#I’ll try to get all the links and shit figured out

[yotes-den]

Yeesh I’ve really made this blog thing complicated!!!

[hazbinwhoree]

OMG PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CAN U DO A

yandere adam x reader x yandere lucifer

like basically durning the last extermination adam sees the sinner and basically fall heads over wings for them

and yk durning the heaven meeting he made a globe to watch angel dust i feel like he makes that globe thing to watch the reader see how there doing and sees that lucifer is too close to them

i feel like he would try to do anything to get them into heaven with him and far away from lucifer be he already took his first wife and maybe his second and he doesn’t want him to take his third wife

(SORRY IF ITS LONG)

The Third Wife

Part 1/2 Part 2

Yandere!Adam x Reader x Yandere!Lucifer

A/N: I had fun writing this but I don’t plan on a part 2 because I don’t know where to take it from here. I hope you enjoy!

Lucifer had taken Lilith, and Eve, and now he was going to take (Name). He met her first, it wasn’t fair Adam was trying to steal her. (Name) was a human on Earth who had summoned Lucifer a few months back to strike a deal. Lucifer found her adorable and endearing and found himself slowly catching feelings. He planned to convince her to join him in Hell.

Adam had Lilith stolen from him by Lucifer. Then Eve. He’d be damned if he lost (Name) too.

He first met (Name) during an extermination, (she had died and reincarnated as a sinner) and to his own surprise, he fell hard. He became obsessive, spending most of his free time in Heaven holed up in his room watching (Name) through his globe. He had to make sure she and Lucifer weren’t getting too close while he tried to figure out how to get (Name) into Heaven.

To Adam’s dismay, (Name) joined the princess’ stupid hotel. That meant more time spent with Lucifer. Adam couldn’t let that happen. The more he watched, the more possessive Lucifer began to act over (Name). It infuriated Adam. He came to the conclusion there was only one way to get (Name) away from Lucifer to be with him.

He was going to approve of Miss Sunshine and Rainbows’ Hazbin Hotel.

Lute was appalled when he told her. “But why, sir?” “None of your fucking business,” Adam snapped. “Tell the bitch princess I want another meeting.”

Adam actually came to Hell to meet with Charlie.

“So…” Charlie looked skeptical. “What’s this about? I thought you were too good to come to Hell outside of the extermination.”

“I’m giving your stupid little hotel the green light.”

“What?” Both Charlie and Vaggie’s jaws dropped.

Adam rolled his eyes. “Don’t shit your panties.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?” Vaggie asked suspiciously.

“Doesn’t matter. You gonna give me a tour so I know what I’m agreeing to?”

Charlie wasn’t nearly as suspicious as Vaggie. “Of course!” She was practically bouncing with excitement. “Come with us!”

When they entered Hazbin Hotel, all the residents stopped what they were doing to stare. Adam made eye contact with (Name). She was the only one who mattered.

“What is he doing here?” The porn demon asked.

Charlie linked her arm through Adam’s and he tried not to grimace. “Adam has agreed to the Hazbin Hotel! We’re giving him a tour!” The residents looked skeptical. Except for (Name), who smiled and waved at him. His heart fluttered.

Charlie dragged Adam around the hotel, talking his ear off and introducing him to different residents and discussing their progress. When she got to (Name), Adam cut her off. “We’ve met.”

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed. “Good!”

“Charlie–” a voice sounded from down the hallway. Lucifer had rounded the corner, calling his daughter’s name, but he stopped abruptly when he saw Adam. “What the fuck.”

“Dad!” Charlie tugged Adam over to him. “Adam said yes to the hotel!” “Did he now?” Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Adam. Adam narrowed his back. The energy was palpable as they stared one another down. “Your change of heart wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with (Name), would it?”

Adam smirked and answered with silence. Lucifer was fuming. “Alllright… that’s enough of that. I’ll talk to you later, Dad!” Charlie broke them up, leading Adam back to the lobby.

At the door, far enough from any nosey ears, Adam stopped Charlie. “The agreement comes with a stipulation, princess.” Charlie’s face fell. “Relax, sweetie, it’s not a big deal. If sinners are cleansing their souls and coming to Heaven, I want (Name) to be the first.” Charlie looked relieved. “Deal!” They shook on it.

When Adam left, Lucifer approached his daughter. “You can’t trust him, Charlie, he definitely has ulterior motives.” “He only had one stipulation,” Charlie smiled. “(Name) is to be the first sinner redeemed!” “What?”

Lucifer was furious. He knew Adam had been up to something.

“Tell me you didn’t agree, Charlie.”

Charlie looked confused. “I did… why wouldn’t I? (Name) is here to be redeemed, who cares about the order?”

“I care! Because I was going to convince her to stay in Hell!”

Charlie was surprised. “What, why?”

But Lucifer was already storming away. He stormed straight to (Name)’s room and banged on the door. She answered it, and as soon as she did, Lucifer pushed his way into the room and shut the door.

“Well, hello to you too,” (Name) said sarcastically.

“I want you to stay in Hell.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay in Hell,” Lucifer repeated. “Why?” (Name) asked. “Because I’m in love with you!”

(Name)’s mouth fell open, moving as she tried to form words, but nothing came out.

Lucifer took her hands in his. “Please. Say something.”

“Lucifer that’s… that’s a lot. I care about you, a lot, I do, but I want to go to Heaven. My quality of life down here is shit, and you can’t change that.”

“But I can!” Lucifer insisted. “Be mine and I’ll give you everything you could possibly want.”

“I’m sorry,” (Name) said, looking sympathetic. “I want Heaven.”

Lucifer continued to try to get her to change her mind over the next month as she worked to be redeemed, but before he knew it, her soul was cleansed and Heaven was ready to take her.

Adam was of course the first to greet her, a massive grin on his face. “Welcome to Heaven, babe! Congrats on getting out of that shithole. Let me show you around.” He offered her his hand, and his face warmed under his mask when she took it without hesitation. He had won.

Lucifer was scheming, no doubt, but for now, Adam had won.

[forzalando]

boo’d up

summary: a night out enjoying some haunted houses leads to a few surprises pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader (Y/N, use of she/her), implied pairings of alex x charles, rebecca x carlos, & carmen x george wc: 1.6k warnings: descriptions of a haunted house (including darkness, tight spaces, screaming), mentions of being afraid/panicking, cursing author's note: guys i had this idea (because this is based on a true story/real-life experience where i was Y/N in this exact scenario except it was not a hot guy/oscar piastri, it was a young woman and i scared the absolute shit out of her). so i took a lot of creative liberties here. anyway! this is completely un-edited and complete garbage but i couldn't get it out of my head and i haven't written in 12 years. i figured it was time. go crazy!

It was a cold October night; the wind whistling through half-barren trees caused a slight shiver to trickle down your body.  The sun had set on the drive to your destination – an old farm in the middle of nowhere, which your friends had pointed out multiple times was a recipe for disaster. You shamelessly pulled the upcoming birthday card to get them to agree to the weekend activity: a haunted house compound you’d read about online that had impeccable reviews – four different houses for $40 was a deal you couldn’t pass up.

A massive, dark, dilapidated house stood in front of you – your first haunted destination of the evening. Screams from inside pierced through the air and sent waves of uneasiness and excitement through you; you’d fallen prey to falsely advertised haunted houses in the past, so you hoped with all your might that these did not disappoint.

“I should’ve stayed home,” Carmen grumbled as she pouted behind you in line. “It’s freezing, dark, and I have a million things I could be working on.”

“Oh, come on, Carm,” you teased, lightly punching her arm. “You’re telling me this isn’t your ideal Saturday night?”

“It’s definitely mine,” Rebecca chirped. “I love Halloween – all the creepy crawlies, scary movies, witches, chainsaw-wielding psychopaths. And candy, can’t forget the candy.”

You laughed and looked around at your small group, your smile faltering a bit when your eyes landed on Alex. She’d wrapped herself up tightly in her sweater, and you could tell she was trying her hardest to put on a brave face, but you saw right through the façade.

“Alex, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you urged. “I promise you, it’s absolutely ok.”

She shook her head quickly, linking her arm through yours. “I’ll be fine – it’s all fake, right? And I’ll just hold onto you the whole time; I’m still betting that you’re going to be the most scared out of all of us, even if you disagree.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” you sang, pulling Alex forward to follow Rebecca and Carmen into the menacing-looking house.

Immediately upon entering, you were plunged into complete darkness. The hallways were just wide enough to walk through sideways – if you tried to walk straight, your shoulders scraped against the walls. People were incessantly banging on the walls beside you – screaming and shouting in your ears, your face, following you as you tried to shimmy as quickly as you could through the maze.

You could feel your heart rate kicking up, and each time someone banged on the wall and screamed near you, it began to beat even faster.

In the midst of your panic, you realized Alex’s hand was no longer in yours. You reached back blindly until you were gripping her sweater-clad forearm and started pulling, but surprisingly, pulling with very little movement.

“Alex, move faster,” you pleaded, growing more and more impatient, more panicked. It felt as if she was trying to keep you from running, trying to pull you back and keep you in that godforsaken house. Either the latter or she had suddenly gained a shit ton of muscle, preventing you from pulling her along with ease. “I’m scared, okay? You win, I’m terrified. Now, please try to keep up, I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

The horrors seemed endless – it was still pitch black, and the further you went into the house, the smaller the hallways became. As soon as you started to think you’d never get out and would be stuck in that nightmare forever, you saw streaks of moonlight ahead and burst through a black curtain into the cool, night air.

Gasping for a breath, you dropped Alex’s arm and started yelling as you spun to face her.

“Alex, what the hell – oh my god, you’re not Alex.”

Stood behind you, rubbing their wrist, was an impossibly attractive guy around your age with floppy brown hair and a look of concern on his face.

“You’ve got a hell of a grip,” he mumbled, a thick Australian accent hitting your ears. “Think you might have bruised me.”

You could hear Rebecca and Carmen snickering somewhere behind you, “Yeah, Y/N, you bruised him.”

It took everything in you, but you ignored your friends and focused your attention on the handsome stranger before you.

“I am so, so sorry; I thought you were my friend, and I was panicking just a bit, trying to get out of there as fast as I could. Plus, Alex was afraid before we even got in the house and – wait where is Alex?”

You started looking around frantically, convinced that you’d left your friend stranded in that abomination of a haunted house, only to hear her giggling and chatting with someone just a few feet away.

“It looks like Charles rescued your friend,” the handsome stranger shared. “Since you were too focused on ripping my arm out of my socket.”

“I said I was sorry – ” you started to say, but as you turned back towards him, you noticed a smirk of amusement on his face.

He put his hands in the air in surrender and laughed, “Hey, I’m just messing with you; no actual harm done. I’m Oscar, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you whispered back, feeling a sudden wave of shyness come over you now that the initial shock was wearing off. “And I really am sorry, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”

You froze as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

Nodding in response, you held your breath as he leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear. “That was absolutely terrifying and I’m glad I had you guiding me through.”

Heat rose up your neck as he pulled away slowly, a soft smile on his face and kind eyes to match.

“Well, I’d use the word guiding very lightly,” you laughed. “More like yanking or heaving, well, trying to. I could barely move you, and I was pulling with all my might. You must eat some serious amounts of spinach.”

“Spinach?”

“You know, Popeye? The sailor man? I’m strong to the finish, cause I eats me spinach?”

He shook his head and your cheeks heated in embarrassment – Popeye? Really?

Before you could die of humiliation and make one of the houses actually haunted, he bumped his shoulder against yours and laughed.

“Must be an American thing – I’m new here.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around,” you offered, bumping his shoulder right back. “I’ve been told I’m a great tour guide.”

“I’d like that very much. Maybe you can start by taking me through the rest of these houses? You can hold my hand – just in case you get scared again.”

He spoke with all the confidence in the world, but his cheeks and nose were flushed a gorgeous pink that you could see even in the moonlight.

You slipped your hand in his and turned your attention back to your friends, who were watching with wide eyes.

“Leave it to Y/N to accidentally almost kidnap a complete stranger in a pitch-black haunted house, and they turn out to be her dream guy,” Rebecca teased. “Looks like Alex found someone too – what did we do wrong, Carmen?”

Before Carmen could answer, two voices shouted from behind and caught everyone’s attention – two more devastatingly handsome men running towards your group.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, Carlos got us lost,” a British voice rang out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmen and Rebecca smile giddily and high-five each other. Before walking over to the newcomers, they winked in your direction and whispered simultaneous “thank you’s”.

You winked back and squeezed Oscar’s hand a little tighter before leading everyone towards the next house.

“I think this next one is clown-themed,” someone mused from behind, causing you to stiffen.

“Clowns?” You whispered, your steps slowing to a near stop.

Alex giggled – “See, Y/N, I told you that you’d end up being the most scared! You should’ve listened to us when we tried to change your mind about coming!”

You turned your gaze towards Oscar, his eyes already on you and that adorable pink blush still prominent on his cheeks. “You know what, I’m actually really glad we came, even if I hate the dark, hate tight spaces, hate clowns, and will probably hate whatever else comes after that.”

“I’m glad you came too,” Oscar replied, adjusting his grip to link his fingers through yours. “And don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any clowns.”

“Mate, you’re terrified of clowns,” Charles ribbed. “You literally said on the way here that if there were any clown-themed houses, you would leave.”

“Gee, thanks, Charles, you could have just kept that to yourself for the sake of my pride.”

“We can protect each other,” you offered. “Or if it’s too much, we can grab some seriously overpriced snacks and wait for everyone else to go through the rest of the houses.”

“How about we face our fear but if either of us screams at any point in the house, you let me take you on a date?”

“I mean, we’re both afraid of clowns, it’s bound to happen,” you acknowledged.

He smiled at you; a heart-stopping, full-mouthed grin, and clarified, “Exactly.”

As soon as you stepped into the haunted house, only one foot each in the door before anything or anyone had even popped out, you both let out blood-curdling shrieks.

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile @scuderiarossa @littlegrapejuice @alexxavicry @priopp123 @wobblymug @ctrlyomomma @ladystardust05 @reiofsuns2001 @foreveralbon @anaviieiraaa

taglist post: here!! if you’d like to be added!

[goodfish-bowl]

Hounds on Your Tail

Danny Phantom x Percy Jackson

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 3 - Bleeding out in an Alley Way

Warnings: Minor Gore, descriptions of blood, serious injury, blood loss

Notes: God I wrote this whole thing in less than 2 days. Speedrun time, I guess. Apologies for any errors as a result. It wanted to be longer than intended.

Word Count: 4,505

AO3 Link

Whoever the monsters were chasing after, they were after them with a single-minded focus to be envious of. Not even the demigods on their tails were enough to distract them. It was a group of half a dozen hellhounds, and three harpies, all dead set on chasing the same thing. And whoever they were chasing, was giving them one hell of a chase. 

Percy had only noticed the commotion because he was in the city visiting his mom, and had quickly decided to call for backup as fast as he could. Ms. O’Leary had managed to drag over both Nico and Will, both fully equipped. Annabeth had been tagging along on his visit. She was currently trying to figure out where the monsters and who they were chasing were headed. After the fifth double-back, it was clear that the person running was just trying to shake off the monsters, and possibly the group of demigods too. Percy was trying to at least spot who the monsters were chasing but had yet to catch sight of anything other than a beaten, red sneaker around a corner. 

Will had managed to get a lucky shot in, killing a harpy with one of his arrows, and both Percy and Nico had each gotten a hellhound. Sometime between when the group of demigods had first spotted the monsters and now, a hellhound and a harpy had both vanished. Percy wondered if whoever they were chasing had managed to kill both monsters or if they merely had broken off from the rest of the group. But Percy was getting just a bit tired of playing chase throughout all of New York City, he had no doubt that the monsters’ target was beginning to flag too. 

The remaining four monsters quickly darted around the latest alley detour their unfortunate prey had bolted into. Percy skidded to a halt, suddenly having three hellhounds cornered in a dead-end alley, pinned against a brick wall. The harpy angrily screeched and flew over the wall to continue the chase. Between the four of them, the hell hounds didn’t stand a chance, quickly becoming piles of yellow dust. From the other side of the wall, the harpy screeched again, followed by cries of pain and fighting. 

“Shit! How did they get to the other side of the wall?” Percy cursed, before turning to Annabeth. 

Percy didn’t have to say a thing, only crouch down. Annabeth came at him in a dead sprint. It was timed perfectly, as she stepped up onto his clasped hands and he flung her to the top of the wall, pulling herself up the rest of the way. Nico took hold of Will and vanished into the shadows of the alley. 

Percy was left alone on the opposite side of the alley. Luckily for him, there was a pipe clinging to the bricks of one of the buildings. It had just enough foothold for him to quickly climb up it and perch on top of the brick wall. Below, Will was hunched over a small figure leaning against the bricks, with Annabeth standing to the side, and Nico farther back. Percy jumped down. 

Percy winced, finally getting a glimpse at the person the monsters had been chasing for the past hour, possibly longer before he and Annabeth had noticed. It was a teenage boy with a mess and thick, black hair on his head. Blood seeped heavily from his stomach, and Percy recognized the slash of harpy claws. Will was trying to get the teen to stop clutching his stomach so he could at least check the wound. The boy’s jeans looked like they had been torn up even more from the hellhounds, with two large bite marks visible on his legs. There was blood smeared on the bricks he was leaning against, suggesting another wound on his back. 

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” The teen pleaded. 

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make that harpy didn’t gut you!” Will argued back. 

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” Nico added. 

Percy frowned, not liking the situation one bit. He turned to Annabeth, who was glancing between their mystery teen-likely-demigod, and the top of the wall. 

“What is it, Wise Girl?”

“I’m trying to figure out how he managed to get over that wall before the harpy could fly over.”

“There was a pipe I used to get over. He could’ve done that,” Percy offered. 

“Not with two chunks taken out of his legs. I’m surprised he even managed to run after taking damage like that,” Annabeth refuted.

Percy winced, “Yeah, he certainly looks like he’s had a pack of hellhounds on his tail for over an hour.”

“Percy!” Will called out, and he snapped to attention. 

Will had gathered the bleeding boy into his arms, finally revealing a mix of wounds across his back from both claws and talons. 

“Nico and I are taking him back to camp! The slash on his stomach is too deep, I need to treat him there,” Will rushed. 

“Got it,” Percy nodded. “Annabeth and I will meet you back at camp.”

“No,” the teen protested, but was unable to fight back, seeming to be getting weaker by the second. Will’s clothes were slowly being soaked with blood. 

“Hurry,” Nico said. 

Will nodded and the three vanished into the shadows. 

“Percy,” Annabeth called out, walking over and crouching down where the teen had been leaning against the wall. “Is it just me, or is there something off about his blood?”

Percy crouched down to get a closer look, and sure enough, there were the smallest flecks of green of all things in the blood. He didn’t like that one bit. Those monsters had to be after that teen for some reason or another, but Percy had never heard of a demigod with green flecks in their blood either. Whatever it was, the monsters really wanted him dead. 

“We should hurry back to camp,” Percy decided. 

“Yeah.”

And the two took off. 

Danny officially banned himself from the big cities, especially places as crowded as New York City. With Jazz off at college and his leash pulled tight around his parents, there was no way he was getting out of not going to their latest ghost-hunter convention. No excuses had worked, and he had tried everything from faking illness to group projects. Danny had been forcibly dragged from Illinois to NYC in the GAV. Sam and Tucker were keeping a close eye on the portal for him at the very least, and he was sure he could fly back within the day if they got overwhelmed. 

Turns out, his parents had misinterpreted ‘ghostbuster’ for ‘ghost hunter’, and ended up dragging him to a comic con instead. That was cool, and his parents were thought to be cosplayers for all of 10 minutes before security refused to let them through due to their weapons. His parents still had a presentation to do, even if people just thought they were method acting, so Danny got sent back with an armload full of weapons to dump back in the GAV. Unfortunately for him, one went off, thoroughly shorting out his powers. Danny wasn’t going to let that bother him though. He had intended to go back inside and enjoy the con, avoiding his parents the entire while, He didn’t need powers for that. 

But then the first dog monster appeared. 

Danny had thought it was a ghost at first, and with his powers shorted out, he couldn’t necessarily rely on his ghost sense. With no powers and a very aggressive possibly-a-ghost dog on his heels, Danny took off running. Before he knew it, there was a whole pack of them, literally nipping at his heels, and doing their best to tear him to shreds. The bird ladies, (harpies if he remembered correctly), joined in not long after, adding in a much harder ‘dodging’ section to the chase. He thought it was weird no one was freaking out about the dogs of the harpies, but maybe New York was just like that?

Danny knew there were people on his heels too, but he didn’t have time to stop and see if they were also hostile or not. Glancing back had earned him harpy claws to the back. Even worse, the more he bled, the more excited his pursuers seemed to get, trying even harder to tear him to shreds. The pot shots he had managed to take at the dogs and harpies were only towards the end, when the steady hum of his powers, as unreliable as they were, started to return. More of them vanished as the chase went on, and Danny was just going to assume he lost them. He had managed to hit one of each, barely catching them collapse into a yellow powder before accidentally cornering himself in an alley. 

Danny had run into the bricks first, before finally able to slip through them with intangibility. He only had a moment to breathe before the harpy flew over the wall and tackled Danny to the ground, sinking its talons into his gut. He screamed and fired off another desperate ectoblast that missed by a wide margin. 

Danny got to meet his second group of pursuers as two people emerged from the shadows in the alley. One had immediately turned into nothing more than a black blur to Danny’s eyes, forcing the harpy off of him. He had tried to stand up to face the new possible threat, but blood loss forced Danny against the brick wall behind him, sliding down it and likely tearing open the wounds on his back even further. His vision blurred, and Danny was only able to make out golden blonde hair and a bright orange t-shirt approaching him. 

Danny cried out, clutching his stomach while trying to force himself back to his feet. The blonde forced themself between Danny and the view of the fight behind him. There was an impact to his left, and Danny was able to make out another person-shaped blur, also blonde with an orange shirt, who took off to help with the fight. 

“Hey!” The one in front of him tried to get his attention, but he could barely make out the rest of what they said. His head was feeling uncomfortably light. 

Danny struggled for a moment and got his vision to barely focus, but he was able to make out that the person in front of him was a guy and seemed really concerned. 

“Hey, I need you to let me see your wound. I’m a medic, I can help,” the guy demanded. 

Danny immediately recoiled. 

“No! I’ll be fine, you have to leave before they come back!” Danny didn’t want anyone here if there were more possibly-ghosts on his tail. He couldn’t use his powers around other people!

“I told you, we’ll be fine! We killed the ones who were chasing you. It’s you I’m more worried about. You’re practically bleeding out in this alley! I need to make sure that that harpy didn’t gut you!” The medic argued back. 

“You really should let him at least check, he won’t stop until you let him,” a second voice butted in. He sounded like he was underwater. 

The blonde guy said something else, but Danny couldn’t tell what. There was suddenly a hand on his wrist and he attempted to struggle, but the stranger had a vice grip. He forced Danny’s arm away from his stomach, then said something else. It… probably… hopefully looked a lot worse than it really was. Danny had taken hard hits before and still got up. He had to get away. 

Danny felt the hands on him re-adjust and tried to struggle again, but he felt so heavy. He grit his teeth and thrashed as best as he could, but his limbs barely responded. He could feel how absolutely soaked his clothing was though. He was being picked up and the entire world tilted around him. The second person approached, nothing more than a dark blob in Danny’s vision. 

His jumbled senses refused to give him anything else before darkness crept in in more ways than one, and Danny passed out. 

Danny woke up to acute, stinging pain, taking in a sharp breath that caused him to choke. His vision swam in white while he practically hacked out a lung. In less than a second, there was a supportive hand on his back practically propping him up, before slowly lowering him once again. Danny blinked the light out of his eyes, trying to see where he had ended up this time. 

Well, good news, it wasn’t a government facility. Bad news, Danny appeared to be in an infirmary of some kind. The wood interior betrayed it as some sort of cabin, despite its purpose. Danny winced at the familiar sensation of pulling on healing wounds. 

“Sorry, but you might not want to move too much just yet,” a voice apologized. 

Danny snapped to the person standing over him. An older teen with golden blond hair, tanned skin, and light blue eyes. He was definitely familiar, and Danny wondered if this was the same guy from the alley. 

“I just finished with your stitches not that long ago, but now that you’re awake, we can get some ambrosia into you to finish healing the rest of your injuries,” the guy continued. “But you should probably still take it easy for a while.”

Danny just blinked, openly staring at the guy giving him medical advice. He had no idea what ambrosia was. Also stitches, while normally a good thing, was a bad thing for Danny. He was going to end up healing, or burning through them. He prodded just the slightest bit at his core… and good, his powers were back. Which now left his other issue. His caretaker had left his side to go retrieve something from one of the cabinets. 

“Not that I don’t appreciate the medical care, but who are you? And also where am I?” Danny asked. 

The older teen blinked, turning back to Danny. “Oh right! Sorry, guess we forgot introductions due to the circumstances. I’m Will Solace, head of the Apollo Cabin. You’re currently at Camp Half-Blood right now.”

Danny stared at Will, rotating the names in his head. ‘Half-blood’, huh? That certainly said something, but Danny didn’t know what. He wondered if it was a joke of some kind. 

“I’m Danny,” he introduced himself, just giving his first name. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Danny. I’m sure the others are going to be eager to meet you. It’s not often that someone can outrun a group of hellhounds and harpies for that long!” Will praised. 

Danny mouthed the word ‘hellhounds’ in light confusion. Well, at least he got confirmation that other people knew about the dog monsters and bird ladies. He could also rule them out of being ghosts, since Danny had never encountered a ghost that turned into dust after being defeated. 

Will walked back over and placed a small, parchment paper-covered square in his hand. Danny opened it, revealing something that looked like a small lemon square. He sniffed it, getting a citrusy and spiced scent. Weird combination, but a snack was a snack.  

“I know I gave you a whole square but-” Will started, only to yelp as Danny popped the whole square in his mouth without hesitation. 

It tasted pretty close to how it smelt, but had an odd texture, like fudge instead of a lemon bar, but also uncomfortably chewy. It kind of reminded him of ectoplasm in the strong citrus flavor, but lemon instead of lime. The spices were really warm in his mouth like hot cinnamon, instead of the cool tingly flavor he kinda liked from ectoplasm. 

“You weren’t supposed to eat the whole thing!” Will exclaimed, and Danny swallowed. 

Will was on Danny in an instant, checking his temperature with the back of his head. Apparently, he didn’t like what he felt and stuck a thermometer into Danny’s mouth. The thermometer beeped after a moment, and Will snatched it, checking the numbers. His legs and back itched, but Danny couldn’t scratch at them due to his stomach injury, which also itched. 

“Well, you’re not going to burst into flames at least. You’re not even heating up, if anything you’re hypothermic,” Will announced.  

It took him a moment to realize why Will was freaking out, but Danny figured it out eventually. If the terrible lemon square was like ectoplasm, then it was very much not intended for normal consumption without consequences. Will’s words caught up to him then. 

“Wait? Flames?” Danny asked, bewildered. 

“Ambrosia, the food of the gods, can cause normal people to burst into flames. For people like us, eating too much can cause some pretty bad fevers and internal damage,” Will explained. 

That made sense if it was like ectoplasm. But- “What do you mean ‘people like us’?”

Will’s face scrunched up. “Well, um. I’ve only had to give this talk a few times. I’m not normally the one to do it but…” Will made eye contact with Danny. “What do you know about Greek mythology?”

The question seemed a bit left-field to Danny. “A decent amount, I think.” There were ghosts that resembled Greek myths, usually closer to Pandora’s place. 

“Well, it’s not as mythological as it may seem. Everything from monsters, as I’m sure you're familiar with by now, to the gods themselves is very real,” Will said like it was supposed to be some sort of big revelation. 

Danny processed the information. So the ‘hellhounds’, as Will called them, were Greek monsters, not ghosts. Didn’t like that. He liked that they had decided he was a chew toy even less. 

“Okay… and? That revelation didn’t answer the question.”

This time, it was Will’s turn to look gobsmacked for a moment before continuing. “Well, the gods didn’t go anywhere and still exist in modern times. And sometimes they come down and… interact with mortals,” Will added hesitantly. 

Danny remained silent. He still didn’t get where the blonde was going with this. He was very tempted to start picking at the stitches in his stomach. 

Will seemed to give up with whatever subtly he had been attempting. “Demigods. We’re demigods. You, me, most people at this camp.”

“Oh.”

Danny knit his brows together, crossing his arms and frowning, thinking it over. He wasn’t a demigod, that’s for sure. He wasn’t half-god, but half-ghost. Sure, Danny knew there were some pretty terrifying spirits in the Ghost Zone who could easily be mistaken for gods, so it was possible there was a mix-up with him here too. 

“After the monsters and the fact that you didn’t burst into flames after eating the ambrosia, yeah, that pretty much confirms you’re a demigod,” Will said. 

Danny did not want to be involved in whatever this mess was. He had enough problems in Amity Park. 

“Okay, cool. So, um. I’m a demigod, great. What am I supposed to do with that information?” Danny asked. He wanted to leave. His parents would notice eventually he had gone missing sooner or later. 

“Well, Camp Half-Blood exists as a sort of ‘safe spot’, and also a training ground. Monsters can’t get in here. It’s technically a summer camp, but we have campers who stay here both seasonally and year-round. It’s considered really dangerous to be all on your own. You’re probably the oldest new camper we’ve had in a while. Most tend to make their way here between 10 to 12 years old.”

“Do I have to come here?” 

Danny did not want to be forced to attend demigod camp. Being out of Amity Park for a week was terrible, but an entire summer? Yeah, no way. 

Will frowned. “Not… really, but-”

The door to the cabin opened, and another older teenager walked in. Tall, dark hair and sea green eyes. Danny didn’t recognize him at all.

“Hey, Will!” The new guy greeted, before noticing Danny stare at him. “Cool, you’re awake. Did Will give you the whole ‘congrats, you’re a demigod’ speech yet?”

“Percy,” Will practically whined. “I can’t believe you left that to me, but yeah, I did.” Will looked back at Danny. “Danny, this is Percy Jackson, he was part of the group who found you and brought you here. Percy, this is Danny,” Will introduced. 

Danny still didn’t recognize Percy, but he acknowledged that bleeding out on the ground wasn’t especially good for recall. 

“Thanks for the save. I like not being turned into bird food.”

Percy snorted a laugh and Will sighed. “No problem. I didn’t do much. The main people you have to thank is Will here and Nico, wherever he’s at.”

“Probably sleeping,” Will hummed in thought. 

“Probably,” Percy agreed. “By the way Danny, do you have any idea who your godly parent might be? A few of us like to make friendly bets when we get a new kid. I’ve got money on Hermes.”

Danny didn’t get a chance before Will butted back in. 

“Percy, he’s been up just long enough for me to get some ambrosia in him. I literally just explained the whole ‘demigod’ thing,” Will scolded. 

Percy gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry. So, what’d the ambrosia taste like? I know it throws a lot of people off when they first try some,” Percy asked, directing the question towards Danny. 

“Like a lemon bar someone decided to melt an entire bag of red hots in,” Danny described. “So, bad.” 

Both Percy and Will blinked, before Percy snorted, “That’s a new one.”

“It’s not supposed to taste bad. It usually tastes like something you really like,” Will explained. 

“Darn, I guess,” Danny shrugged. “Anyways, I do have to leave.”

“Leave? You’re not sticking around?” Percy asked, surprised. 

Danny shook his head. “Nope. I’m only in New York for a convention with my parents. They’ll probably notice I’m missing sooner or later,” Danny answered truthfully. 

Percy seemed to think about something before asking, “Are you healed up enough to at least get a tour? I understand if you have to go, but it’d probably be a good idea to at least get your hands on a weapon just in case you get attacked again.”

That, Danny could agree to. He wiggled a bitin his bed a bit, noticing that the itching had finally subsided. His stomach was still a bit sore, but other than that, and the stitches that sorely needed to be removed, he was fine. 

“Sure,” Danny said, sitting up and throwing his legs over the side. 

Will seemed dumbfounded but wasn’t able to get the words out before Percy declared, “Neat. Then let’s go!”

And Danny managed to escape the infirmary. 

Percy decided he liked Danny. He was laid back and friendly enough, giving just as much snark as he got. From what he had heard, a lot of new campers tended to freak out for at least an hour, but Danny took it all in stride, more exasperated than shocked. It was a little odd, but Percy brushed it off as just part of Danny’s personality. It wasn’t a bad trait to have. 

Percy made sure to give a decent tour as they made their way to the weapons shed. He asked questions and answered some, learning that Danny was originally from a place called Amity Park in Illinois. His parents were here for the Comic Con, and Danny got dragged along. He said he had always been quick on his feet. Percy really hoped Danny would come back for the summer, even if he couldn't stay now. He told Danny all the demigod basics, from what ‘claiming’ was, how the camp was laid out, and even some of the activities they participated in when there were more people around. 

From the weapons shed, Danny ended up picking a bronze short sword and was given a sheath to go with it. He told Percy that he knew how to use it just a bit from a couple of martial arts classes. He told Danny to come back and he could personally teach him how to sword fight like a pro. 

But throughout the whole tour, Percy picked up on the nonchalance Danny seemed to have, more like he was a tourist instead of someone who had finally found a place to stay. He definitely wasn’t planning on coming back, but he might anyway. Percy knew personally very well that plans rarely went according to plan. They got plenty of attention while walking around, since news of Danny’s chase had already managed to spread throughout the camp. There were some jeers and encouragement from people who tried to recruit him for Capture the Flag. Percy claimed he already called dibs. Danny just laughed. 

They were somewhere near the pavilion when it happened. 

Percy had just managed to convince Danny to at least stick around for dinner. A bright symbol appeared over Danny’s head, causing everyone who had been gathering to pause. Percy recognized the symbol, but never over anyone’s head in a claiming. It wasn’t a symbol that should even be possible to appear.

The air in camp changed immediately, and Danny noticed just as fast. His stance changed from lax into defensive. He knew how to fight a lot better than he let on, or perhaps it was just instinct. Percy hoped it was instinct. 

“What’s that? What’s going on?” Danny practically demanded. 

“You’ve been claimed,” Percy stated, more in horror than awe. 

“Claimed? By who?” Danny was just as confused as everyone else seemed to be. 

But Danny didn’t understand, he didn’t know. It was impossible, it was catastrophic, even. Danny didn’t realize just how bad this was.

“Son of Cronos,” someone hissed. 

Danny finally seemed to get the memo then, his facial expression going from confusion, to shock, to realization, and then to irritation of all things.

“Ancients, of course he did,” Danny growled under his breath. 

Percy had to act fast, he had to- his hand slipped right through Danny’s wrist, who leaped back out of reach at the same time Percy moved.

“Yeah, I’m leaving now,” Danny said. “Thanks for the sword and the tour, but I gotta go.”

“Wait!” Percy called out, jumping towards Danny again. 

He vanished. No flash, no sound, just gone, leaving only footprints behind. 

Percy cursed under his breath in a thorough mix of both Greek and Latin. He took a glance towards the head table, where Mr. D and Chiron were both also staring. Chiron looked like he had just aged 40 years, and Mr. D looked about ready to break his sobriety with something much stronger than wine and deeply, deeply exhausted. 

Yeah, this was beyond bad. 

[kivino]

BIG GUY || SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X GN!READER

my masterlist

ao3 link to this fic

Word counter – ~1,8k

Tags/Warnings – Fluff, a bit of miscommunication and jealousy, nothing much.

Summary – Ghost takes a liking to the nickname you give him, but struggles to understand just how much he likes it.

A/n – I’m still struggling with my school projects so wish me luck, I made this instead of making a video for my language class lmao, enjoy! i’ll add the ao3 link a bit later.

upd. link added for ao3 enjoyers!

It didn't miss anybody, the way Ghost seemed more easygoing and light-hearted on certain days, letting recruits get away with a bit more than usual. Coincidentally, it was right after various interactions with you, be it training or sparring together, doing reports, moving some shit around the base, or just hanging out in the common room. Nobody could just figure out what it was about your interactions that lifted Simon’s spirits so high, which was notoriously hard, courtesy of how gloomy or menacing the man usually appeared. But the answer was quite simple, really.

“Thanks, big guy. Always a huge help.” Simon catches your small smile as you pat him on the shoulder and nods, barely containing his joy, he’d hate to make it too obvious. He was wearing a balaclava after all, and the smallest stretch of the fabric on his cheeks and around his mouth could easily give away how joy spread itself in his chest at the affectionate nickname.

Big guy. Big guy. Your big guy.

Nickname reserved only for him, exclusively from you. Of course, Ghost knew he’d be larger than your average soldier, and that regularly got acknowledged by others, but something about you calling him like this made it different. That pleasant warmth inside, which reminded him of the sun, or that stupid fluttering in his stomach, was…unusual to say the least. It made his mood better almost instantly, an interaction he eagerly, but silently looked forward to each day. Something about you calling him a big guy made his head spin, swimming in the endless clouds. Something Ghost hasn't felt in a long time and didn’t think he’d ever experience.

It was easy to let down his guard around you, you stripped him of the metaphorical armor just like this, with an effortless joke and that godforsaken pet name thrown in somewhere in the conversation. And just like that - Ghost’s low laugh rumbled in unison with yours, heart missing a beat when he looked into your eyes that sparkled with something unknown and captivating. It felt…good. New. And so fucking warm, Ghost felt like he was about to suffocate.

You were the newbie, your reputation preceded you but Ghost didn’t pay much attention to all the rumors swirling around on the base, like some suspicious soup in a boiling pot. He had better things to do. Like following you similarly to a lost puppy, maybe staring intently right at you with his huge brown eyes, if he was feeling brave. Or lingering somewhere around, just to make sure you’re adjusting alright. After all, all of you soldiers have to look out for each other, right? Right. Definitely.

It felt good to finally be able to just laugh and play around with someone, who didn’t seem scared shitless by his presence, mask and, well…everything about him, that seemingly drove people away. Not that he didn’t understand the reasoning for that – quite on the contrary. But you were probably just built differently, drawn to the weird, unappealing, and scary. Maybe Ghost should feel lucky that you were like that. And truth be told, he did. He liked it and he liked you.

Ghost could only hope that he lightened up the things for you the way you did for him. To ask and dig deeper would probably be too much, Simon could still feel that caution and tremble at the mere thought of trying to grow closer to you and spend even more time together. Like he’ll put a curse on you the moment he decides to open up a bit more and show you at least some inner workings of his mind on a more intimate level than just some stupid puns, or gossip and discussions about the way you spent your day. Although they were certainly pleasant, with you giving him a subtle, understanding smile from across the table, while steam from your coffee mug made it seem so domestic and wholesome like Ghost was in a dream. So, Ghost kept what little distance he could, despite his wishes, and hoped that you take your time and be patient with him.

That is until he overheard something that startled him, to say the least.  

“Well, your jokes are a bit too much for me, big guy.” You say, letting out a clear, loud laugh, as you patted Soap’s chest. Scotsman straightened up almost immediately in front of you, a proud toothy smile beaming on his face. Now Ghost felt like he just got punched in the gut, for some reason. Annoyed and on edge in a split second. But why? He truly couldn’t seem to pin down the reason for the surge of anger and something bitter in his chest, bubbling right under his skin.

It was probably nothing worth his attention. Just something weird with his body, exhaustion from the training, muscle cramps...or whatever it could be. In any case, running headfirst into dissecting his mind for something so small and minuscule? Ridiculous, really. Completely unnecessary. Of course, Simon knew that both you and Johnny weren’t saints, two rascals more like, but he had no obvious reason to feel this bitter stinging inside of him, that slithered and slipped around, followed by tightening of his throat and bobbing of his Adam’s apple. He swallowed loudly, trying to wash down that gross aftertaste on his tongue hours after he saw that interaction. And the fact that he couldn’t get it out of his head was telling enough, that he was, in fact, bothered by something.

So, Simon decided to do what he did best. Bottle it up. But then it just kept sitting in his head, that nasty feeling still eating him from the inside out. It didn’t help that he started seeing you talking with Johnny more often, while Simon unintentionally avoided you, still buried deep in his thoughts and contemplations about what caused him to feel the way he did. Of course, he couldn’t help but eavesdrop. And there you were. Laughing with him. Calling him “big guy”. Again. This only caused Simon to become more cranky and unfriendly, taking his frustrations out on poor privates who’ve never ran so many laps in their entire lives.

The only people Ghost was outright cruel and merciless to were his enemies. He wasn’t the friendliest guy, of course, but everyone noticed when the lieutenant who usually would crack jokes and dumb puns at the expense of others at most suddenly started to get annoyed at smaller mistakes more, using harsher words and overall look like he was down in the dumps. Nobody dared to talk about the subject though, so Ghost was left terrorizing the privates and recruits, having lunches in his office and avoiding areas where he knew you’d be at certain times of the day from your long talks before. Which, of course, didn’t help him to understand what was wrong at all.

So, all Ghost was left with were his own thoughts. He didn’t feel jealous of you interacting with other people before. You were never his, so he had no right for that at all. But there had to be something else that pushed Simon to where he was now, tired, unsatisfied, and craving at least a passing smile and a short “Hey there” from you. So that the two of you could sit down somewhere together, and you’d talk about some irrelevant nonsense, and then you’d open your mouth again and call him “big guy”. It didn’t feel fair that Johnny got to be called that. It was Simon’s nickname. From you. Wait-wait-wait, hold on a second.

The sudden revelation as to why exactly Ghost was feeling that way when he saw you talk with the sergeant hit him like a damn bus. Fuck, that is childish. Weird. God, Simon feels like a damn creep. Getting upset because of a damn nickname, way to fucking go, you oaf. This felt confusing. Irrational. Absolutely fucking stupid. To think that something that simple threw him off so easily. That’s human relationships for you. Now it felt like he needed even more time. Not to make it complicated. Not to hurt you and himself.

Regardless of his wishes, he didn’t have any more time to think when he was soon approached by you, a concerned frown adorning your face, along with a look full of sympathy and understanding. Ghost already dreaded the conversation that hadn’t even begun. And he wasn’t even the one reaching out first. Which makes it even more embarrassing.

“Hey, Simon. I have something I want to talk about with you.” You, bless your heart, probably thought something terrible happened in Simon's life when in reality he was just running away from you and his feelings like a whole wildfire was chasing him. The only correlation he could think of is dumb teenagers, which is…remotely fitting with his recent behavior. “I’ve noticed you’ve been kind of…avoiding me? Did something happen, or am I just overthinking everything?”

“It’s stupid, really. Nothing you should be worrying yourself about.” Ghost blurts out before he can even think. Great, now he can only tell you the whole truth, without the options to back out or lie. But it was truly so unusual for him because Simon never expected to get attached to a nickname and to you.

“Well, let’s hear you out. I won’t judge.” Again, with your perfect reassuring smile and your calming presence. Simon lets out a deep sigh, his throat itching from what is about to ensue. He knew he was going to embarrass himself, but he just couldn’t bring himself to lie. Which would’ve been so much easier, instead of baring his true feelings in front of you.

“Well, your nickname for me…You know what I’m talking about.” Simon’s tone is deep and gruff as he tries to conceal that uncertainty in his voice. You appear to be listening attentively, your eyes trained on him, head slightly tilted to the side, which makes his heart melt. You give him a confident nod at the mention of the nickname, and Ghost continues. “I want you to call only me like that. And I mean, only me” He can see your eyebrow rising, your expression more teasing than questioning. There we go, now you’re going to mock him or laugh at him. Just perfect.

“Sure thing, big guy.” A shudder runs down Simon’s spine from your words, a sweet, saccharine feeling immediately blossoming in his chest. Oh, he had no words to describe how hard he missed it. All his worries lifted immediately. You didn’t find it weird. In fact, from what Ghost could tell by your satisfied expression, it was quite the opposite of the reaction Simon initially expected. Which was extremely relieving. He would hate to lose your intriguing relationship to the miscommunication of his own making. “Could’ve just said that you wanted it reserved just for you.”

Oh, it wasn’t just the nickname that did it to him. But it’s a bit too early to tell you that.

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[stevieschrodinger]

Link to Part One Part Two Part Three

TW Human trafficking discussions of injury

Steve feels like shit. He looks like shit. He’s pretty sure something might have straight up died in his mouth when he got that forty five minutes of sleep.

Everything looks good though. The fact that everyone else sprawled around the boardroom also looks like shit makes him feel a little better about himself. Well. Everyone but Nancy, obviously, who could probably walk out of a tornado and still look put together.

Steve only knows it’s morning because Carol just brought them all coffee. Carol does not come in out of hours. Steve learned that very, very early on. It was uncharacteristically nice of Carol to turn up with the little trolley from downstairs; it had a bunch of fruit and breakfast pastries on it, plus coffee.

She then proceeded to explain to Steve at great length how he looked and smelled like he’d been shit out by a bear, so, maybe she had motive. And that motive was being a bitch.

“Happy now, Steve?”

Steve’s got like, a whole bag of sand in each eye. Coarse, if they grade that kind of thing. Coarse sand. “Do you think we got everything?”

“I am confident that the team have done their utmost to pursue every avenue.”

“Nance, stop being a politician. That’s not a yes.”

She purses her lips at him in the way that she has, “can I have a word with you?” She scans the board room, “privately?”

Steve drags himself out of the chair, balancing one croissant on top of his coffee cup and grabbing a bear claw too, and then follows Nancy out and into a nearby office.

She doesn’t pull any punches, “I need to know how you know.”

Steve takes a big bite, then speaks with his mouthful, “can’t. NDA.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose, “and who, exactly, did you sign an NDA for?”

“The FBI.”

Nancy brings up her phone, showing Steve the screen. More precisely the headline on the screen, and Steve is thrilled that the picture they’ve used of Hagan is, objectively, fucking awful, “so Tommy Hagan was arrested last night, for Omega trafficking. When you walked into the office yesterday, oh so confident that everything relating to Hagan was going to tank…it was nearly ten full hours before this hit the news.”

Steve shrugs again, “N...D...A.”

They stare at each other for a long moment.

The door opens, Henderson’s baby face poking through. You would not in a million years think they guy was in his twenties, “Steve, morning! Sorry, I know it’s early…” Henderson seems to take in the state of Steve. Shirt rumpled, tie hanging loose, starting in on his second pastry, “but I kind of need to know why over a quarter of a million dollars was moved on Saturday, and where it went since it seemed to just...disappear?”

It takes, probably, less than a second for Nancy to leap to a conclusion like an Olympic fucking vaulter, and half a second longer for her to hit Steve with the file she’s holding.

“Er...not now, Dustin okay?” Steve manages to say, trying to shield his pastry and his coffee while Nancy gets it out of her system.

Dustin’s a smart kid, he watches Nancy slapping Steve with the papers...and just leaves.

She finally stops, pinching the bridge of her nose, and says very evenly, very quietly, “Steven Harrington, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t buy an Omega.”

“NDA?” Steve replies quietly, uncertain, and then flinching when Nancy raises the folder again, “okay okay! Yes, yes I did. But! Under the FBI’s kind of...you know, instruction? I was evidence gathering! He’s at mine but I’m figuring out where his family are and I’ll take him back! It’s fine!”

“Why is he at yours?”

“They didn’t have anywhere for him, short notice, plus his feet are kind of messed up, from them like, hurting him. He’s been there a couple of years so doesn’t have anything, so I’ve ordered him some clothes and stuff. He’s fine.”

Nancy tilts her head, like a predator working out the distance they need to strike, “he’s...fine?”

Steve knows he’s fucked up. Nancy is using that tone. It’s...a very specific tone. “Err...yes?”

“You have an injured Omega, who has been held against his will, abused enough to be, at the very least, physically injured, never mind the emotional toll this whole thing may have taken...and he’s fine?”

Oh, no. She’s raised her eyebrow in that way she has. “I mean...yeah?” Nancy glares, and Steve backtracks, “I mean. Obviously he’s not...you know, perfectly okay, I guess. He’s been through a lot. But I made sure I fed him plenty, and he’s got some clean clothes on the bed. The bed in the room...I never actually...got around to showing him to...because I got, distracted. And it’s upstairs…” Steve can feel his insides sinking, “his feet are hurt. Shit.” Well fuck. Steve's...fucked up, probably quite badly now that he actually stops for thirty seconds to think about it.

Nancy sighs aggressively out her nose in that way she has, “Steve your security system is like fort fucking Knox, did you at least…”

But Steve’s already shaking his head, because he didn’t do that, either. He’s just...locked Eddie into a new prison. Shit.

He scrambles, feeling guilty, “I’ll give him some of the money. A lot of the money. Hagan’s...stuff. He can have the ranch?”

Nancy’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline, “why on earth would he want the place he’s been kept prisoner for-”

Steve shrugs, “whatever he wants. He can bun it down if he likes, I’ll help. It’ll be like, therapy?”

Oh no, she gone from pinching her nose to rubbing that spot on her forehead, but then she seems to...deflate. Grasping Steve’s arm to hold him close, she actually speaks gently to him, which is, quite frankly, a million times more terrifying, “Steve. We’ve known each other a long time, now, so I say this with love. Money, wealth...is not the most important thing in life.” Steve opens his mouth to protest, but she shushes him, “I know. Alright, I know it can help, and it makes life a lot better for a lot of people...but giving people things does not...fix anything. Money is not an apology. Gifts are not an apology. And I know it’s hard for you to...see it differently, okay? Because you’ve always been very...driven, and that’s a good thing! I know how you grew up and how your father was with you and I know you feel you have...something to prove, okay, so I understand, I do. But...a lot of people put higher value on...just. I mean, maybe just go home. Say that you're sorry. Look after the Omega for a couple of days, make sure he gets home, okay? Maybe prioritize that, for a moment. You know the office will be fine...and maybe you’ll see that other things in life can have value, hmm?”

Part five

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[its-time-to-write]

I wrote this in light of the Euros last night. If you don’t know, England lost to Spain and it was absolutely brutal. So for context, this fic takes place post-match in Berlin. (I also knocked this out in forty minutes to distract myself from the fact that I have to rewrite the mafs fic from scratch😭😭)

enjoy.

twentysomethings

The creak in the hotel hall is the only warning you get before there’s a knock on the door. 

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who’s on the other side, so it’s no surprise when you open the door to reveal Jamie Tartt.

“It’s late,” you comment when you see him. You tilt your head. “You alright?”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. You move aside to let him in and shut the door.

You move to sit on the bed, fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “Shit, sorry,” you say. “Didn’t want to change into pajamas when I got home.”

You pull the England kit over your head, leaving your undershirt on. You do your best to conceal the name on the back and toss it on the floor beside the bed.

You’ve known Jamie for years. He was friends with your cousins growing up, so you’d seen him on and off since childhood. You’d ended up dating for a few months, and your parents had been surprised it hadn’t happened sooner.

“He’s been in love with you for ages,” your mum had said.

You had laughed. 

Jamie had done a spectacular job working past your defenses. “I won’t leave you,” he promised. “I love you.”

And you believed him.

You’d sworn off dating after a particularly bad heartbreak, but Jamie was determined.

And who are you kidding, you loved him too. You would have done anything he asked. 

You did. You moved to be with him, figured out how to make your job work remotely, sacrificed just so you could be with him. But he was worth it.

The breakup was a shock, to say the least.

He never could give you a straight answer as to why, and before you knew it you were on a flight back home. 

The rumors started a few days later which was silly, because no one even knew you and Jamie were dating. Or that you knew each other. Or anything.

No, the rumors had nothing to do with you; they just linked his name to a gorgeous blonde model, saying he’d been seeing her for weeks.

That hurt worse than anything else. The evidence was mixed, not terribly reliable, but there was enough of it for you to consider it may contain truth.

He didn’t text, didn’t call. Didn’t try to convince you it was a lie, so you believed it.

Why else would you have ended?

You thought you knew him, thought he wouldn’t cheat. Breaking up and moving on is one thing, but sleeping with someone else while you were together… it was earth-shattering. 

Especially because he knew.

He knew how hard it was for you to trust. He knew what he was doing when he held your hand and kissed your temple.

You did know him, though. He hadn’t been cheating on you, it was just the stupid rumor mill, but you were still broken up so it didn’t fix anything. You still had no explanation.

All this time, and you can tell exactly what he’s thinking. You know exactly why he’s in your room so when you pat the spot on the mattress next to you, he doesn’t have to say anything before he’s on top of you.

He’s pent up, all anger and sadness, but he presses soft kisses along your neck and jaw in a stark contrast.

—

“We should shower,” Jamie says when you’re done. It’s the first thing he’s said that isn’t your name or false promises that he loves you.

“I’m tired,” you say. It’s true; your head’s spinning and if you close your eyes for longer than a minute, you’ll fall asleep.

Jamie makes a face, not quite a grin but certainly not the frown that’s been affixed to his face and says, “You run the shower and I’ll change the sheets, yeah?”

You groan and roll out of bed as Jamie rummages through the closet for extra sheets.

“You weren’t with mum and Simon,” he says in the shower later.

“No,” you say, swiping your thumb under his eye.

He’s silent, waiting for you to say more, but you don’t. You’d been in the stands with the general public, as you’d always preferred. Less likely to be noticed that way. 

He says, “You were wearing an England kit.”

You shrug. “Not a real one. Didn’t want to spend £89 on something I’d wear once. Not like anyone can tell.”

“Hm,” he says, turning off the water.

You shiver. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Fuck no,” he says, wrapping first himself and then you in a towel. He looks at you questioningly and you half-nod, resigned to the fact that you’re going to let tonight run its course. 

Jamie picks you up, bridal style, and kisses you as he carries you back to the bed.

“We’re going to have to shower again,” you warn.

“No, you’re going to have to shower again,” he corrects as he kisses your hipbone.

You yawn, and he props himself up to look at you. “I’m sorry, am I boring you?” he teases.

You smile, “You’re the one who came to find me, my love.”

The words roll so easily off your tongue that you won’t realize exactly what you said until later. If Jamie catches it, he doesn’t say anything.

An alarm goes off early in the morning. It’s not yours, you’d set yours for 10:00am. Jamie reaches to turn it off then pulls you close. 

“Gonna sneak back?” you yawn. He buries his face in your neck in response.

“Jamie,” you sigh. “You have to go back.”

He still doesn’t say anything so you wiggle to get face-to-face with him. He’s centimeters away, and you indulge in a moment to study his face. This is the last time you’ll have him in your bed, so you’re allowed to enjoy it.

You ask, “You did well, you know that, right?” but he shrugs and tries to turn his face away.

“Jamie,” you say again, “you did well. I’m so proud of you. You played in the Euros for god’s sake. You were in the starting eleven for the finals! That’s amazing. You made it so far.”

“Not fucking far enough,” he mumbles, and you kick him.

“Don’t be an asshole to yourself. Enough people will do that for you.”

He shrugs again. “You coming back to England?” he asks in an effort to change the subject, and you let him.

Not that this topic will be much easier than England’s loss to Spain.

You shake your head. “Going to Ireland to see the family.”

“Then England?” he asks, but it’s with a false kind of hope. He already knows what’s coming.

“Jamie.” You taste the way his name sounds on your tongue for one of the last times. “I can’t keep doing this to myself. I’d go anywhere you asked, do anything for you. I’d let you hurt me over and over again, but- it’s just not healthy. You know I love you and I know you love me. But we love other things more. You’ll always choose football over me, and I’ll always choose my job over you. You broke up with me, if you recall, and you never fucking told me why.”

He whispers, “Will you forgive me?” and the way he toys with your hair makes you realize he already knows your answer.

“I was only mad at you that Monday,” you say. “I shouldn’t have called and I shouldn’t have yelled, but that was the only day I’ve ever been mad at you. I’ve already forgiven you.”

There isn’t much more to say after that. Instead of trying to fill the silence Jamie pulls you closer under the covers. You lay there for far too short a time before you say, “We need to get up.”

Unwillingly, Jamie lets you go. He’s still in bed watching you as you begin to change.

“That’s got to be a crime,” he groans as you clasp your bra. 

“Fuck off,” you grin. “You’ll see some again.”

You don’t say, you’ll see mine again, because he won’t. He wipes sleep from his eyes and sits up.

“I don’t want to leave,” he confesses, and you understand.

“This isn’t real life,” you tell him. “Besides, now you get a holiday. It’s going to be okay.”

Jamie sits for a moment longer, then gets up to put on last night’s clothes.

“Mum gave me your room number,” he says when he’s all dressed.

“I figured,” you respond. “She’s the one that invited me.”

Jamie nods. She’d told him the whole thing after the match and he’s glad he hadn’t known you were in the stands.

You say, “Well.”

Jamie says, “Well.”

He crosses the room to pull you into what is arguably the best kiss of your entire life.

“I love you,” he says between kisses. You push him gently toward the door, but he’s still kissing you.

“I love you,” he says again.

“Jamie,” you reply, but you mean the same thing.

He kisses once, twice, three times in the doorway before taking a last long look at your face.

He’s crying again, and it’s worse seeing it in person than it was seeing it at the match.

Something wet slides down your cheeks, and you realize you’re crying too.

“You have to let me go,” you choke out. “I’m so sorry. You have to.”

He nods, gripping your hand.

Jamie presses his forehead to yours one last time. “I love you,” he whispers.

You breathe, I love you too, then he’s gone.

[only-luce-the-goose]

More than Nougat

Synopsis: You taught Jack about hickies and now he’s obsessed

Warnings: none really, just a whole lotta fluff

Nothing! There was absolutely nothing! No beer, no bacon, no nothing! And who would’ve eaten all the food and not replace it? The two black holes for humans you live with. The Winchesters, those boys with their bottomless stomachs drove you crazy sometimes. You’re half tempted to throw Jack into the accusation but he’s still figuring the foods he likes.

“I’m going on a supply run!” You shout through the halls. All you hear is a couple grunts of acknowledgement, until a voice behind you says “can I come?” You nearly jump out of your skin, not expecting to see Jack behind you. “You scared the shit outta be dude, but yeah, of course you can come” you answered him. “Sorry for scaring you y/n” he apologises.

You chuckle his apology off, trying not to let your heart run wild. Even though Jack was only, technically, a few years old, he resembled someone of your own age. This very quickly led you to falling for him, his newborn innocence, childish humour and clinginess (you loved though, let’s be real).

“Alrighty Jack, let’s go” you say as you lead him up the stairs, to the garage. You unlock your ‘64 Pontiac and hope in, turning on some background music before peeling out of the bunker.

“Can we have a movie night tonight, y/n?” The nephilim asks. “Absolutely” you reply “what do you wanna watch?” He sits there and has a hard think about it, “I don’t know, I’ll look up movies when we get to the bunker. Can we get snacks now though?” He asks. You nod your head as you park. You pull out a trolley and give it to Jack to push, while you wander around and get enough food to supposedly last a few weeks (you knew better than the expect it would last a few days).

Jack absolutely piles the junk food into the trolley, which gives you a good laugh, still enamoured with his childishness. He gives you a massive grin and keeps walking, always making sure to look behind him and make sure you’re still there. You head to the checkout and pay for the mountain of food you bought, Jack standing shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time, watching you interact with the register guy. Jack means his head on your shoulder after you pay and keep making small talk, even though you’ve finished all you need to do. Jack links his hand to yours to try and push his point, he doesn’t wanna be near anyone but you anymore.

After you get home, Jack wizzes off to the computer to search for a movie while you pack away the food, keeping out the snack for movie night. Jack comes bounding in a few minutes later, a dvd in hand, and says “I wanna watch this one” he hold it up for you to see. You look at him and asks if he’s sure, “I’ve never seen it so I really wanna try” he replies. You hold on your giggles as you make your way towards the dean-cave (you think it’s a silly name but whatever).

You press play on the movie as you and Jack get comfortable next to each other on the couch, sitting leg to leg so you can both reach the junk food. Sandy and Danny start singing on your tv screen and it has Jack laughing, you don’t know what at, but you don’t care. Getting to see Jack make you laugh makes your day a little brighter.

You get to the point in the movie when Rizzo appears with hickies from Kenickie. “Y/n?” Jack gets your attention as he taps your shoulder. You pause the movie as you turn to Jack, “what’s wrong?” Jack points at Rizzo and says “what’s wrong with her neck, who has hands small enough to punch her like that?” He ponders “or did she get bitten my a vampire? Some vampire bites look like that, don’t they?”

Jack looks at you concerned as you bust out laughing. “Oh Jack, those are called hickies” you tell him. He raises his eyebrow, almost like he want to ask something, so you continue. “When two people like each other a lot, some like marking their partner. It’s kind of like a possession thing” you can see the cogs turning in his head, trying to make sense of what you said.

“I like you a lot, and I don’t like when you talk to people that aren’t me, so do I put hickies on you?” Jack admits, a big grin adorning his plush lips. You feel a bit conflicted, maybe you didn’t make it clear enough that it was an ‘in love’ type of like, not a ‘just friends’ type of like and so you told him. “I don’t think you get it, it’s for people who love each other. Like want to get married and have a family, kind of love. Not the kind of love you have for friends”

His grin doesn’t falter, “I know what you meant, y/n, and I mean what I said. I like you a lot, the ‘love’ type of like. I wanna hold your hand, and kiss you, and I want you to give me hickies and I want to give you some too” if you were a cartoon, you knew you’d have hearts in your eyes and heart would be thumping out of your chest at Jacks brazen confession.

He watches you patiently as you lean over and peck his lips, testing to water. “I like you a lot too, Jack” you say as you make deep eye contact. Jack kisses you back grinning. “Can you give me a hickie y/n?” He asks shyly. “It’s kind of something you have to build up to. You have to start with marking out before you move to hickies” Jack smashes his lips onto yours as soon as you finish your sentence.

After showing Jack how to make out, you pull away which causes a small whine to rise from Jacks throat. “I’m gonna give you a hickie now, ok?” You say as Jack vigorously nods his head. You got back to kissing his lips, then start trailing them towards his neck. You spend a couple seconds looking around for his weak spot, knowing you’ve found it when he moans and bursts a light bulb.

You look up and see his eyes glowing gold “sorry” he says sheepishly. You kiss his lips, then go back to his neck. You suck and nip at the supple skin, causing all sorts of noises to come out of Jack. You pull back “that should give you a nice purple one in the morning” you say. Jack nods as you both lie down, his head on your chest as you doze off.

You wake up to Jack shaking you, “look, it’s here!” He bounces around, clearly happy to the new addition on marks on his skin when he says, “I think I like this more than nougat”

[steviewashere]

If Found, Return to Me

Rating: General CW: Implied Sex (Mild), Mild Panic Attacks Tags: Post Canon, Post Season 4, Established Relationship, Humor and Hijinks, Eddie Munson is a Little Shit, Steve Harrington is a Little Shit, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Panic Attacks, Dork Eddie Munson, Dork Steve Harrington, 3+1

Okay, the idea was going to be a 5+1, but I couldn't get past three ideas without feeling the crawl of burn-out, so I lowered it to three. But this is based on This Post from @apomaro-mellow

👕—————👕 1. He grips the hem of his shirt and tugs. Chin tucked into his neck so that he can read the text, which is bold and black and dark on the white background. ‘If found, return to Steve.’ Eddie groans. “Do we seriously have to wear these?” He whines.

Steve stands in front of him. Hands on his hips. One foot cocked. “Yes, Eddie,” he answers emphatically. Even a little annoyed. Which, sue Eddie for having to ask over and over, but it’s sort of embarrassing. Especially when his boyfriend is wearing a similar shirt that just reads: ‘I’m Steve’. Makes Eddie look sort of childish, if you were to ask him. “If I’m taking you out of town, to a place I’ve never been before for a convention—something I’d probably never even go to—you absolutely have to wear that shirt. Knowing you, you’ll see some action figure stand and I’ll be abandoned by the comic books.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Or, y’know, we can just link arms and walk around the convention center?” Steve only widens his eyes and raises an eyebrow. He groans again. “Okay, fine! We’ll wear these stupid t-shirts.” His head tilts back, eyes to the ceiling of their hotel. Huffs through his nose. “I don’t even know how you got these,” he grumbles, “I’d rather not know.”

Sure, Eddie’s prone to running off. He gets excited, okay? Especially when it’s something he knows a lot about, or something he’s been hunting down for literal years, or if it’s a thing he can surprise the people around him with. Thinking of the last time he wandered off and Steve had to practically scruff him, it’d been while he was purchasing a dice set for Dustin’s birthday. So maybe Steve has a point. And maybe it’s sort of a genius idea. Eddie just wants to be stubborn about this, it’d save him the humiliation.

Except, he’s still wearing the shirt (Steve in his matching one) when they finally get through the doors of the convention center. There’s people in costumes all around them: Spock and Kirk, Marty McFly, Indiana Jones, Predator, and a few kids with their dads all dressed like those ponies that Erica likes. Something in Eddie trills. And he’s already a few steps ahead of Steve before he knows it. Steve trails behind him, wonder and awe shining in his own eyes, trying to keep up with Eddie’s frantic nature.

But then they’re not even close to each other. They buy lunch a couple hours in. Steve gets a large lemonade and downs it like he’s never had something to drink before. And then Eddie’s being told, “Please wait here by the bathrooms. Don’t go do anything stupid.”

He’s leaning against the wall that reads: ‘Restrooms’. Arms intertwined over his chest. Legs crossed on one another. In the distance, his eyes lock onto a Dungeons & Dragons booth. There’s tall shelves stocked with every mini figure he could ever pray for. A few long tables that showcase various maps, dungeon master screens, and little trays for dice. However, there’s an odd rack in the booth. A hat stand. And on it, he spots the perfect thing for Steve. It’s probably expensive, Eddie debates with himself, but it’s Indiana Jones’ hat. His feet are moving before he registers the people walking past him.

And then he’s there. Holding a classic fedora hat between his hands. Turning it around in his hold. Thumbing at the material; marveling at how smooth and buttery soft the fabric is. He spots the price tag, ‘$8.00’. It’s not a terrible price. Isn’t damaged in any way. So he keeps it in his left hand, grabs a paladin mini figure in his right, and purchases both items. Bag in hand, he moves to leave the booth, but is stopped by a gentle hand tapping on his right shoulder.

He turns and is met with a girl. She’s level with his chest, eyes wide and calculating, hand retreating back to her side. “Hi—um—you don’t know me at all, but I found somebody named Steve looking for you,” she states, “I saw your shirt and figured you were the guy he was talking about.”

Eddie slumps. A part of him can’t believe the stupid shirt even worked. “Yeah, it’s probably me that he’s looking for,” he sighs. “Take me to him.”

She’s hard to follow in the crowd of people. Shorter than most and extremely quick. But she links his arm with hers and practically drags him back towards the bathrooms. And there he is, Steve Harrington with his hands on his hips, a furrow to his brow, mouth thin-lined. “Eddie,” Steve greets. He smiles, though it’s not all that sweet, but kind enough for this stranger that had to shepherd Eddie. The girl leaves them. And Steve steps closer to Eddie, crosses his arms over his chest, and then has the gall to snort. He raises a hand and plucks at Eddie’s t-shirt, directly on the word: ‘Found’. “Looks like my stupid t-shirt worked,” he snarks. The sass to this guy is unbelievable.

“Yeah, har har, laugh it up,” Eddie says dryly. “Maybe you don’t want the little gift I got for you.”

Steve perks up. Eyes glowing with curiosity. “What’d you get?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and smirks. Digs into his bag and flaunts the hat. “Saw it at a D&D booth, surprisingly. Probably would’ve been something we walked by, had I not…wandered.” He steps a little closer into Steve’s space, sets the hat on top of his head, and nods in approval. “Think that this purchase was a success. You look dashing, Mr. Jones.”

In a flurry of movement, Steve snatches the hat from off the top of his head. Gaping at it. “Eds,” he breathes, “this is so fucking cool.” He places it back where it was, pulling it tight to his hairline, and grins brightly. “Thank you, but also please don’t leave me alone here,” he says, “I got worried.”

“Sorry,” Eddie murmurs sheepishly. “Just thought about how excited you’d be about the hat and couldn’t resist. Won’t happen again, promise.”

Steve chuckles. “I know it will, but that’s what the stupid shirts are for. Anyway…Can we go look at the Lego set-up that we passed by in hall E? I think I saw a spaceship and—“

“Lead the way, Indy.” He might have to buy his own shirts with how Steve bounds away from him.

——— 2. “If…Lost?!” Eddie exclaims. “Steve, what the fuck? Why—How—Where the hell are you getting these t-shirts?” He asks. They’re at Steve’s house, getting ready for a day trip in Chicago. And, sure, Eddie’s never been in his life. Doesn’t know the streets of Chicago like the back of his hand. Maybe Steve does know more about where they’re going, but that doesn’t change just how ridiculous this shirt is. How it glares at him in the bathroom mirror.

Steve sidles up next to him. His t-shirt the same as the one from the convention. He wraps an arm around Eddie’s waist. Rests his head on his shoulder. “I have my ways,” he states ominously. “And, again, I know you. Your sense of direction is practically non-existent. You can’t deny that, baby. The only reason you found Skull Rock is because you stumbled upon it.”

“I was on the run, couldn’t exactly look at a map,” he grumbles. “But do we have to—“

“Yes,” Steve sighs. “Now, can you come out to the car with me? I’m ready to go.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but does as he’s asked. Sits in the passenger seat. Shuffles through the radio stations. Teases Steve for his taste in tapes. But then they’re parking, getting out, walking around the city.

He follows Steve…for a while. Into a record shop. In the back of a diner, playing footsie under the table. Then he goes down a side street. Following a guy in a white t-shirt, hair high on his head, Adidas sneakers on his feet. However, the guy turns slightly. And…that’s not Steve. Eddie’s not sure how long he’s been following this stranger, or when he started, or from where he started from. Tries to rake through his brain to the last time he heard Steve talk about the street they were originally on, but there’s nothing. The words and names escape him.

He’s stranded in a city he’s never been to. Down a street he should’ve never come across. Wearing the most humiliating t-shirt known to mankind. Somewhere, again he’s not sure, behind him Steve is probably standing by some shop entrance, hands on his hips and a scowl perfectly framed on his face. And Eddie can’t help but panic. Standing with his back against the nearest wall. Breathing through his mouth like he’s about to beef it on the sidewalk. Eyes darting over and under and left and right. Trying to find semblance of normal, any little speckle of Steve. Something.

It’s not until he’s nearly sick to his stomach, churning and flipping and knotting, that a different stranger makes their presence known. They gently invade his space. Voice soft as they notice his panic. “Hey man, are you Eddie?” They ask. He nods way too quick, but sidelines the blur to his vision because talking to this stranger seems hopeful. Especially since they know his name. “Okay, cool,” the stranger mutters, “I ran into your…friend. Steve was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when I spotted him, said he couldn’t find you, but didn’t know where to look. So I volunteered to find you. And—well—judging by your shirt, I can gladly and safely reunite you guys. If you…If you wanna follow me.”

“Please,” Eddie murmurs, “I don’t know where I am.”

The trip back to Steve is arduous. Through crowds of people and past noisy cars. Bustling shops and the waft of various seasonings from a number of restaurants. But sure enough, Steve is on some precipice. His hair a mess and face pinched nervously. Then, he spots Eddie. Eyes lighting, clearing and glistening. A look of ‘I want to touch, but know I can’t.’

When he sidles up next to Steve after the stranger leaves, he carefully joins their hands. “I followed a complete stranger for probably thirty minutes,” Eddie admits, whispering. “His hair looked similar. And he was also wearing a white t-shirt. I got so scared, Steve.”

“Well, at least our stupid shirts worked again, right?” Steve asks, breathless and still verging breakdown.

Eddie squeezes their hands. “Can we go home, please? This is gonna sound crazy, but I think I prefer middle of nowhere Hawkins. At least I know where everything is.”

Steve nods rapidly. “I need to touch you in ways I can’t right now. Let’s go.” And then he tugs their hands, pulling them along sidewalks and through groups of people, down a couple side streets. It’s partially worth it, in the end. Definitely with the way Eddie’s skin is now decorated with Steve’s love, sticky and warm with it, too.

——— 3. The shirts end up following them to the Indiana State Fair.

Steve stops them at the front entrance, right after the ticket booth, and makes Eddie face him. “Listen to me,” he murmurs, voice low and near demanding. “If I turn my back for a second and you are gone, I will lose my absolute shit. Got it? Do not make me have to keep a rope tied to your belt loop.”

Eddie groans. “I get it, Steve. Can we at least try and enjoy ourselves?”

And they do for the most part. Steve plays at a few game stalls. Eddie carries the prizes. Their legs interlock underneath a picnic table, sharing greasy funnel cake and way too sour lemonade freezes. They watch a few performers, pet some fair animals, judge prized pigs like they know what they’re doing.

But then the ferris wheel comes up and Eddie sees an opportunity already forming. Like dots connecting or the stars aligning. He wants to drag Steve through the line and sit with him in one of the seats, wait for the wheel to stop at just the right height, and kiss him as the lights dim low and the darkness of the sky envelops them. Though, because he always misses a few steps in his plans, he doesn’t tell Steve that they’re going to the ferris wheel. Just starts walking. Shoving past other couples and accidentally sidelining a couple kids. He sneaks around large families. Maybe bribes a few people to let up on the ride’s queue.

Then, Eddie turns to his left. Where Steve is.

Or…Where Steve should have been.

“Shit,” Eddie spits. “Steve?” He calls over his shoulder. Frantically, he whips around in line. Eyes wide over people’s heads. Shoving them out of the way, albeit a little rough. Spreads the line into two little rows. But he comes up unsuccessful.

Until, right on cue, a stranger is tapping on his shoulder. Instead of letting them go into their whole spiel, he just sighs defeated, “Take me to him.”

There are no words exchanged. Not when Eddie follows behind, head bowed to the ground, dragging his feet like a petulant child. And then he stops where he sees Steve’s shoes, the bright blue Adidas sneakers he’d recognize anywhere.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “Thought you were with me.”

Steve just sighs. Something kind of disappointed that shrivels Eddie slightly. “Where’d you even go?” Steve calmly asks.

Eddie finally looks to him, his eyes pleading. “The ferris wheel, but…But! In my defense, I thought you were with me. And I was going to get us a seat on the ride. Was gonna wait until it got up to the highest point and do something cheesy like kiss you…or blow you, whatever. But I—“

“Why didn’t you just ask me, Eds?” Steve laughs with his full body, deep from within his stomach. “We can do that, babe. All you gotta do is ask, y’know?”

“I didn’t think—“

“I know you didn’t,” Steve teases. “Seems like my stupid t-shirt idea worked again. That’s three times, you dork.” Eddie can only groan. He knows that he has a bad habit of wandering, doesn’t mean that the idea is any less annoying or dumb. “Come on, Eds. Stop throwing a fit. Let’s do your thing.”

“You sure?”

“Eddie, if you don’t kiss or blow me on that ferris wheel, I’m banning D&D at my place for a month. Let’s go.”

When they get off and start walking back to the car, Steve tugs on the back of Eddie’s jeans. He yelps, startled, but quickly shuts his mouth when he’s faced with a stern look. “You know what I just remembered?” Steve asks him. There’s mirth in his eyes. Eddie doesn’t trust this at all. “Earlier, when I was telling you about wandering, I mentioned maybe tethering you to a rope. I might have to do that. Since you can’t behave.”

Eddie heats from the inside out. A coil tightens in his stomach. “You couldn’t even if you tried,” he bites back.

Later, he finds out, Steve is exceptional with rope. What a fucking boy scout.

——— +1 The Mall of America didn’t earn its title for nothing. The place was huge, that much Eddie could discern. Which made perfect sense when buying the new and improved: ‘If found, return to…’ shirts. However, this time, it was Steve with ‘If Found’ t-shirt.

At first, Steve didn’t know how to feel about the new shirts. Simply because he didn’t seem to see a reason for why he’d get lost or wander or be found in any capacity. But given the surprise Eddie had for him, the reason definitely fit the bill.

What Steve didn’t know, that Eddie one hundred percent knew, was that a Lego store was opening up at the mall. Or, has been opened at the mall. It was the perfect time for a little road trip. A little Fall of 1992 trip to Minnesota. Driving by trees and such. Parking in the Mall of America’s lot. Figuring out what stores to hit first, what food they wanted to eat, where the bathrooms were located. Typical day out sort of things.

However, one moment Steve was with him and the next…Eddie was scouring the food court for his fiancé. Trying not to throw up the meager lunch he just had. Swallowing down panic after panic after panic that rose in his chest like tsunami waves. This place was too big for either of them to wander or get lost or have a mind of their own. Not with the way they impulsively purchases things, an awful habit they both exuded—today is the worst day to do just that.

Which leads him to tapping on the shoulder of a guy around his age. Who’s carrying two large yellow Lego bags. Just sitting back in one of the food court chairs, minding his own business. Until, he whips around to find Eddie startled and red faced. “Uh…Can I help you, man?” The stranger greets.

“Sorry, hi,” Eddie says. “I just—You look like somebody who can maybe help me. I’m looking for my…friend, his name is Steve. Uh—White, around my height, dirty blonde hair. He’s wearing a pair of near skin tight Levi jeans, light wash and a white t-shirt that matches mine. Except, his says ‘If found, return to Eddie’. I’m Eddie, by the way. Anyway—Uh, you probably just came from the Lego store, yeah?”

“Sure,” the guy says, completely unsure of this interaction. “Why do you need to know—“

“So you can like lead me there? I’ve never been there. And like he’s really obsessed with those damn sets and like that’s really cool or whatever, but I need to know where he is because we’re from out of town and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing in this mall or where to—“

“Alright, dude, calm down,” guy placates. “We’ll find your friend. Just…That store is pretty fucking busy. Really popular, you know? I’ll take you there, but with how panicked you are, it would be best if you waited by the entrance of the store. Is that…”

“That’s perfectly fine to me!” Eddie nearly shouts. 

He follows on this person’s heels. Bobbing and weaving through crowds of other over-consumers. Maybe shoving a few of them out of the way just so he can stay with that guy. But eventually, they make it to the outside of the rather precarious Lego store. Its yellow storefront nauseating to Eddie. Almost—Genuinely frustrating him beyond belief. And he sees Steve. Standing near the back of the store. Staring up at one of the shelves, but he lets the stranger he found grab Steve for him. Because no way in hell is Eddie going to survive being swallowed up by the awfully large crowd swamping the store.

Steve emerges from the crowd, a bit offended and a lot upended. But then has the gall to appear sheepish when he’s led directly to Eddie. With a nod and a tight smile, Eddie waves the stranger off. Almost wants to run back and get his name, send him a thank you card from the Hallmark store he saw on their way there.

He turns to face Steve, though. Leans them into the wall. “Jesus, Steve,” Eddie groans. “Is this what you put up with?”

“Is what—“

“The fucking panic? The—The whirling around and checking in the weird obscure places? Tapping on stranger’s shoulders only to see if they have a single goddamn idea where anything is…ever? Like—“ He sighs. “I thought that I’d never find you, Steve! You could’a at least told me you were going to go somewhere on your own. Maybe give me an idea of where you’re going?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Oh, so now that’s important to you?” He petulantly mutters. “Can’t go off and have fun without being pestered—“

“I’m not pestering, Steve!” Eddie grits. “I’m being concerned! I’m—You scared me,” he admits quietly. “And you ruined my surprise.”

“Ruined?” Steve echoes, confused. “What do you…oh. Oh. I—“ Then, Steve looks down to the floor. Eyes ashamed and arms tight to his body. “I didn’t…I was just excited, I’m sorry. The store was on the directory when we first came in and I like—“ He chuckles a little bit, loosening up. “—I fucking memorized where to go. What path to take. Because I just really wanted to look in there. They’ve got—Eddie, they have this one set in there, it’s a freaking spaceship and it’s called the…The Galactic Meditator or something? I can’t—That doesn’t matter,” he rambles. Takes a deep breath and pushes himself tighter into Eddie’s space. “I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Eddie gives a single nod. Closes his eyes and staves off the rest of his panic and anger. He’d be a hypocrite if he lashed out right now. He knows that. And, honestly, seeing Steve geek out about toys…of all things…is kind of endearing. Maybe even doing something for Eddie.

He puts on his best smile, something genuine and pulled from within him. “It’s alright,” he whispers. “I—I should’ve known that you were going to come over here.”

“I mean, you did a little bit, right? Had to find somebody that led you here?”

“You got me,” Eddie breathes. “Y’know all my tricks.”

Steve hums beside him. “I’m actually sorry, though, that I ruined the surprise you had in mind. This is a pretty cool thing.”

Eddie smirks. “Steve Harrington admitting to a geek thing being cool…When did the tables turn?” He teases. “Seems like God has heard my prayers,” he jests. With a quick sneaky look around, he grabs Steve’s hand. Squeezes firmly and exhales the last bit of his panicked nerves. “Does my fiancé want to…Oh, I don’t know…Get a Lego set?”

The hand in his tightens with a harsh, unbelieving amount of strength. He almost winces. “Really?” Steve asks, perking up. If he had a tail, it would most definitely be wagging. “Can we actually? I really want that one that I found in there, the uh…Galactic whatever it was called. I’m bad at the names, which is weird because I’ve been building these sets for a while, but I always seem to get the names wrong and I—“ Eddie interrupts with a squeeze to his hand again, a smile bright and plastered to his face. “Sorry,” Steve sheepishly says, “Let’s go in there. I can show you and maybe…you can get one of your own?”

“Lead the way, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs against Steve’s cheek, leaving a very chaste but all the same kiss there.

The panic was worth it in the end. Because watching Steve in his element, nerd-ing over toys and how to best put them together, really makes Eddie’s chest warm. In a way that tells him he’d put up with wandering all his life, if only to get Steve to smile the way he does when proudly displaying his new spaceship.

👕—————👕

[lonelystarrs]

The Pudding

Barou Shouei x FemReader (Ft Isagi Yoichi)

Barou was acting like you’d been winding him up to brat tame, however you’d been on your best behaviour since Isagi came to crash with you guys for awhile, who knew he’d be such a homewrecker and not even release it was his fault. That pudding Barou was obsessed with do be good though!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI • DomBarou • smut • Barou being Barou. • dirty talk -filth • this do be spicy get your face fans out• 5 years after Blue Lock • Isagi temporary house mate causing arguments • crack • established relationship • the ending tho 💀 isagi you homewrecker.

Frantic, aggressive and a borderline bully -Barou Shouei was showing all these traits when he’d stomped his way over to you, red eyes glowing as his figured shadow drew closer.

Normally you’d do something to warrant this kind of a reaction from him, brat taming you was something he enjoyed and something you found amusing to draw out in him.

Today however? You hadn’t done anything, in fact since Isagi came to crash a couple of days ago with you both for a few weeks you’d been pretty good. Barou only allowed it because Isagi was easy to live with, he knew this from his days in blue lock, collecting laundry and at least trying to aid his level of OCD with cleaning. He was respectful and he, unknowingly to you or anyone else owed Isagi a favour.

Why? That secret would die with Barou -and with Isagi if he kept his word on not telling anyone. Barou had actually asked him to try find out your ring sizes, which he had successfully done -fuck knows how he pulled it off and fuck knows how Barou bit his pride to ask. He wanted someone outside to get the job done, he himself or his sisters would be way too obvious. Apparently he took you shopping with Bachira who you had a soft spot for, the guys eccentric personality made it easy to fall for, he made you try on a load of stacking rings and Isagi remembered the one for your ring finger, clever little shit Barou had to give him that.

“W-wait Barou, s-slow down-“

You tried to tighten your thighs together in an attempt to block him but he’d only pushed his weight by his hips further into you causing you to spread them.

Normally Barou would prep you, much needed considering how thick and long this guy was, he was built like a god head to toe and taking him was always a stretch.

You were actually a little worried at how fired up he was, but equally excited by his sudden attitude shift, he was fine this morning but he was borderline feral at the moment.

Barou snorted a laugh, red eyes looking up to you as he held himself over you. Hands planted by your sides as you gripped onto his forearms to brace yourself, his huge biceps bulging as he held his own weight above you. His shoulders looked fucking huge, pure muscle hovering over you as sweat dripped from his body from his wound up he was getting not even cooling down after he finished a work out. His cock rested hard on your stomach, leaking at the tip.

“Huh? Where’s that cocky attitude gone, girl?”

Eyes returning down he watch himself as he lifted his hips, flexing his thick, heavy cock to hit his stomach watching the pre cum link between him, before dropping it down to press the thick tip to your entrance. You clenched around nothing as he pressed against you, easing the head in.

His deep voice making bumps rise on your skin, there was nothing unmanly about this guy, he oozes testosterone and gruffness, but that voice? God it got you every time, especially when he was threatening you.

“I’ll warn you now-“ he glanced up at you, his gaze harsh as he kept eye contact “-I’d find something to hold onto if I were you. You’re getting devoured, teach you to stop pissing me off.”

You swallowed and he was drinking in how vulnerable you looked under him, eyes glazed and doe like, it sent his ego soaring. The growl that left his chest was feral, eyes flashing as he tried to control himself from pushing himself in with one thrust.

Barou was mean, but not a complete sadist.

You moved a hand to press against the headboard behind you, the other remaining on his forearm.

He felt the tight ring of your cunt protest as he pushed the head in, you were so tight he couldn’t pull the head back as it gripped onto him and it was game over for you when he felt it sucking his cock in.

He pushed through to the hilt, bullying this thick cock through your velvety walls as they gripped him, milking any precum he had crawling up his dick.

“Fucking hell s’fucking warm, how you stay this tight huh? This cock not fucked you enough times?” he breathed out, not once dropping that gruffness his voice carried. He pressed his forehead against yours looking down at his cock buried in you. Barou was big, he had the length and the thickness but this man knew how to roll his cock into you.

“B-Barou s’too much please just -“

“Tch, thought you knew what you were in for? Acting cocky and now whinin’ cause you can’t take me? Suck it up princess, wanna help yourself? Reach down and play with your clit as I fuck you, it’s the only mercy you’re getting.”

You whimpered under him, your hips twitching to try angle yourself better as your pussy clenched around him.

Despite years of being together he was still a stretch to take especially when he’d been away for a few weeks for soccer and you’d not had him. This time, it was because he’d remained rather tame while Isagi was crashing at your place whilst he moved into his new one.

You had no idea why Barou was so pissed off, he only got like this when you’d been teasing him or winding him up until he entered his brat taming mode.

This time though -you hadn’t.

You pussy was soaking, drooling to your ass and over his cock and balls, he tilted his hips so the hilt of his dick rubbed your clit and you threw your head back with an unholy moan.

He withdrew slowly, a deep groan leaving him as he watched his thick dick slide from you covered in slick.

“You’re a mess, acting like you can’t handle it but she’s drooling for me-“ he thrust sharply, hitting that spot in you that made your breath hitch, your mouth fell open as you looked down in slight worry, your hand on his forearm quickly pressed against his six pack.

“Found it already huh? Tch, too easy thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

He rolled his hips beautifully into you, setting a pace that was borderline cruel -hard but not quiet fast enough to build your orgasm as quick as you’d want it.

Barou watched your tits bounce with each thrust into your pussy, hugging him begging it to fill you with his cum, but he wasn’t done yet.

Your vision blurred as he shifted you, only to focus again as he looked down on you folded beneath him. He had hooked both arms under your knees to push you upwards under him, folding you in half as his hands grip the head board behind you to stabilise himself.

Your eyes widened at what he was about to do, tears gathering in your eyes as he moulded you into his own version of a mating press. Mounting you like some animal as he stared down at his prey.

“You’re fucked now, woman.”

His first thrust hit so deep you almost seen stars, head kissing your cervix as he pushed to the hilt whilst rotating his hips in circles.

“Your safe word, you got it?” You nodded dumbly and he pressed a kiss to your leg, a fleeting moment of showing his softness before his annoyance for whatever triggered this took him over again.

Your hand moved to press a finger to your clit and Barou’s eyes followed to watch you rub circles into it, matching his pace to each round.

He was impossibly deep even he could feel resistance to how deeply he’d managed to bury himself into you -actual pride swelling in his chest at you being such a champ and taking him like this. Your clit was hard and burning under the pad of your finger as you eased towards cumming for him. Each squelch of his cock bullying into you, each slap of his skin as his balls hit your ass every moan that left your throat as you begged and spurred him.

Slurring words of adoration for him as he drank everything you gave him, his ego soaring with his heart as he started to rut into you violently. Knuckles turning white as his gripped the head board, sweat dripping from him onto you under him as he pushed himself physically.

“Fuck,” a frustrated growl left him, “-fuck you’re too fucking good.” His words through grunts as he kept up a feral pace. “-you’re fucking made for me.”

“Y-yes!”

“Yeah? You made for this king? Made to take this dick?”

“M-made for you- Ngh-Barou I’m gonna- hah- please I’m cumming, Barou- y-yes there, please-“

“Yeah? Keep fucking begging n slurring all dumb like that, makes me wanna devour you.”

He felt you start to roll your hips under him, your spare hand blinded reaching for his on the head board, finding it you gripped it, fingers laying over his. The finger on your clit started stuttering, picking up a fast messy pace.

“Cummin’ f’you- Bar-King, fuckfuckfuck!”

He smugly watched you lose it under him, body tightening and your toes curling, feeling your pussy clamp around him made him buckle slightly, edging him towards his own release. He didn’t ease you down, instead Barou shifted another gear as his pace turned fast and hard.

“S’Kings gonna fill that pretty cunt up-“

He flipped his hand, twisting it to lace his fingers through yours and planting beside your head, letting one of your legs lower. Barou pressed his lips to your leg still held up by his other, placing wet kisses between bites, panting through his nose as he groan into your skin holding between his teeth.

His thrusts turned sloppy but kept their hardness fucking into you like an alpha fucking his mate through a rut.

“Take it all -fuuuuuck!”

He hunched over you pressing his hips to yours as he spilled into you, cock flexing inside you as he moaned into your leg, red eyes half hooded and glazed. His hips twitched against you as you clenched around him, stomach muscles flexing in little spasms as he came hard emptying into you.

The room was filled with both your panting, coming down from your highs and Barou released you, sitting back onto his folded legs spread. You whimpered as his cock pulled from you now half hard as he softened. Your legs bent up and still spread, shaking as you felt the tremors start to inch up your body. Hands shaking you sat up onto your elbows, Barou was still breathing heavy, red eyes fixed on your swollen pussy starting to leak out his cum and he groaned again. It was the only kind of mess he deemed somewhat acceptable. Running a hand through his hair you could see him shaking lightly, a smug smirk made it’s way to your face.

“The fuck is with that smug smile? Knock it off,”

“You’re shaking.”

“I fucking wouldn’t be if you hadn’t ate the last pudding!”

“What?” You deadpanned at him, “-I didn’t.”

“Don’t bullshit me, I didn’t eat it and it was there this morning.”

“-wait, Barou did you just fuck me like that cause you thought I ate your last pudding?!”

“Hardly the first time, you act like a brat to get fucked like one. Got what you wanted now go out and replace it!”

“I can’t fucking walk! You literally just beat my pussy up!”

“Yeah? I’ll do it again until you stop stealing my shit!”

“I didn’t eat it Barou!”

Meanwhile Isagi sat in the spare room listening to you both from across the hall. -completely forgotten about that he was currently residing with you guys and was actually in the building.

An impressively raging hard on at the inspirational rough sex he’d just heard whilst looking down at his hands, one with a spoon and the other holding an empty container for pudding. He’d been eating it whilst you guys fucked like animals in your bedroom. Like popcorn at a cinema.

Man, Barou really liked his damn pudding, Isagi didn’t think he’d heard him that angry since he called the king a donkey back in Blue Lock 5 years ago.

He shrugged and cleaned the spoon off, ah well Barou didn’t know it was actually him who’d stolen the last pudding, ‘sides it was worth it listening to that.

© pharix 2023 permission is not given to repost, translate or post anywhere else.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 42

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 39, part 40, part 41

“And I know he doesn’t mean any of it,” Wayne explains, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “I’m just tired of it.”

Hopper scoffs. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Wayne needed to get out of the house. Do something other than go to work. Go somewhere where he can just calm down from it all. Not have to get in the middle of a fight or have one.

Eddie doesn’t fight with Wayne as much as he does with Steve, but it’s there. Wayne’s just used to it. Knows how to bite back enough to get Eddie to stop. Has the history where Eddie knows where to draw the line. Where to stop.

But Steve just lets him yell. Lets him scream and insult and hurt. Does it right back, not giving a shit what happens afterward. It’s giving Eddie exactly what he wants.

“I know why he does it. He’s angry and in pain, so he takes it out on us. I just wish he would stop. It’s not helping anything.”

“Hey, dad,” Jim’s kid pops her head out of the doorway. “Can I go over to Max’s?”

“Yeah, see if Jonathan can take you.”

Jim’s kid, who Wayne knows by at least three different names and can’t for the life of him figure out which one is the real one, shakes her head. “He already said that he is busy.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “Course he is. Give me like twenty minutes and I’ll drive you over.”

“Ok.” She lets the door swing back shut.

“Jonathan Joyce’s son?” Wayne asks. Willing to take a moment off from dealing with his own stuff.

Jim nods. “Her oldest. He hasn’t been busy since Wheeler broke up with him. Probably just getting high in his room.”

Wayne scoffs. “You let him do that?”

“He’s an adult, he can make his own decisions. As long as I don’t catch him while on the clock, I won’t do anything. I’m more worried about him.”

Wayne doesn’t know much about Jim’s personal life. Other than before he met Joyce, back when his kid was in the hospital. He knows that him and Joyce have been together for a few months now, and that they merged families. But he doesn’t know about his relationship with Joyce’s kids. Jim doesn’t talk about them a lot.

He’s pretty reserved, Wayne realized. Which isn’t a problem, Wayne can be reserved most of the time as well. But it was nice to have someone to relate to. Someone his age, who can understand his viewpoint more. They’re on the same understanding level.

Wayne’s never been the type of person to make and keep a friend. There were the people he grew up with in high school. People he worked with. His neighbors. But beyond basic friendliness, there really wasn’t a bond. It was different with Jim. Their understandings turning into camaraderie. Maybe turning into friendship.

It’s almost stupid to think of it that way. Two men in their fifties becoming friends. For some reason, it doesn’t sound right. But Wayne has liked being able to lean on someone during this. Someone that isn’t the twenty year old that he lives with.

He sees the kids all rally around each other. They way that they are there for each other. Adapting with their new lives and moving forward, together. Able to cope with the changes of their lives as a group, rather than the individual.

It would be nice to have something like that.

“What do you mean?” Wayne offers, hoping Jim will open up.

Jim exhales a line of smoke. “He doesn’t have many friends. Only this one kid that he met out in California. But no one here. Other than Wheeler, he just had his family. I just wish he had someone to talk to about all of this. But he just shuts himself in his room and gets high. And don’t even get me started when I try to ask, he just snaps and pushes me out.”

“I have some experience with that.” He flicks his cigarette. “Honestly, it just takes time. If you keep showing up for them, they eventually start to open up to you.”

“I guess.” Jim stubs out his cigarette.

“Mr. Munson,” Jim’s kid calls out the door again. “There’s someone one the phone for you.”

Wayne tosses his bud into the ash tray, nodding. He heads inside, following the kid to the phone. “Hello.”

“Hey, it’s Steve. Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“No, that’s ok. What’s happening?”

Steve sighs. “Eddie hasn’t come out of his room all day. He’s locked the door and I can’t get him to come out. I thought maybe he might for you.”

Wayne rubs a hand down his face. “I’m heading back. Thanks for letting me know.”

“Ok. See you soon.”

He hangs the phone back on the receiver. Double checking that he has everything.

“That was Steve, wasn’t it?” A voice Wayne doesn’t recognize comes from behind him.

When he turns, he sees what he is assuming is Jonathan. Wearing clothes that look like they’ve been slept in. “It was.”

Jonathan scoffs. “So he calls our house now, great.”

“Jonathan,” Jim tries to scold. His voice rounding around the edges, trying not to be too harsh.

“No, I’m sick of this. It’s always Steve this and Steve that. I don’t get why he’s so great now. After all that he did. After that shit he pulled over spring break with Nancy. I don’t get what’s so great about the guy that he’s suddenly revered.”

“Oh my god, not again,” another voice comes from the living room. “You need to give it a rest, Jonathan.”

Wayne makes his way toward the door, feeling very out of place right now.

“Will, you don’t know what he said.”

“But I know what he’s done since then. You haven’t heard the things he’s done to protect the rest of us. You’re so blinded by the shit that happened three years ago to think that he could have changed.”

He hears a door slam as he makes his way to the porch. Letting out a long breath when he makes his way to his car.

“Sorry about that,” Jim apologizes.

“Do you know what that was about?”

He wants to know. Surprisingly. He’s living in Steve’s house. Trusting him with Eddie. If there was something that happened, especially whatever it was with Nancy. Considering that she and Steve seem to be really close now. With all that flirting he’s been doing with Eddie.

He needs to know that whatever Steve’s intentions are, they’re not going to screw Eddie over.

“Not really. I think it’s just an old grudge that he’s let fester.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Thanks for the smoke. I hope things get better for you.”

“Same goes for you. See you around.”

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[endataraxia]

sage forest mental institution.

chapter 1: pilot word count: 2.5k note: yes this is a rewrite. i am sorry. also on AO3. here is the link.

Working in Wing F, evaluation and quarantine, allows for you to observe a whole slew of mental disorders. Some make sense to you, and would as well to the layman. Some simply do not, and the shit-grade doctors at Sage Fores are apparently as stupid as they seem and dropped the fuck to be given between the cracks of drainage.

Three new patients come in, along with a cold gust of wind.

The transport officer, Jeremy, offers you his greetings once again.

“’Sup, lil’ bro?” To him, gender is irrelevant, and so is age. You’re not even sure how much older he is than you, or if he is at all, but you’d gotten used to the term of affection long ago.

“Nothing much, Jeremy. Thanks for bringing them in. Need a snack?” You offer, knowing the man to have an endless pit for a stomach.

“Aw shit, you know I do.” So you toss him a pack of three Oreos. The only thing stronger than the man’s lactose intolerance is apparently his love for the cookies.

Four other officers—they have to be new, you’d never seen any of their faces before—bring the new patients to be evaluated into the building, distributing them into their cells.

One patient with light brown hair and baby blues, still in prisoner’s clothes, speaks up. “May I be placed next to him?” His hands, cuffed, weakly gesture to the bearded man next to him.

And with a sharp wham he’s beaten into the ground. Jeremy, still with Oreos in his mouth, is startled.

Something tugs at your gut.

“Who the fuck gave you the right to touch my patient?” You snap, not recognizing the volume and ferocity of your own voice.

The nameless officer, his face now burned into your mind’s eye, opens his mouth, only to stutter.

Jeremy’s hand shoots out between both of you and places his back to his subordinate. You vaguely register the third patient—the one with a shaggy brown mop of hair—help up the one who spoke.

“I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it,” defends Jeremy half-heartedly. You know this guy well enough to figure out that he’s just defending a newbie on the job.

“Not your fault, Jeremy,” you mutter. “But keep him on a leash or something. I don’t care if he beats other prisoners or something, but,” you step closer to look the new officer in the eye, his own orbs glazed over with a hint of fear and remorse, “remember that my job is hard enough as it is. I now have to treat a wound and whatever trauma that person suffered from you.”

The new officer gulps. “S-sorry.”

“Hm.” You keep your response curt so as to avoid any words that might let him think what he did was marginally okay.

You turn back to get a good look at your poor patient. “Sorry about that. What’s your name?” You always preferred asking your patients directly instead of referring to a document serving only to persecute them.

“Brian Thomas,” he croaks out, but not before his eyes flit to your nametag. “I’m fine, I was just caught off guard.”

“I’ll still have to send you to medical later,” you say apologetically. “Here, as an apology.” You pull another pack of Oreos out of your pocket.

The man smiles weakly at you, accepting the cookies. “Thank you.”

This batch of new patients seems to be rather well-behaved and rational, instead of the violent type you get most of the time. They are, after all, being sent to an asylum for the criminally insane.

---

After Jeremy and his subordinates are gone, you settle your patients in with the help of Andrea, a nurse from another wing. In this godforsaken asylum, you believe only her to have a good heart. She was the one who helped you get settled in with this job when you’d first entered 8 months ago.

And as Brian Thomas had wished, you placed him and his pal next to each other. You note that the three of them seem close, which might make your job easier. If you can’t coax something out of one of them, there are two others to try it on.

“It’s only two weeks, and if you’re lucky, maybe just one,” you had told the three men, who all provided you with no noteworthy reactions.

No meds were needed at this point in quarantine, unless the doctor determined that they were in need of it, which was usually in the later stages of quarantine, and usually signified their release into the main asylum.

Administrative work is a blur as always. All work in this gloomy building is to you, and every day is a dissociative fog to you until you get to visit your own patients in their rooms.

The first one you visit is the one whom Brian had requested to be put next to, and you did indeed place them in adjacent cells. His dossier carries the name “Timothy Wright”.

You knock on the door respectfully— a thing you do for your patients in hopes they don’t lose the sense that they’re still a person. This asylum is no cozy home, but if you don’t try to make it one for them, they’ll probably lose their minds.

No response comes from within the room. You take it as an absence of objection to your intrusion, and enter.

“Hey, man.” You include a deliberate casualness in your tone, hoping it’ll help set the man at ease.

The cell includes a simple bathroom cubicle in the corner, complete with a sink and a mirror right next to it. The floor is tiled and the bedframe crickety. On the rare occasion that a patient invites you to sit on the bed with them, you find that the mattress can barely be classified as decent.

Timothy sits on the bed, his attention now captured by you. “Hey.”

You allow a calculated amount of silence between you and him, allowing for him to speak his mind. He does.

“You still got some of those Oreos?” He asks.

This question is not unexpected. “Yeah.” And you toss him a packet from your coat’s pocket.

He catches it with ease. “You, uh…just keep those in your pocket?”

You can recall a patient or two who’s asked you that question before, so you take it as an opportunity to explain. “Sometimes we give these out to patients who’re well-behaved as a reward.” You pause, choosing your words carefully to balance both honesty and a sense of warmth. “But honestly I don’t like that we only give it as a reward. It’s like you’re dogs to be rewarded. Just don’t tell anyone else that I simply give out Oreos.”

You say this as if damn near half the asylum patients don’t already know you for your free Oreos, though they’re all bribed with a free Oreo pack pass to keep it a secret from the asylum. The rest of the staff, save for Andrea, just think you’re nice and happen to give the treats for every single good deed the patients carry out. Though, you’re still careful, lest a single glance at your wing’s stash of sundry Oreos betray you. So you make it a point to buy them from the convenience store outside your home with your own pay, and replenish the stock every day, making sure the stash seems untouched.

Timothy simply nods in understanding, opening the pack to pop a cookie into his mouth whole. Next up is something you don’t expect.

“Want one?” He holds the open pack to you.

“Uh.” Then you laugh. “Why not?” You make sure not to reject, placing yourself on the same level as him. That is to say, lacking a stash of Oreos. Pulling an Oreo out of the packet in his hand, you pop it into your mouth too.

“Thanks, man,” you say through a mouthful of Oreo. After you swallow, you ask his name.

“You can just call me Tim.” You note that even he prefers the shorter version of his name.

“Alright, Tim. If you ever need me, just call me. Okay?”

He provides a simple nod in response, then offers an “okay” in return.

You nod. Everything in his room is in order, and he seems to require no more than just that simple check-in.

The door closes.

---

The next to visit on your list is Brian, who sits on the bed, an ice pack pressed to his cheek with Andrea crouched by his side. She notices your presence, gets up and whispers to you.

“I’ll leave you to it, hun.” She knows you don’t like your patients surrounded by more than one nurse or doctor if necessary, so you thank her silently and turn to face your patient once your colleague is gone.

Brian’s swelling seems to already have gone down, with the darkness of the bruise already fading to a dark green. “You heal quite fast,” you remark.

Straightening up, you hold a hand out to him. “I’m Y/N, a nurse here.” He grabs your hand and shakes it firmly with a slight smile on the good side of his face. “I’m Brian Thomas.” You chuckle. “Yes, I have your dossier here,” you joke, albeit a lame, half-assed one.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what happened earlier,” you begin. “Usually, those guys don’t touch my patients ‘cause they know what happens if they do—I’ll sock them right back— but it seems these ones were new. I’ll see what I can do about it, disciplinary actions or getting them barred from here or something.”

Brian smiles, letting out a huff of a laugh through his nose. “No need. I can see why they act like that. In prison…sometimes it’s necessary.” When that doesn’t seem to reassure you, he adds, “I’ve been through a lot worse. Trust me. It’s okay.”

You’re not reassured, not in the slightest bit. But years of experience with patients have taught you to go along with them. Forcing them in your own direction would do no good for either of you.

“If you say so,” is what your mouth and brain collectively settle on. “Doesn’t mean you should be treated like that, though. Any staff touches you, let me know.” You smile a little at the following thought, “Everyone knows not to touch the patients in my wing.”

That’s not to say you’re the head of the wing. You feel a little ick, even, at claiming that this is “your wing”. But seeing as patients leave the wing happy or even a little better than before, you think it’s fine.

“Are you three friends…?” You ask.

Brian replies. “Tim and I are. The third one, Toby, is new to, uh… us.”

Something tells you not to press it.

“Right then. That reminds me, I’ve gotta get around to Toby. Uh…,” You refer to the third one’s dossier. “Is calling him Toby okay, or should I be calling him Tobias?”

Brian’s eyes darken. “Don’t ever call him Tobias.”

So you enter Toby’s room, and make a mental note to never call him Tobias, because he could be dangerous if you do so.

---

I didn’t expect us to find the one so soon.

---

You enter Toby’s room and make a mental note to never call him Tobias, because he could be dangerous if you do so.

But it seems otherwise to you.

What sticks out to you, more of a concern than even his potentially murderous behavior upon being called his real name, is the bandage on his cheek. While Toby was indeed quiet at first, especially on your first visit, with small, retracted body language, knees pulled to his chin and short, quiet responses, he quickly warmed up.

After countless “yes, no, maybe, I don’t know”s, you insert an innocent, “You can call me any time for anything you need,” and his eyes light up. You think that perhaps he’s just lonely, and anticipate a lot of calls from him. 

And you’re right to do so, with him calling you for every little thing.

Every. Little. Thing.

“Y/N, I can’t tie the robe at the back…,” whines Toby as he half-heartedly reaches and grabs at the ribbon behind his back. 

“Okay,” you laugh, and reach out to tie it for him. And then, gently, he grasps your hand, perhaps to guide it to the ribbon. You’re not allowed to touch patients. But for him, for just this once, maybe you’ll let him. 

But he turns around to face you, brown eyes unreadable. 

“You really mean it, right? That I can call you for anything?”

You’re caught off guard by the whole thing. “Uh…,” You laugh nervously. “Yeah. Yes.” Before you’re about to blabber on in nervousness about why and how he should, he grins, eyes brightening a little.

“Great! I’ll see you later.”

He does, in fact, see you later.

To put it lightly, Toby calls you a lot. To put it bluntly, he calls you for a lot of stupid shit.

“Y/N,” he’d whine, dragging out the syllables of your name, “I’m bored!” So you give him a book. Then, you play a board game with him. Finally, you attempt to teach him biology, which a man his age should really not be marveling at, given the rudimentariness of the content you rattle off.

“Y/N,” he’d whine again, “I’m hungry!” And you’d tease, “You just had lunch, Toby.” 

“But I’m hungryyyyy!” He’d exclaim. “I get hungry easily. And I’m hungry now.”

You begrudgingly pull out a pack of Oreos from your pocket.

And now, it’s the 64th time, at the end of two weeks, and most likely the last time he’ll get to call on you like this. Though you’d usually begrudgingly heed his call and head over with a slight drag in your steps, you decide that today, now, you may as well entertain his silly little questions for the last time.

And so you knock on the door and enter upon his “Come in!”, bracing yourself for whatever nonsensical request he might make. 

A nonsensical request he makes indeed. “Y/N,” he mumbles, fidgeting with his hands. “Can you…uh… turn around for a moment?”

Never turn your back to a patient, not when they’re criminally insane. But today, now, your guard is down, and your brain somehow forgets that you might land yourself in danger.

You laugh, dismissing his silly request as “just a Toby thing”, and twirl around, only exposing your back for a moment. 

One second is all it takes. You only turn 180 degrees, barely a completion of your round.

You hit the floor with a thud.

note: sorry for all the page breaks. i promise it'll get better soon.

[bryngmemoney]

✁FASHION FLIRT✃

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

⭑story masterlist link

tw:none

🪡Chapter Twenty-six: Ignored

“Uno.”

“Oh you suck Y/n,” Nobara said, reaching to pick up a card from the pile in front of you. You just smile, officially winning the game when you place down your last card.

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” Maki said as she put a safety pin through Yuta’s shirt. Yuta jumped when he felt a prick at his side, “Ow.” Maki looked at him apologetically, “Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

“I’m basically finished, just waiting for Gojo to check over them. He saw Yuki’s already and I finished the the guys’ today.”

“And Nobara finished as well? Because we planned to come here to work on the clothes.” Maki questioned.

“Yeah they’re all good, everyone’s set,” Nobara looked down shuffling the cards together for another round. “You’re positive?” you asked as you watched her flip the cards together. “It’s just a few details, i’ll finish it next class, i’m exhausted from this week.”

“Well good for you guys then,” Maki turned back to Yuta trying figure out what needed adjustments to make the shirt fit him right. “Do you need some help Maki?”

“No it’s fine Y/n. I just don’t know why I can’t get Yuta’s shirt to fit him the way I want it too, it’s annoying having to continue to rip the seems apart and everything.”

“Don’t worry Maki, i’m sure you’ll get it right!” Yuta encouraged, trying to not seem off put by the threat of more safety pins poking him.

You and Nobara gave encouragement to her, then returned to your game, only for your attention to turn back to Maki a few minutes later when the sound of a metal clink echoed through the room.

“Shit!”

“What happened?” Nobara asked, leaning slightly around your head as you turned around to look at Maki who was currently sitting in front of a sewing machine. Yuta turned to you guys with a worried look “Ugh, I think this thing is broken, and it ruined the shirt.” Maki, clearly frustrated just stared at the piece of clothing in front of her. “I don’t have anymore of the same fabric either.”

You, Nobara and Yuta all exchanged a glance, trying to silently figure out a way to help.

“I could go and run to the store and get more fabric,” Yuta offered. “And I can go with you! I went with Maki to the store that one time. I know which ones you used, but we can take the receipt just to be sure,” you added on.

“I can stay here and help with whatever you need,” Nobara walked over to where Maki was sitting, willing to just be moral support or do whatever was needed.

“That.. that would be great actually, thanks.”

Finally getting into the car after packing all of Maki’s fabric from the list she had sent you, you sighed leaning against the seat. It shouldn’t have taken more than hour to drive, get the fabrics, then drive back and meet them at the room. However you and Yuta had the unfortunate luck of having to deal with a clueless employee. As patient as you two were being, how could they say they didn’t sell what you were looking for in the store, that you were at the wrong place when the name at the top of the receipt was the location you were currently at?

“That was exhausting,” Yuta mumbled, starting up the car ready to take you two back. “Poor Maki, she really wanted to get everything done, but I don’t think she’ll finish today,” you said while unlocking your phone, only to be met with a few messages from Megumi, the last one specifically catching your eye.

“Shit.”

Author’s Note: r.i.p. maki

was originally gonna make y/n and nobara play b.s. but then i realized that doesn’t rlly work with two ppl

quick question tho guys, would u want two chapters tomorrow ill probably have them ready

but anyways hope you guys enjoyed!

Taglist below, feel free to comment or dm me to be added!!

TAGLIST

@iridescentrays @gumimegz @maya-maya-56 @mamafly @lunavixia @swissy23 @coltsgf @m00nglad3-mp3 @etsukis @xosren @qtnfer @oengleli @harek89 @y-sabell-a @morgyyyyyyy @getolvr @liliumaraneae @k3lbade @aiieera @dancedancey @get0sfav @chuyasthighs0 @hyssoplampflickers @kpopanimen @sad-darksoul @vivi-loves-penguins @kasumitenbaz @talkingsperm @nymphsdomain @inlovewithlondonn @rzcnlb @enchantingkitty @fuyuzemi @lysaray @ni-ki-ismyluv @renemy @frumira @mixzimi @miralunaela @dreamxiing @p3achiee @anianurst @nishii28 @arguendo @samutoru @hallothankmas @invisible-mori @aiserex @all-in-the-fandoms @milza12 @nyxlai @daintyminho @tokyodarlng

[maximumsunshine]

I’ll keep this brief. I’m a newly single mother of 4 kids with complex needs. I’m also recovering from cancer, and I am currently battling liver failure brought on by said cancer. I’m working my ass off to make ends meet while trying to take care of all my kids, but it’s just not enough. My eldest is trying to get a job to help with funds, so it’s not just me working, and we're in the process of getting my 14yo on SSI, but until then, we need help. A lot of help.

Realistically, I need to make $10,000 to keep from losing our home by the end of the year. I have a GoFundMe set up for this amount (Here is the link to my ongoing GoFundMe). I know this is a lot and likely unattainable, so I am breaking it down into monthly goals.

Right now, I need to stretch 2 paychecks I’m getting on December 8th and 23rd by about $900 each, which is more than usual due to missed work for surgery and now surgery recovery complications.  And I need to figure out January rent which is $1468.

My goal for December is $3300.  My PayPal is here.   Please ignore my deadname.

An end to this is in sight. I just need to make it a little further. My 23yo will be bringing in money soon thanks to school and we're about at a point of a decision on the SSI. We're so close! I just need help to keep a warm roof over our heads and food in our bellies a little longer. Good things are coming!

Please reblog.

Edit: It's December not November. I uh shouldn't write these on ER given pain meds. But I was in an ER going oh shit more missed work.

[its-time-to-write]

Hi! I requested the last Jamie tartt/Kent!Sister that’s not phoebes mom.

Do you think you could another one with phoebe and Roy spending the day with them and phoebe making Roy jealous of how she adores Jamie? And reader just getting baby fever,and Roy figuring out she is and freaking out. Lol sorry it’s a lot! Thanks and love ur writing✨💜

Your wish is my command! I’m trying to get out of my writer’s block, so hopefully I’ll have more fics out tomorrow. We’ll see!

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

Molly is at work. Again. Which means you’re watching Phoebe with your brother, Roy. You point out that Roy doesn’t technically have to be here, but Phoebe vehemently protests that he does. 

“Who will be the princess?” she asks, and you decide not to tell her that you wouldn’t mind. You sneak photos of Roy in the tiara to send to Jamie under the express condition that he never show anyone else. Jamie tells you that seeing the photo is enough for him. 

Jamie is not scared of Roy, by the way. Sure, he’s dating the youngest Kent sibling and sure, Roy hates his guts, but it’s all a show, innit? 

At least, that’s what Molly tells you both when you’re sitting at her kitchen table, distraught at 11pm. 

But regardless of Roy’s feelings, he’s going to have to get over it because you love Jamie and he’s here to stay and that’s that. You’re actually meeting him at the park (per Phoebe’s request) and then the four of you are headed to lunch and a movie. 

Jamie’s waiting on a bench by the time you make it to the park, and he lights up at the sight of you. He stands to greet you, but is intercepted by a running Phoebe. He puts his footballer reflexes to good use as he swings her high into the air as you shake your head grinning, and Roy just shakes his head. 

You watch Jamie put Phoebe back on the ground and begin some elaborate secret handshake and, like lightning, you’re struck with a feeling of oh shit.

“Oh shit,” you breathe aloud. 

Roy takes a sideways glance at you and his frown deepens.  “No,” he says, but you’re not listening. 

Because all you can think about is Jamie swinging your own kid into the air, or holding a tiny baby, or teaching a toddler how to kick a football.

In fact, it’s all you can think about the entire time you’re out. You forget to breathe as he teases Phoebe about her lunch order and Roy has to elbow you and say, “For fuck’s sake.” 

Phoebe is holding Jamie’s hand and skipping on the way to the movie while you and Roy walk a ways behind them. His knee’s hurting him a little bit, so you’ve linked your arm around his.

“Just like when we were kids, huh Roy-o?” you grin.

Roy snorts. “Don’t really remember us walking fucking hand-in-hand, unless it was me dragging you away from Molly and her fucking marshmallow shooter.”

You shudder. “You know she used to lick them so they’d stick to us, right?”

Roy grimaces. “And you want a kid with marshmallow-licking genes with fucking Tartt? He’s practically a fucking child himself.”

You open your mouth to protest but Roy shakes his head. 

“Don’t fucking argue with me, I see how you fucking look at him when he’s with Phoebe. Can practically hear the fucking wedding bells.”

You check to see if Jamie’s looking (he isn’t) then you punch Roy in the arm. “Fuck off, Roy. You love being an uncle. And Molly keeps asking when me and Jamie are going to take another step in our relationship, and maybe this is it. I mean sure, he’s a footballer and like probably the best one Richmond has ever seen-” Roy interjects with an oi- “and generally footballers don’t even want to settle down, but he’s dating me, and sure, it’s probably a little to fuel his obsession with you, I mean come on, our family has great eyebrows so it’s not a surprise that Jamie and I are together and fucking hell, Roy, he’d be such a great dad.”

Roy says, “You talked to fucking Molly about this?” like he’s been betrayed by his best friend.

You shrug with the one arm that isn’t held in his. “We all grew up in the same home and you didn’t realize that Molls is fucking nosy? Come on, Roy.”

Roy says, “Fucking hell,” and then you’re at the movie theater and unable to continue talking.

—

It is fucking late and you’re back at Jamie’s house. It’s just you two, and you’re in the kitchen with the dim lights on. You stayed at Molly’s after the movie while Roy cooked dinner, then stayed till she got back from the hospital. You and Jamie both decided you weren’t tired, which is why you’re on the floor of the kitchen eating out of a tub of ice cream.

You’ve both made a considerable dent when you put your spoon down and say, “Jamie.”

“Hm?” he asks, mouth full of mint chip.

“Do you-” you hesitate. “Do you ever think about where this is going?”

Jamie swallows and is silent, so you continue talking.

“I mean, obviously we don’t have to talk about it, I know that it’s a lot and we’re kind of just messing around, right? And with football and all that you don’t really have the whole settling-down kind of lifestyle, and anyway if you do it should probably be with a model or a pop star, especially since you’ve got the whole Beckham look going on right now.”

Jamie rolls his eyes and laughs. “That’s what you think? I’ve got the girl of my dreams and you think I’d dump you for a fucking model?”

You shrug without meeting his eyes.

“Oi,” Jamie says softly. “Is that really what you think? Or is this about something else?” He nudges your shoulder with his.

You sigh and turn to face him. “Look, I’ll tell you, but don’t fucking laugh or I’ll get Roy to mess you up.”

Jamie nods.

“I have baby fever.”

Jamie breaks into a grin and despite yourself, you mirror it.

“Don’t fucking laugh!” you protest, “It’s a real thing! And I have it so fucking bad, that all I could think about today is how much I wanted to go home and fuck you. I have no idea what we even did today. And Molly is always on me about giving Pheebs a cousin but I think it would actually kill Roy if I had a kid, because he still thinks of me as his baby sister even though I’m a literal adult.”

Jamie is shaking with poorly suppressed laughter and you shove him with your shoulder. “Why are you laughing, Jamie?” you giggle. “This is a real issue!”

Jamie is practically wheezing, doubled over and holding his sides. 

“Babe,” he manages to get out, “usually I’m the one who’s thinking about fucking you all the time. It’s fucking hilarious that it was you. Now you know what it’s like.”

Good lord, this boy. 

“And,” he continues, starting to wind down, “I didn’t realize Molly was talking to ya. Would’ve said something sooner if I knew.” He takes the ice cream out of your hands and pulls you onto his lap. You’re facing him, straddling his thighs. He places one hand on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck. “Love,” he says, “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a fucking lot, actually. I want all that shit with you, a wedding, kids, whatever. I ain’t ever letting you go.”

You smile and thread your fingers through his hair. “Oh yeah?” you ask. “What else have you thought about?”

Jamie’s eyes darken and his tongue darts between his teeth. “Well,” he says, hands sliding from your neck to your waist and under your shirt, “though about all the work it takes to make a baby.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, except it comes out as a gasp because his hands are tracing soft patterns on your skin and you’re barely keeping yourself together, but you manage to breathe out a, “What else?”

Jamie smirks. “Well babe, pretty sure we’d have to be somewhere other than the floor to get the whole experience.”

You’re on your feet in a flash and pulling Jamie up the stairs to the bedroom. You’re good with this type of future planning.

[thequestionisalwaysmangoes]

So I’ve just made it to 20 weeks in a row of posting my shit on ao3, and its gone better than anticipated, so I’m trying this out, too. My first fic was a DCU crackfic where Lois Lane knows that Clark wants piercings but given the whole man of steel thing but then remembers that Kon had piercings and figures out pretty quickly that Tim Drake was the most likely person in Kon’s life to be able to pull that off. So naturally she shows up at his day job.

““I’m sorry, you want me to do what?” Tim Drake, in civilian clothes, in his civilian office, asked Lois Lane, who was sitting across from him, on behalf of fucking Superman.

“Pierce Clark’s ears,” Lois fucking Lane replied, “Also, maybe his tongue, depending on how the ears go.”

“I,” Tim started, “You’ve been talking to Conner.”

“Yup. Clark mentioned having always wanted a few piercings a few weeks ago, Conner came over a few days later, I asked where he got his and he got all blushy and refused to tell me, probably because of the nipple piercings or possibly another that I don’t really want to think about. So naturally, I assumed it must be you, his multitalented boyfriend that he goes to for everything and who could probably get access to everything he would need to get the job done.” She gave him a pointed look at the thinly veiled reference to kryptonite and red sun lamps.

He sighed. “Clark’s birthday is next week, isn’t it.”

“Mmhm.”

Tim considered her for a minute. “I have a project I’ve been working on that I need a bit of good publicity for, but for all Bruce’s influence, the reporters in Gotham are decidedly skewed toward the dramatic. You write and publish piece for me, unbiased, and I’ll do the ears and tongue if he wants it. Anymore and we’ll renegotiate based on trauma accumulated.”

Lois grinned.”

Anyway, here’s the link if you’re interested. Also, it’s a series now. Enjoy<3