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sapphires-and-silver-linings · 8 months ago

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The Betrayer | Chapter Ten: The Swing of Things

You fucked up. Badly.

Pairing: Albert Wesker/F!Reader, Chris Redfield/F!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Violence, Injury, Death Mention

Notes: Woof. It has been over a year since I last updated this fic, and I am SO sorry. In that time, a lot has happened in my life, including graduating from college with a bachelor's degree and a slew of health (both mental and physical) issues that are still ongoing. I can't promise that my updating will be consistent or quick in any capacity, but I hope this quells you guys' fears that I have "given up" on this fic lol. My sincere hope is that I will someday finish it, even if it takes many many years. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this addition! I suppose you can consider it somewhat of a "filler" chapter, but I genuinely believe even the more fun chapters still have a degree of important plot (even if it doesn't appear that way at first, as I love adding "blink and you miss it" moments that are either call backs, foreshadowing, or easter eggs lol). Please let me know what you think and if you have any theories! I love reading those! Have a good one, y'all!

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Day 33; Haddonfield

You leaned against the shed wall as you desperately tried to regain your breath, heart beating wildly in your chest.

You were in the middle of a trial in Haddonfield with Laurie, Mikaela, and Jeff, three out of the five generators needed to power the exit gates finished, when a looming figure had appeared behind you as your group scoured for the next one.

He would have gotten you too, if Laurie hadn’t turned just in time to see him lunging for you, his kitchen knife barely missing your shoulder as she pointed behind you and screamed, making you duck.

The four of you scattered after that, losing each other as the Entity’s chosen killer for the evening seemed to pop in and out of existence due to his silent steps, the moonlight and the glow from the completed gens making his deathly pale mask somehow more haunting. It was eerie that someone so large could sneak up on you like that.

You were reminded of what your father once warned you about mountain lions:

“You won’t know they’re hunting you until they're ready to pounce.”

The thought made you shiver.

The other survivors called him “The Shape”. A name so… vague… shouldn’t have instilled so much terror in you. And yet.

But Laurie told you his real name just a couple weeks prior as the two of you were hanging your laundry to dry.

You had been chatting idly about your pasts, and you had foolishly asked her if there was a killer in the realm that was brought with her.

“Yes,” she replied quietly. You waited for her to continue, but it was silent for several moments. You looked over at her after clipping your bed sheets to the clothesline and could see her staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

“I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me,” you assured her.

She jumped when you gently placed your hand on her shoulder and she finally turned to you. “Michael. Michael Myers.”

You looked at her questioningly, not recalling that name being mentioned before.

She continued, “He’s the one they call ‘The Shape’. He…” There was another pause as she swallowed, hard. “He killed my friends and very nearly killed me. Ruined my life in a single night, can you believe that? Halloween, of all days. I’ll never be able to enjoy that holiday again without looking over my shoulder. If I ever get back home to experience it, that is.”

All of the killers in the realm gave you a chill when you were told about them, but something about this silent stalker scared you more than most. More than Wesker. Hell, even more than Ghost Face.

You had been fortunate in the month since first arriving in the realm that you hadn’t faced the Shape. You supposed luck always runs out eventually. Ironic, considering your nickname.

Though facing off against any killer could hardly be counted as fortune. In the five trials you had endured since your very first, you had only survived two. And barely, at that.

You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling those nights, the memories of your deaths in particular causing bile to rise up in your throat.

The Hillbilly and his chainsaw ripped you clean in half.

The Pig’s contraption locked onto your head had split your skull apart.

The Doctor and his electric baton shocked you until you bit off your own tongue and choked on it.

But you had still survived twice. You had to remind yourself of that.

You had been beaten and hooked by the Wraith, the agony of the strange weapon (made of human bones, it seemed, though it was hard to tell in the dark) being whipped across your face and the way the hook tore through the meat of your shoulder made you feel an ache just at the thought, but you had gotten out alive.

Your run-in with the Nurse had been much more successful. She still got a hit in on you, but you managed to get out of that trial with just a nasty gash across your chest. It very nearly got infected when you returned to camp, but Rebecca’s careful hand (and Chris’s watchful gaze) dealt with that promptly.

You were getting better with every trial, and that gave you hope.

You had always been a quick study, after all.

You took a deep, calming breath and slid your spine across the chipping paint of the shed, peeking your head around to see if the coast was clear. You weren’t sure where everyone else went, but considering no screams had been heard echoing across the large (yet still somehow claustrophobic) “arena”, you took that as a good sign.

There was no indication of the massive killer, so you made your way slowly and quietly to the street, praying desperately that he wouldn’t find you again.

You skimmed your vision over the area as you ducked behind the car in front of you, the flashing lights of the police cruiser nearby hurting your eyes.

It was strange, you felt, how this seemingly normal looking neighborhood could turn into such a breeding ground for terror. It was almost nostalgic how typically suburban it appeared, and that only made it worse.

You grew up in a place just like it, after all.

There’s one, you thought to yourself as you spotted a generator nestled beside a roadblock at the end of the street. It was out in the open, but it would be easier to spot the killer with one of the exit gates at your back. He’d be less likely to creep up behind you, at least.

You made a beeline for it, surveying your surroundings to avoid being caught unawares, before skidding to a halt beside it.

You nearly leapt out of your skin when Jeff popped his head up from the other end, probably checking to make sure you weren’t the killer coming to collect.

“Hey,” came his whispered greeting as you knelt beside him, his large hands carefully but expertly going through the motions of repair.

“Hey there,” you replied breathlessly. You offered him a smile, but the expression was tight. You got straight to work.

“Have you seen the others?” he questioned after a few moments.

You shook your head. “Not since we got separated.”

He let out a quiet exhale of barely concealed distress but remained quiet as the gen got closer and closer to completion.

You liked Jeff. He was a gentle giant, and a reserved one at that. You were first acquainted when the two of you were partnered in the chore rotation, boiling the water brought in from a group of other survivors and lugging it to the barn for the very long-winded filtration process.

He had seemed like a tough guy between his large stature and full beard, but once you started chatting, he was quick to open up about his love of rock music and artistic abilities. You bonded almost immediately over Iron Maiden and Metallica and jokingly asked him to “paint me like one of your French girls”, cackling at the blush that bloomed in his cheeks.

He had shown you his sketchbook shortly after, and you were in awe of his talent, never having been much of an artist yourself. You thought of Kitty and how you and your family used to say she would grow up to be the next Da Vinci with all of her little doodles scattered around the house. You supposed now you’d never know. It made your heart ache.

The gen came to life under your touch, the noise of it fully starting up jarring you from your thoughts.

Jeff motioned for you to follow him, the two of you expeditious in leaving the area to avoid being discovered by the Shape.

You made your way down the street, opting to slink behind the row of houses instead of remaining out in the open.

You came across Mikaela bent over what the others called a totem; a horrific mix of sticks, twine, and human skulls. A rumble echoed across the trial grounds as your surroundings lit up a soft blue.

So there was magic in the Entity’s realm.

You had laughed out loud when Mikaela had first explained it to you, thinking it was some kind of prank. The severe look she gave you made your eyes widen in shock. You shouldn’t have been surprised, considering everything else you had learned of this place, but the concept of magic seemed almost silly.

But then your fourth trial was with the young redhead, and you would have bled out if she had not utilized one of her “boons”, which miraculously helped to close the wound left by the hook. Not so silly anymore.

You had asked her after that particular event why she didn’t use her supernatural abilities to heal injuries in the camp, and she explained she couldn’t access her powers outside of trials despite all her efforts.

“Right, of course,” you had replied, bitterness seeping from your tone. “Typical Entity bullshit.”

“Laurie’s inside that house working on a gen,” the self-proclaimed witch informed you, pointing at the building in question as she stood up. You noticed the cut across her arm then, watching as the skin stitched itself back together within moments.

“I’ll go help her,” you said, pulling your attention from the mind-bending sight. “Why don’t you two find another one to work on in the meantime, in case he catches us before we finish.”

They nodded at your words and crept off to do just that, leaving you alone once more.

You made your way quietly into the house and up the stairs, finding Laurie with a wrench in her hands, hard at work. She turned to you and smiled tersely in greeting as you dropped into position beside her.

There wasn’t much left to do before the machine would be repaired, and you were confident it could be finished in no time.

Oh, how wrong you were.

Before you knew what was happening, a large hand grabbed you by the neck, the scream brewing in your throat wilting as you were yanked off the generator and thrown into the wall behind it.

The wind was knocked out of you and you were dazed by your skull thudding against the wood paneling of the room. You heard yelling—probably Laurie—as that same hand came back around your throat and lifted you off the ground.

You dangled helplessly, unable to breathe, and you were suddenly reminded of Wesker’s tendrils from weeks prior.

A surge of panic flooded through you as you stared at the white mask, the flickering light of the unfinished gen glinting off his knife.

You grabbed desperately at his wrist, knowing the Shape’s strength was far too great to loosen his grip, even with your jagged nails ripping into his skin.

He brandished the knife, the blade directed right at your midsection, and you braced for the sharp pain of it slicing through your flesh.

To your shock—and relief—the killer had released his hold on you and you slid to the ground, desperately trying to suck air into your lungs.

You were able to focus just enough to see Laurie hanging from his back, trying to strangle him with her arms wound tightly around his neck. Unfortunately, he grabbed her by the hair, ripping her off of him and throwing her onto the floor.

Looking for any way to fight off the killer before he could murder Laurie, you found a screwdriver on the ground, tossed out of her toolbox when it was kicked over in the tussle. You lunged for it, gripping it tightly and ramming with your full weight into the Shape’s form. He was built like a brick wall, but you managed to stab the screwdriver into the junction between his shoulder and neck, quickly yanking it out to watch him rear back, deep voice groaning in pain as a fountain of blood squirted from the wound.

A sick sort of satisfaction rushed through you to see him suffer, even a little bit. You didn’t like that you felt that way, but you brushed it off. He had done much, much worse. It was deserved.

You had just enough time to grab Laurie’s hand and pull her to her feet before he was after you, running out of the front door and into the street to get away from the psychopath hot on your heels.

“This way!” Laurie told you, pointing at the house straight ahead. “We can split up when we get there and vault the windows on either side!”

You nodded, releasing her hand as you dashed into the living room of the aforementioned building. She rushed to the back, leaping over the window to the right, and you immediately went through the left.

Fortunately for Laurie but unfortunately for you, Michael was laser-focused on reaching you first, probably to make you pay for your little stunt.

He was uncomfortably close as you continued to sprint away from him, desperate to lose him as you weaved in and out of buildings, diving over ledges and flinging pallets to slow him down.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

To your relief, you heard the telltale alarm of the exit gates being powered up, hoping that you and your teammates could manage to escape. You made the mistake of glancing back, the massive man’s knife poised to strike the moment he could get near enough.

You stumbled, your fear locking up your legs for only a moment, but it was enough of a delay for him to reach you.

A fence was right in front of you, and you knew you only had a second to act as his knife soared through the air, aimed right at your spine. You dove to the side of the fence, his blade embedding into the rotting wood, and you scrambled up and away as he used his brute strength to rip it right out.

It didn’t grant you much distance, but it was enough.

You barrelled back onto the street just in time to see the exit gate opening, and you made a break for it, the other three survivors spotting you and desperately motioning for you to join them.

As you neared, however, you saw the horror bloom on their faces, their eyes trained on what was behind you.

You knew exactly what that meant.

“GO!” you screamed, and they heeded your words, spinning and sprinting out of the gate and into the empty field beyond it.

I’m so close, you thought. Come on! COME ON!

Your legs burned and your lungs felt like they were full of fire, unable to get enough air to properly breathe, but you knew you couldn’t stop now.

You could feel him behind you—hear the grunt that slipped from under his mask as he made to grab you, his large fingers brushing against the back of your shirt.

And then, as his dirty, blunt nails dug into the fabric…

You burst out of the gate and into freedom.

You heard the roar of pure rage and looked behind you, the Shape pressing his hand to an invisible wall that kept him from pursuing you further, his knuckles going white as he gripped his knife with inhuman strength.

You didn’t stop running.

You ran until you reached the edge of the field, engulfed in a thick black fog.

You ran until you felt like your lungs would finally burst.

You ran until a soft light pierced through the cold, wet darkness surrounding you.

And only when the mist faded, giving way to the safety of the camp, did you finally stop.

You collapsed to the ground in front of the fire, gasping for air through crazed, triumphant laughs that you couldn’t prevent escaping your mouth.

“Lucky!” Chris shouted as he made it to your side, dropping next to you and grabbing your face to look you in the eyes.

He said nothing, but you knew what he was thinking.

“I survived,” you managed to get out through heaves and giggles. “I survived the fucking Shape.”

You heard a collection of cheers from all around you, Chris grinning as several survivors approached—including your teammates—and clapped you on the back or ruffled your hair.

When you finally caught your breath, Chris helped you to your feet.

You smiled as you faced the others.

“Hell yeah!” Carlos whooped. “Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about!”

“Good job,” Leon congratulated.

“Yeah, girl, like holy shit!” Claire exclaimed from beside him.

Whether from the praise or the adrenaline still pumping through your veins, you felt a dizzying sort of joy.

You really made it out alive. And this time, with only a handful of bruises to show for it.

“Come on, Lucky, sit down for a while. Get some rest,” Chris told you, urging you over to a nearby log.

There was a buzz in the camp, everyone excitedly chatting about the rare full-party survival of your group. It reminded you of your days in S.T.A.R.S., how you and your team would celebrate another mission well done.

You could almost see Joseph in the way Carlos ribbed Steve. Richard in the way Leon rubbed the back of his neck as he talked with Ada. Edward in Felix checking on Mikaela.

It made you feel both warm and melancholic.

Chris grounded you, as he always did, by wrapping his muscular arm around you, pulling you into him. He kissed your temple, speaking lowly so that only you could hear him, “I’m proud of you, baby.”

You felt a blush spread over your cheeks, glad your recent exercise already colored your face, whispering almost shyly in return, “Thank you.”

You sat together for a while after that, the survivors settling down. Yoichi and Haddie left to start dinner and Chris only got up when they had finished, telling you to stay where you sat so he could get you your food.

You used to argue when he did this, feeling embarrassed by the special treatment. He told you early on that he wanted you to feel special because, to him, you were. The notion was sweet and no one else seemed to really care, so you agreed to let him. He had done it every day now, unless he was the one serving the meals.

How very typical of him, always putting you first.

You watched him get into the line, smiling softly at your doting… whatever he was to you.

The two of you hadn’t put a name to it yet. You weren’t opposed to calling him your “boyfriend”, but it felt ridiculous with how little it conveyed just what he meant to you.

Besides, what you had was still fairly new and despite being physically intimate, you wanted to take this slow. You had all the time in the world, after all.

You could almost laugh thinking about the morning after the two of you first slept together. It started out nice and romantic waking up next to him, his strong arms holding you close as he kissed you slowly. But you had asked to keep your little tryst to yourselves for a while—to feel out what it was you had—and he agreed.

However, that was near instantly trampled the moment you left your room, Carlos clapping Chris on the back, Jill and Rebecca sharing knowing looks, Ada complaining to you about the noise, and Claire clocking the bruise on your neck as a hickey when she saw it.

Chris was sheepish and you were embarrassed, but he had thrown an arm around you, telling you that you might as well own it.

It was strange to have something like this out in the open after years of keeping your relationships under wraps.

You and Kevin thought it better to hide what you had for the sake of the job, only letting loose in front of friends and family. The man had never been the most outwardly affectionate anyway, preferring to show you his love behind closed doors.

And you and Wesker? Well, that was a whole other can of worms.

It was nice to be shown affection so blatantly in front of other people and that Chris didn’t care if they saw him kissing or holding you.

You were stiff at first, unused to it, but the ease with which he touched you and pulled you close eventually had you melting.

Of course, the more intimate moments were hidden from view, usually in your bedroom or his, though the occasional tug inside a closet or bathroom wasn’t uncommon.

Frankly, you were both insatiable, unable to keep your hands off of each other when you weren’t burdened by chores and the daily trials.

You two were happy—as much as you could be in this place—and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your thoughts were scattered when Laurie appeared before you, gently tapping your shoulder to gain your attention.

“Hey,” you greeted jovially.

“Hey,” she replied, voice sweet, “I just wanted to say thank you for saving me in the trial. I thought for sure I was done for. I’m sorry he went after you when we split up.”

“Don’t sweat it. You saved me first anyway, remember? I think we can call us even. Besides, it’s not your fault he picked me to terrorize.”

She smiled at you. “Still, I’m glad you were there and that you got out safe. You must be our lucky charm or something.”

You laughed. “I don’t know about that, but I’ll take a win when I see one.”

Chris returned, holding out a plate to you, and Laurie simply squeezed your shoulder fondly before wandering to the back of the line. You saw Steve sidle up next to her, trying to look cool as he chatted her up.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to the man beside you, taking the meal with gratitude and a brief kiss on the lips. You wondered if you’d ever get used to that.

“What was that about?” he asked conversationally, digging a fork into his food.

“Oh, just talking about the trial. I saved her from the killer after she saved me.”

“How so?”

You explained to him what occurred, reminded of the way Michael’s blood spewed out of him like a fountain—the way you felt a sadistic glee that it was you that spilled it.

You kept that bit to yourself, but Chris saw the way your brows furrowed, because of course he did. He was a lot more observant now than he once was, especially concerning you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

You took a breath in, unsure of how to answer, when Ace called out to the group, unknowingly rescuing you from a talk you weren’t ready to have. You both turned to face him, his arms full of various bottles of alcoholic drinks.

“Who wants to party?!”

Many survivors excitedly cheered in response, gathering around the table Ace placed the bottles and a stack of cups upon.

Carlos and Jill came up beside you, the former looking down between you and Chris. “How about it, you guys want a drink?”

You stood up, holding your empty plate in your hands as you replied, “You’re joking, right? After the trial I just had, I need one.”

Your small group chuckled, Chris standing as well and taking your used dish. “Pour me something, Lucky. I’ll go put these away.”

He leaned in and kissed your cheek before walking off, and you caught the way Jill’s eyes shined and Carlos smirked at the action.

“What?” you asked, narrowing your gaze.

“Oh, nothing at all,” Jill replied, smiling wide.

“Just that you two are so darn cute,” Carlos added, pinching your cheek and cooing. “Young love, am I right?”

You smacked his hand away. “Whoa there, no one said anything about love.”

Carlos clicked his tongue, pulling away his hand as the three of you made it over to the table to fix your drinks. “Denial is a river in Egypt, you know.”

You scoffed at the stupid jest. “And you’re too young to be making dad jokes.”

“Hey, I might not be a dad,” he started before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, “but the ladies still call me Papi. Isn’t that right, Jill?”

She elbowed him hard in the side, making him yip in response. “I think you should shut your mouth now.”

You laughed as he grumbled, taking two glasses and filling one with whiskey—as Chris would prefer—and the other with rum, which was more up your alley.

Chris returned and you handed him his drink with a smile, turning around just in time to see Claire reach for an empty cup. The man glared at his sister, voice stern as he said, “Absolutely not.”

“Seriously?” she questioned with a huff. “You know I drank in college, right?”

You could see Chris bristle at that. You knew Claire being flippant about her education was something of a sore spot for him.

Their parents died when he was fourteen—not much older than you had been when you lost your mother—and the two of them were forced to live with their uncle whom neither of them liked very much and was rarely around to take care of them.

Chris had to grow up quick, and he did everything in his power to give Claire a good life, even at the expense of his own. Nearly every penny he earned from the moment he started working went towards her; new clothes before every semester, birthday and Christmas gifts, school supplies—everything she needed, plenty of things she wanted.

But he had always been lax with her, nearly to the point of spoiling her rotten. This change in demeanor was strange to you and you wondered where it stemmed from.

“Well, you should have been focusing on your studies, not partying,” he admonished.

Claire wasn’t having it, clearly fed up with her older brother’s behavior. “I can do both.”

“C’mon, Chris,” you coaxed. “She’s a grown-up now and it’s not like there’s a legal drinking age in this place. What’re you gonna do? Call the cops? Arrest her yourself?”

He rolled his eyes, but you could sense him relaxing as the logic of your words dawned on him. “Alright, alright. Go ahead. But don’t be stupid about it.”

With an appreciative smile towards you, she grabbed her cup. “We’ve got a lot in common, big bro, but not that.”

He scoffed in offense, turning to you as his sister trotted off with her spoils. “You hear that? Teenagers.”

You chuckled, raising your glass to him. “Can’t live with 'em.”

He grinned, clinking his cup to yours. “Amen to that.”

Rebecca sidled up to you, her own drink in hand. “I like to think I’m not that bad,” she teased.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a nerd and like, ridiculously responsible for your age,” you told her light-heartedly, bumping her shoulder with yours.

She gave you a faux pout before breaking into laughter, bumping you back. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t call me a nerd.”

Not everyone decided to join in on the alcohol consumption, but the survivors separated as usual, chatting amongst themselves. The teens hung out around the campfire, goofing off, and Ace even started a poker game that a few of the others joined in on.

Carlos, witnessing that, turned to your group of older adults from your world, which had settled down at a table near the medical facility. “How ‘bout we play a drinking game?”

“What, like beer pong?” Leon asked dubiously.

“Maybe Truth or Dare,” Ada teased with a smirk, making a blush rise to the young man’s face.

“No and no, though I like where your head’s at,” Carlos said. “I was thinking more along the lines of Never Have I Ever.”

“And how does one play this game?” Sheva asked with an amused chuckle.

“Someone says something they’ve never done, and everyone who’s done that thing has to take a swig. If no one has done it, the person who said it takes a drink instead,” Carlos explained. “So, who’s interested?”

“I’m down,” you offered, placing your elbows on the table in front of you. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Carlos glanced around at the others expectantly and they all agreed, some more hesitant than others.

The game started innocently enough, the whole group—except for Leon, it would seem—getting tipsy quickly.

Then, as it always did, it took a more raunchy turn.

“Never have I ever…” Sheva started, considering her next statement, “had sex in public.”

You and Chris shared a secretive look and you both bit back laughter as you took a hefty sip from your cups. Ada and Carlos did, too, which didn’t surprise you, but everyone was shocked when Jill raised her glass to her lips.

“What?” she asked defensively. “The military was a weird time for me.”

Ada leaned forward because it was her turn, thinking of her own line as the group finished reeling from Jill’s admittance. “I’ll do you one better, Sheva. Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the job. And no, Leon, a kiss doesn’t count.”

You raised your brows as Leon opened and closed his mouth immediately, looking like an embarrassed fish. You were vaguely aware they had some kind of history together, but it apparently went deeper than you initially thought. You felt your heart ache for Claire, seeing why Chris was so concerned about her feelings for Leon.

Yikes on a bike.

Without thinking, you tossed back your cup in response to Ada, the only person in the group to do so.

When you looked around with a drunken smile on your face, the expression dropped like your stomach as you realized your mistake.

It was clear that Carlos, Ada, and Leon assumed it was Chris you were referring to, and if Sheva knew otherwise, she clearly didn’t understand the problem with your revelation.

Jill, however, stared at you with furrowed brows, and you could see her trying to piece together who it might be.

You gulped as you glanced at Chris beside you, who had tensed up, his features that were previously open and relaxed turning stony as he met your gaze.

That sobered you immediately.

You fucked up. Badly.

Neither of them knew of your relationship with Kevin in the past, feeling it was unnecessary and a threat to your job security if you admitted you had a long-term relationship with your former partner.

However, it wasn’t Kevin that you had sex with at work, and you were almost tempted to lie and say it was.

Because you definitely couldn’t tell them it was Wesker.

“Well, that was fun,” you claimed as you stood, hoping you could get away from this situation before it blew up in your face. “But I think it’s time I head to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Don’t want a hangover,” Chris said, voice gruff.

You swallowed thickly as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, but it probably wasn’t good. You weren’t ready for this conversation. However, he clearly was.

Tersely, you said goodnight to the group, their expressions perplexed by the awkward tension that now fell over you. Chris gave them a noncommittal wave, following after you as you trudged into the medical facility and into your room, anxiety swelling inside of you with every step.

Once inside, Chris closed the door, not facing you when he asked lowly, “Are you going to tell me who it was?”

You took in a sharp breath, already picking at your cuticles as you replied, “It doesn’t matter. That was a long time ago.”

Not exactly a lie. It had been nearly a year since you and Wesker had done something as risky as hook up in his office. It was the first and only time, as he made very clear.

Usually, it was in the safety of hotel rooms.

Chris turned abruptly, expression appalled. “You’re serious?”

“You sound like Claire earlier,” you said, trying to alleviate the tension.

“No, don’t do that,” he warned. “Don’t try to play this off.” He stepped forward and you eyed him warily. “I thought we were closer than this. I thought you could trust me.”

“Of course I trust you!” you exclaimed.

“Then why hide something like that from me? Worried I’d judge you?” His jaw was tight and you wanted nothing more than to hold his face in your hands, to go back to before you decided to play that stupid game.

You could at least admit to being with Kevin, lie and say it was him you had sex with on the job, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.

“Chris, I don’t want to tell you because it didn’t mean anything. It’s something I wish I could forget. Can you please let this go?” you were in near tears as you tried to explain yourself, not willing to relent and give him the information he was looking for.

This was still far too raw, and you had been more than happy to pretend your previous relationships were nonexistent while exploring this new one with the man standing in front of you, fists clenched at his sides.

He looked at you for a long moment, taking in your pleading expression and the way you tore the skin off your fingers in distress, and finally backed down. “Fine. You don’t have to tell me anything. I just… I want you to be honest with me.”

“And I am,” you assured him, closing the distance between you. “That part of my life? It’s not important anymore. In fact, I wish it never happened in the first place. It was stupid. I was stupid.”

He sighed, features softening as he allowed you to pull him into an embrace, his large hands sweeping across your face. “Alright, then. I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you,” you murmured, nuzzling into one of his palms. “And I’m sorry I upset you.”

“You’re lucky I can’t stay mad at you for very long,” he teased in a hushed voice, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple.

“You nicknamed me well,” you replied, grinning up at him as he pulled back.

He rolled his eyes, but that didn’t stop him from tugging you into his arms.

“C’mere,” he said, lips meeting your own fervently.

As you returned the kiss, the back of your knees hitting the bed while he led you further into the room, you knew your night wasn’t over yet.

***

September 14th, 1996; Raccoon City

“‘Bout time you showed up,” your brother admonished with a goofy grin, opening the front door of your family’s home to let you inside.

“Good to see you too, Tic,” you replied sardonically, ruffling his hair the moment you stepped over the threshold. “How’s school? You keeping out of trouble?”

He pushed your hand away, fixing the strands you had pulled out of shape before answering with a playfully annoyed tone, “It’s only been like two weeks, Sis. How much can change?”

You chuckled. “You’d be surprised.”

Although you got along with both of your siblings—even with the large gaps in age—your personalities were as different as they could be. Tic, despite his sense of humor, was far more studious and careful than you ever were, taking his grades seriously. He was a popular kid too, becoming the rising star of Raccoon City High’s junior varsity soccer team. You often worried about his ability to juggle it all, but he hadn’t burned out yet.

Tic rolled his eyes good-naturedly at your response before changing the subject, “Anyway, I heard we’re expecting company tonight?”

“Sure are. My friend from work, Chris, and his sister, Claire.”

“No Kevin then?” Tic already knew the answer, and you could hear the disappointment in his voice. Although you and Kevin still talked occasionally, he hadn’t visited your family in weeks, and you knew they missed his near-constant presence almost as much as you did.

“No, he was busy this weekend,” you said, unsure if it was even a lie. “But hey, Claire’s only a couple years older than you. You two might get along.”

Your brother’s demeanor shifted, a mischievous smile forming. “Is she hot?”

You scoffed, gently smacking his shoulder. “She’s in college, dude. Don’t even think about it. At least until you’re eighteen.”

He fake pouted, rubbing his arm as if you’d maimed him. “Geez, fine. No need to bust my balls over it.”

Before you could comment on his crass reply, a blur of pink tulle came flying toward you at warp speed, the tiny body of your baby sister being launched into your arms.

“SISSY!” she bellowed as you gave her a big hug. “I thought you were never coming home!”

You laughed at such a ridiculous notion. “Now why would you think that, Kitty?”

“‘Cos it’s been forever since last time,” she half-whined, as typically theatrical as any seven year old girl, you imagined.

“It’s only been two weeks.”

“You’d be surprised how much can change,” Tic interjected sarcastically.

“Oh, you’re about to get the worst noogie of your life,” you threatened, setting Kitty back onto the floor before making a grab for the collar of your brother’s shirt.

“It’s not my fault you're getting too old to remember what you said five seconds ago,” he replied as he deftly dodged your outstretched hand.

“You’re only making it worse for yourself,” you warned, Kitty giggling as you chased Tic down the hall. Man, that kid was fast. It was unfair he was already taller than you at fifteen.

You were about to catch up when an evidently displeased voice called your name from the kitchen entryway, “Now that you’ve finally arrived, can you help me finish the dinner I’m making for your guests?”

Ah, your infinitely uptight stepmother was here to break up the fun, as usual. Though you couldn’t fault her this particular time. The Redfield siblings were indeed your responsibility tonight.

Your relationship with your stepmother was a… complex one, to say the least. She came at a time that was far too soon after your mother’s death, and it always felt as though she was trying desperately to replace her.

You wanted to hate her when you were younger—make her out to be some villain in your hero’s journey—because it was easier than blaming your father for moving on so quickly and becoming even more of a hardass than he already was. But now as an adult, you understood the truth.

She was simply a young woman who didn’t know how to handle a grieving child.

“Yeah, of course,” you replied, quick to meet her in the kitchen and wash your hands, getting ready for whatever prep work she would throw your way.

She hummed in acknowledgement, sending your siblings off to the backyard and out of her hair before the two of you quietly made dinner.

You eyed her warily as she stood over the stovetop, the chicken breasts sizzling in the pan as she flipped them with a spatula. You continued your task of mashing the already boiled potatoes, thoughts drifting to the years of fights you had with your stepmother, and the resentment that you’d slowly been trying to chip away at now that you were an adult.

She was the secretary at your father’s job when they first met, hired about a year into your mother’s cancer diagnosis. It was only six months after your mother’s passing when your father introduced you, telling you—in no uncertain terms—that this stranger was to be your new maternal figure.

You always wondered if they just married quick so your father could push the responsibility of caring for you onto someone else or if he had moved on before your mother was even dead. After years of speculation and knowing that if you asked, you wouldn’t get an honest answer out of either of them, you still couldn’t decide what scenario felt worse.

Your disdain for the woman was not helped by the fact she was neurotic, and it always felt like she saw you as some charity case that needed “fixing”. She couldn’t stand that you were a tomboy, always forcing you into frilly pastel dresses when all you wanted to wear was your favorite jeans and your mother’s old band shirts.

You remembered when she threw them out to force your hand when you were about thirteen, and you cried so hard you puked. It was the only time your father ever intervened with her schemes and made her dig the shirts out of the garbage. You wanted to believe it was because he didn’t want the last remnants of his late wife to be taken away—as he got rid of pretty much everything that belonged to her when your stepmother first moved in—but you knew it was probably because your tantrum grated on his nerves.

You were about to toss in the butter to the mashed potatoes when the woman in question stopped you. “Only one stick of butter. You of all people should be more mindful of your health.”

You struggled not to roll your eyes, returning the second stick to the fridge, mentally grumbling about how you always used two and that you knew it tasted better that way. Instead of arguing like your younger self would have, you simply returned to the task at hand, stirring the quickly melting butter into the fluffy mixture.

No, you no longer hated her. Even with her nagging and patronizing remarks, she did mean well. The two of you just never clicked, and at the end of the day that was all there was to it. Besides, she was a wonderful and doting mother to your siblings, which was the most you could hope for.

“So,” she began, startling you from your reverie, “what is this Chris boy like?”

You considered it as you sprinkled some salt and pepper into your bowl. “He’s a good guy. Funny, friendly, and he can be pretty charming, I guess.”

She raised a brow at that, a knowing smirk gracing her perfectly painted lips. “Will he be coming to dinner more often, then?”

“I mean, probably,” you replied. “He’s become a really good friend, after all.”

“Just a friend, huh?” she teased, and although her insinuation made you scoff, you couldn’t help but appreciate the rare moment of camaraderie between you.

“Yes, just a friend.”

“A shame,” she tutted. “I was so disappointed when Kevin stopped coming around, and I hoped maybe you’d move on. I always thought you’d marry that boy, you know. How is he these days?”

Your face fell at her words, and you covered it by looking back down at your bowl of food, mixing it far more than necessary just to keep yourself preoccupied.

Marriage. It had once seemed so inevitable before it fell apart.

You sighed as you replied, “He’s doing well. He has a new work partner now that I’m in S.T.A.R.S.”

“Well, you tell him he’s always welcome here.”

You nodded sullenly. “Will do.”

The rest of the dinner preparations went by in silence, which you were grateful for.

A while later, you had just finished setting the table when the doorbell rang.

“I’ll get it!” you called to your family members scattered across the house, jogging to the front entrance to greet your friend and his beloved sister.

Your mood shifted instantly as Chris’s large form stood before you, a grin gracing both of your lips at the same time.

“I was wondering when you’d turn up,” you said to him, leaning against the door frame. “Now where’s this sister I’ve heard so much about?”

He laughed as he greeted you in turn, stepping slightly to the side to reveal a gorgeous young woman with reddish brown hair and bright blue eyes.

“Hi! I’m Claire. It’s nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving you a firm handshake, the strength of her grip surprising you. Her smile was warm and cheerful, so much like her brother’s it was almost uncanny. “You’re even prettier than Chris described!”

You quirked a brow at that, your eyes meeting your friend’s, who simply rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged. You replied, “Thank you! I’d say the same, but I’ve seen your picture.”

It was her turn to look confused. “You have?”

“Yeah, Chris keeps a photo of you two on his desk at work. Hard to miss it.”

She laughed, gently punching her brother’s arm. “Aw, you big softy.”

He rolled his eyes but chuckled along, and it suddenly felt like you’ve known the two of them your whole life.

After chatting idly in the doorway, you finally led them inside, the duo peering at the family photos that decorated the walls. Their attention was moved when your stepmother gracefully appeared, manicured hands already perfectly clean despite cooking with them only moments prior.

She greeted them with a wide grin, gingerly shaking their hands and corralling your group into the living room.

“Make yourself at home, you two!” she chirped before turning to you. “Now come help me finish dinner, honey.”

You begrudgingly agreed, not wanting to leave your company by themselves but knowing they’d be just fine for a few minutes, following your stepmother back into the kitchen.

As the two of you finished up the meal, emptying food from their pots and pans into her nice serving dishes, she leaned over to you with a twinkle in her eye. “That boy sure is handsome. You better nab him before someone else does.”

You pulled a face at that. “As I said, just friends.”

She tsked in response before sweeping out of the room, clearly unsatisfied by your reply, and you trailed behind her. You knew she just hoped you’d “settle down”—probably because she wanted grandkids sooner than your siblings could give them to her—but it wasn’t as if you could tell her your only interest was in your boss.

Though, it wasn’t her approval you worried about.

Despite your father’s general apathy towards your existence, you knew he would be very against such a scandalous relationship. Not just due to the fact Wesker was your superior, but because of the age gap between you.

Hypocritical, you thought.

It was about the same as the one between himself and the woman walking ahead of you.

You put on a smile as you reentered the living room after placing the food on the dining table, leaving your stepmother to arrange it as she liked. You were surprised to see your father already there, shaking Chris’s hand and giving him a look that you knew well. He was sizing him up.

“Well, dinner is about ready,” you announced, trying to prevent what was sure to be an awkward situation.

Chris looked over at you and smiled, your father’s gaze narrowing. He said nothing as the group followed you into the dining room, your younger siblings already in their seats as your mother completed her artistic array of dishes and cutlery.

Seeing you enter, she wiped her still-clean hands on her apron, introducing your siblings to your companions. Your brother’s eyes widened when he met the gaze of Claire’s and was quick to avert them, the girl not seeming to notice as Kitty launched into asking her a million questions. You managed to stifle your chuckle at the sight before your stepmother caught your attention.

“Would you be a dear and get us some drinks from the garage?” she requested sweetly.

You nodded, about to do as you were asked when your father placed a hand on your shoulder. “No need, me and Chase here have it covered.”

You froze, knowing he was probably going to interrogate him ruthlessly, as he had done to Kevin years prior. You schooled your expression. “It’s Chris, dad. And shouldn’t our guest be allowed to sit at the table?”

“It’s no worry,” Chris said, clearly ignorant to the warning expression you gave him. You sighed as your father turned and left, Chris winking at you as he passed you by.

Welp, guess he’s on his own now.

You sat down at the table at your usual spot across from your brother, a chair left between you and Claire, meant for Chris.

Despite your concern for your father’s antics, you were quickly pulled into a conversation with your friend’s sister, an amiable girl through and through. Your worries were forgotten as she spoke, telling a joke that made you chuckle. Even her sense of humor felt familiar to you, so reflective of her older brother.

Your stepmother then asked her about her studies, and after she described her college experience so far, she explained that she was on the girl’s soccer team, something she enjoyed.

“Well ain’t that something,” you marveled, “Tic also loves soccer.”

When he didn’t reply, you kicked him gently under the table, giving him a look that said, ‘Now’s your chance to make a friend’. He sputtered out an agreement, the conversation falling silent as he couldn’t seem to offer anything else. Well that was new. He’d never been so awkward or quiet in his life.

Before you could change the subject, your father and Chris finally came back into the room, a bottle of cold soda and a couple of already opened beers in tow. Your group took turns pouring some for yourselves, and once Chris settled into his seat, you looked over at him.

Catching his eye, he offered a small smile, but there was a furrow to his brows you only ever saw on particularly hard missions at work. Your expression was questioning, worried your father had really said something off-color, but he seemed quick to shed whatever concern he had, joining the conversation and making a quip at his sister’s expense.

You yourself eventually relaxed, the evening going quite well despite the few hiccups.

After nearly an hour, your stepmother asked you to clear the table, and Chris immediately jumped up to help despite both of your protests. He wouldn’t relinquish the stack of plates in his hand, however, so you beckoned him to follow you into the kitchen as your sister excitedly ran to a nearby cabinet to pull out her favorite board game, easily roping Claire into playing it.

You and Chris remained in companionable silence for a few moments as the two of you began putting away any leftovers and getting to work on doing the dishes in the sink.

“Thanks for helping out. You know you didn’t have to, right?” you said as you lightly ribbed him with your elbow.

“It’s the least I could do after feeding me so well,” he replied with a shrug.

You smiled, looking down at your handiwork as things fell quiet once more.

After a few more beats, you asked quietly, “My dad didn’t give you too hard of a time, did he?”

“Not at all,” he answered, to your surprise, before continuing sardonically, “He only threatened to kill me if I ever hurt you. Nothing too crazy.”

You laughed at his sarcastic remark. “You got off easy, then.”

He pulled a face before chuckling. “I’d hate to see what him going hard on me looks like.”

“Aw, you’ve got nothing to worry about if you behave. If you don’t, though? Well, they’ll never find your body.” You said that last part deadpan, and Chris flicked soapy water in your direction.

“Well, you better get used to the idea of me haunting your ass then.”

You pretended to shiver in fear. “Only my ass?”

His responding laugh was loud, and you worried your grin would be etched into your face if you couldn’t stop it from forming.

The two of you finished up quickly, drying your hands before joining in on the game in the nearby room. Your sister was having the time of her life and your brother finally started to act more like himself as the evening continued, the two families before you meshing better than you could have imagined.

Caught up in your reverie, you didn’t realize it was your turn to roll the dice, Chris bumping his shoulder into yours, placing the two cubes of plastic on the table in front of you. “You can stall all you want, but I’m still gonna win.”

You rolled your eyes as you began your play, the group laughing at his remark. The dice clattered across the table, and you bit your lip as you all stared at the result.

“Oooh, snake eyes. Unfortunate,” Tic stated before snatching them from the table. “Better luck next time, Sis.”

You huffed in faux displeasure, and the game went on.

One hour turned into two turned into three, and no one seemed to notice or care, you least of all. This was the most fun you think you’ve had in months.

You smiled warmly at the people around you, the two halves of your life fitting together like puzzle pieces, all prior concerns forgotten.

Right at that moment, sitting in your family’s dining room next to one of your closest friends, you knew one thing to be true.

This is home.

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Masterlist | Previous | Next

#albert wesker x reader #chris redfield x reader #albert wesker #chris redfield #dead by deadlight #resident evil #dbd #re #the betrayer

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saltygilmores · 10 months ago

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THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: S3/EP6: TAKE THE DEVILED EGGS (Pt 2) (This One's Gonna Be a Real Rage Inducer) (Lots Of Interesting Development Though) (So many things happening) (Salty Rambles about Jess Mariano's Birthday)

There is something to be said about Luke (on multiple occasions) readily admitting he pays Jess in ketchup packets to toil in the Coffee Mines more or less against his will. I get that it's just a part time job after school...before school..while he's cutting school..always working...never stopping...never reicieving any tips from Lorelai and Rory... Rory needs a job... Rory and Lorelai need to pay for their food... Anyway these comments shed a light on the shaky economies of small businesses in small towns which is interesting to me. Gilmore Girls is really, at it's core, a show about class. One day he could wake up to find his diner has been turned into a Dunkin Donuts (this is Not-Quite-But-Almost-New England after all, where DD is king).

Hahahahaha!! Jess stole money to buy a car and he committs attempted murder! Hahahahaaha! You're SO FUNNY LORELAI GILMORE. Your daughter stole a boat.

Yeah. And maybe back home, he did had to steal to survive sometimes. How about them apples, Lorelai Gilmore. God, do I loathe her.

Don't say that around Lorelai, I think she'd believe you were being serious.

A couple of the moots and I recently decided that in the recent past, Liz managed to land and then lose a halfway decent boyfriend/ father figure to Jess who had a car and taught Jess to drive and do repairs and some other light adulting. I honestly feel like this is the only thing that makes sense.

HE LOOKS SO GOOD IN THIS SCENE!!! Fuck meeee. Look at that li'l curl...

LOOK AT IT!!!! You know what, I'm calling it. I'm putting my foot down. This is the hottest Milo had ever looked in the entirety of seasons 2 and 3. It's that perfectly gelled hair, the jean jacket, the cool tshirt. Very James Dean. Woof. Let's see, what would I choose for second place? I have to go with the party scene in KegMax, another episode with impeccably jelled hair and a jean jacket (and even while he was apparently sick shooting that episode too). He just progresses in hotness the further season 3 marches on.

These four words "I'm still a minor" are a point of contention for me in the ongoing debate about his birth month. My beliefs: Jess is a Virgo. He was born in August or early September. This would make him just older than Rory by just a smidge. Since well over a year has passed in the show since the episode he arrived in Stars Hollow as a 17 year old (when he arrived, it was early September as Rory had just started school in that episode), he had just celebrated his birthday before arriving and so he has to have already turned 18 by this episode. However, I will consider the theory that Luke was clueless or misinformed about his age at the time he arrived (because it's not like LIz is in any way reliable with information) and he was actually 16 going on 17 when he hopped off the bus last year, and maybe he has an October or November birthday making him slightly younger than Rory. It would make sense that both missed the kindergarten cut off dates in 1989 at their respective schools (which is rock solid canon already for Rory, as she was born in October 84 but graduated in 03 instead of 02), putting them in the same grade.

Salty has put a pathetic amount of thought into this. So, how can I accept this statemen? I attribute it to the same brand of biting sarcasm that gave us "I mugged an old lady" moments ago and also because this scene doesn't make a whole lot of sense to begin with. He's still a minor, but he got his own insurance all by himself under his own name, which is not really a thing, but not his own car registration? Committing insurance fraud perhaps? Sketchy insurance company that didn't ask too many questions? He knows a guy who knows a guy who can print up some fake documents? At that point why not go all the way with the white collar crimes and forge Luke's signature on the registration too? See, Lorelai thinks Jess is a thief and murderer when he's really a white collar criminal like Taylor Doose.

My memory was certain that he produced a cigarrette and not a pen in this scene. I had to edit this post to remove a line about him smoking. I guess I confused it with the Then She Appears/ Cmurrh kissing scene, where he's also wearing a jean jacket with a popped collar. Damn. I can't wait for that scene...

Just some light fraud. If the car belonged to someone in Stars Hollow, whoever's registration he stole probably deserved it anyway. This is how I approach all "Crimes" Jess commits in Stars Hollow. There are only a few people who don't deserve it. Your honor, my client is innocent.

Oh no, the couch of doom. No good conversations ever happens between Rory and Lorelai on the couch, especially after one of them comes home at night and finds the other one on the couch. The Gilmores recieve an invitation to Sherry's baby shower. The moots and I have determined that Doula and Gigi will eventually band together to form the most powerful duo of neglected half sisters the world has ever seen. For the record, today Doula would be 17 and Gigi would be 21. Since Jess eventually comes to adopt and raises Doula she has a somewhat decent chance of coming out a well adjusted adult. At the very least, if she was stuck with TJ and Liz, Jess would still be a positive influence on her life, visit her and look out for her and make sure she didn't get sucked into any cults. The odds are a lot more grim for Gigi with Crusty and Sherry as her forever "parents" and let's face it, very likely her relationship with big sister Rory or any of the other Gilmores is non existent.

And things were so peaceful. Especially since Dean hasn't reared his ugly head in the last two episodes, either.

You flip flop with Crusty so much how can anyone possibly keep track of whether you're on the outs with him or banging him at any given time?

And by saying that out loud you're gonna tip the balance of the universe and he's going to show up. I looked ahead and although this is sadly still a Crusty-Focused episode, he doesn't actually make an appearance. Small blessings. To Lorelai's surprise, Rory admits that she's been in contact with Crusty and Lorelai is okay with it but upset that Rory was hiding it from her. God, he's such a parasite.

Emails. How quaint.

Highly debatable.

#gilmore girls #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 3 #TDDE #Take the Deviled Eggs #Rory Gilmore #Lorelai Gilmore #Jess Mariano #Luke Danes #Milo Ventimiglia

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britcision · 2 years ago

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REPOST, ignore this if you read chapter 4!

(because this just fucking in besties, copying FROM tumblr online and pasting TO tumblr mobile doubles up the fucking paragraph breaks again, and I’m just deadass not fixing that 3 times)

ENJOY chapter 4, part 1!

Today’s chapter is dedicated to @lehana37

One day, beloveds, one day we WILL get to Sam and Dick… but not today, I was having way too much fun bullying Vlad and Bruce

Tag List: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikoyuii @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @eonic @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids

Previous chapter:

First chapter:

———————

Pay Attention To Me Dammit

“Okay,” Danny sucked in a deep breath, surfacing from Jason’s suit to two deeply concerned pairs of blue eyes, “let’s get somewhere private real fast.”

Tucker snickered, helpfully extracting both him and Sam from Jason’s arms.

“I can’t fucking believe you forgot Vlad was coming,” he sighed, voice still shaking as he gave Jason a once over.

Sam, sucking in huge gasps of air, pinched his arm as she straightened.

“Oh shut up, not like you brought him up either,” she wheezed, still grinning.

“Vladdie’s gonna be fucking heartbroken,” Tucker sighed happily, shoving Danny towards a corner.

People were definitely looking. And not just the other four bats; regular guests were watching behind fans, hands, or just deadass staring.

Tim took over, catching Danny’s wrist and pulling the other boy after him. They weren’t that far off the same height.

“So, should I take it that “Vlad” being here is a good thing or a bad thing?” He asked, pulling on his best socialite smile, heading for one of the hall exits instead.

“Back room?” Jason wondered, guiding Sam and Tucker quickly after him. Tim nodded without looking back.

“They shouldn’t be busy yet. We can talk without being overheard,” he added to the other three, who obligingly sped up.

“As for your question, Vlad being here is… probably gonna end up being nothing?” Danny offered, doing his best smiles for the rich assholes they passed.

Sam kicked him in the ankle.

“Wait til we’re alone,” she said quietly, hustling Tucker along.

Unsurprisingly to Jason and Tim, the first back room already had four other people sitting in it, on two extremely plush couches, angled at right angles and facing a fireplace. Before Danny could turn to find another, Steph caught his hand and pulled him in.

“Hi, Stephanie Brown, friend of the Waynes, we’re gonna talk all about Jason’s adorable little crush on you but first, what did you need privacy for?” She asked, eyes bright with innuendo.

Danny grinned right back, already liking this one, and relaxed when Tim and Jason guided the others in and shut the door.

“Well, I guess you all being here means no one has to be found later… and the more eyes the better in this case,” he mused, looking over the other teens and young adult.

Dick waved at Tucker, grinning sarcastically.

“Danny. And Danny,” he added, nodding to Danny himself.

Sam hid a snicker behind her hand.

“That’s what you went with?” She asked Tucker, and he grinned entirely unrepentantly back.

“What, Jason said he told them who I was,” he said in his very best innocent voice.

Before they could get going, Jason raised a hand.

“I’m gonna guess there was a reason you snuck Danny in other than getting back at Sam’s parents? Vlad Masters,” he prodded, dropping to sit on one of the plush royal blue couches next to Cass.

All three Amity Parkers sobered immediately.

“Right… yeah, we should sit for this,” Tucker agreed, glancing around the room. Seating for nine was going to be tight, but… well, he may no longer be a teenager, but he was still seating-flexible.

Introductions were made as people juggled themselves around, finally ending with Cass, Jason, and Danny on one sofa, Sam, Steph, and Damian on the other, and Dick and Tim perching on windowsill or sofa arm respectively. Tucker took the floor.

Once movement stilled, Danny exchanged glances with Sam and Tucker. Maybe hoping that for once, he wouldn’t be doing the explaining?

He shoulda known better.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and didn’t lean intentionally into Jason’s side. It was good to have another halfa around, that was all.

“Sooooo… cliff’s notes? Vlad Masters is a shady billionaire who uses some seriously unethical shit to make predatory deals with other rich folks to steal their fortune. We think he’s here to cement that flashy “b”, byyyy stealing your dad’s fortune,” he explained quickly, glancing around at the Waynes and adjacents he could see.

They did not look convinced.

Tim frowned, leaning forward on his knee and steepling his fingers.

“If you have proof of that, shouldn’t someone already be looking into him?” He asked contemplatively, eyes fixed on Danny’s face.

It was. Weirdly intense.

Fighting down discomfort, Danny shrugged.

“So remember when I said deeply unethical? Think like, mind control. He’s hard to investigate.”

“You make him sound like a supervillain,” Dick noted from the windowsill.

Sam raised a pointed eyebrow at him.

“Duh, we said “billionaire”.”

“Hey,” Tim protested, leaning around Steph to frown at her, “I’m a billionaire.”

She stared him dead in the eye while Steph snickered.

“I said what I said.”

“And you’re a millionaire,” he shot back sharply, eyes narrowing.

Sam didn’t blink.

“I work at a plant nursery my parents don’t approve of and pay my own tuition. My family are millionaires; I’m not,” she said plainly.

Tim puffed up his cheeks, but let them deflate silently. Jason definitely wasn’t smirking.

Cass leaned forwards suddenly, eyes darting around the room searchingly before settling on Sam.

“Masters. Your connection?” She asked softly, the others stilling to hear her.

Both of Sam’s brows rose, but she didn’t comment at hearing the other girl’s voice for the first time. She looked to Danny instead, raising an eyebrow.

Danny blew out a huff of air, ruffling his bangs.

“So… we… well…”

“He wants to fuck Danny’s mom and adopt Danny,” Tucker said bluntly, tipping his head back to hit Danny’s knees and grinning up at him.

Danny poked him in the forehead, but didn’t refute it.

“Yeah. So he’s kinda been my problem for a while. And he’s the mayor of Amity Park now? Is he still?” He asked, looking from one to the other.

Sam shrugged.

“Think so. I haven’t heard about anyone new.”

The Waynes and co were all kind of just… staring at them. Danny gave them jazz hands.

“And now he’s heeeeeere. He probably won’t make any moves if he knows I’m around, but we should keep an eye on him around Mr Wayne anyway.”

“And we can add him to the fuckery list, along with Sam’s parents,” Tucker added with a very satisfied smile.

It drew all eyes his way, ranging from intrigued to sceptical.

“How?” Steph asked, eyes bright.

Tucker waved a hand over the room.

“Black hair. Blue eyes. For one thing, Mr Drake-Wayne is even the same height, so if he sees you from behind, he could be confused. Dick’s not far off either. And best of all,” he added while the others did quick visual comparisons, decidedly smug, “we hint that Bruce is thinking of accepting Danny as an intern. Step one of Wayne Adoption.”

Sam’s eyes lit up with evil glee.

“Oh he’d do his fucking nut if you cozied up to someone richer than him, Danny,” she gasped, hands bouncing on her lap.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing over at Jason. Who was looking back, gears clearly turning. Seeing that he had Danny’s eye, he leaned in quickly.

“Vlad Masters would be Vlad Plasmius, yes?” He asked in a low voice. He’d scanned the database more than read in detail, but he knew the basics.

One very important basic.

Vlad was the other halfa.

And Vlad could sense other halfas. For a hot second Danny very nearly took off out of the room, ready to go find and kick Vlad’s ass and keep him far, far away from Jason.

He didn’t realise he’d clenched his fists until one of them was held in a large, hot hand. Slowly, shakily he uncurled them, checking for blood in the deep half moon crevices now dug in his palms.

Nothing. He was fine.

“Danny?” Jason asked softly, and Danny looked up to his face. There was something in his eyes, something familiar in the way they flashed a deep, sudden green when their eyes met.

Yeah, Jason’s Obsession was fucking definitely Protection, at least in part. Danny clasped his hand quickly, half worried Jason was gonna do just what he’d had to try so hard not to.

Would it have been that bad if Jason was just his friend, not his knight?

There was no way to know anymore.

Covering Jason’s hands in both of his, he gave Jason the best smile he could.

“I’m fine. But yeah, that’s him. And we… should probably also have a private word.” Because there was this sudden, very nasty little temptation curling through him.

“Would this private word have anything to do with Jason almost going full feral?” Dick asked with a studied innocence that had at least a master’s degree.

Which was when Danny noticed that the rest were all staring at them. At their clasped hands. At Jason’s still a little too green eyes.

Jason grimaced, fully aware of what they must have seen. He tamped the green down firmly, pushing against the wave of protect-protect-PROTECT the pit was damn near screaming inside him.

Wasn’t entirely sure it was only the pit.

Watching Danny tense up like that, clearly in the throes of fight or flight, pulled at something primal inside him.

Jason didn’t know who Vlad Masters was, what he looked like, what he was doing, but he was fully willing to throw him out of the building by the neck if Danny would relax even a little.

He threatens my king, something growled in the back of his mind and Jason’s hands jerked.

That was fucking new. And not fucking welcome.

He looked to Dick instead, giving him a strained smile. It was the best he could do right now.

“Yeah,” he admitted, not fully comfortable with how strained his voice sounded. How tight his throat felt.

Had the pit tried to use his mouth? Make him speak?

Just the thought made him want to puke, but he pushed that down too. He had shit to do today, and the pit wasn’t gonna ruin it.

“I told you he was helping me with the pit,” he added when Dick still looked calculatedly calm. Definitely not about to tackle him to the ground if he moved too suddenly.

Fuck Jason hoped Dick never tried. When they fought for fun, for training, sure Dick could hand him his ass six ways from Sunday. But when the green took over…

He didn’t want to hurt his brother. None of his brothers, ever again.

Except maybe a little bit psychologically.

“Fenton’s eyes changed too,” Damian said sharply, and oooh absolutely nothing in Jason liked that accusatory tone.

Not about Danny. Not about his king.

His head snapped around to glare at the youngest and knew his eyes had gone green again from the way the others recoiled. All but Sam and Danny. And Damian, suicidal little gremlin.

All but Cass, who slipped herself carefully but immovably back into his lap, hooking her feet into the backs of his knees and hands on his cheeks. Pinning him in place.

Making him look at her, not Damian.

She studied his expression intensely, her eyes saying more than even Dick could manage.

And there was a hand in his again, gently soothing across his fingers until his knuckles opened, and Cass let him look away to Danny. Doing just what Jason had done less than a minute ago.

Danny didn’t have to tell his secrets to anyone he didn’t want to. Not now, not the first time they met, not before he trusted them.

Anger-protect-not their business

And Danny smiled back, all gentle and soft, and Jason settled back, relaxing muscles he hadn’t noticed tensing.

Reassurance-calm-safe safe safe-trust

If Jason trusted them, Danny would too. And if that didn’t sting something right in his chest.

Danny cleared his throat, turning back to the rest of the room and giving them a slightly tighter smile.

“Yeah. I. Uh… I was exposed to the Lazarus pits? About a year before Jason was. So I know what it’s like when it gets too strong.”

Half truths at best, but close enough to be believed. To make sense.

Close enough that no one except Damian, tactless boy wonder, would ever ask.

“Only the dying can survive exposure to the pits,” the boy snapped, eyes sharp as he studied Danny in a new light.

Jason’s hands nearly clenched again, but this time Danny’s was in the way. Protecting Danny meant not crushing Danny’s hand.

Good loophole.

“The dying and the dead,” Danny agreed placidly, calm just barely tinted by amusement.

Jason closed his eyes, let himself focus on breathing in Danny’s aura.

Was that a hint of trouble-fun-plans plans mayhem?

Damian squinted at Danny for another long moment, then nodded sharply and sat back. Steph punched him.

“Damian, you can’t just go asking people if they’ve died,” she hissed in a comically loud whisper.

“It was relevant to the conversation!” Damian insisted, immediately sitting back up to defend his honour. Steph tweaked his nose and he properly growled, gearing up to tackle her.

“It was rude, Dami,” Dick coaxed gently, coming from the windowsill to the couch to scoop Damian into his arms.

The only one of them who could have done it and survived. Damian glowered up at him too, then folded his arms and scowled at the floor.

Dire retributions would surely be incoming.

“Hey, it’s cool,” Danny caused, grinning along with the others now that the tension had broken. “He just wanted to know I’m not gonna hurt Jason, right?”

All eyes turned back to Damian, who squinted suspiciously at Danny again. Jason was ready for the flare of protectiveness this time.

Danny was fine. He could handle the demon brat, even if Dick didn’t have him in hand already.

Jason didn’t want to hurt his brother.

Which caused a different, confusing flare of protectiveness because what he needed to protect Damian from was himself, and the self same flares.

He stifled a chuckle that would probably only make things worse.

Finally Damian huffed, turning away into Dick’s arms.

“Tt. Ridiculous. I only wished to be sure you spoke the truth,” he snapped, and the room resettled.

Danny raised both hands, grinning, and Cass shuffled to rest her ear over Jason’s heart.

“Okay?” She asked softly, moving her feet from his pressure points. Jason brought his other arm up and around her, squeezing gently.

“Yeah, I’m good. Thanks,” he replied just as quietly, resting his cheek in her hair.

“Well, this does also kinda simplify things,” Danny added with a chuckle, leaning back against the couch. “I can just tell all of you; Vlad’s also been ecto…. Pit contaminated. And we can sense each other, so he’s going to know Jason is too.”

That geared the bats back up, all turning back to stare at Danny. Who grinned utterly wickedly.

“So Vladdie gets to be on the rare and extremely valued double fuckery list.”

“Is he gonna try and do anything to Jason?” Steph asked sharply, posture tensing towards the door like it might open at any second.

Tucker shrugged, moving back to lean against the couch next to Danny’s legs. He’d wisely made himself scarce when there was a chance either halfa would make a break for it.

“Like Danny said, Vlad probably won’t try anything if he knows we’re around? He can’t do his mind control on Danny so he’s gotta keep it in his pants, even if he’d rather not.”

Sam brightened, catching on to where the boys were going.

“But because Vlad is like… Obsessed with Danny for being like him, there’s a chance he’ll wanna try and adopt Jason too,” she said slowly, her smile becoming full and wicked.

“And since we’re already planning to have me and Jason caught in some indelicate way to upset the Mansons,” Danny added, utterly self satisfied, “we can fry his brain thinking he can only adopt one of us.”

“And that’s after we make him play Find The Real Danny,” Tucker jumped in, grinning broadly, “because it’s not specific enough to track a single person in a busy room. Do you guys do accents?”

Tim and Dick exchanged glances and shrugged.

“Yours wouldn’t be hard,” Tim pointed out, a smirk pulling across his own face as he nodded to Danny.

“I’d like to know why we’re also fucking with the Mansons though?” Dick asked, raising an eyebrow at Sam. Who shrugged.

“They refused to let me bring my girlfriend as a plus one. So we’re gonna ruin me for men and make them think twice next time.”

“Wait, so you’re not dating Danny?” Steph asked, proving she had been hovering during their little meet and greet.

None of the Amity Parkers seemed surprised. Not by her listening in, anyway.

Danny flushed cherry red, Tucker burst out laughing, and Sam smirked.

“Not since high school,” she said casually. Danny groped around for a throwable pillow but came up short.

For some reason, Jason felt absolutely no need to protect his king from some righteous bullying. Another fun loophole.

Must be the lack of potential stabbing.

Dick grinned suddenly, now leaning on the other arm of the couch from Tim.

“Okay, but we definitely don’t tell this part to Bruce,” he said eagerly, beckoning all the others closer. “If Jason’s job is to flirt with Sam and defile Danny, we were also here to meet Danny as Jason’s boyfriend.”

“Let Bruce think Danny’s leading you both on!” Steph finished, clapping her hands and cackling. “Oh it’s perfect!”

Sam cackled along with her, turning a much warmer smile on the other girl.

“Oh, my parents would love to trash talk Danny to him too, they’ve probably already hurried off to let him know I’m “eligible”,” she agreed with the most sarcastic air quotes Jason had ever seen.

Steph lurched immediately to her feet.

“We’re gonna miss it! Okay, so our first task is to make sure Vlad knows Danny is here, right? So he knows not to try anything on Bruce,” she added to confirm, looking between the Amity Parkers.

Danny frowned thoughtfully, touching his lower lip. Jason tried not to focus on it.

“He should know as soon as we get within proximity of each other… so probably once we’re both in the big room?”

Steph nodded sharply, turning to point to Tim.

“We need to know what he looks like. Can you get us a picture?”

Tim nodded, already tapping at his phone and rising along with Steph, the fire of planning in his eyes.

“On it. Sam and Jason need to be seen to be flirting, but Danny doesn’t have to be with them. Dick and I can wander through the crowd, keeping an eye out for Masters but keeping our faces turned away. Cass, can you help with that?”

Cass gave a thumbs up, sitting straighter and resting her head on Jason’s shoulder instead.

“Yes. Can be Dick’s eyes, signal you both.”

Tim typed a moment longer, then lowered his phone and wheeled, turning to point to Damian.

“And you should all have the photo… now. Damian, if you can get as close to Masters as you can, you can signal us too if he gets too close to Bruce or us.”

Damian nodded and glanced down at his phone, all ruffled feathers smoothing as he tucked it away and straightened his suit.

“I shall watch him for any suspicious moves. I can also run interference if he approaches Father.”

Steph nodded happily and clapped her hands, pointing both at Tucker.

“And you can join me in spying on the Mansons and recording them if they talk to Bruce, for the rest of us to enjoy later!” She declared triumphantly.

Tucker shot to his feet, grinning broadly.

“Yeah! And if they catch us we can tell them Jason and Sam are doing something, or ask if they’ve seen Danny,” he agreed, bouncing on his toes. He stuck a hand out in front of him. “Ready?”

Steph slapped her palm down on the back of his hand.

“Ready!”

The room now filled with purpose, everyone came to join Tucker, sticking their hands in in a circle, even as Damian complained about “ridiculous social rituals”.

No one else seemed to mind, tossing their hands into the air as they all whispered “BREAK!”, not wanting to be heard from the hallway.

As the room emptied, Danny hung back, catching Jason’s eye.

“So I know you’re probably not ready to talk about this,” he said softly as Sam lingered in the doorway, her back conspicuously to them, “but I just need to ask you if there was electricity involved when you died.”

Jason felt his whole body tense, less than pleasant memories rushing to the fore. Broken bones. A blade in his leg. Explosion.

No electricity.

He could see the strain on Danny’s face as his mind cleared, and shook his head.

“No. Why?” He asked warily, suddenly very concerned.

Danny made a face that did precisely nothing to lessen it, looking away.

“Because there was when I died, and Vlad knows it. And he… he can control electricity. But you’ll be fine, well, other than the usual “oh no a bad guy is shooting me with electricity”, right?”

Danny was babbling now, clearly trying to distract himself, but all Jason could see was pure, pulsing green. Before he knew he’d moved he had an arm wrapped firmly around slender shoulders, crushing Danny to his chest.

He didn’t need to be told that reminders of a ghost’s death wounds could be debilitating. He’d have known without the database. Without the catch in Danny’s voice.

“If he ever lays a fucking finger on you again I’ll fucking kill him,” he growled, his voice coming out almost as low as his helmet modulator.

Danny stiffened for just a moment in his grasp, then relaxed against him.

“I mean, I can handle myself,” he protested weakly, voice somewhat muffled in Jason’s jacket, “but I’m not gonna fight you on that one, Jay.”

It soothed something inside him, something hot in the center of his chest that burned at just the thought of anyone hurting the man in his arms.

Attacking him. Using the pain and trauma of his death against him. Attacking his king.

A gentle hand soothed up and down his spine.

Safe-protected-I’m okay-safe

It took a minute before Jason could bring himself to let go, smiling sheepishly down at Danny.

“Sorry. Guess I’m… uh, not used to dealing with anything other than rage from the pit,” he explained weakly.

It felt stupid, comparing something as soft as the urge to protect to those bloodthirsty rampages. That didn’t make it any less true.

Danny shrugged, rolling out his shoulders and grinning up at him.

“Hey, like I said. Shoulda seen me when I first changed. Anyway, shall we go make Vlad’s night a living hell?” He asked wickedly, a cheeky smile on his face.

Jason nodded and made for the door, giving Sam a small smile of appreciation. She looked between the two of them and snickered.

“Yeah, rumpling you both up in a closet’s gonna be easy breezy,” she said lazily, pushing the door open again. “You should trade ties.”

Danny’s hand flew to his throat and he chuckled softly, then shook both of his hands out.

“Okay… time to go make sure Vladdie knows I’m around,” he sighed, cracking his neck. Like he was limbering up for a fight?

Jason cocked a brow, taking Sam’s arm.

“What are you gonna do?” He asked as they moved out into the hall, back towards the ballroom.

Danny shot him a quick grin.

“Expand my aura to cover the whole room. He’ll know I’m flexing, and he won’t be able to miss it. Should help confuse him about Tim and Dick too, since the whole place is gonna feel like me,” he added, and Jason grinned.

Alright, that was gonna be a useful trick. Time to see that famous Ghost King aura put to the test.

He wasn’t really expecting to feel a change really. He was close enough that Danny’s aura was still brushing gently over his, soothing the pit that he was right there.

Ready and close if Jason needed to protect him.

And then Danny’s brows furrowed for a moment, he flexed his shoulders back, and Jason was surrounded in pulsing waves of DANNY-DANNY-DANNY.

He didn’t know he’d stumbled until Sam caught him, her hand small on his chest right over the thudding pulse of his heart.

He barely felt her touch. All he could see, all he could hear, all he could feel was the raw power surging out of the man beside him.

Feeling Frostbite in the Far Frozen had been overwhelming. This… this rewrote the beat of his heart, crawled with his breath into his lungs, curled around every deep and intimate part of himself.

It made him feel tiny and delicate, swept up and held off his feet by Danny’s sheer presence. Crowded and pushed up against the wall, held in place, and Danny wasn’t even fucking trying.

Everything was right in the world. His King was here. The pit fucking sang in his veins.

Aaaand Jason hadn’t been this hard in dress pants since he’d been an excitable teenager who couldn’t help it. Eyes closing, he swayed back against the hallway wall.

He could just barely feel Sam’s hand still on his chest, a grounding point as he sucked in deep breaths. Heard her snicker as the ringing in his ears began to die down.

“You’re getting better at that, Danny,” she noted, and Jason hissed.

This could have been worse? More? How?

And then Danny’s hand was at his shoulder too and he didn’t need to open his eyes to know it. Knew the touch, the feel, the way the pit surged warmth to the spot.

Heard Danny’s soft voice as though it were being broadcast straight into his head.

“Hey, you okay?” He asked quietly, and Jason honestly wasn’t sure.

Think about Bruce’s old underwear commercials. Jane Austen novels. Alfred’s expression if Jason ruined his good pants this fucking early into a party.

Later, maybe, it’d give a flare of authenticity but Danny almost certainly wouldn’t be down.

Danny. There was someone here who wanted to hurt Danny.

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he sucked in another deep breath. It was still redolent of Danny’s aura, still cupping him on every side, but he had a purpose now. A job to do.

He managed a slightly strained smile.

“‘M fine. It’s just a shock.” He cleared his throat, reaching down to tug at the front of his trousers as subtly as he could. “Is, uh… is it always like that?”

Danny looked confused for a moment, still concerned, but it was easier to miss the pulsing beat of his emotions now. Easier to focus.

He’d protect Danny’s feelings too, but he couldn’t do that if he was overwhelmed.

Who knew he’d be this into feeling like he was drowning in someone?

Finally Danny shrugged, glancing out towards the ballroom.

“I wouldn’t know… it doesn’t feel all that different to me. Just like everyone in the room is now inside my personal space,” he added, pulling a face.

Jason stared at him for a long moment, wondering how the hell he was going to ask. If he even wanted to mention the effects it had had - was still having, cleaning guns, Alfred in lace, Vlad was still here.

Nope.

Just. Nope. Not opening that can of worms today.

If Danny didn’t know that just feeling him all around him like that was gonna send Jason to horny jail, Jason was just never gonna tell him. And if Vlad had an even similar reaction, Jason would double kick his ass.

Hauling himself away from the wall, Jason cleared his throat again and fixed his jacket.

“Alright… I’m good. Shall we?” He asked Sam, offering her his arm this time. She gave him a quick up and down, raised a brow, but didn’t comment.

“Sure you are,” she chuckled softly, taking his arm with a reluctant half smile, turning back to Danny. “Are you gonna stick close, or do you wanna recon Vlad?”

Danny considered it for a moment, moving with them as they returned to the hall. Then he shrugged.

“I might go take a peek, but if I see your parents I’ll third wheel back on over. You guys should go mosey,” he added, waving a hand quickly.

Jason nodded, tucking Sam closer, turned back to the room, and… froze. Sam, utterly unaffected, made it a couple steps forward before she noticed and turned back, frowning.

“Hey, what’s up?” She asked in a low whisper, eyes flicking around them.

Good fucking question.

Jason closed his eyes, sucking in a slow breath and trying to work out what had shot down his spine like cold water. Brows furrowed, he tried to will his feet to move.

Took a step backwards and opened his eyes again, frowning back at Sam.

“Alright, I didn’t mean to do that,” he hissed, head turning automatically… to where Danny had taken a couple of steps away.

Green surged below his skin, asking what the fuck he thought he was doing. Abandoning his post. Leaving his king.

There was someone here who’d hurt him, who’d used his fucking death against him, and Jason was gonna what? Not be close enough to break his fingers for thinking it?

Eyes closed for a moment, Jason weighed the odds he could just push this down and keep going. Felt Sam tuck closer. They did have a whole ass plan…

Felt a sudden wash of concern-what’s wrong-protect from the surrounding warmth of Danny.

And sighed, shaking his head, pulling Sam with him after Danny. With each step the green sung, a deep satisfaction not his own rising inside.

He gave Danny a sheepish smile and a shrug.

“I don’t think I can leave you alone. Not if he’s here,” he added a little more quietly, well aware they were being watched once again.

Confusion flashed across Danny’s face for a moment, then he groaned and slapped himself in the forehead.

“Fucking Clockwork… alright, we stick together. Tim and Dick will have plenty of fun with Vlad anyway,” he said, grin slowly spreading again as he tucked himself in to Sam’s other side.

“And we can have more fun with my parents,” Sam pointed out innocently, scanning the crowd around them. Shot them both a sidelong glance each, half smirking. “And I get two lots of cute arm candy.”

Danny and Jason turned automatically to look each other over, Jason’s grin broadening as Danny’s cheeks flushed.

Dick had said he looked a treat in this suit. Must have been right about something.

Suddenly Danny’s aura was all very studious and concentrated nothing to see here.

Jason bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing, letting his eyes trail a little slower over his king’s frame.

Wherever Danny had gotten his suit from, they knew a thing or two about tailoring. It fit him well, emphasising the lean lines of his legs and torso. Didn’t quite square off his shoulders.

Jason still hadn’t had much practice with projecting his own emotions back, but he had the feeling his… appreciation got through when Danny’s blush darkened.

Grinning down at Sam, Jason patted her hand.

“Only if my code name’s Gummy Bear.”

A startled laugh from Danny was the reaction he’d been going for. Sam’s sudden, utterly wicked smile was a lot more concerning.

“Alright. Danny’s is gonna be Jawbreaker,” she decided, her gaze darting briefly down to Jason’s lips as she smirked.

Jason looked away quickly, his own cheeks uncomfortably warm as Danny choked.

***

Vlad Masters smiled to himself as he moved through the crowd, a shark among minnows. Their vacuous chatter was a soothing background noise; practically already the emptying of their pocket books.

Oh, he didn’t like to come to Gotham, not with that Bat that flapped around. The Bat didn’t like metas, or people who could do just a little more than curl up and die.

But, well, this had been an opportunity just too sweet to pass up.

He could dip his toes in Daniel’s new haunt, remind the boy that he’d never be too far away if he needed him. He could get a look at this son of Bruce Wayne’s, that had died and come back.

And just maybe he’d get a claw into Wayne Enterprises, and get a look at some of their latest technology for his own… uses.

Yes, Vlad was feeling productive just being here, even if he did have to keep his ghostly abilities on lock.

He drifted through the crowd, joining conversations, sniffing out weaknesses, moving on. Oh, some of these wealthy types thought they were hunters too, he could see it in their eyes.

He’d made his fortune by taking from those types of men and letting them see what true power looked like. It was much more satisfying to break a man who thought he was unbreakable.

Bruce Wayne wasn’t one of that type, but he had something that Vlad wanted. Still, the man seemed vacuous enough, all laughing and drink and flirting.

He’d handed control of his company to his teenaged son (and oh Vlad was a little jealous of him for thinking of that move… if only Daniel was more… pliable).

But Vlad could see himself letting Brucie keep at least some of his assets. The man was entertaining, and it’d show Daniel he’d listened.

He could change. In ways that weren’t too… inconvenient for him.

And then he’d have a shield in Gotham, and Wayne could deal with that meddlesome Bat, and he could pay Daniel a visit.

He’d just caught sight of his true quarry, standing in a small circle of fawning admirers when the felt the Presence flood the room.

It sent a shiver up his spine and he locked his knees, refusing to let any weakness show as the air filled with the heavy static of Daniel.

So the boy was here? Interesting. He’d have a chance to see his Little Badger even before he left the party.

He had seen the Mansons on the guest list and he had to wonder if the lad had finally gotten closer to his little goth friend. Close enough to be a plus one?

The elder Mansons would surely hate that, and make that hatred known. Unless Vlad were to… step in. Save the boy from their judgemental stares.

Remind them that Daniel may not be from a wealthy family, but he was still connected to the Masters name.

Yes, this was wonderfully good news and Vlad felt almost chipper, a spring in his step as he advanced on Wayne. Oh, the boy was flaring off, showing Vlad he had some power too, but Vlad wasn’t here to fight.

All he needed was to set up one simple meeting between himself and Wayne, and then all of tonight could be for his Little Badger. Imagine, Vlad Masters having the chance to play the hero.

He was most definitely looking forward to it. And ah yes, here they were, the Mansons already at Bruce Wayne’s elbow, chattering away.

Everything really was coming up Vlad.

Bruce had met the Mansons before of course, at other charity events across the country. They were… well, pretty much exactly the type of nouveau riche he kept his children away from at all costs.

Never impolitely, of course. Never letting on how their false smiles and honeyed lies made his gut squirm in distaste. He was always cordial, and could safely rely on the effect his smile had on both of the couple.

But they weren’t what you’d call close, even in gala circles, so it was something of a surprise when they sought him out.

“Ah, Brucie! There you are, good to see you,” the husband, Jeremy, called jovially as they approached, clapping him on the back.

Bruce gave them one of his better Brucie smiles, returning the gesture with a calculated firmness.

“Jeremy! Wonderful to see you,” he greeted them both exuberantly, eyes discretely scanning both to try and work out what they wanted. They always wanted something.

The wife, Pamela his mental rolodex said, simpered up at him, clutching at her husband’s arm.

“Of course we were simply delighted to hear that your son was found, we couldn’t possibly miss the party!” She gushed, letting her hand flutter over his. “You know, our Samantha is about the same age.”

Ah.

Well, that was a first. For Jason, anyway; Tim and Damian both had plenty of parents hopefully thrusting their children his way. Even Dick was subject to occasional propositions.

Jason had barely been his long enough to be considered eligible when he’d… well.

Bruce would mention it to Dick later, so his eldest could tease Jason about this latest milestone. Best not broach the subject himself.

He cranked the wattage on his smile down a little, looking carefully behind the couple.

“Yes, I believe I’ve met Samantha before,” he said genially, mind scanning through his gala notes.

Samantha Manson. Usually seen in elaborate pink and frilly gowns, always seen utterly despising them. Quiet, rebellious eyes.

At least Jason might find someone tolerable to talk to.

“Is she here tonight?” He finished, like he hadn’t personally memorised the guest list.

Pamela and Jeremy Manson. Samantha Manson. And plus one.

Plus one? Clearly someone the parents found less agreeable than Jason, and Bruce couldn’t help feeling sorry for the poor kid.

Jeremy was already nodding cheerfully, a sparkle in those eyes that put Bruce on edge.

“Oh yes, she’s off talking to your boy right now in fact,” he said with a very self satisfied chuckle, shooting Bruce a knowing look. “I think they quite hit it off.”

“Poor Jason was just telling us how few friends he has his own age, and of course Samantha would much prefer his company than being stuck with her parents,” Pamela trilled, giving Bruce a knowing look of her own, about three shades smuttier than her husband’s.

He could very, very easily believe that, even with as little time as he’d spent with the elder Mansons. Still, best not let them get their hopes up.

“How lovely! I’m sure Jason will keep her well entertained, he has his own plus one for the evening and he does thrive with an audience.”

He’d been expecting them to dim a little at the mention of a plus one, and if not maybe to delicately hint that the current partner was male.

Bruce might not personally know how serious Jason was in this new relationship, but he’d have his son’s back against any of the gala harpies.

He was not expecting them both to beam even brighter.

“Why, that’s the best thing!” Pamela beamed, clapping her hands. “His plus one, Tucker Foley, is Samantha’s very best friend! They’ve been close since high school, very close,” she added proudly, like she’d curated the friendship herself.

Bruce was beginning to think he’d have to mention he knew Samantha also had a plus one when Jeremy nodded happily.

“And of course Samantha brought along her other friend, Daniel from home too, so we were quite concerned the boys might run off together and leave our little girl on her lonesome, but your Jason really took a shine to her!”

Something sharpened in Bruce’s spine, catching at his attention.

“Daniel?” He asked, innocently as he could, and spotted Steph and a young Black man heading their way. Certainly she’d hang back to get more information. “Would I know him?”

Pamela’s face scrunched for a moment before smoothing back into a perfect, empty smile.

“Oh, I very much doubt it. The boy is from a rather disreputable family I’m afraid, very bad influences, but our Samantha has never shied from offering her hand in friendship.”

Bruce took a moment to compare this sentence to the young woman he remembered, barely covering seething resentment under a very similar empty smile.

Friendship. Yes, he could see her offering that to literally anyone her parents disapproved of.

But if this was the same “Danny” Jason was getting involved with, it was his fatherly duty to learn what he could.

He schooled his face to his best politely interested morbid fascination.

“Oh? Please tell me more.”

Steph and Tucker sped up as they caught sight of Bruce, Steph leaning in to whisper,

“Are those the Mansons talking to him?”

Tucker nodded, slipping around to the other side of her for partial cover.

“Yeah, that’s them… wonder what they’re saying, he looks so concerned,” he whispered back, and Steph snickered.

“That’s his “your problems are so fascinating tell me everything” face,” she explained quietly, turning to plant her back to the nearest small table.

This one held a small crystal sculpture that was probably supposed to symbolize something, but she wasn’t gonna look twice. Instead she slipped her phone out of a discrete pocket and hit record.

Tucker took a moment to admire the new tech, leaning around her with an intrigued smile.

“Oh, is that the new WayneTech phone? Can I see?” He asked, brightening up.

Steph grinned and shook her head, carefully angling it to point at Bruce and the Mansons without making it look intentional.

“Not the newest release, but the one before. Tim lost a bet so he had to give me some free upgrades,” she added when Tucker looked confused.

“But aren’t you one of the Waynes? Why would you be a release behind?” He sounded honestly dumbfounded and Steph hid a snicker.

He sounded like Tim every time she turned down one of Bruce’s toys.

“I’m really just a family friend, and I don’t wanna have to get a whole new phone every time Tim or his nerd team has a new idea. You can look later, I wanna catch what they’re saying,” she hissed and he reluctantly quieted, still looking at her like she was crazy.

Yeah.

Tim 2.0. She was gonna have to text Connor later.

Tuck pulled his PDA out and she half expected him to start recording too, but instead he pulled up a handy decoy screen so he could pretend to be showing her something.

And…

Tapped into the video currently being recorded on her phone. She raised a brow and he grinned back, tapping a few buttons and boosting the volume.

“There are some advantages to upgrading your tech,” he said smugly and pulled out a pair of earbuds, offering her one.

They pulled them out about five minutes later.

Steph clapped her hand over her mouth, fighting down giggles as she dropped the earbud into Tucker’s hand.

“Holy fucking shit to people still actually talk like that?” She hissed between her teeth. Tucker, also fighting laughter, stuffed the headphones back into a pocket.

“Yeah, honestly? My mom loves Saturday morning soaps and even she’d call that overplayed,” he snickered, shaking her head.

“You’d think Danny ate their fucking cat, what the hell happened there?” Steph asked, lips pressing tightly shut on another laugh as she made awkward eye contact with some passing guests.

“Honestly? Nothing, they just don’t like his parents, and that makes Danny a “hoodlum”,” Tucker rolled his eyes and grinned, flipping his PDA to a different channel, and then suddenly flipping back. “Aaaaand shit, that’s Vlad. This is gonna be good.”

Steph pulled the PDA quickly from his hands as he lunged back into a pocket.

“Quick, get them back, there is no way I’m missing this!”

Vlad couldn’t say he was honestly surprised to walk in on the Mansons telling some outlandish story that was almost all sly innuendo. It was why Pamela came to these parties after all.

What was surprising was the way Wayne’s face grew more and more serious as she spoke, painting a picture of Daniel as some kind of delinquent thug.

Which, to be fair, wasn’t an entirely inaccurate picture of the boy on his worse days, but hardly represented his best.

And if he reached into just a hint of ghostly stealth to come up behind her, well, watching Pamela Manson startle as he cut in with a well placed greeting was more than worth it.

“My, that does sound like a fascinating story Pamela! And you say this was young Daniel?” He asked, watching with satisfaction as both Mansons spun to stare.

“Brucie” gave him a sharp, almost assessing look too, much more thoughtful than he usually bothered with. Interesting.

Pamela brightened when she recognized him, beckoning him in.

“Oh, yes! Vlad, do join us, I was just telling Brucie here about some of those silly ghost adventures Daniel would pull Samantha into in high school!” She clearly expected him to join in.

Ah, but today Vlad’s role was to be Daniel’s hero, not Phantom’s nemesis. And maybe to see just what had managed to rub two brain cells together in Wayne’s famously amicable head.

He gave her a fond smile, nodding in greeting to the men and taking his place in their circle.

“Why, Pamela, I do hope you’re not disparaging my godson before Mr Wayne even has a chance to say hello?” It was a calculated guess, but honestly.

However Daniel got into this party (and he would put money on his dear goth friend Sam herself), he wouldn’t be introduced to the man holding the purse strings.

From the corner of his eye he also caught a very familiar red beret, and his brow quirked slightly.

Daniel, Sam, and Tucker Foley, all in one place. They must have heard he’d be coming.

How… adorable.

His smile spread as Pamela’s faded, even as Brucie turned to offer him a hand and a warm smile.

“Mr Masters, yes? I believe we’ve met at a few of these before,” the man said, all charm and sunshine.

Vlad shook the offered hand firmly, resisting the urge to just poke directly into his mind.

Tucker was listening. Best give him something interesting to report.

“Yes, I wasn’t aware you knew the Mansons too? One of our finest families in Amity Park,” he purred, giving them both an almost predatory smile.

Jeremy puffed up under it like it was actual praise, but Pamela was still watching him curiously.

“Oh yes, we’re going to be quite close,” she said airily, giving Brucie a secretive smile.

The man didn’t quite return it, the same friendly, open smile not changing in the slightest.

More interesting still.

“And perhaps you and I will be getting closer too, Vlad. Can I call you Vlad?” He asked, and Vlad’s smile widened.

“Of course. Is there something I should know?” He asked, half teasing.

Brucie’s expression flickered almost too fast to see. Something like actual thought under that big soft smile.

“It seems that my son Jason has been spending time with young Samantha and Daniel,” he explained, still sounding just the same cheery fool.

Vlad’s smile widened further, and he took a moment to reign himself in. It wouldn’t do for him to stretch too far. It could make people nervous.

“Oh, how wonderful!” He exclaimed happily, rubbing his hands together. “I was hoping to congratulate him personally on his return, it is quite a rare feat!”

And if Daniel was sniffing around him, that added credence to the rumours that the boy really had died. And possibly changed.

Now, if he could just speak to the young Jason alone, see how easily he could be swayed… if the boys were already friends, perhaps he could even plead Vlad’s case to Daniel directly.

Brucie gave him a dazzling smile, gesturing to Pamela jovially.

“Well, I certainly hope so! From Mrs Manson’s stories I was beginning to worry that Jason might be falling into some rough company.”

Vlad gave the woman a smile that would have chilled if he’d had Daniel’s ice core, but instead crackled with his own electricity.

“Oh, young Daniel may be a bit rough around the edges, but there’s no more loyal boy anywhere in the country,” he assured Wayne smoothly, and noted Tucker and the blonde girl he was with breaking away.

Off to report to Daniel, then. Good.

“Really, you can judge best when you meet him yourself,” Vlad all but purred, watching them go, “after all, you yourself know all about taking young men from rough circumstances and polishing them to a shine.”

Brucie’s smile was all proud paternal joy as he looked out across the room, and for a moment Vlad wondered how many of his interminable brood had actually come.

A young man was very suddenly at Brucie’s side and even the man himself seemed to startle, but his smile only grew as he clapped the boy on the shoulder.

“And here’s one of them now! Mr and Mrs Manson, Vlad, this is my youngest son Damian.”

The boy certainly had Bruce’s jawline, and the same wide eyes the press so loved, even if the eyes themselves were green. Any other similarities would be hard to spot as the boy fixed Vlad with a glare that could have been Daniel’s.

“Good evening,” he said curtly, and Vlad pressed his lips together to keep from chuckling.

“Why, such a stern young man!” Pamela cooed beside him, bending down to give her sweetest smile to the boy. Wilting just a little when he turned the glare on her.

Brucie’s hand tightened momentarily on the boy’s shoulder and his expression immediately smoothed out.

“I’m sure he’d much rather be off with his friends, but he was good enough to come tonight and support his brother,” Brucie explained cheerfully, giving Damian a proud smile.

“Wonderful to see young people who understand the importance of family,” Vlad nodded, keeping half an eye on the boy as he spoke. His eyes had narrowed just a little, probably looking for a patronizing tone.

At these kinds of parties, it’d likely be all he heard.

Still, Vlad settled in to make some idle small talk, whiling away the time until dinner. No serious business would be discussed until after the meal after all.

Perhaps he could persuade Brucie to introduce him to Jason.

It was Steph who zeroed in on Jason’s flash of white hair first, but Tucker who crashed almost directly into Danny and hissed the news.

“Vlad’s here and he’s complimenting you!”

Danny stumbled back to catch them both, staring in bewilderment.

“He’s fucking what?” He asked incredulously. Tucker nodded quickly, grabbing his elbows.

“Seriously, he basically told the Mansons to fuck off for badmouthing you,” he hissed, and now Sam was intrigued too.

“Vlad? Our Vlad? “Phantom is the greatest threat our city has ever known” Vlad?” She asked.

Danny elbowed her sharply and she rolled her eyes, but Steph definitely noted it down to ask later. Tucker nodded again, faster than before.

“Right? He’s definitely up to something.”

“Could be his new plan to win you over,” Steph added, closing the rest of the distance to tuck herself into the group.

Danny paused for a moment then grimaced and shook his head.

“Nah, it’s never that simple with Vlad. He knows I’m not gonna just hear some kind words and fall into his arms.”

Sam rolled her eyes, turning and firmly piloting their new cluster to one of the windows, out of the way of the less nosy eyes.

“Danny, it’s Vlad. He’s still convinced your mom just needs to be alone with him for five minutes to fall head over heels, no matter how many times she karate chops him.”

Which, yes, Steph was adding that to the questions list too, a smile tugging at her lips. She cut them off anyway, making pointed eye contact with Jason.

“Not that this doesn’t already sound fun, but I’m also pretty sure I just saw Selina Kyle,” she told him sweetly, and had the joy of watching him actually blue screen.

Just. Stared into space for fifteen seconds.

Then sighed and scrubbed both hands down his face.

“Of fucking course she is. Why not? Does anyone wanna call the Joker, see if he wants to join too?” He asked sarcastically, tossing both hands into the air.

Steph snickered and rose on her tiptoes to ruffle his hair, ignoring the confusion of their new friends.

“Hey, look at it this way. She’ll keep Bruce off your ass,” she offered cheerfully and Jason groaned louder, giving the window a speculative look like he was considering jumping out of it.

Tempting.

Sam leaned in, giving them both a sharp look.

“Who’s Selina Kyle?” She asked bluntly, and Steph paused for just a moment, wondering how best to put it.

How to describe the fucking disaster that was Batman and Catwoman to someone who couldn’t know either of their identities. Ah, yes, she knew.

“Bruce’s kleptomaniac ex-and-sometimes-current girlfriend. Every single conversation they have is riddled with innuendo and pussy jokes that she makes, and she’s been around since Jason was knee high.”

“So she’s got stories?” Tucker asked, eyes brightening as she twigged.

Jason turned and pointed his most menacing finger at him.

“She does not have fucking stories and you do not want to talk to her, she’ll steal the filings from your teeth,” he warned sharply.

Danny’s lips moved soundlessly for a moment and then suddenly the most wicked glee Steph had ever seen from anyone not a sibling lit his face.

“Jason… she has pixie boot stories, doesn’t she?” He asked in a low hiss, and Steph’s brows shot straight to her hairline.

Jason had only ever willingly worn pixie boots for one reason. Guess things with Danny were serious serious.

So how much had Jason told him?

From the way he was now glaring warningly at Danny, and Sam was rounding on Jason with intrigue, glee, and a complete lack of understanding, it was just Danny for now.

“We’re not talking to or about Selina,” he hissed, crowding up into Danny’s space and ooooh Steph wasn’t too worried about their mutual secret to miss that cute little blush on Danny’s cheeks.

Which also didn’t stop the man himself from grinning up at Jason, even if he did have to crane his neck back to do it.

“Does she have pictures?” He asked with a genuinely wicked glee that Steph just adored.

“Pictures of you in pixie boots?” Sam cut in, crowding up to Jason’s other side.

And now Jason’s cheeks were flushing red.

“They were in fashion at the time!” He defended weakly, and Steph had to laugh at that.

“Yeah, them and mullets,” she cackled and Jason shot her a scowl too.

“Weren’t you guys supposed to be keeping an eye on someone?” He asked sharply, changing the subject like that had ever worked.

Didn’t work on Tucker either apparently, and Steph liked that in a man as the Black guy gave Jason that pure and innocent smile.

“Yeah, Bruce and the Mansons, but that part of the show’s over. Damian’ll let us know if anything happens,” he dismissed easily, and Jason scowled.

Steph braced herself for the flare of green, especially when it had already been so close tonight, and was almost shocked when it didn’t come. When was the last time Jason had glared so much without it?

Maybe Danny did know what he was doing.

The rest of their families’ secrets notwithstanding, she decided that for the moment she had to approve.

It’d be subject to change, a bat never planned against new intel, but for now? She liked Danny. He was honest, easy going, and made her brother blush in ways she’d never seen before.

There were clearly secrets, but he’d dropped a big one on them already with his own Lazarus exposure. Secrets never lasted long in this family anyway, but Steph could wait on digging for these.

She had much more important things to do, like tease Jason mercilessly.

For now, she popped up on his other side to press a kiss to his cheek and ruffle his hair again.

“Well, I’m gonna go find Dick and let him know Selina’s around. Tucker, do you wanna find Tim? If he has you beside him Vlad’s way more likely to be confused,” she added innocently.

Like Tucker’s eyes hadn’t always lit up at the chance to hang out with Tim. She’d be offended if she hadn’t also seen the appeal.

The smirk Sam shot her meant the other girl definitely knew what she was doing, and Steph took a moment to grin back.

Yeah. Getting Sam Manson’s number before the night ended, preferably willingly. Girls gotta stick together, and mercilessly bully their mlm besties.

Tucker hesitated a moment longer, clearly also dying for pixie boot stories, but in the end his nerdery won. Surprising no one.

“Yeah, we’ll go spread the word,” he agreed dramatically, like it was all down to him. Then he pointed back at Jason, utterly unintimidated by a full mountain of muscle. “But I want pictures too!”

“No one’s getting pictures,” Jason said firmly, and Steph danced carefully out of earshot.

“I know where Alfred keeps the scrapbooks,” she called in a sing song voice, and was a little surprised not to even feel anticipation when Jason lunged at her.

Teasing him was usually a careful game, something she had to put her mind into. Watching the pit, calculating his limits, ready to fully run if he broke.

But he was so fun to tease, and it felt… yeah. Nice to wind him up like Dickie or Tim, or Bruce himself. Nice not to be prepared for a sudden attack.

It wasn’t like she’d have ever stopped if he had lashed out anyway.

Danny was good for him, for whatever reason. She shot them both finger guns, heading back for the middle of the room.

“Try not to get into anything scandalous,” she called, loud enough to turn a couple heads. Which would only help their primary, Manson related plans.

Jason flipped her off while Tucker hurried after her, chuckling to himself.

“So, scrapbooks?” He asked hopefully, and Steph shot him finger guns too.

“Not tonight, but it’s happening. We need a group chat.”

“We so fucking do.”

Bruce was not having a fun evening.

He’d been happy Jason had found a guest to bring. Over the moon, really. He needed a life outside of his crimes.

Less happy that Jason had held out on the name of his guest, only sending it when Bruce would be too busy to properly investigate, but he couldn’t exactly blame him.

Bruce knew he could be paranoid and overbearing, his kids made sure to remind him constantly. And Jason deserved privacy.

But it had quickly become clear that “Tucker Foley” and “Pit Helping Danny” were not the same person. Whoever Jason wanted to introduce them to, it wasn’t just his mystery date.

Fortunately one had led neatly to the other, the Mansons revealing the trick quite by accident. And they’d known a lot more about Real Danny too.

None of it predisposed Bruce well to the boy.

Apparently he was reckless, lazy, trouble prone, unmotivated, and a very bad influence.

It felt fucking stupid when he knew full well that Jason was a crime lord and official serial killer, but Bruce just didn’t want him to get into any more trouble.

And if this Daniel Fenton was still half the boy the Mansons knew, there was a whole other world of shady exploits he could be dragging Jason into.

Ghost hunters. Really.

Everyone knew about Amity Park’s “ghost problem”; a cheap way to drum up tourist dollars, just like Bigfoot sightings.

They’d tried calling the Justice League out more than once, but Constantine had marked it as a no fly zone. Which meant there was nothing supernatural there worth bothering with.

The regular Justice League had no time for claims of magical mayhem.

Vladimir Masters had been interesting too, both on the Amity Park perspective and in news about Danny.

As the boy’s godfather of course his opinion could be biased, but according to him Danny was a loyal, kind hearted young man. Still rough and tumble but hardly dangerous.

And he’d been right; Bruce had plenty of experience with that type of young person. He’d soon be able to tell just what this Fenton was.

But Masters could be a useful source there, both for information and potentially sympathy. He’d seemed to understand Bruce’s concerns quite well.

Perhaps after dinner he could catch up with the man again. Make some plans, a meeting somewhere a little more private, where his children wouldn’t all be listening in.

He didn’t want to give them the impression that he didn’t trust Jason to handle himself.

He was just.

Concerned.

Jason hadn’t been himself since before they’d buried him, tangled in that mess of his birth mother. He’d done terrible things, but he’d been lost.

Bruce would do all he could to help his boy find himself again, even if that meant taking a more subtle approach. He wouldn’t let Jason be taken advantage of.

Meeting with Masters would have to wait, however, because as they’d been chatting he’d caught sight of an unfortunately familiar slinky black dress.

He’d excused himself from the adults and slipped past Damian with a meaningful look, and followed her trail through the crowds.

She slipped through easily, winding between people and Bruce could easily guess just how many would be finding their pockets all the lighter for it.

He had to go a little slower, his broad shoulders making him more noticeable and kept him from her tighter squeezes, but she couldn’t avoid him forever.

For one thing, she clearly didn’t want to. He finally caught up at the foot of the stairs to the entrance, turned away from him to admire the lion statue at the base of the banister.

“Bruce,” she greeted without turning, leaning back and just knowing where he’d be. He hated being predictable, and yet… he couldn’t disappoint her.

“Selina. I didn’t realize you were coming.” He’d checked the guest list twice today, but there were always so many plus ones. He hadn’t invited her, but that’d never stopped her before.

She tipped her chin up to smile at him, hearing every unsaid word.

“And miss young Jason’s return? Why Bruce, I’ve known the boy almost as long as you have, I’m happy to see him alive and well.” It was a gentle reprimand, and for a moment he wondered if she’d expected an invitation.

If he should have asked Jason if he’d like her there. But then, which of his children had ever liked it when Selina came around?

Not least because she always broke the rules, and he always found himself letting her. Never the most important, never the one Jason broke, but…

Selina wasn’t his weakness, he didn’t have one. But she was a distraction.

He smiled back, calculated, charming. The one she liked to see in public.

“Of course. Have you seen him?” She might have valuable insights into Jason’s condition, though she’d refused to get involved since his… original return.

Not getting caught in family squabbles. He’d always liked that about her.

She hummed softly, leaning more of her weight into his chest, hand reaching up over her head to caress his chin.

“Not yet, but I’ll say hi eventually. Rumour has it he’s growing quite the harem,” she purred, and Bruce damn near choked.

Harem? Jason?!

“Oh?” Was all he managed, and even then he knew she heard the strain when he felt a low chuckle rumble through her back.

“Word has it the young Samantha Manson and her own date are both all over him. Poor boy, and his own plus one is being borrowed by half the Waynes. What have you been teaching those boys?” She teased, fingertips running just shy of his lower lip.

Definitely feeling where it puckered slightly into one of his minimal frowns. Nothing he’d heard about this “Danny” was setting him at ease.

Still, best not to let anything too real show.

“He’s always been good at making friends,” he allowed, gaze now scanning the rest of the room for his son.

Selina chuckled again, finally stepping away and turning to face him, giving him an appreciative once over.

“Now that’s a lot tamer than what I heard. I’ve heard that they’ve already bustled off to the back rooms, and reemerged en déshabillé,” she purred, and Bruce tensed.

Jason wouldn’t. Not with a stranger. Not at a gala.

True, it wasn’t on the (long, extensive) list of forbidden gala behaviours, but that was because it didn’t have to be.

Jason didn’t like following any of his other rules.

Jason was an adult. Bruce wasn’t… a fool. He was aware that quite a few of his children had grown up. And may, possibly, in an abstract way, have a sex life.

He didn’t like to fucking think about it at the best of times, but Jason? Who couldn’t control himself, who had those unpredictable rages?

No, he did not like that thought at all. His face must have set into stern lines because Selina’s hand was on his cheek again, brushing like she could smooth them out.

“Now now, Bruce. He’s twenty-two. Remember what you were like at that age?” She cooed, and that really didn’t help.

“That’s different,” he growled, keeping to the Brucie ranges with the iron control he’d prided himself on. The control Jason lacked.

Selina examined his expression for a moment longer then shook her had, patting his face just barely shy of being a slap. He caught her hand, gaze whipping round to focus on her again.

Just what she’d wanted, of course.

“Darling, you can’t stop him. You two are on rocky enough ground as it is, hmm?” She reminded him gently, voice low.

His grip tightened on her wrist, gaze flashing across her person.

“And if I searched your pockets right now, how many stolen rocks would I find on your person?” He asked equally quietly. Not changing the subject.

Just a good question.

Her eyes narrowed for a moment, then her lips curled into a smile and she stepped closer.

“Well if Jason’s left the back rooms free, you can search me as closely as you’d like,” she purred, pressing herself to him from shoulder to thigh.

And definitely felt him twitch in annoyance, grip tightening again. He forced himself to let go, step away, before his reactions could betray him further.

“Enough, Selina. Why are you really here?” He asked sharply, carefully balancing the line between Brucie casual and the answers he wanted.

She looked him over for a moment more then shook her head, half smiling.

“Touchy touchy. I’m here to give my best wishes to Jason, darling. Nothing more. And if some of these jumped up little pheasants find their tails a little lighter for it, I don’t think you really care, do you?” She asked rhetorically, turning away to slink back into the crowd.

Bruce considered following her. Pushing for more, working out what she really wanted.

It could wait until he’d checked the back rooms. Or found Jason. Whichever came first.

—————

Part 2!

#danny fenton dead and loving it #dp x dc #dpxdc #danny fenton x jason todd #dead on main #sorry guys #it turns out 18k is over the limit #will be keeping future chapters around 15k #cuz holy shit i’m not doing this again it’s exhausting #it keeps breaking the ding dang tag list #pay attention to me dammit pt 1

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breannasfluff · 11 months ago

Text

The next day brings them no closer to finding…well, anything. Four rides on Wind’s head and Noon ranges further and further away. It may not be as safe, but he needs to find something to hunt.

Last night, Twilight shared some of his bread and cheese with him, along with a strip of jerky. It’s not sustainable to feed a coyote in addition to himself and two others, even if Four only needs a few bites.

Noon is pretty good at hunting for himself and he’s not too picky about what goes in his mouth. Sure, it would be a lot better if he could cook; baked apples are something he dearly misses, but he can subsist on less.

He finds two lizards but only catches one. Despite the meal, his stomach still growls. There’s nothing larger to catch, though, and he’s burning too much energy trying. After that, he sticks closer to the boys.

That night, he turns up his nose when Twilight tries to share food. Sure, the lizard wasn’t a lot, but it was still fresh meat. The rancher doesn’t push too hard, likely assuming correctly that he hunted something. Instead, he passes the extra bread to Wind.

A monster attacks while they are sleeping. The fire’s burned too low to make out exactly what it is and Wind and Twilight shout at each other, swords drawn but wary of hitting one another. Noon’s eyes are better than theirs in the darkness, so he takes point on jumping for the monster with a growl.

Sharp claws scratch his fur, but he pins it to the ground and Twilight stabs it with his sword. For a moment, everyone pants as they wait to see if anything else attacks.

“Where’s Four?”

Noon snorts to clear his nose of the scent of monster blood and circles outside the area they were fighting. He catches the scent of Four—like clover flowers—and follows it to where the minish hides under a log.

Scared, worried, okay? he asks with a whine. His tail swishes once in the dirt and stops.

Four is shivering as he hides. “Sorry.” His voice is so soft it’s hard to hear. Noon pricks his ears in his direction.

“Sorry,” he says again. “I ran. I didn’t help.”

Silly, no help! Pack protect!

“I’m too small. You don’t need me to fight off a—a slug or something. By the Three, what’s the point of having me come along like this?”

Noon whines and his ears droop at the self-deprecation. Worry, worry, he says with a low sigh. Hurt. Heart-sick.

Four can’t understand him, of course. “I just—” he pulls off his headband and runs a hand through straight blonde hair. “I hate being useless. It shouldn’t be up to the others to keep me safe. All because I got stuck as a minish!”

And Link is now Noon, a coyote. They can only do the best they can in their current forms. At least Four knows how to turn back. Noon is just…stuck. Maybe, if they hit his era, he can lead them to Purah. Try to convince her he’s not a stray canine and actually the hero.

Urgh, she’s going to do tests, isn’t she?

Shaking the thoughts away, Noon whines and inches a little closer. He flicks his tongue out, careful of Four’s small size, and gives the minish a little lick.

“Time to go back to the others?” The little hero’s breath stutters; he seems to be on the verge of tears.

Noon gives another lick. At least if he’s wet, he has an excuse.

“Right. Let’s go before they get worried.” Four climbs up the proffered muzzle to Noon’s head.

The coyote turns back to where Wind and Twilight still search the ground, giving a soft woof to grab their attention. The boys visibly relax at seeing Four and finally settle around the fire again. This time, Twilight doesn’t let it burn out. Wind and Four doze, while Noon keeps Twilight company on watch.

Read the rest here!

#Wild Wolf #wolf family #coyote wild #lu wild #lu twilight #lu wind #lu four #lu hyrule #breannasfluff #my writing

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onlineviolence · 5 months ago

Note

Woof may I humbly request Gamaliel lore ><

they call me the slowest ask answerer to ever do it. anyways, here’s my try of a short version ( as I am done with it . it’s not very short. sorry.)

maybe this is secretly good due to there being more lore released since October,

gama lore post 💌

cw: mention of suicide

they are created as a close advisor to god who never leaves his side. He however grows far too attached and eventually instead of seeing them (they’d be a he at this time because of the new pronoun lore) as merely an advisor, He views them more as a son.

during the time described by the testaments in the secret terminals, God’s spiral begins as His frustration with his mistakes mount. as He sinks deeper and deeper into despair He makes secret plans of gamaliel eventually taking His place in heaven as He looks into ways to end His own life.

gamaliel is unknowing of these plans, though they are distinctly aware of His declining mental state due to their position being always by Him. their many hands have transcribed the testaments which have made their ways down into Hell.

and then there is His breaking point where He succeeds in disappearing. before The Death of God, gamaliel is pulled aside suddenly and informed in hushed words of their heirdom and how they must assume a role of leadership in Heaven; and then, in a procedure that has been blacked out of their memory they were granted their “sarkamancy” by Him.

sarkamancy being a lesser, but still powerful form of the power of Creation. the ability to create, construct, warp and manipulate flesh as easily as breathing. they do not remember how it happened, but it left a scar resembling that of a vivisection’s on their torso and scars that appeared to pierce through their palms.

they could not handle His disappearance with such little explanations and closure, so for the next century or so of chaos in Heaven, they descended into Hell in hasty attempts to find Him - the Hell that had all of its angel wardens recalled in the building panic.

of course, they found nothing. but they were found by the newly-formed Heavenly Council when the forces of heaven returned to control Hell once more.

their claim to power and word from God was swiftly shut down and framed as high heresy. and maybe they would have only been executed if not for their sarkamancy.

the council feared it. so easily this angel could turn against heaven and warp the flesh of every angel into unspeakable horrors. but in contrast, they also recognised a usefulness in the ability. prevent the danger before it could ever happen, and then use it instead for heaven’s own good. a tool.

more extended post on their relationship with the council because I didn’t want to rewrite it. important though

then come the imprisonments of the recently executed kings, minos and sisyphus.

minos, as a soul orb, is contained without much struggle (Though he might have been conscious and aware during the whole thing. and unable to do anything about it) and his corpse is reanimated with horrific parasites.

sisyphus is very different. he puts up a fight, as of course he would, and in the struggle two of gamaliels arms are torn off, leaving them with four when they once had six. but nevertheless, they are victorious and he is sealed away in the flesh panopticon.

the council’s use of them extends to punishing offending angels in heaven, one of the more notable examples being raphael. (details on his punishment in his lore description)

what happens to them coming up to the events of the game is sort of open ended. in one path they remain under the council until gabriel massacres them all, and on another they make their own escape with a few mutilations on the way. either ways, they do get their freedom eventually.

#gamaliel #frutavel #look at my words boy #im so sorry lol #cw sui mention

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little-miss-deviant-s-diaries · 8 months ago

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Hey. What do you like about older men? What do they make you feel?

Hello there, mysterious person!

In a previous post, I mentioned being asked a similar question by a friend, but I couldn't find a satisfying answer.

This might take a bit to explain fully. Most people assume that the reason why younger women like older men is because they are financially stable or maybe because we have daddy issues. That would be partially true but not exactly the reason why. If you asked women who have dated both younger and older men, you would get a response from them saying that they find older men more mature, mentally and emotionally, confident, knowledgeable, and wise, and these women are not wrong in thinking that.

Personally, though, what really gets me is charisma. I find it incredibly appealing. Honestly, if a guy has that special charm, he can just go buy a leash because I might end up following him on all fours like a dog if he asked me. woof woof

Older men, compared to younger guys, have already discovered themselves. Most of them are not here to play (well, not talking about that kind of play ;p, I love an older naughty gentlemen!!! swoon). They tend to be more assertive and know what they want, and isn't that just extremely magnetic?

Now, let's go back to your original question: what do I like about older men? I'll start by saying, I don't exactly know what daddy issues are. So I really wouldn't say that's what caused me to be more attracted to them. However, I do look for a protector in a partner, someone who shows authority but also care,wait a second.. those attributes are something you will find in a father figure... maybe I do have a father complex. That's a topic for another time ;). FYI, I am my dad's little princess, but i am not into calling someone Daddy. I am a Sir kind of girl.(∗´ര ᎑ ര`∗)

The whole time that I have been writing this, I have been thinking about 3 characters. 2 I will share, the 3rd will be mine to keep.

A grumpy man once called me an ADHD poster child. So expect I go in and out of topics. Chaos is my second name :P.

1.Nagato from Sesame salt and pudding. A very cute manga about Haruhi, a 22-year-old machine operator, who wakes up one day to find that she drunkenly married an older man the night before. They make a deal and end up living together. I don't remember much about it besides that he was a lovely grump and he took care of her. I remember him talking about his salt and pepper hair, and since then, whenever I see an attractive older guy with that hair, I am instantly in love. I can already imagine my friend sighing and thinking I am hopeless xD.

2.Jean Girardi by saagelius

Oh man, this is divine! I wish I could repost every piece of art about him. I just found out that there is an official fanfiction about him that I will definitely read today.

The first time I saw the art, I was captivated. It was exactly what I envisioned. I won't disclose any more; the images speak for themselves.

All I'm going to say here is that they confirmed my preference. It wasn't just a fantasy; it was what I truly liked and wanted...

Enough distraction!!! Man, these men make me a mess!!!

I adore the appearance of older men. They exude the warmth of a comforting embrace. A warm hug <3. They give off an aura of reliability, as if you could wholly surrender to them, entrusting them with complete control, knowing they understand what's best for you through their experience. they can guide and lead you. I find older men's natural protectiveness endearing, and their wrinkles and white hair are quite attractive to me.They embody qualities like patience, love, and a strong appreciation for women, thanks to their extensive life experiences. Regarding your second question, it seems I've already provided a broad answer. But let me elaborate. Older men make you feel heard and valued. They can also make you feel empowered with their guidance and mentorship. You can have genuine conversations with them. They usually handle things more carefully than younger men who are still learning.

Wow... well that was a long answer. I hope i didn't make you regret asking. well thank you for asking. This was really fun to write about.

#ask #by me

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darklydeliciousdesires · 2 months ago

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Sky Full of Stars - Chapter Twenty Five.

Hey besties! I'm posting this a day early on account of the fact it's my papa's funeral tomorrow, so I'm going to be out all day. Big thanks to you all as usual for your devotion to the story. Love you! :)

Previous chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen Sixteen Seventeen Eighteen Nineteen Twenty Twenty One Twenty Two Twenty Three Twenty Four

Tag list - In the comments

Words - 3,539

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Minors DNI!

Honking. This was certainly a new noise to hear within the walls of his home, Adrien sitting in the office going over emails, looking towards the doorway, Brando appearing. The dog sat down, tilting his head as once again, a definitive honk sounded from the kitchen.

“What’s your mom doing now?”

Brando woofed softly, his master rising from his seat, off to investigate. By the time he was walking towards the kitchen door, a third honk sounded, considerably louder in its pitch, their four cats all scattering at speed through the doorway. Yes, Jade had added to their numbers in felines, taking in a ginger tomcat stray, simply named Ginge, and Mr. Biscuits, a black tuxedo cat who had belonged to an elderly lady living in the nearby village, his wife adopting him after the death of his owner.

“You know you guys are the natural predators of wildfowl, don’t you?” he asked, Juno and Salem taking to their cat tree, Ginge flopping down to groom, and Mr. Biscuits beginning to climb up his leg. “Literal scaredy cats.” Kissing the feline on his head, he carried him into the kitchen to discover the source of the noises, finding a sight that would have been surprising, had he not known his wife as well as he did.

“And you’re bottle feeding a Canadian goose because?” he inquired, staying over at the other side of the island, taking a banana from the bowl and unpeeling it.

“He’s poorly sick,” she replied, poking out her bottom lip, the goose latched onto a bottle that looked to be similar to what baby livestock were fed with. “I found him hobbling around the village green, so I caught him and took him to the vet. He’s malnourished, so Heidi thought he might’ve been somebody’s pet who’s either escaped and can’t fend for himself, or he’s been turned loose. Either that or he’s been rejected by his mother. He’s still a baby, see? He still has a few down feather tufts. Anyway, she gave him an antibiotic and suggested I bottle feed him oat milk to get his strength up.”

His face creased, looking pained. “Jade, he’s gonna imprint on you, and then we’ll have four cats, four dogs, nine chickens, ten ducks, two horses and a goose.”

“Don’t be silly! It’s only goslings and ducklings who imprint. But he might need to stick around, though. If he was somebody’s pet, then he might be too used to people to survive in the wild. I’ll see if I can release him though, once he’s well.” She then gently cradled his neck, tutting. “No, no pecking! Stop it. Dave!”

Another groan sounded from her husband. “You named him. He’s ours now. But why Dave?”

“He looks like a Dave.”

Shaking his head, he continued eating the banana in his hands, breaking off pieces for Mr. Biscuits here and there. Eventually, he laughed. “Only you, baby love. Only you would happily adopt a cobra chicken, bottle feed it and call it Dave.”

She snorted with laughter, his name for geese cracking her up just as hard as the first time he’d ever used the term. “Cobra chicken! I love that so much,” she hissed, the goose beginning to settle more as he drank down his bottle. “There you go, see? Look at the magic that happens when you stop biting me, you get food.”

If anything was truly magic, it was watching Jade revel in the role of nurturer, Adrien smiling as he finished the banana he was eating. Since becoming pregnant, that maternal side to her had amped up considerably, though, hence the cat who stretched himself out to rest draped over his shoulder, and the other one who eventually came back from hiding in the lounge once Jade had put the goose down to rest in the spare stable, forking down some straw to he could relax comfortably. If you were a creature in need to a loving home, the nice lady at Stone Barn Castle would take you in.

After feeding the chickens and ducks, she and Adrien went for a nice, relaxing ride out over the property, nothing too strenuous on account of the weather being so warm, Mia and Saxon perfectly content to amble along sedately. All the while, he kept stealing little glances at her, thinking to himself how beautiful she looked. Her morning sickness had finally abated, and she was characteristically glowing, as expectant mothers often did when entering their second trimester.

He also couldn’t help but notice the way she would rest a hand to her tiny bump, Jade not even noticing she was doing it half the time. The sight gave him much more in the way of heart flutters than he’d ever thought possible. It was a very exciting time for them, both enjoying that they got to spend so much of that precious time at home together, rather than having their careers separate them for weeks or months at a time.

It was just over a further week before the Seventh Gate girls all assembled again, though, running through a few days of set rehearsals in Manhattan prior to heading to Europe to fulfil their festival commitments.

“Skip, you’ve nearly seen off the entire fucking jar, man!” Jen shouted in one of the last rehearsal sessions, watching Jade digging her fork into the huge jar of sauerkraut in her grasp. “Craving, is it?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” she replied, widening her eyes a touch. “Anything with a sharp flavour and I have to have it. Bob’s been sending me over salt and vinegar crisps by the box load because I’ve been craving Walker’s so bloody badly, too!”

Katie jerked her thumb towards her, snorting softly. “Should have seen her when we stayed at hers en route to Manhattan. I’m telling you; this woman cannot be in the same room as a jar of pickled onions without demolishing them!”

“Adrien had to hold her back from drinking the brine,” Charlotte contributed while restringing her guitar, shaking her head as she remembered it. Jen guffawed at imagining that, watching her bestie simply shrug. “That poor man, having to deal with your onion farts!” she then added, grinning widely.

“Poor man nothing!” she muffled through a mouthful of fermented cabbage, “he’s getting laid more than lino flooring in the seventies. Trust me, he’s happy. If not a little tired.”

Katie arrived at her side, taking a seat with a look of curiosity. “So, does it really make you super horny then, being pregnant? Since this one over here isn’t vibing with the idea of it when we decide to have little ones, it’s gonna be me carrying ‘em. I need to know the upshots of growing another person, because most of it sounds awful.”

Jade crunched through her mouthful of food, digging the fork in again before replying. “The first trimester is hell. You feel tired, you’re puking all the time, it’s rough. Second is great, though. My skin and hair are better than they’ve ever looked, I feel fresh and yeah, the horny feeling is absolutely no joke. I can easily be on him twice a day. It’d be more, but he’s already got a sore dick and a click in his jaw from going down on me so much. I don’t want to ruin the entire man completely.”

Her statement had Katie clapping with mirth as she laughed, leaning into her. “Oh god, that’s amazing. Ruin the entire man!”

“Do sex toys not cut it for you?” Charlotte asked, the string now replaced as she began the tuning process.

“You know that clit sucking one you recommended? I broke it.”

The rhythm guitarist’s eyes almost fell out of her head. “Babe, those things are indestructible.”

“Not when you’re pregnant.”

“God, I’m so glad I’ll never have any of this to worry about! Me and my ornamental ovaries over here!” Jen spoke, twirling a drumstick rapidly, looking to her side. “And what are you looking all dreamy about, huh?”

Jess’s smile continued to grow, thinking of Jayden, her new boyfriend. “Jay says he wants me to have his babies one day.”

“Aw hell,” Jen sighed, “another breeder! And I thought you were on my team, homeslice!”

“I was,” she confessed, still beaming, “but I might’ve changed my mind now I’ve met the love of my life.” Her boyfriend was Jayden Davies, a basketball player for the Knicks, who at six feet seven inches absolutely towered over Jess. It was something her girls had teased her about mercilessly, as well as the fact he was her toyboy at eight years her junior. It was done with much love, though, all of them adoring the sweet guy she’d fallen in love with.

All chatting aside, they continued to run through their setlist, all hyped to be going back out on tour. They loved the big festival crowds, thriving their way through the first dates across Europe, but when the day finally came to play the biggest show of their career to date, though... well. Seeing what eight hundred thousand people actually looked like in the flesh...

“Oh, my life,” Jade gulped, swallowing hard. “Oh bloody, fucking hell.”

“I think I might throw up a little bit. Just to treat myself.” Jen chimed at her side, both at the wings of the gargantuan stage while the openers Motionless in White were whipping the crowd up into utter frenzy, the sea of people moving like a swarm. They both remembered how their beloved friend Dime had described it back when he’d played, the crowd stretching as far as you could see in all directions.

He hadn’t overhyped it. Literally, it was a sea of people.

Heading away from the stage, they weaved through the throngs of crew until they reached their allotted tent, entering with a look of mild panic.

“You two look spooked,” Sunni spoke, eyeing them cautiously. “Why are you spooked? What have you done?”

“Nothing!” Jen cried, moving to the cooler and picking up a bottle of Jack Daniels, unscrewing the cap and upending it into her mouth. “Oh god, that’s better.”

Jade envied her ability to soothe her fear with alcohol. However, she did have something else that worked just as well, Adrien moving to wrap her in a hug.

“Too many people?" He asked.

“All of the people. All of them. And I have to go and pretend I know what I’m doing in front of them, with jellied knees, while up in my head all I can hear are panicked honking noises!”

Sunni visibly relaxed from his tightly wound state to hear those words, Adrien laughing softly as his wife made a small noise of discontent in the back of her throat. “Listen to me, you are gonna be totally fine, alright? You’re the best at what you do, and that goes for all of you, too.”

“Appreciated, homeslice. Imma still need a bucket next to the drum riser, though, y’know?” Jen spoke, lighting a cigarette with a slightly jittery hand.

Looking up at him, Jade cupped his face with her hands. “Thank you. It’d be a million times worse if you weren’t here to keep me calm.”

“Even though you’re the furthest thing from it, and will be matter what I tell you?” Oh, he knew her far too well.

“Bingo.” She managed a laugh, kissing his chest and resting her head against him. “I love you."

“Love you, too, Burtie." He held her close, feeling her head thudding quickly against his ribs, and then something else a little lower. “Did...”

Her face lit up, resting a hand to her bump. “That was a kick! I’m sure of it, even though it’s early, I think it was.” Waiting, she felt around, her eyes widening when she felt it flutter against her palm again, grabbing his hand with a squeak.

Feeling his baby kicking for the first time, his face lit up, Adrien stroking the swell of her tummy lovingly as he kissed her forehead. “See? Even our baby is telling you, ’c'mon, mom, you got this', so if you don't believe me, believe them."

The other girls all came rushing over, resting their hands in turn to her bump, their faces alight as they felt the little kicks, all hugging her with glee. It took the edge of her nerves if nothing else. They had another five hours until their set, the time coming around quickly as the heat of the day began to abate slightly, Jen and Jade giving their husbands a huge hug before they readied themselves to hit the stage.

Some groups huddled, some prayed, but for Seventh Gate, their pre-show routine was simple and had never changed. They held hands, all filing into a line as they walked towards the stage, taking deep breaths as they waited. Their crew sped around them, finishing the setup, everything in place. It was time.

They were then joined by Sunni, the man looking a much paler shade of brown as he stood before them, pointing a finger at them all in turn. “Behave, behave, behave, behave and bloody fucking bloody behave!” he warned them, the finger still shaking, smiling through his stress. “I love you all, I love you to death, but I cannot emphasise enough that you all need to behave!”

Katie couldn’t keep the grin from her face. “Yo, Sunni. Has anyone ever told you that your accent gets more strongly Indian, the more tightly wound you get?”

It was a truth that had all five girls snort laughing, their long-suffering tour manager mildly exasperated, but laughing too as he ran a hand down his face. “Oh, god. Get the hell up on that stage and blow the fucking tits off every single person in this airfield. Go on!”

They had decided to revert to a popular opener from a few years past, the women taking to the stage, the roar of the crowd absolutely deafening, Jade waiting in the wings, her stomach churning. Turning back to see Adrien next to Sunni, she smiled with nerves, her husband winking.

“You got this.” she just about heard him say as the wail of an air raid siren opening their song Battle Within filled the air, the thunder of guitars swelling sharp as she walked out, grabbed the microphone, drew a breath and did what she did best.

She roared, and by god, she roared hard.

The energy of eight hundred thousand people going apoplectic quelled her nerves in an instant, the sight the most amazing thing she had ever beheld, a mosh pit that must have spanned fifty by eighty feet in size spinning in pure frenzy. It was to her utter delight that she made out a few familiar faces within it right at the front, picking out Corey, Jim, Mick and Sid from Slipknot, all throwing and being thrown around as she paced the stage, feeding off the energy, having the time of her life.

Why had she been nervous, again?

At the side of the stage, Adrien watched her, watched them all, in fact, a huge feeling of pride swelling in his chest. It might not have been to his musical tastes, although there were a few of their songs he did genuinely enjoy, but god, how he respected the five of them for how flawlessly they performed. At his side, Sunni was looking at them a little differently, Adrien moving to grab the nearby placed bottle of Jim Beam for Katie to have a few tots from between songs, along with two plastic cups.

“Here,” he spoke, nudging him, “looks like you need it.”

Sunni took it, sinking it in one gulp. “Don’t tell my wife.” As close to a perfectly devout Sikh as you could get, Sunni still drank here and there. As long as his beloved wife wasn’t there to witness it. Having met Perminder on a couple of occasions, Adrien could well see why he wanted to keep it schtum. She was a fierce lady, if nothing else. “Can you pour me another?”

Laughing, he reached for the bottle again, pouring it out, Sunni sipping this time but still looking no calmer. “I can feel in in my turban. One of them is going to do something, I know it.”

Adrien raised an eyebrow. “You’re not wearing it, though.”

“That’s just how bloody much I can feel that one of them is going to play up!” he exclaimed, eyes wide, taking a deep breath and sinking his drink. “And I hate to say this, mate, but I feel like it’ll be your missus! I cannot cope with the idea of her getting arrested!”

Laughing, he draped an arm around Sunni’s shoulders. “She won’t, dude. I mean, as in she won’t get arrested. Think about it, if she stood up there and actually mouthed off at the Russian government directly then yeah, it could happen, but she’s smarter than that. Doing it through song won’t incriminate her. Plus, can you imagine the scandal it’d cause, arresting a beloved A list actress, one who just so happens to be pregnant, too? Ain’t worth the hassle.”

He could see the validity in that, he guessed, but it still made him feel no calmer as they continued to watch the hour-long set. They had played their hearts out, the crowd in absolute frenzy as the opening riffs to their final song sounded. It should have been Shadow of the Veil. It wasn’t.

“Oh, you are fucking kidding me!” Sunni yelled, a few of the assembled techs all pissing themselves laughing, Jen’s husband Nick throwing his head back to guffaw.

“That’s my lass!” he chuckled, fist bumping with Adrien as the band launched into Kill your Masters. The very song they had categorically been told not to finish on.

Sunni looked like he was about to birth his own lungs. “Oh, that’s it! That’s it! All of them are getting smacked arses for this!”

Adrien laughed, knowing he was joking, but still...

“Yeah, Sunni I love you, man, but you lay one hand on my wife’s ass and you’ll be eating my knuckles.” The men looked at each other, both snorting with laughter, Sunni dragging his fingers through his hair repeatedly. His nerves were frayed beyond an inch of existence, especially when watching as Jade leaned over the edge of the stage, bellowing a certain line of lyrics in the direction of the assembled police on crowd control.

“No compassion, round them up, hang them high, kill your masters.”

Sunni’s blood pressure went through the roof. “She’s fucking done it now!”

“Sunni, my man,” Nick spoke, the tall Scotsman nodding to the front of the stage, “most of those lads dunnae speak no English! They’ve not got a clue that JB is fuckin’ baiting ‘em like, y’know?” Again, he had to concede that he might have been overreacting a tad, but still, when the girls got off stage after taking a bow, it was to a face they expected.

“Like herding fucking wild lions!” he yelled, Jade grabbing his face between her hands and kissing his head.

“You worry too much.”

His lips thinned. “Oh, JB. If you weren’t pregnant, I’d give you such a beatdown.”

“Also, if my husband wasn’t looming over you like an albatross,” she noted sweetly, taking Adrien’s hand as they began the walk to the backstage area, the man himself playfully touching Sunni’s jaw with a closed fist. “Now stop ruining my buzz! We just played the biggest show of our careers and you’re over there with your wet blanket fuckery!”

Boy, how it had been. Up on that stage, playing to a crowd that huge, Jade had felt on top of the world. Her pregnant hormones had gone wild, having to hold back the tears, in utter disbelief that her career had taken her to such a defining, elating point as to preside over eight hundred thousand screaming fans. Screaming for them, the headline act.

It was such a high, in fact, that she didn’t come down from it for hours. Not backstage, not in the car on the way to the airport, or on the private jet that took her and Adrien to London for a gala they were attending two days’ from then. While he slept, she lay beside him in a state of awe, remembering the crowd, people as far as she could see in every direction. She could still hear the deafening cheers, feel the energy of the crowd, the fading sun on her face.

It had truly been the performance of a lifetime.

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

Turning, she reached to stroke his face, resting back down again. “I never really do on planes unless I’m well medicated, but because of obvious reasons I can’t be. I doubt anything can dent the high I still feel, though. I’ll just have to be tired until we get to the hotel.”

“I could help?” he offered, Jade seeing a flash of white teeth grinning through the dim light, Adrien shuffling to lie above her.

Orgasms at forty-five thousand feet; well, if anything was going to make her sleepy, it was a couple of those.

#adrien brody fanfiction #adrien brody fanfic #adrien brody fic #adrien brody #sky full of stars #adrien and jade

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aliceinborderlandsquidgame · 1 year ago

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KINKTOBER - Good Dog - BandaSunatoxReader -

DARK - Extreme pet play (actually this may not even be that) - Name calling - Slut shaming - Kindapping - NON/CON - Breeding - DARK BANDA - MDN - +18 - PLEASE READ UNDER YOUR OWN RISKS - I BELIEVE THIS IS THE STRONGEST THING I HAVE MADE -

Summary: Banda wants a pet to make him feel less lonely. Inspired by the movie "Good Boy".

"I need to take care of something, be a good girl and wait here, ok?" Banda's condescenting tone could be hear as he left you water and some food on the floor.

You did not move for a moment but seeing him waiting by the door you knew you had to.

"Woof"

"Thats my girl" and with that he was gone. Screams and pleads could be hear from afar.

Where were you? You did not know. You had met Banda by chance in a date app. And that was a big mistake. His red flags showed at the end of the night, when he pushed you against him and told you how he needed a pet to keep him company and that you would be perfect.

You never tought it would come to this.

The dog suit was uncomfortable the first days, not being allowed to go on two feets was humillating. And no words but woof or any type of sounds.

Banda had made that suit years back, when he was too deep into pet play, leaving your private parts expossed to the cold hair. Your human face was vissible. It was like these big full body pijamas. But more kinky.

You shoved your face into the food. Not taking a risk of using your hands. You had done that the first months and it had ended with you getting beaten up by him.

He would also put you on a cage. And leave you there for days, these were the worst. He left you there one entery week. Because you had talked back to him.

Now you never did that.

You were his pet, his dog. He could trow a ball and you would go after it. He would call you to pet you and you would go. He would made you suck him off (and god help you if you think on biting him) while he stalks his next victim.

Banda would also taunt you. Making dinner for two and waiting for you to make the mistake of getting up and eat with him. He would leave you a dog bed besides his own human bed looking at you while you droff to sleep, thanks to the drugs he adds to your night food.

Something he loves to do-

"Im back, I hope I dont see any food on your hands, dogs cant use them...and dont have them, maybe I should remove them?" He asked. He had blood all over his shirt and face. The woman he had brought with him must have suffered a lot.

You just whined, scared that he would mutilate you.

"Oh, I know you wont do that. You are good" Banda said getting on his knees and petting your hair. "You know...I tried having sex now but....I cant seem to get hard if its not you"

Oh- here it comes, something fucked up he likes. Fucking you in all fours, telling you to still make dog noises (but he does let you moan or scream during this).

Banda does not have to tell you to turn around, to show him your expossed pussy to him. Does not have to order you to get your ass up. You know the consequences.

"Thats it" He murmurs letting his dick out, pushing the head against your lower lips. "You feel me? Of course im not inside yet, I dont want to have to call the vet"

Oh, it almost sounds as if he cares if he hurts you. Its like he never said a thing, when with one single move he shoves his dick inside you making you bite your lips. Tears falls from your eyes as his hips bucks against yours. His dick hitting your insides as he pushes himself on top of you almost making you fall.

"I- have been thinking" he says between deep breaths. "What if I make you have pupps? Do you think I should raise them as humans or dogs?"

The question makes your stomach curl in disgust but Banda seems to like the idea, as he uses one hand to go for your clit making you let out a suprise sound.

"Maybe you alwyas wanted this? Being treated as an animal, just having to eat, sleep and do as I say, no work, no stress"

A slap over your clit made you cry out.

"Yeah...I knew you were just a slut, a slut in heat who needed to be breed"

He continues to pounds into you, your legs tremble feeling your orgams aproacching and he knows that. He makes sure you dont fall against the floor.

"Cmon...give it to me, come all over my dick and show me how much of a slut you are"

You want to fight it. You truly do, but your body responds to the basic stimulation, in seconds you are cumming around his dick.

Banda follows close, he spills his seed inside you, making sure all of it stays inside.

"You are an animal" he ends saying kissing the top of your head "I will clean you later, I still have things to do"

The beep of his phone catches your attention.

"Seems like my next play thing is here, should we get you a friend?"

#alice in borderland #aib imagine #aib imagines #alice in borderland x reader #banda sunato x reader #tw:non/con #non con #kinktober

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brumeraven · 8 months ago

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🪫: The Chains That Bind || angels, burnout, commoditization, dehumanization, exhaustion, I know that SCRAM is probably a backronym but it's so stupid I love it

"So, uhh..."

Shit, only three days. Knew I shouldn't have picked four in the pool... At least I didn't go with "Never," like Gloria from HR. Bitch should know better; they always, always ask. Might be a day, might be a week, but they always bring it up.

"You ever, uh, think about what exactly we're doing here?"

There it was. The million dollar question. Suppose that number should be revised well-upwards, honestly, power prices being what they were these days, but I couldn't be arsed to keep up with the current budget...

"Like, with that thing in there, ya know?" He gestured vaguely past the consoles before us towards the observation slit, as if there could be any doubt what he meant. Wasn't anything else to talk about around here, least of all the drab beige plastic that comprised every surface.

"Notice you haven't taken a peek yet, rookie. Superstitious much?" I kept my voice light, despite the lance of hot rage that pierced my breast. Close to a decade of experience meant I'd had practice enough at controlling Extrinsics.

"No! Just, I mean..." With a sigh, he stood and leaned forward to look, pressing forward with a near-reverent hesitance. I'd have to keep an eye on that. That spoke of assumptions, and assumptions lead to sloppy work.

I didn't need to look. Already knew what he was staring at.

And if I hadn't, well, it was painted on his face, plain as daylight. 4 solid inches of recycled cathedral glass lessened the intensity to something just-shy of blinding, but compared to the anemic fluorescence of the control room, he might as well have been staring at the sun.

"....hm." It was a disappointed sort of non-committal noise.

"Not what you expected?" Of course it wasn't, not on this side of the shielding. Anyone too sensitive would never have been allowed this close.

"It's...bright?" Disappointment, and the desire for confirmation.

"It's a toroidal cloud of plasma. What the hell did you expect?" Part of the ritual, this was. Debase, demean, lessen. Pinion its wings with the materialistic, the rational, the objective, the familiar.

I knew what he meant, but that part...that part was buried just out sight.

If a few hundred tons of concrete, ten of graphite, and a cell of industrial diamond could be called "just out of sight." Only been down there once; creeped me out when my clothes changed color. Tiny changes, but you never knew what tiny change in your genes would become cancer.

"Yeah, I, uh, can see. I guess I expected-"

"Arms, legs, wings? Some white robes? Maybe a harp or trumpet?" The first bit was true, at least sometimes. Music was a bad idea though. "It's not a person. It's a machine. A thing that was made to do a job. A car, not a yoked horse."

"Aren't you ...afraid though?"

"Afraid? Hell yes I am." That much was no lie. "I'm afraid my coffee is gonna become decaf in between sips, or my bra won't match my shirt, or some other Slip is gonna fuck up my perfectly good day answering your stupid questions." Easy, steady...

Woof. That was a pained look if I'd ever seen one. Fine, he needed more reassurance than that... "Look, of course I worry. Even without hypocertainty effects, there are ten thousand things that could go wrong here. And our job is to make sure they don't, okay?"

"Okay...but-"

"Look, keep your eyes on the gauges and the protocols in mind. Long as shit's all green, s'all good, yeah? Been here 11 years; most of the time when the alarms go off, it's just brumeraven buildup. We wet vent it out through the filters and someone gets a flat tire or something."

He nodded, if not with much conviction. "What's, uh, what's the worst that could happen?"

Fuck, where in the hell did they even find this guy?

Fine, if he wanted it... "Worst case, the Void coefficient inverts and goes positive. We end up with a criticality incursion, have to cut the outflows and you..." I leaned over to prod his arm for emphasis. "...you get to take ice cream and stuffed animals downstairs for it."

Well, that got a nervous giggle and a minute of silence. Probably for the best he thought it a joke for the moment. I waited, then, waited for the question he still hadn't asked, the one I knew was coming.

"But what...what if it breaks loose? What if it gets out?"

Bingo. It wouldn't. It couldn't. "It won't. It can't. Besides, that's my job." I tapped the badge clipped to my shirt, right on the crisp, serifed capital letters: SCRMNT. Safety Containment Responsibility Manager/Neutralization Technician. Corporate did love their acronyms...

"I mean, sure, no offense, but what exactly are you gonna do against that thing in there, if it breaks the control bonds?"

Ahhh, and there it was, the root of the misunderstanding. He still thought this was a prison of concrete and rebar, copper and steel.

"You don't understand. All this concrete and shit? That's all just shielding for our benefit. And for the power converters and all that. It's free to leave; not like we could stop it. But if she goes, whole power grid goes down."

It. Fuck.

"I don't understand. Why...?"

"Please, with all the hospitals and homes and hotels that depend on us?"

"..."

"You want to know how you keep an angel bound?"

The question hung in the air as I felt the hairs on my arm prick, and a fleeting sense of sorrow not my own slunk into my heart.

He nodded, waiting.

I smiled slowly.

"Responsibilities."

~🪫

#empty spaces #microfiction #fiction #angelposting #angels #burnout #commoditization #dehumanization #exhaustion #I know that SCRAM is probably a backronym but it's so stupid I love it

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msmargaretmurry · 1 year ago

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Leon looks SO SAD AND HOPELESS 😭😭😭 god can someone get him to a good home, please, this is ASPCA crying puppies levels of sad this is definitely not also in service to my not-so-secret desire to have him and Ratthew on the same team being really good at hockey and terrible at skating together

i mean you would think that a team that got to draft four first overalls in six years and also leon draisaitl would have been able to put together a team that's not incredibly depressing by now, but, alas: the oilers. (i mean, we are only ~10 games in, they could still turn things around, but my god it looks dire right now.)

i feel like this has to be extra frustrating now compared to leon's early nhl years, because he came on to a legitimately bad team that he was supposed to help fix, and for the last few years it has seemed, like, pretty fixed? they've been making the playoffs, they made it all the way to the wcf! where did all the progress go? woof.

the thing is that leon seems to really adore his teammates so i do feel a little bad fantasizing about separating him from them but i ALSO don't trust edmonton not to decide that he's the weak link and run him out of town, given the number of times they've done that to other players! obviously i love pondering concepts and scenarios that land him on matthew's team but in reality the panthers have, like, negative cap space 😂 you need some real fanfiction magic to make that happen. (which, to be clear, i am fine with. all of you, please feel free to go write with fanfiction magic.)

anyway his contract is up after next season and while i am generally assuming he'll stick with with his bff connor i am also so interested to see if he does make a free agency move. (connor's is up the season after leon's and i am similarly just so curious to see what goes down. like i assume they'll discuss it and it's either gonna be they both stay or both go but WHO KNOWS. if either of them goes you know it's gonna be like when tavares left long island and islanders fans were burning his jersey in the streets. which would be VERY funny.)

sorry, anon, i feel like you did not send this ask to listen to me ramble about contracts and cap space. thank you for indulging me. he has indeed been SO sad and grumpy lately. someone should kiss him on the mouth about it.

anyway if leon does decide he wants out of edmonton i know a perfectly nice east coast team that's probably about to have a brand new $9.2m in cap space (sob) (don't look at me)

#ask #hockey for ts

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maxbegone · 1 year ago

Text

a late-to-the-game wip wednesday! still trudging away here. this thing is gonna be...woof. long, to say the least. hopefully it's enjoyable, though ♥️

Everyone had their experiences when the end came — for Alex, it was a lot of survival mode and getting to where they needed to go before it was too late. June doesn’t love talking about it; she spent most of her nights in the beginning wide awake and stressed to the point that Alex swore she was going to make herself seriously sick. Nora was similar, but not as extreme.

No one rested, no one functioned properly. It was terrifying.

“It’s a miracle we even made it here in the first place,” Alex starts. “It’s not like we had go-bags or a plan or anything, but what started as a whisper at the top of the food chain soon became an avalanche, and my mom was calling my dad and telling him to get us and get the fuck out of New York.”

“Your parents seem civil,” Henry says pointedly, and Alex could laugh.

“They haven’t always been. Believe me, when you live with two politicians growing up, it’s like real life Face The Nation.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“A political talkshow, don’t worry about it.” Alex focuses on the gentleness of Henry’s fingers and continues. “He called me and June up, told us to pack as much as we could and that he would be by us within the hour. We shoved the important things in suitcases, sentimental shit, whatever felt right. And Nora had actually just moved into a new place so she was pretty much ready to go from the jump. My dad grabbed us, and all he had was what he packed for his trip.

“My mom spent so much time in DC throughout the year, that she and Leo actually got a place there, so they were able to get what they needed. Then we got a hold of Raf and told him to meet us in Hudson Valley because this was Leo’s family’s place. Same thing with Zahra and Shaan, but they took a while to get here.”

“All of them?”

“Zee and Shaan were in DC, too, because she was my mom’s right hand, but they got caught in a major detour that took them into a weird part of Pennsylvania until they were able to turn around. And Raf was in a safe haven.”

At this point, Henry’s hand has gone still on Alex’s chest, his palm flat against his sternum. Alex offers him a smile. “It took the four of us three days to get here with all of the roadblocks, Mom and Leo arrived two days after. And then we figured things out as they came; the towns nearby evacuated, people went north or to the midwest, tried to get as far away from the congested areas as they could.”

“Why not just stay here?” Henry asks him. “It’s rural enough, no?”

“Couldn’t tell you,” Alex replies. “Maybe people just wanted to get to their families, if they could.”

“How did you handle all of it? Genuinely?”

“About as well as you could expect,” he admits. “No one knew what was going on.”

“No, I know that, but—you.”

Alex takes a deep breath. Okay. They’re going there. Something he hasn’t really done since he sat with June out in a pasture and watched the sunrise. “I really didn’t think we were going to make it past the year,” he admits aloud for the first time ever. He notably doesn’t look at Henry. “I thought it would all happen again and we’d be taken out.”

Henry sits up. “Alex…”

“It’s okay,” he tells him, smile falling tight. “I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” Henry repeats.

#rwrb #rwrb fic #firstrprince #red white and royal blue #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #apocalypse au

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 years ago

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Requests opeeennnnn >:3

I love your writing sm

May I pretty please request some smexy smut with my beloved evil wolf boi Mairon?

I had this idea that reader surprises him one night wearing a leather harness, collar and leash, wolf ear headband, and a tail :3

Woof!

Now, I'm going to operate under the assumption that the reader is female. But, if you'd like a male reader insert, let me know.

And let's begin.

"The surprise"

Pairing: Mairon x Fem. Reader (Maia / Second person POV)

Themes: Smut

Word count : 2.1k words

Summary : Enticing your lord with a surprise results in more than you could possibly imagine.

Rating : 🔥🔥🔥 Minors DNI | 18+

Want to be tagged? want to know the rules? Read all here.

Mairon stretched out in bed, wondering what was taking you so long. "Is everything well with you, my jewel?"

You hummed and shook your head. Who knew Mairon could be impatient? "Yes, my lord!" you called out from behind the dressing screen. "I just need another moment."

Had you heard his impatient huff, you would have chuckled. Mairon sighed and looked around, his mind plagued by ravenous curiosity. You said you had a surprise planned for him, and no amount of asking, pleading, and yes, even threats, got you to give so much as a sliver of a clue. He looked up at the intricately carved canopy of his four-poster bed and decided that if you didn't come out soon, he would have to go get you himself.

It seemed like an age had passed. "I apologize for making you wait so long, my lord," you finally said, and stepped away from the screen.

Mairon looked at you, his eyes wide as he gaped. "My jewel?" he pointed at your head - "Are those..." - and titled his own in confusion. "Ears?"

You nodded as you stood there, clad in a black robe with a high neck. "False ears, my lord," you fidgeted hesitantly with the headband, hoping he would like what you had done. "Made to look like wolf ears."

"I see," said Mairon, as his gaze raked over your high-necked robe. "And what, pray tell, do you have under that robe, my jewel?"

Your tongue got all twisted up in knots. "I... I... It was something I made, my lord."

Mairon rose and left the bed, his curiosity peaking. "Something you made, my jewel?" He came over to you and circled you, playing with the false ears as he did so. "May I see it?"

You swallowed, suddenly embarrassed. "It's nothing, really," your cheeks flushed as you reconsidered your little scheme. What if he didn't like it? What if he laughed?

Mairon arched a quizzical brow as he kept circling. Nothing, you said. And yet, you wanted him to see it, made him wait for you to show it. "It cannot be nothing, my jewel, if you went to all this trouble."

Mairon stopped in front of you as he caved into his need to know. "Show me, my jewel," he said sternly. "Now."

You swallowed, but nodded and worked on the ties of your robe. The knot, though simple, suddenly refused to yield to fingers that had turned into clumsy thumbs. You struggled, trying hard not to look at him. Mairon watched, highly amused by now.

Your hands refused to cooperate, and Mairon chuckled before coming over to help. "My sweet jewel," he sighed and undid that bothersome knot, not knowing what to expect as he peeled the robe away from your body. "Why you are like this, I will never kn--"

His words died on his tongue when your robe parted, exposing the naked body beneath. Mairon swallowed when you slipped out of your robe and let it fall around your feet.

You looked away, not knowing what he'd say. "Do you like it, my lord?"

Mairon hummed and circled you again. He drank in the leather harness that artfully crisscrossed around your torso and ended right around the edge of your hips. He played with the false tail hanging at the back of the harness. His eyes narrowed when he caught the lace collar around your throat, and the leash that hung from it. Mairon couldn't deny you looked so tempting in it, couldn't deny the sudden need that took root in his belly.

"I like it, my jewel. I like it very much." Mairon took one last turn, his body going hard when he eyed the pretty lace collar around your neck. "And what are you tonight, my jewel? An equal who has her say in tonight's pleasures, or," He stopped in front of you again and picked up the leash, gently tugging at it and pulling you closer. "A submissive ordered about by her superior?"

You swallowed when his eyes gleamed and burned a deep, golden yellow. Oh, the beast was there, just beneath the surface. A little encouragement was all that was needed. "Ordered about," your body tensed and pulsed when you heard a growl of approval. "My lord."

Mairon smirked and dipped his head so he could brush his lips over yours. "Good, my jewel." His lips quirked as he reconsidered what he just said. "Or to be more precise, my pet."

You hummed and looked up at him. Mairon's eyes gleamed wickedly when you licked your lips in anticipation.

"Come, my pet," he said, and pulled at the leash, making you follow him. You thought he'd take you to bed, but he didn't. Mairon led you to the soft pelt carpet spread in front of his favourite seat, one that was all ornate and richly decorated. "On your knees," he ordered and pointed at the spot he wanted you to be.

You sink to your knees, not knowing what he'll make you do next.

Mairon took you in, all compliant and submissive. When you looked up at him as if in expectation, he hummed and wondered what to do next. Then, seeing your lips gave him an idea. A wicked grin tugged at his lips when he sat down and made himself comfortable. "My breeches," he eyed you wolfishly. "Undo it."

You made quick work of undoing the lacings, biting your lower lip when he lifted his hips so you could pull down the waistband, freeing his cock. You sink back to your knees, your hands folded neatly over your lap. Mairon leaned over and cupped your cheek, his eyes never leaving yours. He let his hand wander, brushing it against your hair, making you giggle when he booped you on the nose. Mairon chuckled, then ran his thumb over your lips before forcing them apart. When you felt his thumb in your mouth, you couldn't help but suck down on it, running your tongue against a smooth pad. Mairon groaned when your lips tightened around his finger, your tongue flicking at it, as if tasting it. His breath grew ragged when he pictured your lips around his cock.

He pulled back to pick up your collar, tugging at it and forcing you up. "Come here my pet," Mairon leaned back into his chair again. "And ruin that pretty mouth of yours."

You complied and sat up, whimpering when he tugged on your leash again, pulling you until your lips were right over his cock. Your throat tightened when you wrapped a hand around his length, and he let out his first moan, his head rolling back as he made himself more comfortable.

Oh, how wonderfully sinful it felt, to touch him like this, to work out a rhythm and pace he liked. You licked your lips as little drops formed at the tip of his cock, and unable to help yourself, you dipped your head and took him into your mouth, wanting to taste.

Oh, how good he tasted against your tongue. Moans that were deep and lustful left you heady and weak. Mairon groaned when your lips tightened as they bobbed up and down. A large hand bunched up in your hair, pushing your head down even lower until your mouth was completely full. Your own body responded to his moans and whispers by growing incredibly heated and slick. Your own moans were muffled as he kept sinking his length into your mouth, his hips slowly thrusting in rhythm with your lips.

Mairon felt lightheaded and dizzy. He forced his eyes open, just so he could watch. And he was not disappointed. Seeing your head bob up and down and your mouth growing full of him made the pleasure build slowly and unceasingly, making him hungry for more than your lips. He wanted you on your hands and knees as he took you, his hand pulling on that leash of yours, his teeth leaving his mark all over your body.

"Stop," he made himself say. When you pulled back, he didn't give you time to think. Mairon yanked on your leash again, this time leaning forward and crushing your lips with his.

Oh, how he kissed you, with fire and need. Mairon was relentless, leaving you breathless. When your hands found themselves in his hair, you moaned into his mouth, shuddering when his tongue licked past your parted lips. Your body throbbed as he kissed and kissed, his name rolling off your lips in soft pants.

Mairon grabbed onto you as he got out of his chair, hooking his arms around you and lowering you to the ground, his thighs forcing yours apart.

"T-the bed, m-my l-lord," you whimpered when the carpet rubbed against your back.

Mairon's chest rumbled when he took in your bruised lips, your darkened eyes. You were more than ready for him. "Not tonight, my pet," he said and dipped his head, sinking his teeth over the soft flesh of your throat.

He wasn't sure what was sweeter, the taste of your skin, or the arched back and moans that greeted him with every nip. Mairon took great care to mark you all over that mattered, the parts of your body that would be exposed, so everyone would know who you belonged to. The beast in him reared its head, and with a growl, he flipped you onto your back and turned your collar around, so he could get a better hold of your leash.

You braced yourself when he lifted your hips and teased your entrance repeatedly by rubbing his cock against your slit. It was torture, but this was what you wanted, and you mewled every time he feigned entry before pulling away again. It was too much, and then, just when you couldn't take it anymore, Mairon yanked onto your leash, pulling you up so you were propping yourself on your hands, and he moved that false tail out of the way. He gave no other warning or sign. With a deep and guttural groan, he plunged into your heat, grabbing onto the belt of your harness with your free hand and pulling you back into him.

You saw stars when he filled you, your walls aching and throbbing and clenching around his cock. Your breath had reduced to ragged pants when Mairon started to thrust in a languid rhythm that slowly grew harder, rougher, and faster every time either one of you moaned.

"Is this what you wanted, pet?" Mairon hissed as he felt his muscles coil.

You moaned when he tugged on your leash, making the backs of your thighs slam against his. "Yes, my lord," you moaned again when he struck that spot that gave you such intense pleasure. "This was what I wanted."

He growled, his rhythm growing wild and frantic. When you squirmed beneath him, he tugged harder at your harness and collar, growing drunk on your mewls and whimpers. "That's it, my pet." He picked up his pace as he took in the sounds of skin slapping against skin. "Give in. Give in."

It felt like the room suddenly went blurry as your orgasm ripped through you. The sensations that washed over you were more intense than anything you had experienced, and you cried out repeatedly as Mairon fucked you through your orgasm. You barely heard it—the deep and satisfying moan he let out when he thrust one last time and emptied himself inside you.

That red haze that clouded you slowly cleared. You first felt your breath, then heard his. Your knees were sore, and your back hurt. It was still good. Everything felt so good despite those discomforts. Mairon pulled out of you, groaning when he caught his essence slowly dripping out of you. But he was far from done. He had more in store for you.

You sighed when he helped you up, his hands gliding all over your body. "Was that good for you, my jewel?" he asked.

"Yes," you hummed when he laid you down gently on your back this time. "So good, my lord."

How it thrilled Mairon to hear it. "And I relished it, every sound you made, the sweetness of your lips," he said, moving himself over you, his lips a hair's breadth over yours. "How your cunt fluttered around my cock." He brushed back your hair as he pressed a soft kiss against your lips. "And I wish for more."

You wanted it; you wanted to feel him all over you again. When you smiled in invitation, Mairon grinned and dipped his head.

#ainur #the ainur #maiar #mairon smut #Mairon #mairon x reader #Sauron #sauron x reader #sauron smut #the silm smut #the silm #the silmarilion #x reader #reader inserts #reader insert request #writeblr #a world of whimsy writes #lotr

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gudvina · 10 months ago

Text

The things I do to keep you near.

Ship: Effie Trinket/Haymitch Abernathy

Fandom: Hunger Games

Chapter 2: Marriage Contract.

Can also be read on AO3!

71st Hunger Games, Gamemakers’ party.

The venue was filled to the brim with people, and Haymitch was glad that the Victors’ area was separated from the crowd. Small mercies. Trashy music, flashing colours at every turn, the party was so Capitol that maybe they should have called it that.

It only happened every five years, and the Victors were required to attend if only to be able to gain sponsors. Not all of them were there, but for next year’s mentors it was the best bet.

He was sitting on the couch and sloshing his drink absentmindedly, pretending to listen to the chatter around him.

“… right, Haymitch?”

He turned to see Finnick look at him, waiting for an answer. He surmised that he’d been telling a story to Johanna, the new Victor from District Seven, a girl who was already raging from the inside out. He knew that anger.

“What?”.

“Chum, you’ve got to stop looking at Trinket. What’s going on with you this year? Afraid she might disappear on you again?” Chaff joked, eyeing him from his stool. Haymitch winced at the mention of Effie’s leaving and hid it by taking a big gulp of his drink. He knew his friend was worried, that behind his jokes there was a silent warning against getting involved too much with Capitols. No matter how great of a fuck they were. No matter how caring they seemed.

If Chaff had known he’d married her, he would have never heard the end of it.

He didn’t, though. Nobody had to know, not even Effie, and she’d be safe. Safe to be his. Maybe, he would croak before the end of her escorting mandate. After all, he was 38, his alcoholism didn’t seem to get any better, and judging by Lavinia Albus’ stay Twelve was always reticent to let go of their escorts.

“She ain’t going anywhere if she knows what’s good for her”.

“Who the fuck is Trinket?!” Johanna asked, frowning.

“Haymitch’s escort. I’ve wanted her in One for ages, Finnick has been begging her to switch to Four, but nothing. The Gamemakers do not want to go through the ordeal of searching for another escort and he keeps a tight leash on the poor woman” Cashmere chipped in, sitting beside her brother.

“What makes her so good?”

“She always shows up for the tributes, and you will learn that an escort can either break or make a set. A few years ago, District Three used to have an absent escort and it showed, they had to replace her abruptly: now Three has a few loyal sponsors. Twelve is already a hard district to lead, I can’t imagine what it was like before Effie Trinket”. Finnick explained, leaning back on his chair.

“Liviana did her job, but she was a bitch”.

“A bitch? She was hell” Chaff scoffed “The escort who reaped me couldn’t stand her. Gloria and Liviana were at odds because Liviana was never giving escort guardianship or some shit”.

“To be fair it was always Gloria, Iuno, and Pulchra the ones in charge of ‘producing’ new escorts”.

“And I’d say thank God for that, Cecilia. Imagine a little Liviana Albus walking around the Training Centre, I wouldn’t last five minutes”.

“Well, yeah, but we get a little Gloria who follows Haymitch everywhere”. Woof said, mischief in his eyes. Despite Chaff’s usual stance against Capitols, he’d always liked Gloria, who in her time had won the Best-Escort-Of-The-Year award for three years in a row. She had always cared for Chaff and his mentor, and he’d been unable to forget it.

“Trinket and Gloria have nothing in common! She mentored Trinket, so they operate similarly, but that’s about it. Especially in the way they dress”.

“Come on Chaff, you’re not a boy anymore. You know what was going on between Gloria and Jasper!” Woof insisted, and Haymitch considered the benefits of digging a hole in the polished floors of the venue. The discussion was taking a turn he didn’t like. Not only were they talking too much about him and Effie, but mentioning Jasper Arbore was always a recipe for disaster, as he’d been like a father to Chaff.

Jasper Arbore was the winner of the 15th edition of The Hunger Games, the first District 11 win. He’d been followed by Seeder very soon, alternating the mentorship charges until the Fortieth edition. And if Gloria Shimmers had come about during that edition, for Chaff it was only a coincidence.

He had never coped well with his Games, that much had been clear to Haymitch, he was a soft-spoken man with a gentle soul who struggled with the weight of his corruption. He hoped for their tributes, why he didn’t know, and every year that hope was crushed. At the time he didn’t understand why he would come back. Why would a man so gentle and weak put himself in that position willingly, when he could have left it to the other Victors?

When Gloria’s mandate ended the answer was clear. That year Jasper didn’t come back, and Victory Tour had to be announced yet when he was found dead of a morphling overdose. Seeder was the one who found him, and it had been a low blow to both her and Chaff. Out of the game scene, Gloria was not even allowed to travel for his funeral.

He didn’t like the reminder.

“Whatever was going on, it has nothing to do with Trinket and sulky boy here”. Chaff denied, more for Haymitch’s sake than for anything else. That seemed to be the end of it, and Haymitch poured himself another drink, hoping to drown the feeling that sat heavily on his guts.

“Talking about Trinket” started Gloss “Is she back with Crane?”

“No”

“How do you know that?”

“Because she is not”. He barked.

“Uhm, good, because they seem real chummy over there”.

He could have killed. When he turned in the direction Gloss was pointing, the first person he spotted was her. She wore a brown puffy wig dotted with gold, a brown dress that came at an end at her thighs, and was currently trying to whisper something in response to the Head Gamemaker. His arm was around her waist, her hand held the lapels of his jacket. They still looked like the Capitol’s darling couple.

He knew they were childhood friends, that the end of their relationship didn’t mean the end of their friendship, but the intimate way he touched her never failed to make his blood boil. The man always had a hand on her, and always demanded her attention.

His eyes took in each movement. She was his escort, it was her job to be overtly friendly, to sport the brightest smile and charm the stupidest fool. It wasn’t real, he knew. It wasn’t real.

He saw her frown and shake her hands to deny something. The Head Gamemaker nodded and whispered something else, but Effie seemed to deny some more, so he relented the grip on her waist. He continued whispering in her ear when she turned in his direction and their eyes met.

The grey of his eyes was darkened by an emotion she couldn’t decipher. It made her body feel weak, it burned her to her very core.

“I don’t want this, but Patroclus is willing to sponsor Twelve, Phim. And since your Victor is not actively doing his job passing this will be a bad choice” Seneca whispered.

“Haymitch is doing what he can!”. Small lies; it was true that he wasn’t doing his job properly, but Effie couldn’t help her instincts. Nobody touched her Victor.

“I’m sure, Phim, but that’s not enough. Not nearly enough. Now, it’s been a while since you’ve had to do this, but Patroclus is chivalrous, being on the older side, and can be even fancied as handsome. He’s just asked for a night with you, that’s all”.

“It’s not a small thing to ask…”

“You are single, so is he. It’s not a big thing to ask either” he shrugged, his hand now on the small of her back.

“Can I consider it with Haymitch?”

Seneca’s mouth opened to say something, but then he stopped himself. He took a deep breath, smoothed her dress beneath his hands, and seemed to be deep in thought for just a second.

“Yes, you can, but the decision should fall on you, you know that, right?”

“Thank you, I… will let you know”.

She smiled again, and her facial muscles stiffened due to the exertion. Seneca left her to talk to other people and her eyes prickled with tears. It wasn’t the only time she danced this ballad, admittedly, even when she was with Seneca she used to go with Sponsors, but she hadn’t done it in a few years and now it felt different. It felt wrong.

When she’d been in a relationship with Seneca it was easy, he’d find her sponsors and she’d charm her way into their pants to aim at their pockets, a perfect mechanism. Their relationship was open, and she hid behind these trysts to avoid the reality of her affair with Haymitch.

But it had been a few years since she’d been with anyone that wasn’t Haymitch. The thought of hands that weren’t his on her skin made her sick, to the point that she wondered if maybe she had drunk a little too much.

At that moment Haymitch got up and strode toward her, ignoring Chaff’s raised eyebrows and Cashmere and Gloss’ snickering. She was upset, and he didn’t like that.

“What happened?” he whispered, concerned “What did Crane say?”

“Nothing, just… he’s found a new sponsor for us”. She felt bile in her throat.

“That’s good news, isn’t it? Why do you look like that?”

“Because I have to fuck him”, she hissed but regretted it instantly. It was stupid, but she didn’t know if he realised what being an escort truly entailed. And if he did, maybe he was okay with it, maybe he didn’t care and she was sure that would kill her, him not caring. But he’d always made that clear, hadn’t he? That what they were doing was just scratching an itch. Nothing more.

Suddenly his hand held onto her wrist and steered her away, dragging her through the crowd. He was walking quickly towards the exit, and she struggled to keep up with him, complaining about how rude it was to flee a party without taking a proper leave.

In a minute they were in the limousine that would take them to the penthouse, and only when they were driving did he let go of her wrist.

“Haymitch, really, this is absurd! How could you leave all your friends in such a manner? And I’ll have to remind you that I’m a lady, and it is highly improper for you to drag me away like that”.

“Oh, but it’s so proper for boyfriend to pimp you out, huh?”

“His friend asked him, he did not seek it” it was a half-lie. Her eyes were prickling with tears again.

“Do you want to do it?” he held her gaze, and she realized he was challenging her. Or maybe testing her. She could not tell the difference, but he’d not looked at her so coldly in a long while, and it was breaking her.

“No” she sobbed and felt hot tears stream down her face, surely ruining the elaborate brown eye makeup.

Seeing her like this was more than he could bear. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her firmly, his tongue ready to battle for dominance but finding, for once, little resistance. She’d limped in his embrace, and she would have kept kissing him forever if it wasn’t for the need for air.

“Seneca talked of him, said he just asked for a night, that he’ll sponsor us” she said breathlessly “I told him I wanted to talk about it with you”.

“Good girl” he whispered and kissed her again, this time making it dirty. She let out a soft moan.

He backed away and looked at her. She was aroused, he could see the tell-tale signs by the dazed look in her eyes and the way she licked her lips. She’d been since before the party, but now it seemed to have reached its height. His little wife.

“Tell me you won’t do it” he whispered, one of his hands cupping her breasts and squeezing as the other made its way up her skirt.

“I won’t do it” she moaned, her legs spreading readily for him.

“Promise me. Promise me you won’t let anyone else touch you”. He groaned when her hands moved to massage his crotch.

“Only if you promise you won’t let anyone touch you” she pleaded coquettishly, but he wasn’t fooled. Through the haze of her arousal, he knew she was going to hold him up to his words. She didn’t know, but there wasn’t anyone else. He didn’t mind making a promise he was already upholding if that meant he’d get his wife all for himself.

“I promise” he smirked when he felt the soaked fabric of her panties, claiming her lips in a heated kiss as she started to unbuckle his belt.

She couldn’t wait anymore.

In a moment she was straddling his lap, the other guiding him to her entrance. She slid down his length with a strangled moan, every inch of him filling her in the way only he did, and when he bottomed out she took a moment to adjust and press soft kisses on his jaw. Soon she rotated her hips in a fast-paced rhythm.

His groans and her strangled moans were the only sounds that could be heard, and for a while, she enjoyed having control of the situation. That was until he gripped either side of her waist and started to take charge, slowly taking over and becoming her undoing. She reached her peak, muffling the sounds against the crook of his neck, and felt him follow right after.

They rested on each other for a little bit, recovering from the mess of their coupling. She leaned back a little bit to look him in the eyes, and he raised a hand and caressed her forehead gently.

“Did you mean it?” she asked feebly, her voice still not quite recovered.

“I did, sweetheart”

“Really?

“Really”.

He kissed her, his stubble burnt against her cheeks. She didn’t mind being his if that meant he’d be hers. She didn’t mind at all.

#hayffie #haymitch x effie #haymitch abernathy #effie trinket #thg series #the hunger games #thg fanfiction

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