~”

Those words pushed him over the edge, biting onto your shoulder as he pushed down as hard as he could, cumming with a growl that turned quickly to a whimper. Erratically pushing himself deeper inside with little thrusts, you felt the warmth go even deeper inside you. Those deep thrusts against you nearly sent you over the edge, but as he slowly came down from his high, he pulled back, thrusting harshly as he let out one final spurt of cum right into your g-spot. Feeling that warmth all pressed against you, you hit your climax, moaning out his name as you came. He admired the sight, finally coming down fully to see you shaking, bouncing slightly on his still hard cock. He kissed your neck, encouraging you as you came down. “So good, kochanie... You fucked me so well, kotku... Moja piękna dziewczyna~... so beautiful cumming for me...”

You caught your breath, coming down to his wonderful words, leaning over and catching his lips as they lifted, bringing him in for a much more passionate kiss. When you leaned back, opening your eyes slowly, the both of you were smiling, unable to hold back the love you felt just from gazing at each other.

“Thank you, kochanie...” He wiggled his arms, making sure you could see it. “Now, could you uh... untie me? I just want to hold you now...”

Translations! Masz to, kochanie- You got this, baby Tak- Yes Jak to- Like this, jak being the comparative "like" rather than the enjoyment "like" O, ja pierdolę- Oh, fuck me Kotku- kitty/kitten Kurwa- fuck O mój kurwa boże- Oh my fucking god Miśku- bear (diminutive) Pragnę cię tak bardzo, kochanie- I want you so bad, baby Proszę- Please Potrzebuję cię- I need you Nie masz pojęcia, co mi zrobiłeś- You have no idea what you've done to me Moja piękna dziewczyna- My beautiful girl

[mitsuki-komori]

Happy Birthday, Leo. Here’s a Leo fic.

Asta rizzes Leo up

Leopold has missed Asta a lot, after all, the amount of missions have left them apart for a while now. He couldn’t help but feel a little giddy waiting outside the restaurant for him, their first date in two months. Two months since they started dating.

Leo’s nerves have been going through the roof, the day after they finally got together, missions flooded in as if trying to taunt them.

Leopold thought his schedule would never be clear, Asta probably didn’t either…

He watched as small groups and couples walked by, each time someone new came into view, his head would perk hoping it was Asta. No such luck.

Until the familiar muscular figure came into view. Leopold’s eyes lit up and his legs moved before he could think. “Asta!”

Asta turned his head towards the voice, seeing Leo running towards him. He smiled and opened his arms. Leo wrapped his arms around Asta and rested his head in the crook of his neck.

“Someone’s happy to see me.” Asta jokes, taking in the scent he’s been longing for.

“How could I not?” Leo looked up at him. “I missed you.”

Asta’s heart couldn’t help but flutter everytime Leo said something like that… Every time. “I missed you too.”

Leo wasn’t sure why he felt so nervous all the sudden, but he shrugs it off. “Are you hungry?”

Asta nods. “Yeah! Let’s go.” Asta walked beside Leo, putting his arm around his shoulder. Leopold felt some sense of pride walking around with Asta’s arm around him, showing people they belonged to each other. No matter is the stares they received were judgmental or indifferent; they’re together and they’re happy.

Walking into the restaurant, they were immediately met with a wave of warmth. 

“Hello there! Table for two?” A young woman greets them. Leopold gave her a nod and they were led to their seats.

Leopold skims through the menu, sometimes glancing at Asta, he’d always divert his eyes when Asta caught him.

“What’re you gonna get?” Asta asks him. Leo blinked and chuckled.

“Oh! Uhm… I’m gonna get spaghetti.” Leo answered. “I think I saw a table with it on our way to this one, it was a big plate!”

Asta holds his head up on his elbow. “You wanna share?”

Leo couldn’t help but blush. “Yeah, sure.”

After taking their order, they spent the evening chatting away and catching up as they’ve been dreaming of since the day they last saw each other.

Once the spaghetti was dropped off at their table, they thanked the waitress and grabbed their forks.

“This looks so good!” Leo says. He stabs his fork into the small mountain and twists it. He takes a bite. “Asta, you’ve got to try this.”

Asta’s smile goes away for a moment and he grabs a napkin. He reached forward towards Leo and wiped his shirt. Leo looked down at himself, confused.

“Oh, did I get sauce on myself?”

Asta put his hand on Leo’s chin and raised his head, causing Leo to flush. Asta gently wiped Leo’s face.

Leo was rendered speechless. 

“There you go!” Asta said, putting the napkin aside and leaning back. Asta took a bite and his eyes lit up similarly to Leo. “Wow, you’re right! This is good!” Asta glances back up at Leo, noticing the flustered expression on his face. “Hey what’s wrong?”

Leo’s red face was painfully obvious and he let out an awkward cough. “Nothing…” he stutters out. “Nothing at all, I’m just…”

“I’m just really glad to be here with you.”

[jack-the-nibbler]

Voretober Day 2: Ritual/Eldritch

It's a perfect night to have a sacrifice, to turn the hunter into the prey...with a little surprise.

Jack couldn’t believe this was happening. One moment he’d been creeping around the Lakeside Village, hunting for survivors, when he’d suddenly been knocked out by the Seer’s owl. When he’d awoken, he was tied up, his wrists bound and claws rendered useless. Standing above him were the very survivors he’d been after; the Seer, Barmaid, Priestess, and Magician, now wearing golden robes.

“Hey, Ripper, don’t look so sad.” Eli said with a kind smile, patting his owl on the head.

“Mhm! Chin up, handsome! You’re gonna be a wonderful sacrifice!” Demi added in her usual chipper tone.

Wait…sacrifice?! Jack’s eyes widened, and he immediately started to struggle against his binds. Briefly glancing around, he could see that he’d been dragged to the sandy shore of the lake. Were they going to gag him and toss him into the water, let him drown like a rat?!

“What is the meaning of this?! I’m not going to let you miserable pests sacrifice me to anything or anyone! Untie me this instant!” Jack shouted. He froze as Servais’s gloved hand gripped his chin, forcing him to look up at him.

“There is no need to fret, Mister Sickert! You are about to become a part of something greater than yourself, serve a higher, more divine purpose!” The Magician exclaimed, a wicked glint in his eye. “This is quite an honorable position to be in. You should be excited!”

Jack…really didn’t like that look. He knew Servais to be grumpy but often well composed, but now he was speaking like a delusional madman. 

Glancing over to the water, the hunter saw Fiona tossing buckets of chum into the lake water. Bubbles started to form over the surface, the tips of purple and red tendrils emerging. Jack smiled a little, nervous but somewhat relieved.

“Aha, I see what’s going on! This is some kind of prank!” Jack said with an uneasy laugh. “Well, you got me good! Alright, you can let me go, and I’ll just go ahead and give you the match! How does that sound?

But Servais clearly wasn’t listening, as he dragged the much taller man closer to the water. Jack was forced to kneel in the sand as Hastur rose from the water; clothed in a tattered yellow robe, thick tentacles lashing against the shallow waves, multiple orange, catlike eyes staring down at the five mortals. Servais bowed before the towering deity.

“Oh mighty Feaster, venerable King in Yellow! We offer you this humble sacrifice, a fine snack to sate your terrifying hunger. We are aware that artists are a favorite of yours, and we do hope that this one is to your liking.” The magician exclaimed.

Hastur’s eyes focused on his fellow hunter, who now felt even smaller than he usually did. It didn’t help that Jack wasn’t used to him being this massive. A few tendrils slithered towards him, encircling his bound form. The Ripper found himself shivering, but clinging to any sort of hope. Hastur was always fairly reasonable, at least far more so than the Dream Witch. He wouldn’t truly hurt him, would he?

“H-Hastur, are we good? Is this a bit we’re doing?” Jack asked, gasping as thick, slimy tentacles surrounded him. They pulled away the ropes, but Jack’s relief turned right back into fear as the tendrils wrapped around him. They squished and pulsed, seeming to suckle on him. As one lapped up his cheek like a tongue, he realized that he was being tasted. Savored like a delicious treat.

“My, you’re quite delicious, Jack,” Hastur said, giving a low, rumbling chuckle. “Do not fret. I’m sure you will find my belly quite accommodating.” His tentacles lifted Jack from the ground, up towards the dark red mist that made up his “face”. Jack’s eyes widened, a plea for mercy being muffled as he was stuffed inside.

The mist engulfed the hunter, bringing a mix of odd sensations to his body and mind. It was cool and wispy like fog, then humid and squishy like a mouth. He was terrified, but parts of his mind felt oddly comforted. A few tentacles pulled and pushed him deeper before finally dropping him into the abyss of Hastur’s throat.

Jack screamed as he slid down the long, slimy tunnel. It wasn’t very tight, but it was dark, and Jack feared that he could possibly be slipping down forever. After all, what could he expect from the unearthly guts of an eldritch god?

To his relief and fear, Jack landed with a splat upon squishy flesh. He shuddered, eyes squeezed shut, fingers gripping into the stomach lining. He didn’t want to look up, to see whatever horrible innards he was trapped within. Pits of corrosive acids, unending intestinal labyrinths, fleshy growths meant to soften and absorb him…

“Huh, I was wondering when you’d get thrown in here.”

Jack immediately looked up at the sound of that familiar voice. The Mercenary was standing right there, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised ever so slightly. He did not look at all like he was worried about being inside the King in Yellow’s digestive tract.

“N-Naib? What the fuck?!” Jack yelled. “Oh god, how many others have they managed to capture?!”

“Well, I’d say they’ve managed quite a bit.” Naib gestured to the side, and Jack sat up in shock. A number of other survivors and a few hunters were milling about the vast organ. But the most shocking part was the pumpkins, chains, bats, and other Halloween decorations scattered about, complete with a refreshment table. The stomach walls had a dark purple tone with a glimmering, starlike pattern, adding to the ambiance.

“Yep, it was Servais’s idea to do something really outrageous for a Halloween party, and the others were completely on board. I think they’re having a little too much fun with it.” Naib said, shrugging and glancing down at Jack, his jaw hanging.

“So…I was never in any danger?!” Jack exclaimed. “Bloody hell, I am going to rip them all limb from limb!” He jumped to his feet, but paused, looking around. “Well…maybe later. This honestly looks kinda fun.”

“That’s the spirit. Now I’m  gonna get some more grub before the others get to it.” Naib grinned and ran off to the snack table. Jack rolled his eyes, but ran off after him. Well, he had a rather rude entrance, but perhaps munching on treats and nestling against the stomach walls to chat with his friends wouldn’t be such a bad use of an evening.