#It was still a pain to redo but it took me way less time

[poesielibre]

Color Me Blind now live

Adding 120 blindness options to Character Creation !

Poesielibre's Color Me Blind A blindness mod at Baldur's Gate 3 Nexus - Mods and community

Poesielibre's Color me Blind, a blindness mod for Baldur's Gate 3 - mod.io

This mod almost didn't see the light of day as I lost access to all my in progress project to the toolkit, but I ended up remaking it again, adding even more options.

[brianlesshetaliawritings]

if you're still doing requests- nsfw alphabet with switzerland 👉👈

i am my motivation just doesn't agree if that makes sense and most of my requests i'm either far too ambitious with and keep re-writing or are just not something i'm interested in rn. thank u for handing me an excuse to write about the guy. was an easy and fun write. might have minor errors. very sorry this took a bit ! (also- should i redo the yandere alphabet with him? i feel its REALLY ooc now that i re-read it..)

Switzerland NSFW Alphabet

warnings : nsfw ofc, nothing intense otherwise though. made him dominant here, request again if you want him submissive.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Not the most extra individual, but it's definitely not non-existent or anything. he will be ensuring you're not in pain, not thirsty, not uncomfortable.. He'll probably want to clean up and whatnot though once confirmed that you're all good.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes his own eyes, they're always useful and a lot of his activities frequently require good eyesight, which he has. Definitely enjoys his hands too though, he's pretty used to work that requires physical labor so they're helpful too.

He's never said it, but it's easy to tell your thighs and hips are a favorite of his regarding activities such as these. His hands frequently drift there, and so does his line of sight when he thinks you're not looking.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers it inside, just more convenient in his opinion. He'll understand if you want it outside though, then it'll usually just end up somewhere else on your body, no particular areas of interest really.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Although he feels really creepy for doing it, if you gave him literally any shirts, pants, or anything along those lines as a gift, he likely smelt it while jerking off. It just really gets him going, and he hates it (loves it, just won't admit it to himself).

Also, side note, has thought about fucking in the forest. He usually doesn't like risks, but he feels really in his element when out in the woods and his mind can't help but drift to such thoughts.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Unexperienced, but not really dumb to what he should do and the alike. Might secretly read a bit to learn what all he should look out for, or do. Keeps looking away every ten seconds though throughout his research because he's sort of a prude.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Usually goes for Missionary. He's a very simple man, and doesn't like to get too weird when it's up to positions, so it just fits him. Would also be willing to do some other ones though, as long as they aren't too squished or require too much flexibility. It's not like he can't handle either of those, it's just very distracting to him and this is definitely something he likes to focus on.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not a silly guy in general, even less lighthearted when having sex. Finds it awkward if you make any jokes, but wouldn't mind if you laughed at any accidents or anything like one of you slipping.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Doesn't see the point to shaving that which very few people will ever see, but he also doesn't like being overly hairy. He keeps it trimmed to a shorter length, just seems like a waste of time to do anything more. It's the same colour as his hair too, not even like the slightest difference.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Not overly romantic, but it's the small things he does that shows his affection. Always keeps an eye out to make sure you're comfortable, has a tendency to adjust you without asking just to be sure you're in a nice spot. Still embarrased to kiss you, by the way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only when he finds it neccessary. Switzy is a rather prudent man, and sexual activity doesn't really land on his mind that often. Sometimes though, he does have those straying thoughts. Ones he has to handle himself. Ones he internally punishes himself for, but exist nevertheless.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Sorta likes the idea of outdoor sex. Just scared of getting caught, is all. He's very much a fan of nature, and he's spent lots of time in it. He largely prefers it there over cities any day of the week. So maybe on some of his property, further out, after he's scoped the whole area and put a million "no trespassing" signs up. (And likely brought a gun.. Just incaese.)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Bedroom, usually. Bathroom, occasionally. Elsewhere, in your dreams. Too horrified at the idea of his sister coming to visit him just to get scarred for life. Hates to do anything outside his/your own home, ignoring the above section of course (when he gets brave enough to test that out).

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As I might've mentioned earlier, he loves your thighs and hips. Size doesn't matter, scarring doesn't matter.. HE JUST LOVES THEM! If visible, they instantly catch his attention, and sort of distract him. Only a teensy bit though, he's not gawking at you or anything.. Also likes it if you give him lots of big kisses while you rub him up. Anywhere on his body too, really, it's his favorite thing. (Even more- he loves if you squeeze his butt. He might huff a bit if you do, but trust, he secretely adores it.)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything that risky. In any way you can think of. Literally all forms of risks are a major no for him. Physically risky, reputation risky.. All of them.

Also, anything gross. Won't go along with watersports, emetophilia.. Anything along those lines are a no-no for him. Would completely wreck his mood.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Sort of nervous on recieving oral? Not really for himself too, he just doesn't want you to feel physical discomfort or choke or anything.. It's not really his thing. Totally up for giving, though. You might not expect it, but he's actually rather big on giving. Would honestly be satisfied if that's all you two do for the night.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He tends to gear towards a happy medium pace most of the time (exceptions can be made..). Sensual isn't really a word to describe it, nor is it rough. Not harsh, but not fluid. He feels if he goes rough he'll hurt you, and that's really not something he wants. But if he goes slow it just makes him feel shy, if that makes sense. It gives you the opportunity to really focus in on him, and he isn't exactly talkative in sex either outside simple questions and the alike, so it makes him feel awkard. A speed that's gentle but not too calm.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He's not a fan, and he'll rarely ever agree to go along with them. If he does though, then those are the times that the exceptions mentioned above happen. Though, admittedly, even though he isn't neccessarily a fan, he doesn't hate them.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Okay, unlike above, he's actually a real hater of risks. And there's really no elaborating on it either, as it's pretty much already been covered. Will not agree to risks.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

While usually he tends to try and keep it at one to three rounds, he can do more. He's a physically abled man, and has quite a bit of stamina due to all the training he does and the alike. If he really wanted to he could go for.. Five? Probably could do seven, but he's just not that much of a sex fanatic, so that won't really happen.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Would never buy any. Why get such a thing if he's already equipped with parts for this activity? Might be willing to try some simpler things though, if you get it. Don't expect him to go for any BDSM stuff though, that's just really not his thing.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Not at all. He simply doesn't have the patience for it. Teasing him does get you somewhere though, if you're interested. Just don't expect him to humor you for too long.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Tries to be as silent as possible. Naturally, he isn't that noisy anyways, but it still embarrasess him. Panting, grunting. Maybe lower-sounding very muffled whimpering (only if you work to get it out of him).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has considered jealousy sex.. On multiple occassions. Only racked up the courage for it once. Just finds it too silly and stupid to do it any other time.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Uncut, six inches. His pubic hair is a slightly darker blond, but similar to his hair. Only keeps it trimmed since he just doesn't get the point to shaving. Too much drama for something that doesn't really cause any difference besides aesthetics.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not high. It's non-existant, supposedly. It's mostly just due to the fact he chooses to ignore it instead of actually indulging himself in sexual pleasure though! Realistically, it's likely just a bit below average.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If he does go to sleep afterwards, it's likely after a couple of hours. He has a few things to do beforehand so he won't get to it immediately. Would definitely stick with you for a bit after you fall asleep though, even if he himself decides to not rest.

[frostehburr]

My 30 Platinum Challenge Failed but Still Got 7

I had decided to make September a 30 day challenge month. This year I decided to try for the 30 Platinum Trophy challenge. Which is an attempt to unlock 30 platinum trophies within 30 days. And I failed it without even getting one third of the way through.

My guess is it's mostly the games I chose to play for this challenge combined with my ever busy schedule and lack of free time or energy.

At the start of the challenge I popped in Jak and Daxter the Precursor Legacy. A simple platform game developed by Naughty Dog (who you may know as those guys that made the mushroom zombie game). It took me about a week to 100% it and it was then and there I realized I should pick smaller games that take less hours to 100%.

So my next game was Daxter which I breezed through within three days. I think it was a nice preview into Jak 2, which I started but decided to shelf because Naughty Dog is well known to make challenging games. I guess as part of the "no fun allowed" that one guy said was policy in the company or something. Idk, it's been a long while since I heard the actual quote and I got tired of Jak games so I moved on.

Around the time those two games were done, Sly Cooper dropped a PS4 version so of course I had to complete that game. It wasn't as fast as the original PS3 Collection version but that's because the Collection version gave trophies for completing levels instead of offering unique methods like how the PS4 version went.

After that it was Miles Morales to compliment the Spider-man trophy. I thought Miles was going to be a relatively short game based on what I heard about it but I spent far too much time on this game. Particularly because of the New Game Plus trophy. That proved to be a pain in the ass with how little free time I had for the game to begin with.

Although, it was comical how often Miles Morales would glitch and bug out every now and then. One minute several icons stayed on screen even during cutscenes and later the audio for a character would shut off completely. I was legit concerned I wouldn't get the platinum because of the frequent bugs but the trophy popped so all was good.

I then set out on Ty the Tasmanian Tiger. A childhood classic I played on the Gamecube now purchased as a digital copy via giftcard. Lots of hoops for this one.

Another platformer that wasn't too much of a pain and went by alright. Hell of a long credits though.

There was a sudden urge to play Infamous after that so I nabbed First Light and took that platinum within a few days. Fetch was a somewhat interesting character to play but the bright flashes from the powers disagreed with my eyes.

Which made playing the original with Cole an odd choice. You'd think I'd want something less sparky, easy on the eyes, and didn't take all my time to complete.

Well, I was at the end of the month at this point and already decided I failed the challenge. So may as well play a game I really enjoyed. I remember getting the platinum before but since I had to get a new PS3 I had to redo the platinum all over again. Fun.

For the most part it wasn't that bad. Majority of the trophies were morality based so doing two playthroughs unlocked basically half the trophies. The hardcore trophy had me set the game to hard difficulty which was as easy as well easy with the evil Cole playthrough. Evil Cole did massive damage which made breezing through hard mode so much better especially since I didn't have to be concerned about bystanders.

The biggest pain in Infamous was the blast shards. OMG, the blast shards were impossible to find! I ran across all three islands multiple times, zig-zag, horizontal, vertical, and in literal circles in and outward spirals just to find the 30 I had left. It's always most difficult to find the small numbers since they're always in the last place you look. Mainly because there's nowhere else to look after that. Why is that a saying in the first place? Seems like a logical conclusion stating the obvious like an asshole.

Annoying collectables aside...

That was seven platinum trophies I earned in this 30 day challenge that I failed. I had a lot of fun with it and would like to do another 30 day challenge like this next year. However, I think I would pick easier games to play so I'm not stressing on time for this.

[khodorkovskaya]

04.01.23

i spent the whole day alone today, corrected a couple of things on the website and wrote 4 important emails with my stepdad over microsoft teams. and in the meantime i listed to eileen by ottessa moshfegh and read acts of desperation in one sitting. and god did it hit hard. here's another passage that really resonated with me:

"I wished I could unburden myself but I couldn’t verbalise what was happening because doing so would bring it into existence. So far, it was all taking place in my head with no verification from an outside party, and so long as I kept it that way I could suppress it. That urge you have with an envelope of results, delaying the future in which you are unwillingly privy to terrible news.

I knew also that if I began to describe more or less anything about Ciaran and what our relationship was like I would upset my dad. The split in me was so wide that these two states could coexist:

1. I knew that my relationship was strange and uneven and not reciprocal and that speaking about its reality would confuse and upset people who loved me.

2. I didn’t feel it to be those things."

i related so much to the narrator and how she felt in her relationship. i don't know if i could've ever cheated on B if things carried on for longer and i don't have a strong desire for pain like the narrator did, but i could still relate a lot. the passage where she sleeps with reuben and "could feel the silliness of sex for the first time in forever" made me cry so much.

the narrator's diary, the fact that she's always crying, her feeling pain but not knowing the reason and being confused in her feelings, her on and off thoughts about wanting to be thin... it all hit so close to home.

the book portrayed modern womanhood in such an accurate way. like we really are raised with this idea that we have to be dedicated to men but with no moral explanation behind it. it's never explained why we have to dedicate ourselves. there's no religious explanation anymore, nothing rational about it. so we grow up with this idea that we're only gonna be complete when we're in love, not understanding and not even questioning why. and then we find ourselves cooking intricate dinners for men with no tastebuds and having to justify why we don't want to have sex because "no" isn't a sufficient answer. we have it ingrained into our minds that things have to be that way. and at an age where you have to figure yourself out first, questions like this are even harder to deal with bc you don't even have the tools yet to deal with them. anyway, i feel like what im saying doesn't really make sense. but yeah i liked the book a lot.

yesterday i rescheduled my driving exam. the first date available was the 19th of april so i took it. i have my student license until the 21st of april so im just gonna have one chance lol. and if i fail oh well, i'll have to redo theory again.

i cried for 15 minutes straight after i rescheduled the test. i felt so stupid. and my stepdad was like "you have all these opportunities, you're so spoiled. i didn't have anyone to teach me but i was so determined to learn how to drive that i taught myself. and you have everything laid out in front of you on a platter and instead of being grateful you just cry." and that made me feel even worse. bc it's true that i don't have it as hard as many people do. and another person would've loved to be in my shoes. but i can't for the love of god understand how to drive. like i think im just stupid. there is no other explanation. ive had i don't know how many hours of driving and yet i still struggle like a complete beginner and it just gets worse and worse.

but anyway, as i was in the middle of crying, the car parked in front of us started moving and the guy was struggling so hard like he couldn't exit the parking spot. and i was like huh maybe im not too bad of a driver compared to some. and then the person in another car next to us was having an even harder time. they went back and forth, nearly bumped into the car next to them many times, kept turning the wheel left and right frantically. so i was like you know what, not all hope is lost! i can even parallel park without too much difficulty on a good day so there is still hope for me! and if those two people we just saw didn't feel bad for their imperfect driving skills, neither should i!

[nyeddleblog]

A drubble with Andrew's Peter and a reader having an asthma attack? 👀👀👀

Breathe With Me.

Pairing: Andrew! Peter Parker x Reader. Warnings: asthma, negligent teacher, fluff, no romanticism implied, these is kinda short, i don't have asthma but i did some research on it so i really hope this is good enough. Summary: Did you know there's an arachnid myth that says that spiders have asthma?

You told him once more, bending over your knees and with your breath uneven, that you couldn't keep going. You had been running for less than a minute now, but you could feel your body warning you now that you couldn't give any other step.

"Mr. Kane, please" you begged, using this time to catch your breath.

He didn't even look up from his phone, he just took answered "Like I said, you haven't shown me any health certificate."

"I just..." You breathed in "We haven't had time to process one"

"Rules are rules, Y/N"

"I just won't run then."

You went to the benches to sit down, but he turned to look at you fiercely.

"That if you want me to send you to the principal."

You considered it for a moment, but between having to change schools this the last semester, and not having any time to even put your belongings in your room, you knew your mom was far too tired to attend the school because her child chose to be a rebel for once.

And to be quite honest, you were afraid of failing the class.

So you picked up a solidly slow pace, almost walking, but moving your legs enough to fool anyone into thinking you were jogging.

You tried to think about something else, something that could help you take this run as far as you could.

Superheroes? NO, the thought alone of being able to run that fast and be that strong brought you back to your physical effort.

Spider-Man? Yeah, kind of better. He didn't run that much, he just swing around the city.

That cute senior that sometimes you ran into in the hallways? That was definitely something you shouldn't think about, because he was right there sitting in the bench with his camera...

But damn, Peter Parker was kind of a dream boy.

And there it was, the suffocating feeling of being drowned in dirt; When you were little, you always wondered what it would feel like to sink into quicksand, and a few years later you thought that it couldn't be that far away from this.

You quickly tried to redo your breathing pace, ignoring the teacher's complaint completely. You bent to your knees once more, getting out of the way and trying to remember where you left your inhaler.

You had a few seconds to look around and realize that your bag was on the other side of the gym; by then, a burning sensation on your chest took over. Your throat seemed to close around, pain contracting your frame and making you gasp out for air.

You coughed once, twice, before your blurred vision found someone standing in front of you.

"Y/N..." you heard Peter say softly as he crouched in front of you, putting a hand on your shoulder gently.

You shuddered, too focused on the anxiety crippling up on you through the desperation. You coughed once more, feeling up your throat with your hand to somewhat soothe the sensation.

"Come on, sit..." the boy quickly helped you rest your back against the benches as you straightened up your legs, trying to go back to your cleared mind. "Is this your inhaler?"

You barely could distinguish it after the tears came out of your eyes, but you just hoped he knew what an inhaler was and nodded.

You got one puff in, and you felt Peter's soothing touch on your hand.

He counted for you, as if he knew exactly what he had to do.

Then another puff and you tried weakly to signal him that you felt somewhat better, because you did. You couldn't stand up yet, but you didn't feel like dying anymore.

"Did Mr Kane make you run?" he inquired, while you still had your inhaler in your mouth. You nodded. "Jesus, he really is an asshole..."

"Didn't... Have... Health... Certificate" you cried out, realizing your own tears were rolling down your cheeks.

Peter pressed his lips together in a frustrated gesture, standing up from his seat to offer you a hand.

You softly waved it off, taking another puff. You weren't sure you were able to walk to the nursery. And Peter sat beside you then, melting your heart a little bit.

"Not even with a health certificate he would've let you go, you know?" he shrugged, almost disgusted "That man is a sadist. We all hate him."

You finally took the inhaler out of your mouth and giggled. "When did you get my inhaler?"

"The second you went back to running"

"And how did you know I was asthmatic?"

Peter shrugged again, with some kind of a smirk on his face "Let's say I have something like a sixth sense for this kind of stuff"

Right there, your breathing settled, because it was somewhat comforting to know that at least someone else was looking after you.

TAGLIST: @itssvphia @swaggysposts @allisonxmcu @elarasstardust @lartdestrouvailles @crying-is-your-latest-fashion @mrsbarnes107th @pastel-painted-sunrise @kirishimas-wife

[direstraitscomic]

Dire Straits: in a very bad or difficult situation

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Two years before The Robot War the RED team finds themselves in a bitter loosing streak against the BLU team who've somehow managed to procure a suspicious amount of fire power. With their tactics outmatched and the Administrators silence on the matter, the Mercs of the RED team grow exceedingly desperate. As their pay gets cut with each loss, and each fight getting more humiliating than the last they look to request the help of a third party. Through blind desperation this help comes from something most unforeseen. From something teetering on the very edge of mortal comprehension. Particularly from some poor bastard in the wrong place at the wrong time. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LOL YEP I'M STILL GOING WITH THIS. COMIC IS GETTING ONE MORE REVAMP. The final one god willing. More on the update under the cut!

So to provide a little context for those who've been waiting for this. I'm sorry. I'm so so sorry. Real life stuff really came around and beat my ass. Currently, my situation is slowly getting worse but I refuse to stop now. The comic had to be put on hold because of how outdated it ended up getting. I did go back to revamp the pages before but I kept finding errors and inconsistencies that just didn't make sense. I feel this comic deserves the effort and I feel you guys deserve a good well-written story. Not only that, but Elly got her final redesign and it's a pretty heavy change. Throughout making this comic her back story changed three times. YES, THREE TIMES, because I kept finding shit that just did not make any fukin sense, some parts were terribly cliché and unoriginal that I ended up growing to hate and one was accidentally too similar to the plot of a game that, at the time, I was unfamiliar with(Maybe it was different enough to get away with I don't know I didn't want to take chances). I unfortunately am a bit of a perfectionist and have very high standards for my work; as shown by how many times models were changed between pages. This is partially due to the fact that she never had proper HWM sliders and setting models up for SFM is HELL. She kept breaking so she needed to be fixed up and given a simpler design to made her easier to operate. As of right now however, her appearance and narrative is set for good, she has HWM now, clean topology, cleaner textures and less bones. Not only that, but I had to make an entire map for this. That meant learning the ins and outs of the Hammer Editor, and gathering up a shit load of props. The Hammer editor (while very powerful) is a right pain in the ass to use, especially if you want a clean functional map.

This took quite longer than it needed to be. This is THE LAST TIME I am going back and redoing these pages, and this time I'm going to stick with it if it freaking kills me. I don't care if it's cringe. This comic means a lot to me as do the characters and those who've read it. Plus it's FUN and I'm allowed to have FUN Janet I wouldn't have been able to make this story if not for the help of @the-talon-ted-meem She well practically co-wrote it. Go give her love and spam her inbox with horrifying emojis or some shit Lastly, this comic is, in a way, made to commemorate Colin "Elliott" Wyckoff a.k.a Kitty0706. There's a lot I can say that's been said a thousand times already but he wanted us to laugh in his stead not be sad. In his honor, I'll help what he influenced live on for as long as I can. Pages will be uploaded weekly. Old pages will be probably deleted enmass soon unless people want to keep them. Then maybe I'll stuff them into a google drive link, I dunno

[infernalrevenge]

Hello Hello 👋🏻

I would like to request (NSFW) the Dimitrescu Daughters getting dominated by Reader with a strap.

Just for Fun

Bela = Bed

Cassandra = Wall

Daniela = Sink

(But of course only if you‘re comfortable with it 🙈)

HELL YEAH ANON, I am more than happy to do this!

I'm guessing you want drabbles? I did all the sisters (hehehe) in this post, under the cut. (Also I'm sorry this took a while, I actually misunderstood the prompt and had to redo it though I had already finished the first two HAHAHA)

Reader shall be gender neutral, though they make use of a strap.

(NSFT text under the cut, 18+)

----------

Bela Dimitrescu

You pulled and pressed down on the last of the velcro for adjustment, looking down at the new toy attached between your legs. A pleased smile curled over your lips as you looked on at your girlfriend, who seemed... a little less enthusiastic.

"Is something wrong, love?" you asked in concern.

She looked down at the crumpled sheets, a sign of your earlier activities to prepare. "Just a little... nervous, I suppose."

You frowned slightly, not wanting her to worry. This was supposed to be fun for the two of you, after all. First times did tend to bring nerves though, no matter who you would do it with.

"I'll go slow, I promise. And if you want to stop, you can tell me," you assured her, cupping her cheek. Bela let out a shaky breath, but she nodded, seeming more sure this time.

She laid back down on the bed, her golden hair splayed around her like a halo as you spread her legs apart. Watching the way you licked your lips, that hunger in your eyes when your gaze locked onto hers -- it helped ease her worries somewhat. You only looked away for a moment to see where you were aiming, and once you started to move, you flicked back to her.

It felt much thicker than when she only had your fingers inside her, but it filled her so wonderfully at the same time. Her head pressed against the pillow, eyes closed as she savored the feeling of having you deep inside. She turned slightly to press a kiss to your palm, still on her cheek, and you took it as a good sign.

"You're doing wonderful, Bela. Such a good girl," you whispered. Every move drew a gasp from her lips, breath hitching slightly when she felt you speed up. All the while, you sung praises of how good she felt, how beautiful she looked laid out like this.

Your hands roamed over her bare chest, to her waist, then her hips, pulling her in to meet every thrust. She gripped the sheets underneath, nearly overwhelmed by the sensations before deciding it wasn't enough. She reached up for you without thinking, pulling you down just to feel your flushed body against hers. You responded in kind with kisses and suckles onto her neck, keeping a steady pace.

When she wrapped her legs around your waist, you couldn't help but smile. "Faster?" you asked. She could only nod to reply, words lost in a haze.

Her groans echoed in the chamber, mixing with the slapping of skin as she started to gush around you. All she could moan out was your name, and it was a hell of a drug to keep you going.

Everything making her tingle was building up in her core, toes curling and muscles tensing with her mind filled with want for you and only you. Until finally, finally -- her thighs pressed against your sides to keep you still as she was rocked with pleasure, shaking from the waves of an orgasm. She seemed almost dazed when you pulled back and saw her face, prompting a kiss to her forehead.

"I'll take it this means we can do this again some time?" you teased, just about to slip out before she crossed her legs over your waist once more.

"Again," was all she said, looking up at you pleadingly.

You weren't about to say no.

----------

Cassandra Dimitrescu

"You always carry that with you then?" the brunette said with a laugh, running her hand over the length of the strap on.

"Just in case. Knowing you, you could hardly wait 'til we get to a bed," you replied, leading her against a wall. She had essentially seduced you away from your work to a secluded room in the castle, where hopefully no one would disturb you.

Cassandra planted her hands in front of her, looking over her shoulder to see you rubbing the length of the toy between her ass. She bit down on her bottom lip, pushing her hips back impatiently.

"Ah-ah-ah, what's the magic word?" you chided, a mischievous smirk curling on your lips.

She only growled in response, but you stood firm as the hand on her hip kept her still. You traced its tip along her wet folds, making her stiffen and shiver in anticipation. You weren't going to just let her have this, not after the trouble you might wind up in for letting her whisk you away in the first place. She was going to earn it.

"Well?"

A soft hum passed as if she thought it over, glaring up at you.

"Put it inside me now... please." She had whispered the last word, but you supposed that should do for now. You couldn't wait too long either.

You eagerly pushed into her, watching her mouth drop open at the sudden intrusion -- one that was entirely welcome. She clawed onto the wallpaper, digging her nails with every thrust that resulted in that beautiful friction. Your hips rolled into hers, searching for that spot that would have her seeing stars, and you knew you found it from the way she arched her back and moaned out your name. By Mother Miranda, you wanted to hear it again.

Cassandra could feel her legs cramping from under her, but the pain only melded with the pleasure of being pounded into. You pulled her face toward you and sealed her lips with yours, swallowing the sounds spilling out of her as you kept up a punishing pace. The heat inside her was ready to burst, chasing the feeling with every rock of her hips to meet yours. When you broke off to catch a breath and locked eyes with her, your gaze dark with lust -- it was enough to push her over the edge.

She gushed around you, resting her cheek on the cold wall and shaking as you rode her through her orgasm. But you wouldn't slow down, catching her by surprise when you reached down between her legs.

"Might as well... make the most of this... right?" you panted, seeing her golden eyes roll back and jaw go slack, getting lost in the overload of sensation. Your other arm wrapped around her torso, chest pressed against her back as you leaned into every thrust.

She was still so sensitive from her first orgasm that a second one wasn't too far behind. Her clit throbbed under your fingers as you rubbed circles and she was unable to help herself from grinding into it, ragged shocks of pleasure running through her. Goosebumps littered her skin before she burst once again and cried out your name, head lolling back onto your shoulder as you pressed deep inside her.

You gently caressed her legs as she started to come down from the high, hearing her whimper as you slipped out. Your fingers traced along her quivering inner thigh, collecting some of her slick before bringing them up to your lips for a taste. She barely managed to catch the erotic sight as she turned her body towards yours.

"Want me to help you clean up?" you whispered, resting your forehead on hers.

She responded with a soft kiss, and an even softer "Please" before you got down on your knees.

----------

Daniela Dimitrescu

The redhead's giggles bounced off the bathroom walls, her legs wrapped around your waist as you set her down on the edge of the sink.

"You really couldn't wait until I finished showering?" you teased, watching her dangle the toy by its strap.

"You were gonna get dirty again anyway, you can finish later," she replied with a playful pout. As much of a brat your lover could be, it's not like you could deny her, especially when it came to such desires. It didn't take long for you to get ready, adjusting as quickly as you could while keeping your focus on the hungry look on Daniela's face.

You pushed her dress up to her waist, smirking as you felt up her bare legs and ass, noting her lack of underwear. "Naughty girl."

She wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you closer. "I just like to come prepared."

Lining yourself up to her entrance, you heard a small gasp as you slid inside. Her fingers curled around you, looking up with half-lidded eyes as you rested your forehead on hers, moving ever so slowly. She should've known you'd be a tease, as she deserved for interrupting you. "Please," she whimpered when you paused, seated within her.

"Please what, baby?"

She groaned in frustration, "Please-- please fuck me already."

With pleasure. "Good girl."

You pulled back and thrust harder, her moans ringing in your ears. She pushed her hips forward to meet yours to push in deeper, the creak of the sink under her going ignored as the two of you got lost in the act. Her nails clawed at your back, muscles tensing as she left red marks which only encouraged you to go faster.

You reached down to press your thumb onto her clit and rubbed quick circles, groans of pleasure spilling from her lips as she desperately held onto you. "Fuck, Y/N!" Her legs tightened around your waist as she could feel her climax building.

Suddenly, you heard a loud crack, and Daniela dropped from her position. Luckily, your hands under her thighs managed to keep her from landing on the floor. What wasn't quite so lucky was the crooked sink that broke off its pipe, the two of you quickly getting soaked with water. Even when you moved away, stray lines still splattered onto you both, and it left you laughing at the irony. Maybe you were meant to finish your shower after all.

"When I wanted to get wet today, this was not what I had in mind," she remarked, shielding herself from the spray but to no avail.

"You were kind of due for a shower too anyway," you joked, earning you a slap on the shoulder.

She pursed her lips, holding onto you tight with the hard length still inside her. From the way she was shivering, you knew she was still recovering from earlier. One thrust forward got her to yelp, nails digging into your shoulder.

"Fuck!" She covered her mouth, looking down at you pleadingly, "Please let me finish, Y/N."

You raised an eyebrow at her, "Someone definitely heard that crash and is gonna come in any--"

"I don't care! Please, just let me come. I was so close already!" she whined, bouncing in your hold and biting her lip as she clenched around the toy. Not even a broken sink could kill the mood, you supposed. Besides, who else could make her feel this good?

[narutogwriting]

It's Not Gonna Ride Itself

Pairing: Asuma Sarutobi x Reader

Genre: DARK CONTENT; NSFW; oneshot

CW: loss of virginity; size kink; slight dacryphilia; blood mention; age gap (reader is 18); dubcon?

@the-sad-gaysthetic: Can I request some sexy times with either Asuma or Shikaku Nara? I need more of them in my life. I'm trash for older dudes, sorry

Inspired by this headcanon from @katslutski

A/N: Sorry if this is too much for you ��� let me know if you wanted something less dark i'll redo it lmfaooo

This is fine, you told yourself. Afterall, Asuma wasn’t your sensei. Yes, he was the sensei of some of your peers, but he was never yours. Sure, he was about fourteen years your senior, already an accomplished jonin by the time you were graduating from the academy, but it’s not like the two of you had any real interactions in that time. Nothing more than the polite “hi” when you crossed each other's paths.

And anyway, those days felt like a lifetime ago. You weren’t that little genin eager for your superior’s approval anymore. You were eighteen now, a grown adult who didn’t strive to impress those above them.

Well, the second part might not be true…

“Fuck, you look so good doing that…” Asuma groaned gruffly above you. You glanced up at him from where you were nestled between his thighs, his fat cock stretching your lips completely. He threaded his fingers through your hair almost lovingly, staring down at you with lust filled eyes and an arrogant smirk on his lips.

Tears brimmed your eyes as he bucked up into your mouth. It was borderline painful, the way he stretched out your mouth. When you first saw his erection, you were positive that it wasn’t going to fit inside any part of your body. But dutifully, you’d crawled between his legs, licking wide stripes up the base of him. He’d only given you about a minute of teasing before he was forcing your head down on his tip. You struggled to even move your tongue with your mouth so fully stuffed.

“Cmon, princess. That the best you can do?” He taunted from above you, thrusting his hips up. All you could do was gag and drool around him. Asuma snickered. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, ya know that? My cock too big for you, baby?” A high pitched whine came from the back of your throat, your attempt at confirming his words.

“Such a good girl… Sucking my dick so well…” Suddenly, you were being yanked up by your hair. He pulled you off of him, and you spluttered and coughed as you were able to gulp in breaths of air. You could barely hear his snickering over the sounds of you hacking.

When you were finally able to catch your breath and calm down, you looked at him through blurred eyes. He hadn’t moved from where he lounged back on the bed, a cigarette still lodged between his teeth. Taking a long drag, he yanked you towards him with one tug of you arm. The smoke escaped his pursed lips right into your face, only renewing your wheezing.

“It’s funny,” he murmured as his free hands smoothed over your hair. “You were always such a good little girl. I never thought you would grow up to be a little slut like this. Have you just been waiting for this moment? Waiting until you were old enough to take my cock like a whore?” You were tempted to smack that knowing smirk off his face, and you would have, too, if his words weren’t causing your stupid cunt to leak the way it was.

Asuma took another drag of his cigarette, this time blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. “Well? Go ahead,” he nodded while you stared at him in a bit of confusion.

“Wha-what do I do?” you whispered, staring at his fat cock with fear. It had been so difficult to get that thing in your mouth… How was it supposed to fit in your virgin pussy?

Snickers left Asuma’s mouth as he examined that stupid look on your face. Asuma loved virgins. This was his favorite way to fuck.

“Sit on it.”

Asuma gave you no other instructions. He laid back against the bed, his hands folded behind his head as he closed his eyes. He wasn't going to help you despite the fact that this would be your first time.

Sniffling, you wiped at the tears on your cheeks. You hadn’t quite known what you were getting yourself into when you came onto Asuma. He’d always seemed so nice. Cool and laid back, definitely. He was a bit sarcastic, even… But cruel? Sadistic? You never would have guessed.

You took a deep breath as you crawled up him, positioning yourself over his length. You didn’t want to seem like a stupid little kid. You weren’t. You were an adult, and you were ready to be with someone like Asuma. You were determined to prove it.

But still, you couldn’t deny you were terrified. He was just so big. Were all cocks so thick?

“It’s not gonna ride itself, sweetheart.”

Nodding, you swallowed hard as you rubbed his tip against your swollen slit. You began to lower yourself carefully down on top of him and the stretch was immediately unbearable. You felt like you were going to split in two.

“Don’t stop,” Asuma rasped, giving your ass a hard slap, causing you to yelp in pain. You positioned your hands on his chest as you paused your movements, his tip barely past your folds. Tears were streaming down your cheeks, the burn like nothing else you’d ever experienced before.

Slowly, painfully, you continued to lower yourself down as your walls were stretched intolerably.

God, Asuma could almost cum from the sight of you struggling to take his big dick alone. Your face was bright red, blotchy with tears, and your mouth was gaping wide as you gasped and sobbed. You were trying so hard to take him in slow, to give yourself time to get used to his size, but your arms were shaking, ready to give out and causing you to slide down on him further and further, quicker than you were ready to.

Asuma wanted nothing more than to grab your shoulders and shove you down on top of him completely, fuck himself into your cunt with reckless abandon until you were screaming and squirting all over his cock.

But this was even better. It took more patience than Asuma was capable of, but nothing beat watching a virgin try to fuck themselves on a cock the size of their arm. It wasn’t very often he got to experience this; he was going to savor it.

“I-it’s too big… I can’t!” You gasped as your arms shook, and you slid even further down his length. “I can’t do it. I need help!”

You were crying freely now, trying and failing to push you off of the cock you were currently impaled on. You looked at Asuma, wanting sympathy, a kind look or touch. But he just smirked as he watched you, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette once more.

“But you’re taking me so well, baby.” He chucked as you struggled. “You’re almost there. Go ahead; just shove yourself down on it, sweetheart. Make yourself feel good.” You shook your head frantically, terrified at the thought of him splitting you in two.

God Asuma wanted so badly to buck up into you and fuck you sensless. “Touch your clit,” he all but commanded you. “Make yourself feel good.”

Mewling quietly, you picked one of your hands up from his chest, reaching between your legs to rub yourself. The jolt of pleasure made the one arm you were using to balance yourself give out and you dropped down, taking Asuma’s length completely until his balls were nestled against your ass.

You screamed and blubbered pathetically as you came hard. The feeling of being filled so completely for the first time was too much for you, and your cunt gushed even as your torn hymen bled.

A smile tugged at the corner of Asuma’s lips as he watched you. “Ah, so you're a pain slut, huh?” He chortled. Finally, Asuma took pity on you, grabbing your neck and pulling you down flush against his chest.

“I’m still not gonna help you, darlin,” he whispered into your ear, his eyes rolling back in pleasure at the way you fluttered around him so beautifully. You felt his tongue flicking against the tears on your cheeks and heard him groaning. “Better keep riding that cock. I’m glad you got yours, but you’re not stopping until I get mine.”

Sobbing pathetically, you lifted your hips before skewering yourself down on him once more. You screamed each time you did so. It hurt so bad, and it was all way too much.

But that didn’t stop you from cumming around his fat cock filling your little cunt over and over again.

[americasmarauders]

What about ....

“i’m not worthy of anybody’s love.” “that’s not true, you’re worthy of mine.” followed by the lover breaking eye-contact… + a love confession

Followed with tentative kisses in the dark

With Jason Todd x reader ❤❤❤❤❤

Lots of love xoxo

did this get completly out of hand? yes, yes it did. It was supposed to be short and sweet, but suddenly I had 12 pages of angst ready to make their way into the world. 

I’m so sorry it took so long, elle, life got in my way, but now you have like, 6k+ words to make up for it. I really hope you like it.

warnings: completly unedited, sorry for the typos :))

words: 6,856

masterlist #

#

Aged 14, sometime in September.

Mason Anderson was the biggest dick she had ever met. He was petty and jealous and he picked on her just because. She just wanted peace, quietly resolving  the homework she had spent an entire week working on. The library was empty, safe for a couple of other students when he barged in and robbed her of her papers. 

He claimed he needed it more than her, he was the one almost flunking out of the class. She demanded her homework back, but he ran towards the boy’s bathroom with her work. It wasn’t the first time that sullen feeling of despair had been planted on her by Mason Anderson, it still didn’t make it any easier. 

She sat in front of the boys bathroom, hugging her knees in an attempt to find comfort. She kept thinking that she could do it again, she had done it once, theoretically it would be faster to do it a second time. Light footsteps echoed through the hall, her eyes found their way to the source of the noise. 

Jason Todd was a tiny kid with a big brain and an even bigger heart. He had helped her with English more times than she cared to admit. Sometimes she would see him walking towards the alley near the Academy, holding an extra package of chips to the little kid that stayed there sometimes. She liked Jason Todd, considering him the only alley she had inside the cold walls of the Gotham Academy. 

“What’re you doing here?” he asked, delicately, sitting beside her. “I thought you were gonna finish Statam’s paper today.”

“Mason Anderson stole it,” her eyes were cast downwards, looking at the seams of the floor with an almost inhuman interest. “He wanted to copy it, and I wouldn’t let him so he decided to flush down the toilet instead.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered to her, sitting next to her on the floor. 

“It’s okay,” she shook her head, stretching her legs in front of her. “I just,” she sighed, trying to find the words, “I spent one week working on that, and I really needed the grade, you know? But he just didn’t care, he just thought of himself.”

Jason looked at her, softly. His eyes held a certain fire behind them, something she could never really describe what it was. It was entrancing, it calmed the pace of her heart.  He didn’t say anything before getting up and marching towards the boys bathroom. 

She didn’t hear anything going on inside, her mind imagining all sorts of scenarios where Jason would emerge from the bathroom beaten and defeated, Mason walking out completely victorious, with a shiny top grade Literature paper in hand. Her blood boiled at the image, more so than it did before. She got up from the ground, determined to help Jason win the fight, even if her papers were already down the plumbing. 

But the door flung open, her friend walking out calmly, clutching her homework delicately. He offered her a smile, and as the door closed behind Jason she could see Mason on the ground gripping his nose in pain. 

“Here,” the papers were completely dry to the touch, her confusion deepening. “He was copyin’ it.”

“I can’t believe you got this back,” she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought… I thought I'd have to redo it.”

“Nah,” he smiled shyly, “I would’ve helped ya.”

“I can’t really depend on you for everything, Jason,” she replied politely. “It’s not fair.”

“I got your back,” he affirmed, “ya don’t need to worry.”

And it meant the world to her that he did. 

#

#

Aged 16, October 12th. 

Jason Todd and her became friends after the Mason Anderson incident. She didn’t know what Jason had said to him, what had he done, all she knew was that Mason never bothered her again after that. 

It was the night of her 16th birthday. It was late, probably past 3 in the morning when Jason carefully landed on the fire escape that led to her bedroom. He carefully carried a small box, wrapped neatly with a blue bow. He had chosen the gift lovingly, his heart warm with her. Jason hadn’t expected her to be such an integral part of his life, but just as quietly as she arrived, she placed herself in his heart permanently. She was his friend, true friend, she didn’t expect anything other than his company and support, something he was glad to provide. 

His knuckles lightly grazed her window, making the softest noise.  Her shades were partially open, he could see her body lying comfortably on her bed. She moved slightly, her body turning towards the window. Her hands rubbed her eyes delicately, seeing Jason smile awkwardly at her. She got up and dragged her feet towards him, opening her window to him. 

“What’re you doing here?” her voice was slurred, intoxicated with sleep. 

“You know, you should really lock your windows,” he commented, “Gotham’s a dangerous city.”

“Jay,” she warned, “what’re you doing here? It’s…”she searched for her clock, “fuck, 3 in the morning.”

“It’s your birthday,” he responded clearly, as if it was the most obvious reason why he was on her fire escape, on a cold October night only wearing a light jacket.

She blinked at his blunt response, confused on what to say to him. “You’ll see me tomorrow, Jay, I don’t understand why’d you come all this way just to see me.”

“Because it’s you,” he shrugged, stepping into her bedroom silently. “You really thought I wouldn’t see you on your birthday?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at her feet. A soft breeze came in through the window sending shivers down her spine. Jason closed the window for her and she sent a silent thank you towards his way. “I thought you wouldn’t bother.”

“Well,” he extended the little box to her. Her fingers brushed on his softly, a shock sent on his skin at the touch, “I couldn’t not see you.”

Her hands hugged the box carefully, hesitant on what to do with what was given to her. “Open it,” he urged her. 

She eyed him suspiciously, undoing carefully the blue bow that decorated the gift. Opening the box, a tiny robin pendant next to two tiny stones pendants, an opal and an onyx: her birthstone and his. “Wow,” she breathed out, her heart racing inside her chest. Suddenly, she didn’t feel sleepy anymore. “Jason, this is… You didn’t have to.”

“Of course I had,” he stated, his eyes soft and loving, lingering on her more than they should. “You mean a lot to me, darling.”

Her eyes glinted underneath the pale moonlight streaming through the half closed curtains of her room. Jason’s breath hitched quietly at the sight of her, disheveled and sleepy and yet the most perfect person to grace his life. She was at a loss for words for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth, not knowing how to react. Her eyes trailed frenetically over the pendants, trying to find meaning in those.

“Why a robin?” the inquiry startled Jason. He wasn’t expecting to explain himself, much less explain why he had given her a robin pendant. She had no clue what he did when the night fell, who Bruce actually was and he intended to keep her in the dark about that aspect of his life. She didn’t need to know anyway, and telling her would only put her in danger. That was what Bruce made her believe. 

“It reminded me of you,” he answered, simply, his eyes fixated on her angelic face. 

It wasn’t untrue. Robins were friendly and protected over, birds that should never be harmed. Jason made sure of that, he had her back, always, and he knew she had his. But mostly, he wanted her to have a piece of him everywhere she went. If something were to happen, he wanted to guarantee he wouldn’t be a footnote in her life. What a magnificent life that would be, he knew.

Her eyes ran on his face, looking for a hint that he wasn’t sincere, that he was just messing with her. The thought was more heartbreaking than she anticipated. She found nothing malicious in his face, in his eyes, and smiled back at him. “Thank you, Jay,” she kissed his cheek delicately, her lips barely brushing his skin. It was enough to send both of them into a frenzy of feelings, a thousand thoughts running through their heads. 

“Here,” he extended his hands, his eyes clear and full of emotion for her, “I’ll put it on for you.”

She handed him the box, turning around so he could clasp the hook of the necklace. Jason was considerably smaller than her - she guessed it was because of the years of malnutrition he endured when he lived on the streets - so she sat on her bed to meet his height. His fingers brushed slightly at the back of her neck, sending goosebumps on her body.

It was when she turned to look at him again that she realized that maybe Jason wasn’t just a friend to her. Maybe the interest she had in Jason, or how her heart raced when she saw him for the first time in the day weren’t because he was her friend. Maybe it was because she had decided to love him with all her soul. 

#

#

Aged 16, April 28th.

It was ironic how sunny it was in Gotham that day. It was like nothing had happened, the world hadn’t gotten the memo that it was supposed to be gloomy and sad outside, to match the pain she felt inside. 

On the deep green grass of Gotham cemetery, stood her and Jason’s family, listening to a priest preach something meaningless to her. Nothing mattered to her anymore, her friend, best friend, was buried deep into the earth, 6 feet under. She would never get to see him again, hear his laugh, take in his smile. She would never have another birthday with him, give him his favorite books, tell him she loved him. Her eyes were fixed on the fresh dirt lain over his shiny coffin, her hand fidgeting on the robin pendant Jason had gifted mer  months before. It wasn’t an open casket, she couldn’t even see him for the last time. 

The call was the most confusing moment she had ever gone through. He didn't even tell her he was going after his mom. He didn’t even get to explain that to her. Jason just burst through her window late at night, saying he was leaving Gotham for a few weeks, anger seeping through his pores and contaminating the room. His knuckles were badly bruised, as her fingertips lightly brushed he hissed. She didn’t question him, it didn’t even go through her head. He had said he wanted to find a part of him, and she nodded, wishing him luck. 

Looking back, she wished she had begged him to stay, to find that part of him in Gotham, with her away from the perils of foreign bombs. Tears sprouted in her eyes as the thought passed through her head. It wasn’t her fault, she couldn’t predict a tragedy would have happened. It had become a mantra to her, and sometimes repeating it to herself didn’t help at all.

Bruce Wayne stood next to her, stoic, his face stony. It almost didn’t look like he had lost a son. But she saw how his jaw tensed, how it was similar to when Jason was upset and didn’t want to tell her about it. She could see how broken he was inside, how angry and desperate. She felt that too. 

The priest stopped talking and the four people standing on that lawn let out a stuck breath of relief. Jason’s brother approached his Father, walking away from her. She stared at the stone, cold like Jason’s body, with the engrave ‘Jason Todd, beloved son and friend’. It didn’t make justice to what Jason actually was, he was much more than just a son and a friend, but it was what they used to describe him. If Jason had decided what his epitaph would be, surely would be a dramatic quote from Shakespeare. 

Her name was called out in a posh british accent and she turned toward the person. What she saw was an older gentleman, holding a black umbrella to protect his baldness from the sun. A thin mustache hung over his upper lip, molded into a sad frown. “I’m Alfred Pennyworth. Master Jason talked a lot about you,” he commented with his left hand behind his back.

“All good things, I hope?” she joked quietly, her eyes trailed to her black shoes, wet grass glued to the sides of it. 

“The best things, I assure,” his voice was firm and calm, his accent oozed her security, something she was eager to cling on. He reached for the inner pocket of his blazer, pulling a crisp white card. She furrowed her eyebrows, accepting the card. On it, it had Alfred’s name, his profession underneath and a phone number. “If you ever find yourself needing anything, I’ll be happy to help.”

She nodded, her thumb lightly brushing the expensive paper on her hand. “Thank you Mister Pennyworth,” her eyes found the old man, the wrinkles around it making his stern stance seem gentler. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to come over for some tea?” he offered. “I’m sure Master Bruce wouldn’t mind having his son’s friend over.”

She wanted to, a force inside her compelled her to accept his offer. But her heart was broken, and she didn’t know if she was ready to enter what used to be Jason’s home so fast after he was buried. At the same time, maybe she didn’t have the nerve to say no to such a kind person. “I--,” she hesitated, “okay, I’ll have some tea.”

#

#

Aged 18, mid-August.

“I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” her hands fiddling with the necklace Jason had given her long ago. “It feels like I’m at a crossroads and every sign points to the direction my heart doesn’t want to go.”

The old butler poured her mint tea - her favorite, as he had learned over the weekly visits she paid him - calmly and firmly as she ranted. “What is holding you back?”

She looked at Alfred, her eyes confused at the question. She hadn’t lingered on the fact of why she didn’t want to accept the scholarship on Metropolis. Her brain told her it was only logical, she would miss her parents, her weekly meeting with Alfred, her hometown. But Alfred was always one step ahead, he had a sixth sense as she had come to learn. “You know,” she replied softly, her eyes lingering on the beautiful teacup in front of her. 

He said her name, getting her attention. “Master Jason isn’t here anymore,” he stated simply, laying cookies on her plate, “you don’t have to stay behind for him.”

“I know,” she picked up the spoon and twirled it between her fingers. “But,” she hesitated, not knowing how to phrase her feelings, “Alfred, I can’t even think of it. I can’t wrap my brain around leaving him.”

“You are not leaving him,” his voice was calm and gentle, softening her panic. “You are moving on.”

She shook her head, her eyes shut close tightly. “It doesn’t feel like it,” she whispered, “I feel like I’m meant to be here, Alfred. I can’t really explain it.”

“Well, if you do decide to stay in Gotham, I hope we can continue our weekly teas,” Alfred said, a tone of hope in his voice. 

She smiled at him, her eyes filled with kindness. “If I do decide to stay, I’d love to keep our weekly teas,” her smile stayed as she uttered the words. “I appreciate our time together, Alfred.”

“I’m honored,” he said to her, bringing the teacup to his lips.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she turned around to see who it was. Turning around, her hand bringing the teacup to her lips, she saw a disheveled Bruce Wayne walking towards her. His eyes were barely opened, prominent bags under his eyes cast a shadow on his features. His tie hung untied on his neck, his shirt over his pants, the sleeves folded up to his elbows. It was a stark contrast from the Bruce Wayne she had seen at Jason's funeral, two years back, the one she saw frequently splattered on the news front pages.  

“Oh,” he stopped on his tracks, his hands falling limply to his sides. His jaw tensed and, suddenly, a mask fell on his face, the vulnerability he displayed a few seconds before gone. He wasn’t anymore Bruce, a guy who had just woken up and wanted something from the kitchen of his oversized home, he was the Bruce Wayne, now. The velocity of the transformation haunted her. “I didn’t realize we had visitors.”

She rested the teacup pack on the counter, and got up from the stool. “I’m so sorry Mr. Wayne,” she muttered, extending her hand, introducing herself. “I am, was, Jason’s friend.”

“Yes, yes,” he nodded, “I remember you.”

Alfred looked pointenly at Bruce as pulled a mug from a cabinet. He poured coffee for himself, and leaned against the counter next to Alfred. She stood there next to her stool, paralyzed in his presence. Everytime she was present in Wayne Manor, Bruce was either too busy to ever grace them with his presence, or away on some business trip she never bothered to ask what for. “We have weekly teas, Master Bruce,” Alfred said, his tone laced with something deeper than announcing their weekly traditions. 

Bruce’s jaw tightened somehow and his blue eyes rested on her. Her eyes drifted to her teacup, her tea getting cold. She was itching to grab it and drink it, but she felt uncomfortable even moving a inch from her place, much less feeling the liberty to resume her previous behavior. “Really?” his eyebrows shot up, his head tilting slightly. “Please, seat, pretend I’m not here.”

She hesitated before sitting back down. Her hands hugged her teacup, the warmth of it seeping through her skin. It was hard to pretend he was not there next to her, looking at her with judging eyes. She wondered if he remembered her from the funeral, if he had thought of her when he was thinking of Jason’s legacy, what his son had left behind. Her eyes looked up at Bruce before quickly darting back down to her tea, “Yeah, I don’t really wanna go to Metropolis,” she whispered, resuming her previous conversation with Alfred. The air in the kitchen was tense and awkward, she couldn’t look any of them men in the room in the eyes. 

“I’m certain Gotham U will admit you,” Alfred reassured her, “You’re a brilliant person, they’d be fools to let you go.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” her eyes were focused on the tea, like it was the most important thing in that kitchen. “They usually don’t take this long to send the letters, it’s making me nervous.”

“Gotham U, huh?” Bruce chipped in. “What’s your major?”

She looked expantly at Alfred, trying to see if he knew any of Bruce’s intentions. But she often forgot how impassive Alfred was, how in control of his emotions he was, something she lacked. He didn’t show her anything, she assumed he knew of something, like usually. “Applied physics,” she responded, quietly. 

“Wow,” Bruce breathed out, “impressive.”

She offered him an awkward smile in return. It was hard to find a response to the reaction of others when they became aware of her major. It was highly uncommon, and usually those who followed that path were men. When people discovered what she wanted to do with her life, they almost always reacted like they had found an unicorn.

“Well, when you do graduate, look for me, I can help you get a job,” Bruce politely offered, his tone kind. She looked up at him for the first time, his expression almost fatherly. 

“Thank you Mr. Wayne, that’s very kind of you,” she bored her head, looking down at her tea once again. 

His phone rang, and he picked it up from his pocket. Her eyes trailed over to his expression, his jaw once again tense. “You’re welcome,” he replied, feigning happiness and comfort. “If you’ll excuse me,” he left the kitchen in broad steps, his shoulders tense and determined. 

That was the first time she came to the conclusion that Bruce Wayne was a strange man. 

#

#

Aged 22, end of May.

College was an excruciating experience, but finally she had left it all behind. With her diploma in hands, she finally felt a small semblance of freedom, something she had longed when isinde the four walls of her old dorm in Gotham U. 

She stepped into the ground floor of Wayne towers, her shoes clicking nervously on the floor. She had made sure to dress properly to meet Bruce Wayne, unsure of what he’d think if she showed up dressed like a broke college student, something that she very much was. It was the mentality of fake it till you make it, aim a bit higher and maybe you’ll get there. She desperately wished she’d get there.

One of the receptionists let her in, indicating the floor in which she should go to. Her hands sweat gripping the folder with her recommendations and her resume, she gulped looking at the elevator intently. Her free hand found its way to the tiny robin gently resting on her neck. She wished Jason was there to help her, give her tips on what to say to his Father to make him glad, and what to avoid doing so that he’d hire her. She could imagine him if she closed her eyes, next to her, barely taller than her, smiling at her wishing her good luck. The elevator dinged, bringing her back to reality. Jason wasn’t next to her, and she didn’t have anyone to give her tips on what to say to her potential boss. She was alone, just like she had been for six long years. 

In spite of the hundred floors of the building - quite literally - the elevator ride was fast. When the doors opened, it revealed a small greeting room, with a couple of couches and a tall window illuminating it. She eyed directly in front of her, the double doors with a tiny plaque with the name Bruce Wayne engraved on it. Her eyes lingered on it for a couple of moments, as she walked towards the lonesome couch next to the big window. She took a deep breath, trying to calm the beating heart. She wondered if Bruce was already inside the room, if he remembered what he had offered to her all those years ago, or if he had just been polite and did not plan on following with it at all. 

After that strange meeting with him four years back, she had barely seen him again. A couple of times she had seen a shadow passing through the corridors while she was heading out of the Manor, someone she assumed for the sake of her mental health it was Bruce Wayne and not a ghost. The notion that he was a strange man only intensified, adding the perception that he was hiding something. She knew he was a good actor, but she could see tiny cracks and slips, an ability gained from years of loneliness. It was hard to say what it was that he was keeping a secret from everyone, but there was something there. 

Her name was called and she saw Bruce Wayne standing underneath the frame of the double doors that lead to his office. She got up promptly and walked towards him, her grip on her folder tight. His hand was extended and she shook it professionally, pretending like she wasn’t panicking inside. 

“I have someone I’d like for you to meet,” he stated, guiding her inside his office. The office was probably four times bigger than the small room she had stayed previously, the large windows providing a beautiful view from Gotham. You could almost pretend it was a normal city looking out from that window. “This,”  he motioned to the man sitting on a cozy nook in the back of the room, “is Lucius Fox.”

The man was big and well built, his round glasses standing on the tip of his nose. He smiled at her, crinkles forming beside his eyes. His hand found his glasses, taking them off and putting them in his pocket. “Nice to meet you, Miss. mr. Wayne has talked a lot about you,” he stated, his hand extended for her to take it. 

She looked back at Bruce, confused. After all, he remembered her and he remembered his offer. She turned back to Lucius and shook his hand, a determined expression on her face. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Fox.”

“Lucius Fox is the head of our R&D department, and has agreed to take you as his personal apprentice,” Bruce explained. 

Shock overcame her, her eyes wide. She looked between Lucius’ kind smile and Bruce’s stoic stance, unable to believe the opportunity was real. “Really?” she uttered incredulously. 

“I have some personal projects and I’d very much need the help,” Lucius explained, calmly. “Mr. Wayne has talked highly of you, I’m eager to see what you’re capable of doing.”

“I--,” she shook her head, trying to get rid of the hesitation, “thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Bruce responded, a small smile gracing his lips. “I’m sure you’ll do great.”

#

#

Aged 24, April 26th.

The humid air of the cave made sweat drip down her face as she tinkered away with a broken gadget she had designed for Bruce’s night time activities, as she had so dearly called it. 

It was a new development, the cave and the capes and the vigilantism. The two years she invested working with Lucius all served a greater purpose to Bruce. She was to be the next Lucius Fox, help provide Batman, or rather Bruce - in her head it was still confusing to assume that the guy who had given her a job was the ‘Dark Knight’ - with gadgets capable of doing everything that his physical capabilities couldn’t. Lucius was old and reaching retirement, and even if he loved his job, he was reaching his limit. She was beyond grateful for his guidance, she had learned so much. But he had left her a fucking weird job. There was no other way to describe it. 

The cave was quiet, Bruce had left sometime before, she could only hear Alfred quietly talking to Bruce through the comms and the drip-drip of water falling from the ceiling and hitting the small lake underneath her. She had settled in a little abandoned nook, her tools all scattered on top of her table. She rested the screw driver she was working with on the table, lifting the magnifying lens. She rubbed her face, tired of looking towards the tiny malfunctioning screen.

Her hands remained on her face, concealing her emotions. The robin pendant always felt especially heavy on the 26th of April. It had been 8 years since she had seen Jason, and as pathetic as it sounded, she never really got over the loss of him. They always felt particularly lost, she couldn’t focus on anything other than him, running circles around any problem presented to her. Looking at the gadget, it felt nearly impossible to find a solution to it, her mind foggy with sadness and grief that she could never really shake off, even with years between her and the day he had died. 

The knowledge that Bruce kept everything as Jason had left, and even made a little homage to his Robin days in a secret corner of the cave, hidden from view, was heavy in her heart. She struggled to keep her eyes trailed to her task and not at the memory of Jason. She took a sharp breath, trying desperately to sew herself together. It was truly pathetic how much it still affected her, how open the wound still was. 

A sharp motor sound echoed through the walls of the cave, disturbing the few bats that hung from the ceiling. A guy built like a fucking brick wall parked his bike on the platform, taking long strides towards where Alfred stood. He adorned a cracked red helmet that glistened in the white lights that illuminated the pathway. His heavy footsteps echoed through, her eyes unable to escape from him. She approached silently, praying that that loose panel near the little stairs that lead to the main computer wouldn’t scratch underneath her weight. 

“Where the fuck is Bruce?” he growled, his hands balled into fists next to him. His leather jacket was worn and old, its sleeves bunched up near his elbow, exposing his veiny forearms. The cracked part of the helmet revealed his blue eyes, sparkling in a familiar way. It tugged her heartstrings, her hand instinctively went to her robin. It couldn’t be, Jason was dead. 

“He’s on patrol, Master Jason,” Alfred said calmly, his eyes trailed to the screens in front of him. Alfred acted like this man’s fits of anger were completely normal. 

Her brain repeated that it wasn’t Jason, it was a mere coincidence that this man’s name was the same as her dead best friend’s. Jason was a tiny and scrawny kid, he wasn’t tall and thick like this man. Jason wasn’t bitter and prone to anger fits, even if he was angry most of the time. He was silent and kind and sweet, this man looked to be the opposite of it. 

“He promised, Alfred, where is he?” he growled, his fist slamming on the table. “He fucking promised.”

“I’m sure he’ll arrive soon, if you’d like to wait,” Alfred motioned to the medical bay, the gurney sitting there on its lonesome. The man huffed, marching to the gurney, otherwise ignoring her presence a few feet away. 

She approached Alfred quietly. “Who was that?” her voice laced with curiosity and fear. 

Alfred looked at her serenely, knowing something she didn’t. He smiled at her, teh crinkles around his eyes appearing generously. “Why don’t you find out?,” he responded to her camly. 

She took it as an order, and made her way towards the small infirmary area. Her footsteps were light and determined, her hand clutching the robbing resting on her chest tightly. Her brain ran over scenarios on how likely it was that this person had almost every physical attribute to her best friend Jason, if he had taken steroids for the past 8 years. It wasn’t likely, but in light of her new knowledge, of how close the supernatural was to her, it was very much possible. 

“Do you want me to take a look?” she asked quietly, shifting the weight from her heels to the tips of her toes. She felt so small in his presence, something she didn’t feel with Bruce, oddly. Maybe it was because Bruce didn’t give off such menacing vibes when he was near her, or maybe it was because her brain was unconsciously comparing this man to her Jason, who had always been smaller than her. “At the helmet, I mean.”

He eyed her surgically, analyzing everything about her. His eyes rested on her pendants, widening slightly in recognition. It took almost everything in her to control her beating heart, to control her brain trying to say that in fact that man before her was her Jason, and it wasn’t her brain playing tricks on her. 

He gently took his helmet off, revealing his crisp black hair cooly laying on his forehead. His eyes focused on the helmet, his arms extended to give it to her gently. Her eyes would leave his face, a face she had longed to see for eight excruciatingly long years. His eyes had remained the same, after all: kind and sweet. His face, however, told a story of hardships and pain, hardened by whatever he had been through all these years. She didn’t know how to feel, if she should feel betrayed he hadn't trusted her enough to say that he was alive, that he was six feet under anymore, or if she should feel elated that Jason was alive and she could finally tell him all the things she wanted to.

Her fingers brushed him slightly, as she picked up the broken helmet from his hands. His hands still felt the same, her heart noticed, picking up a beat. She looked at the crack that exposed half of his face, the electrical parts fizzling dangerously. Her eyes focused on Jason once again, her lips shut painfully. The tears that came to her eyes were inevitable, trembling fingers reaching at her robin pendant, clutching it tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

“Don’t,” he shook his head gently, “it’s not your fault.”

She could see he wanted to touch her, but something held him back. She wouldn’t find out what until much later.  

#

#

Aged 24, August 16th. 

Jason had promised her he would show up, and he never broke his promises. That was what she repeated to herself, late at night. She had prepared everything for his birthday, bought a present for him and baked a cake. She had said that he was supposed to appear at seven. It was well past midnight, the cake had found its way back to the fridge, the present was back in her closet, and he hadn’t showed up yet. 

A part of her kept telling her to give up, her best friend had stood her up: Jason changed fundamentally, he wasn’t the same boy he was when she met him and it was foolish to hang on to that notion; it was perfectly plausible that he had the habit of breaking promises now.  But she was well aware of that, she saw it in the tiny things how much Jason was transformed, it still didn’t change the fact that she knew he valued loyalty above all else, and that included loyalty to his words. He wouldn’t break his promise to her. 

She changed out of the cute dress she was wearing, feeling foolish and sad that she was about to give up most of the hope that he would show up. Her pyjamas welcomed her comfortably, a safe space to let the heartbreak settle on her. He won’t break his promise, she repeated mentally, he won’t. The mantra did little to soothe the growing dread inside her, the notion that maybe she didn’t know him as well as she did. That he didn’t tell her everything that day, that he didn’t trust her anymore. It hurt more than she anticipated. 

Sleep was almost consuming her when she heard a loud clang outside her bedroom. She shook awake, throwing the covers off her instinctively. Her hand grabbed the baseball bat that rested beside her bed, bringing it up and close to her. With slow steps, she approached the window. Her fear settled when she saw the familiar red helmet staring back at her, begging to let him in. She dropped the bat on the floor, opening the window. 

He got in her room awkwardly, struggling to pass his huge frame through a tiny space. She reached to help him, offering her hands. He took them, butterflies running amok on her tummy. “You’re late,” she commented, trying to mask the hurt in her voice. 

“I know,” he said, taking off his helmet and dropping it on top of her bed. “I’m sorry.”

She hummed looking at him underneath the moonlight seeping through her window. She hadn’t gotten used to how big he became, and how smaller she felt in his presence. She was by no means a small woman, but his entire being could encapsulate her with a simple hug, and not the other way around like it used to be. “Why are you late?” she moved to sit on the bed, the helmet rolling off the bed delicately. 

He looked at her, sitting down next to her gently. “I don’t know,” he answered, rubbing his hands together, his elbows resting on his thighs. 

“Why do I feel like you’re not being honest with me?” her head tilted, looking at his beautiful profile. There was a scar connecting his right temple to the corner of his upper lip, and it made him even more beautiful than he already was. He fascinated her to no end, his brain, his looks, his entire being was what made her keep going, the light on the end of her tunnel. 

His eyes trailed over her face, looking for something she guessed he wouldn’t find. “Why are you always so nice to me?”

“What do you mean, Jason,” she breathed out, confused at the inquiry. “I’m your friend, I’m supposed to be nice to you.”

“No, you’re not,” he shook his head, his hands balled into fists and his eyes closed. “You’re not supposed to be kind to me,” he got up, his back towards her.

“Stop it, Jason, you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice shaking a bit. 

“You’re supposed to be angry at me. I abandoned you, left you alone, and when I came back I didn’t tell you, I didn’t look for you,” he continued, trying to manipulate her emotions.

“Why are you saying these things, Jason, they’re not true,” she got up, her voice no longer shaking, determined and focused. 

“Because I don’t deserve it,” he turned to her, his eyes tortured and sad. “I don’t deserve your kindness and friendship. I’m not worthy of it.”

“Jay, I--” she started, but Jason interrupted her. 

“Don’t, please. I’m not worthy of anyone’s love,” his voice was heavy with emotion. She discovered that Jason was often ruled by two main emotions: sadness and anger. In that moment, she could only see those in him and a part of her broke.

“That’s not true, you’re worthy of mine,” her voice was so honest and raw, it caught Jason by surprise. She didn’t know what he expected out of her at that moment, maybe to give in to his spiral of bad thoughts and self flagellation, but she refused to let him believe those awful things. “Jason, you really don't know?”

He remained in silence, his eyes wide and shocked, focused on the ground. His jaw was tense and his hands balled into fists tightly. She took a hesitant step towards him, reaching for his hands. They relaxed under her touch and she threaded her fingers through his. It wasn’t hard to notice how perfectly they fit with each other, like to halves of a whole. “I’ve loved you ever since I was 14 and you marched into the boys bathroom to get my lit homework back from Mason Anderson,” she whispered, her eyes focused on his face, while his were focused on their hands together. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it, Jay. But I can’t let you believe all those horrible things you said. Not when I love you more than anything in this world.”

He stayed silent for a couple of moments, her heart beating erratically inside her chest, fearing she had screwed up their friendship for good. In a way, it was worst to know he was out there and didn't want to speak to her because she dared to tell him about her love for him. “Please say something,” she begged him quietly. 

His eyes finally found hers, his hands breaking the link they formed. He rested his hands on her cheeks gently, and she dared say, lovingly. Her heart started beating excitedly, the fear slowly dissipating as his gaze got more intense. 

His lips brushed against hers, her eyes fluttering closed at the contact. He kissed her gently, a love delicate and fragile, just acknowledged between them both. His grip on her was firm, his thumb grazing delicately on her cheekbones. Her hands thread through his soft hair, still slightly humid from the sweat caused by the helmet. The air was charged with want, tentative kiss toeing the line between what it was and something more. 

She wished to stay like that forever. She prayed to  whatever was out there in the Universe, to allow her that happiness. To stay kissing her love tentatively in the dark for as long as she could, as long as he’d let her. 

Jason broke the kiss, his forehead resting on hers. His fingers found their way to the back of her head, cupping it softly. “I love you,” he whispered, his lips almost brushing with hers. She reached for his lips once again, like a magnet finding its match. “I love you so much,” he reassured.

They kissed once again, not intending to break apart any time soon. 

[daringyounggrayson]

whumptober day 6: bruises + hunger (AO3)

When Dick finally makes it back to his apartment, the first thing he does is sink to the floor and just breathe. Slowly and shallowly, preferably, because his entire back is one giant bruise and the less his lungs expand and press against it the better.

Somehow, despite his pain and fatigue and overall desire to melt into the floor, his stomach grumbles and reminds him that he hasn’t had anything to eat all day. He’d meant to, but things kept coming up, and he supposes it wasn’t really a priority at the time.

With a groan, he picks himself up and forces his feet to move. Shower, new clothes, food. And he should probably make sure he’s not bleeding anywhere, maybe that should be the first thing.

Dick limps to his bathroom and peels off his suit, kicking it into the corner. He verifies that nothing needs stitches or immediate attention, then he hops in the shower. He makes the water warmer than he probably should, and when he gets out, the mirrors are covered in steam and his skin is slightly flushed. He hurts a little less, though, so he doesn't mind.

Once he’s dried off, he applies some bruise cream to the worst areas of discolored flesh and throws on some sweats and a loose t-shirt. He takes some painkillers and hopes that he’ll be able to move come morning.

His stomach growls at him again, and it’s then that he realizes the lack of food is probably what’s been making him feel dizzy for the past few hours. With another groan, he heads to the kitchen to find something to eat.

When he opens the fridge, he’s reminded that he never managed to make it to the store this week. There are lots of perks to being an adult and living on his own, but running low on food and having no one to blame but himself isn't one of them. 

Still, not all hope is lost: he has a couple of eggs, a little bit of cheese, and some very sad but still edible vegetables. An omelet it is.

He’s dead on his feet by the time it’s finished, but he manages to stay awake just long enough to shovel it into his mouth. The small omelet isn’t exactly enough to make up for all of the meals he’s missed, but he’s no longer risking starvation, so as soon as he’s done, he shuffles to his bedroom and collapses onto his bed.

Not even five minutes later, his security alarm goes off.

“Oh, come on,” Dick groans as he pushes himself out of his bed. He is so not up for this right now.

Dick doesn’t even think when he sees the figure trying to disarm the alarm, just charges. He reaches out to grab their shoulder, and he immediately regrets it when they squeeze his forearm and flip him onto his back.

“Aah!” Dick cries out, breaths coming in short pants as he tries to control the pain stabbing through him.

“Shit, sorry!” his attacker—Tim, Dick realizes—shouts. “Dick, talk to me, where does it hurt?”

“My back,” he gasps, curling on his side.

Tim runs his fingers down his spine, then along his ribs. “I think you have a few broken ribs. I’m really sorry, I wasn't trying to hurt you. I just wanted to see if I could flip you, you know? Bruce has been helping me practice.”

Dick takes a steadying breath, and the pain is slowly but surely becoming bearable. “It's fine. They were probably broken before. I landed on a car during patrol.”

Tim whistles at that. “Can I get you anything?”

“Just give me a minute.” Tim does, and when it's over, he helps Dick onto the couch. “So. Why exactly are you breaking into my apartment at three in the morning?”

“No one’s heard from you in like a week, so I’m doing a wellness check,” Tim explains. “And by the way, when did you upgrade your alarm system?”

“A few days ago,” Dick says. He couldn't sleep, so naturally, he'd decide to redo his security system. “Can you get me some ice?”

Tim nods and races off to get it, making it back in record time.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, taking the icepack and shoving it behind his back. “Are you staying the night?”

“If you don’t mind.”

“Course not,” Dick says. “Are you hungry? My stocks are kind of low, but I can offer you a sandwich and some yogurt that may or may not be expired.”

“Ooh, tempting,” Tim says, sitting down next to Dick on the couch. “But unfortunately, I already ate.”

Dick hums, closes his eyes, and lets himself relax.

“Dude, you’re not seriously falling asleep on the couch, are you?”

“Shh.” He’s exhausted, and the painkillers he took are making him feel even drowsier.

Tim pulls on his arm. “Come on. You’re just going to make your back worse if you fall asleep here.”

“Fine,” Dick says with a dramatic sigh. He forces himself upright and limps back to bed, Tim sticking close by in case he falls.

“Call if you need anything,” Tim says once Dick is settled.

He hums in response, already half asleep. “Do you remember where the extra pillows and blankets are?”

“Yup, I got it. Good night.”

“Good night.”

With that, Tim closes the door with a quiet click, and Dick falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

Tomorrow they’ll have to go grocery shopping and vow not to tell anyone about the flipping incident, but for now, Dick sleeps, and he’s happy to know he’s not alone.

[kinglazrus]

Deep Wounds Ch. 2 - What Now?

Previous | Next | AO3 | FFN

Word count: 4069

It takes ten minutes for everyone to change and clear out. During that time, an invisible Danny floats in one of the shower stalls, his gym bag clutched to his chest, one hand clamped around his mouth. If it hadn't been for Dash's shout of "No!" he might not have hidden in time. Danny only had a few seconds to snatch up his bandages and bag—but not the gauze—before the first person entered.

It was Tucker, thankfully. He gaped when he saw Danny and quickly waved for him to hide. Just in time, too, since Elliot was only a few steps behind.

Now, Danny can only hear a single person shuffling about.

"It's clear," Tucker whispers.

Danny floats through the door of the shower stall, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees the empty change room. He drops his invisibility and dumps his stuff on the floor in favour of clutching his side. "Why didn't I stay home today?"

"Because you want to graduate this year and you can't afford another absence." Tucker grabs his gym shirt off the floor, revealing the forgotten gauze pad, and sighs at the new stains. "I really liked this shirt."

"Sorry, man."

"Dude, you are literally bleeding. Shut up. You don't need to apologize. Just be glad I got my shirt off before Elliot could see the damn thing." Tucker grabs the gauze, rolls it into a ball, and tosses it toward the garbage can. "Ten points!"

The gauze bounces off the rim and falls to the floor.

"Zero points," Danny says.

"Rude."

"Hey, I'm bleeding, remember?"

"That only gets you a pass from saying sorry, not common decency."

Danny's shoulders shake as he laughs. It hurts, making his left side throbbing, but trying to hold it back hurts worse. "Ow, ow, ow," he says, gasps of pain interrupting him. Curling over, he hugs his side even tighter, fighting back a sharp cry. The tension in his body doesn't help, but the pressure on his side feels good.

"Sam on her way?" Danny asks.

"She's grabbing the first-aid kit from my locker. I'll fix you up this time. We all know I have steadier hands." That A-plus in home ec isn't for nothing.

"Thanks," Danny mumbles.

"Yeah, dude. We've got you."

After Sam arrives, Tucker redoes Danny's stitches in record time. Half of the lunch hour has passed by the time Danny gets patched up, but he doesn't feel hungry anyway. Tucker takes his and Danny's bloody gym shirts and stuffs them into the first-aid kit.

"I need to refill on some supplies at home," Tucker explains. "I'll get rid of these there."

"Good idea. My mom found a pair of jeans I forgot to throw away after a fight with Skulker. I had a hard time explaining that one away," Danny says. The "I tripped into a window" excuse probably only works once, anyway. "But we have another problem."

"Dash?" Sam asks.

Danny nods. "Yeah. How did you know?"

"He was acting weird when gym ended. Wouldn't let anyone come inside until we pushed him out of the way."

"Huh." Danny certainly didn't expect that. Dash might be a downright bully anymore, but he's still not prone to random acts of kindness. "That's... weird." It doesn't make up for him tearing Danny's wound back open, even if it was an accident, but it's something.

"I think we might not have to worry about him," Sam says.

Danny stares at her, incredulous. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, actually. He could have done anything when he saw the rest of the class coming, including telling everyone that you were hurt. But he stopped them instead."

"But this is Dash."

"That's surprising coming from you."

"What does that even mean? You guys and Valerie are being so weird today. Come on, Tucker. Back me up." Danny looks at Tucker, fully expecting him to be on Danny's side.

Tucker doesn't respond right away. Biting his thumbnail, he stares ahead at the floor, deep in thought. That alone is enough to send Danny for a loop. When Tucker does answer, Danny's jaw drops in disbelief.

"I'm with Sam on this."

"For real?"

"Yeah, man. We don't even know what Dash thinks he saw, anyway. What happened when he walked in?" Tucker asks.

Danny tells them, sparing no detail.

"Oh, wow."

Sam shakes her head. "I'll say. I can't believe you wailed at him."

"Almost. I almost wailed at him. It was a baby wail at most. More of a hum," Danny says. He was just so surprised when Dash walked in. Danny's instincts took over and all he could think about was getting Dash out of there as soon as possible. He is lucky no one else came running.

"That already will have freaked him out. If we go around making a big deal about it and getting in his face, that'll make things worse." Sam stands up from the floor, stretching her arms over her head. She looks completely unconcerned, so does Tucker for that matter. Both of them are content to let Dash be. "Let's wait to see what he does. If he starts spreading rumours, we'll know right away, and then we can confront him."

"On the other hand, he might go to you, Danny, first," Tucker adds. He takes a bottle of Aspirin from the first-aid kit and presses it into Danny's hand before zipping the bag up. "He might not do anything."

The bottle of Aspirin rattles as Danny twists the lid off. "I can't believe you guys are okay with this." He dumps a couple of pills into his palm and tosses them back. Wordlessly, Sam passes him a water bottle. One quick swig is all he needs to help the pills go down. "He could be telling everyone right now."

"He could," Sam admits. "But he won't."

Sam and Tucker get up to leave, and Danny's forced to follow, or else get left behind. He trails after them, stiff, sore, and aching. The pills won't kick in for a while, and he loathes having to walk now. If he could get away with it, he would spend the rest of the day floating through the halls.

Tragically, he has a secret to protect. One that is very much at risk right now, despite what Sam says. Wherever she and Tucker are getting their confidence from, Danny doesn't share it. He just hopes they're right.

Dash tries to hold it in. He really does. The sound of Danny's anger bearing down on him, reverberating through the change room, hasn't stopped rattling around his head. But as lunch nears its end, the words burst out of him.

"I think Fenton is in a gang or something," Dash says.

The table falls silent.

Kwan freezes in place, hand halfway to his mouth, and a piece of meatloaf falls off his fork. "You... what?"

"I think Danny is in a gang," Dash repeats, softer.

His friends gape at him, equally confused. Mostly. Star doesn't even look up from her math homework. In fact, Dash thinks she's smiling, but he ignores it.

"Kwan, I thought you said Danny was the one who got hit during gym class," Paulina says. She pushes her lunch aside and leans across the table, lifting a hand to Dash's forehead. "Are you sure you got it right?"

"I'm fine, Paulie." Dash ducks under his hand and hunkers low to the table. When no one else moves, he gestures for them to come closer. Kwan does so immediately. Paulina rolls her eyes but obliges.

"I'm good," Star says.

"Okay, so, I checked on Fenton after dropping him off, 'cause he looked kind of bad, and I guess, I don't know. I felt... whatever. It doesn't matter. But like, he had this huge cut."

Paulina grins and leans in closer, finally looking invested. "You felt kind of 'whatever?'"

Dash scowls. "Seriously, Paulie?"

"You're the one who said it!" Paulina smacks the table, a fit of giggles bursting from her. It's her "I've found some juicy gossip" noise and Dash hates it.

"Did you even hear me? Huge cut and all that?" Dash says.

Kwan shrugs. "I don't know. His parents build a lot of crazy stuff, don't they? He probably hurt himself on one of those. Did you see that new gun they were toting around last week? It melted Mr. Lancer's car!"

"Oh, my God. I totally saw that. I felt so bad for him," Paulina says.

Dash frowns down at the table while the conversation plods on. True, everyone knows the Fentons have some crazy inventions. But everything they make, they make to hurt ghosts, not people. Everyone in town has been caught in the Fentons crossfire at one point or another. Dash still remembers the disgusting taste of the Fenton Foamers. Like warm, month-old key lime yogurt. Disgusting, but ultimately harmless.

And Danny didn't just have a little cut. It was huge. Dash only got a brief look at it, but that short glance told him everything he needed to know. Something, or someone, had hurt Danny. Rather than going to the hospital—because no trained professional would do such a sloppy job—Danny fixed it himself or got his friends to fix it. The injury had to be new, too, since it was still bleeding.

But stitches could bleed if you ripped them, didn't treat the injury right. Judging by the placement, Danny's stitches must pull every time he moves his arm.

Could one of his parents' guns have done that?

Now that Dash thinks about it, he doesn’t remember ever seeing Danny get hit with his parents' weapons. Not their guns, at least. They have that dumb boomerang thing that he's seen smack Danny on the back of the head. Actually, that one hits Danny a lot.

Dash's frown deepens, etching into his face. Why on Earth would one of Danny's own parents' inventions hurt him so much? Unless...

"Hey, guys?" Dash asks, interrupting Star mid-sentence.

"You found more proof of Fenton's gang activities?" Paulina asks.

"What if, like, someone's hurting him?"

"You mean one of his gang buddies?"

"No, Paulie, I'm serious. What if someone is hurting him?"

The table falls silent once more, but this time, his friends' expressions are serious rather than disbelieving.

Kwan lowers his voice. "Do you really think... I mean, Fenton?"

"Well..." Star taps her chin. "Where was he hurt?"

"Here." Dash taps his ribs on his left side, under his arm.

Star nods. "Okay. Are you sure he couldn't have, you know...." She trails off, but Dash already knows what she means.

"No way. He could hardly see the cut, much less do it himself. And it was bad."

"So he was hurt, badly, in a place that no one else would normally see. He didn't miss any school, so he probably didn't go to the hospital. Was it recent?"

Dash nods. "There was blood. Too much to just be because of the stitches."

Star drums her fingers on the table, nodding slowly. "I think you could be right."

The A-listers glance around the table, meeting each other's eyes. None of them say anything, but the same question lurks in all their minds. Now what?

In the days following the change room debacle, Danny avoids Dash like his life depends on it. Which it might. Any time he sees Dash in the hall, he turns right around and walks away. When they're in class, Danny stares straight ahead and refuses to look Dash's way. In gym class, Tetslaff lets him sit out, finally. Having Danny blackout on her after she forced him to play must have spooked her because she benches him before he can even ask not to play.

"No student of mine is gonna pass out on my watch. Twice," she says.

It won't last forever, but Danny will take what he can get, while he can get it.

But the thing is, Dash doesn't try anything. It's surreal. For the past four years, Danny has grown accustomed to Dash's constant harassment. Even when it dropped significantly in sophomore year, Dash never stopped. He threw erasers at Danny during class, tripped him in the halls, called out teasing names every chance he got.

"I'm not the only one who thinks this is weird, right?" Danny asks Tucker on the third day.

Already done his lunch, Tucker is thoroughly engrossed by his phone and doesn't look up as he replies. "You think everything is weird lately."

"Because it is."

"Missing your quality time with Dash?" Tucker flashes a quick grin in Danny's direction before returning to his phone.

"Har, har. You are so funny." Danny would have to be some kind of masochist to miss Dash's badgering. It's just... strange, not to have to watch the halls for him in that way. It doesn't make Danny watch any less—in fact, he finds himself looking for Dash more than before. So that he can run away if he gets close. Except Dash isn't even trying, and that annoys the hell out of him.

Tucker sighs, finally putting down his phone, and rests a hand on Danny's head. "Such a hopeless young soul. Can't even understand your own heart."

Danny slaps the hand away. "Says the guy who asked out every girl in school because they all made him feel the same way because it turns out he's super ace and didn't actually feel anything for any of them."

"And what an emotional journey that was." Tucker faces Danny head-on. "Look, Danny. If it's bothering you that much, then go talk to him. Feed him some excuse about what happened. Just remember that there's a reason Sam and I think it will be okay."

Danny ponders Tucker's advice for the rest of the day. The weekend starts tomorrow, which gives him two whole Dash-free days to think about the situation. Maybe a little time to himself as what he needs. He goes for a flight after school rather than walking home with Tucker; being in the air always helps clear his head.

He soars far above the city until he is little more than a pinprick to everyone far below. At the peak of his flight, his phone rings. The caller ID shows it's Jazz.

"What's up?" he greets his sister.

"Taken over my room yet?" Jazz asks.

"When you've only been at college for a month? Of course." It made a great storage space. Danny turns over to float on his stomach and starts drifting down like a leaf, falling back and forth on the wind.

"Well, I'm gonna need it back this weekend."

"Dropping out already?"

"You wish. I got a tutoring gig: two sessions—Saturday and Sunday. I don't want to do the two hours there and back both days, so I'm coming home for the weekend."

"I can't believe someone is actually paying to spend time with you. Hope the loser doesn't rub off on them."

Jazz laughs. "Pretty sure any loser on my came from you. And it's four people. Actually, you know them."

When Danny comes downstairs Saturday morning and sees Jazz's students at the kitchen table, he stops dead.

"You have got to be kidding me," he says.

"Hi, Danny!" Paulina waves, far too perky for nine in the morning. Squished around the table with her, Kwan and Star offer their own small waves. Dash looks straight down at his textbook.

"Goodbye." Danny pivots and marches back toward the stairs. Forget breakfast; he didn't want to eat, anyway. He can still have a nice, relaxing, Dash-free day in the confines of his bedroom.

A cascade of whispers reaches his ears as he hits the first stair. The A-listers murmur too quiet for him to make out what they're saying, although he thinks he catches his name more than once. Maybe they're talking about how uncanny it is being inside his house. Or, perhaps, they're discussing the new school nurse, Tammy. But even as he thinks it, he knows neither theory is true.

A chair screeches in the kitchen, the plastic capped legs scraping against the linoleum. Danny throws himself up the stairs.

"Oh, Danny, wait!" Paulina's silky voice follows him.

He jerks to a stop at the landing, cringing. How mad would she be if he ignored her? It's funny to think that a few years ago his heart would have leapt at Paulina calling out his name, back when he had a crush on her.

His toes curl against the carpet as he hesitates; the pros and cons of ignoring her run through his head. Pro: he won't have to deal with whatever scheme she's up to, and Paulina is most certainly up to something. Con: she might sic Dash on him, and he's the last person Danny wants to see right now. But that's a moot point because Dash is already here. After some humming and hawing, he grits his teeth and turns back around.

Paulina hangs out the kitchen doorway, greeting him with a bright smile.

"Yes, Paulina?" Danny asks.

It should be physically impossible for her smile to get any wider, and yet it does. "You're having trouble in science class, right?"

Danny hesitates. "Maybe. Why?"

"So are we! We came here for a study session with your sister, since she was Casper's best student in thirty decades. You should join us!"

"Isn't Star acing all her classes? And I thought science was your best class."

Paulina rolls her eyes and huffs, but without any malice. It reminds him of the look Tucker gives his little cousins when they are being intentionally obstinate. Danny flushes, suddenly feeling stupid even though he doesn't understand why.

"Yeah, we're good at it, but the boys aren't. Duh." She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Maybe it is. "It's easier to study in a group."

"Thanks, but no thanks. I like studying alone."

Paulina's smile doesn't fall, but it changes. Danny can't quite place what it turns into. Her mouth curves upward and her teeth are exposed; objectively, it's still a smile. But there's a new tension to it, one Danny only notices now, but he thinks might have been there the whole time, lurking behind the bright façade. His grip on the newel post tightens, the wood creaking beneath his finger.

At times like this, Danny wishes his ghost abilities included reading emotions. The look Paulina is giving him is important, he can feel it, even though he can't explain it. But it doesn't mean anything if he can't decipher it.

"If you say so." The moment shatters. Paulina withdraws back into the kitchen, leaving Danny alone and wondering if he missed something important.

Down the hall from him, Jazz's bedroom door opens. She emerges with an armful of books—old schoolbooks, Danny notes.

"Not hanging out with Sam and Tucker today?" she asks.

"Jazz, it's not even noon yet. I don't think Tucker's awake." Danny glances down the stairs toward the kitchen, mulling something over in his head. "I kind of want some alone time today. I know you're tutoring and everything, but could you make sure they don't bother me?"

Jazz frowns. "Is everything okay?"

"There was an... incident with Dash at school."

"Boy troubles?"

"Jazz!" Danny's entire face turns scarlet. "Please never say that about Dash." He lowers his voice. "It was ghost-related troubles."

Jazz's expression goes stony, her teasing smile replaced by a serious frown. "Do I need to take care of him for you?"

"Oh, my God, Jazz! Just keep him away from my room!" He marches the rest of the way to his room to the sound of Jazz's snickers and slams the door behind him.

When Paulina returns to the kitchen, Dash sits up straighter. She shakes her head as she reclaims her seat next to Star. Dash deflates again.

"I told you this wouldn't work," Dash says.

"Don't be so silly. That wasn't even plan A, although it would make things easier. Are you sure you didn't do anything to him in that change room?" Paulina asks.

Dash groans. "Please. Please never say anything like that again. It sounds so wrong."

"You're the one who took it that way."

Star and Kwan laugh at Dash's misfortune, watching him bury his face in his arms. When Star suggested they gather evidence, to confirm whether or not Danny was being abused at home, this wasn't what Dash expected. He pictured spy movie antics with them sneaking through the bushes dressed all in black, peeking through windows until they say something that proved—or disproved—their theory.

Things would go a lot easier if Dash could actually talk to Danny, but ever since that moment in the change room, he can't. He knows Danny has been avoiding him, which is better short term. If Danny walked up to Dash right now demanding to talk about what happened, Dash wouldn't know what to say.

How many times has he hurt Danny (pushed, kicked, body-checked) when he was injured? There's a possibility, however slim, that this was a fluke, the first time Danny has ever come to school injured. There have to be loads of reasons someone might not go to the hospital, such as bad insurance. Dash's cousin broke her nose once and let it heal crooked instead of going to the doctor since it was cheaper. He's heard stories of people sacrificing their health rather than paying exorbitant hospital fees. It's not impossible.

Except Danny's parents are inventors. They do projects for the government and can afford to throw money around for ridiculous ghost hunting contraptions. The Emergency Ops Centre only two floors above them must have cost millions. If that's the case, then surely his parents can afford a hospital visit for such a bad wound.

Dash doesn’t like to think about the alternative, but he has to. The alternative is the whole reason he and his friends are here.

That doesn't help with Dash's other dilemma, though. How is he supposed to talk to Fenton, now? Dash doesn't think he knows how to interact with Danny without some form of aggression. Even when he stopped outright bullying people, he never stopped with Danny. A push here, a shove there. It is instinct for Dash to stick his foot out if he sees Danny coming.

Danny even returns the favour, sometimes, growing bolder the older they became. Dash still doesn't know how Danny keeps getting into his stuffed bear collection, but it's not unusual for him to find one in his locker or sitting at his desk when he returns to class.

It's what they do. Dash can't help it. Any time he manages to trip Danny up enough that he gets a glare or a vengeful smile, it makes him feel good.

But he can't do that now. If Danny is actually getting hurt at home, Dash can't in his right mind keep agitating him. Just thinking about what he did to Danny's stitches makes him pale. He doesn't even want to think about what other wounds he's made worse over the years.

And he has. Dash knows this without a doubt. Thinking back on their interactions this year alone, more than five occasions come to mind where Danny grimaced, or flinched, or clutched some part of his body after Danny bumped his shoulder in the hall. It feels him with an indescribable dread, but the worst of it is he can't understand why.

He never knew Danny was injured; he can't be entirely to blame. Thinking that does nothing to assuage his guilt, though.

"Okay!" Jazz Fenton announces herself with a bright chirp. She clutches a stack of textbooks to her chest; books Dash recognizes from their classes. The idea that she stole them from the school flashes through his mind, but that's ludicrous. Jazz doesn't have a criminally minded bone in her body. If anything, she bought them, or the school gave them to her for being that amazing. Either option is more likely than her committing a crime.

Jazz slams the books down on the table directly across from Dash. She flashes him a brilliant smile as she sits and folds her hands over the table.

"So, Dash." She tilts her head. Her smile no longer looks kind. "I've heard some interesting things about you."

Previous | Next

[k-comfyspace]

Plan

Star: Jo Haseul (Loona)

Idea: Yes

Love: Hi cause recent news that Haseul is finally back could you do a Haseul x 13th fem!member. Where reader has been sad and overwhelmed lately, added that Haseul is gone so she cries to her members sometimes but when Haseul comes back to the dorm again reader is super happy? Thanks! I love you a lot!

A/n: Haseulllllllllll, thank you for requesting!!!

Sorry if I went on a little tangent love my head is in space again😅Hope you still like it!

You wrapped your arms around the older girl hugging her back as a giggle escaped past her lips, “Don’t forget to get some rest okay?”

Pulling away Haseul cupped your cheeks, frowning at your obvious tired state which made you roll your eyes and playfully pushed her away when you saw the worry and concern, “Yes mom,”

The small sounds of her laughter never failed to make you smile as Haseul waved at you and the others before she left the dorm after exchanging one more set of goodbyes.

When the door closed all of the girls got back to their own business, you walked back to your room sighing when you saw the stacked books and notebooks that you left on the table.

You padded towards your desk, sitting on the chair as you wore your glasses and took one book, your mind focusing on your task as you zoned out from everything.

A few hours later your door opened but you were too occupied to realize it until someone pulled the book out of your hands, you jumped back, hand on your chest as you looked at Kahei who glanced at you with concern,

“Unnie, you scared me!” you exclaimed, the older girl furrowing her eyebrows before she noticed piles of books on your desk.

“I knocked on your door multiple times, Y/n” carefully Kahei placed the book down as you breathed out, heart slowing down after the scare.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice, I was focusing too much,” you reasoned, a yawn leaving your lips as Kahei looked at you with concern, “Let’s eat dinner, so you can sleep,” she said, pulling you by the arm and you couldn’t resist, seeing the time on the clock you were surprised that it was already so late.

Jungeun and Sooyoung were in the kitchen, chatting with each other before their attention had shifted to you.

Frowns etched into their faces when they saw the fatigue in your face, the yawning that followed while you rubbed your eyes through your glasses didn’t help as Kahei sat you down before she prepared you some food.

The blonde and the brunette ended their talk and took the seats in front of you, observing as you kept nodding off, your eyes fighting to stay open as you mumbled to yourself, when Kahei came back she gave you a plate with a glass of water, also sitting beside you. Silence surrounded all of you as they let you eat,

“Are you doing okay, Y/n?”

Sooyoung was the first to break the silence, voicing out the thoughts that everyone had as you glanced up to see them looking at you with a certain look you knew far too well,

“I’m fine,” you said with a tired smile on your face, not giving any assurance to your members at all but when you saw them get filled with more worry you sigh and gave them a reassuring smile,

“I promise when I need help I would ask for you or anyone in the dorm,” you said, giving them your full smile which made their worries lessen as they sighed and looked at one another.

“We just don’t want you overworking yourself,”

You understood their concern because they’ve been seeing how hard you’ve worked, the hours you spent in the company trying to perfect the routines and the late nights that you’ve spent working on your projects, it made them worry because lately you’ve been getting too exhausted that they’re getting worried for your health.

When you finished your meal, Sooyoung volunteered to wash your plates as Kahei ushered you to your room, making sure that you were going to sleep and not work on anything because you still had a schedule tomorrow.

Hearing the door shut the three sighed, all thinking about your well being as they pondered about your situation,

“I hope Y/n’s taking care of herself,” Sooyung muttered after she was finished, sitting with the other two who only nodded in agreement, “She’s too stubborn,” Jungeun commented as they all glanced to the hallway.

Looking at your door before they debated on what to do with you. They all made a promise to their leader, to take care of you and make sure you weren’t overworking yourself.

Haseul knew how stubborn you were to finish a task even if you were already dead tired, she often stayed with you at nights just to make sure you didn’t stay up finishing something you could be doing tomorrow.

So she made sure that before she left she could entrust her fellow leaders to take care of you, even talking with Kahei because she knew that you two were close, considering you two were foreigners and often bonded to learn Korean when you were trainees.

“Let’s just go to sleep, we have schedules tomorrow,” Sooyoung said, glancing at the two who smiled and bid her goodnight, each of them going back to their separate rooms and calling it a night.

—

“Alright, water break!” Sooyoung announced, everyone choosing a corner to sit and drink their water as they rested.

But you didn’t sit as you only drank your water and went near the mirror, trying to redo the part you were struggling at, but everytime you attempted it, one foot would always be off and if you were to perfect the feet your arms would be wrong, at some point you were so frustrated that you decided to ask for someone's help,

“Haseul unnie can you help me?”

All of your members became quiet, staring at you as you didn’t seem to notice what you said, repeating the move as you mumbled to yourself every time you got it wrong,

“Unnie can you--” raising your head you met all their eyes, worry obviously present, you furrowed your eyebrows for a minute before you realized what you said.

Your eyes were quick to drop to the floor, lips pursed as you stared back into the mirror, a sigh leaving your lips.

It wasn’t the first time that this had happened, accidentally calling your leader because you struggled. It was a natural instinct, to call for the older girl as she had been the one to always take care of you.

Though the others also help you it was something about your leader that made you warm up to her more than the others, there were a few times where you accidentally did it.

Everyone understood at first, you had a connection with Haseul. Now they were getting concerned because of the frequency that it had been happening, they knew you were always happy being around the older woman.

It was practically visible how you always lit up when she was around, because you were used to her being by your side, constantly nearby when you needed her.

When they saw the way your shoulders sagged, Jiwoo was the first to stand from her place, walking behind you and wrapping her arms around your waist.

She nuzzled her head in the crook of your neck, you closed your eyes, embracing her warmth before you suddenly felt more pairs of arms enveloping you into a hug.

The girls all hugged you, making sure you knew they were there as you slowly started to tear up, truth be told you were struggling a lot. Not only did the hiatus of your leader affect you, but you also had been feeling overwhelmed because of all the work you’ve been doing.

With the countless schedules that you had to do, it gave you less time to work on your projects. Which resulted in you having to stay up late just to finish it.

They all hugged you and tried to take all your pain away, they knew it was hard, being an idol while also going through school. Though some of them didn’t experience it they can observe and see that you’re really struggling but you still try to hide the fact.

So all they could do is hug you and assure you that they were always with you, whenever you needed it.

—

Haseul was laying on her bed, scrolling through her phone and the messages in the group chat while she caught up on everything that was happening back at the dorm. Making sure that everyone was safe and sound.

She was about to put her phone down when she got another message from Sooyoung.

Haseul opened it and thought that the brunette would only check up on her but seeing as she mentioned your name worry started to build up inside her.

But as the conversation went on, a frown etched into her face, lowering and lowering until the end of Sooyoung's message. She told Haseul about everything you’ve been going through, saying that girls have been worrying non stop about you because of the tiredness that you’ve been feeling.

That you’re still stubborn and choose to hide it from them even if it was very clear that you were already so tired every time they see you.

Haseul had her ways of figuring out if you were hiding something, she knew you like the back of her hand, she knew when you were lying and when you tried to hide something.

She speculated something based on your tired state every time she went to the dorms. She brushed it off at first but now having gotten the story and confirmation from Sooyoung she stood up, a bright smile on her face when she already had the solution in her head.

The following day everyone seemed extra sweet, helping you start your day as they became more careful and smiley around you.

A part of you expected it, knowing that your members would do anything to make you smile and happy, but even if you knew it would happen you were still so happy so receive all the loving gestures that they would show you throughout the morning until you were dropped off to school.

At the end of the day you exited the gates, searching for the van but there was a crowd of people blocking most of the view. You didn’t think much about it, knowing that most of your fellow idols are always carrying a crowd behind them but you didn’t expect someone to grab your wrist.

You turned quickly and planned to throw your books at the person but instead Heejin greeted you as she gave you a smile, you furrowed your eyebrows at the older girl before you asked,

“Unnie? What are you--” Heejin didn’t let you finish as she pulled you away walking towards the crowd, as it parted to reveal the source of the attention was your own members.

Smiling brightly as they saw you heading towards them while you had to double take to make sure that you were seeing it correctly.

They giggled at your dumbfounded expression, “W-what are you doing here?” you asked them and they only showed you a sly grin,

“We just want to pick up our maknae. Is that so wrong?” Jinsoul replied but the smile on her face made you suspicious, “Don’t mind her, we thought it would be better if all of us go at the same time,”

Sooyoung interjected, pushing the girl away making everyone giggle, including you as they finally saw your full smile, eyes turning into crescents and nose crinkling which made them smile in delight.

A few hours later you came back to the dorms, body aching as you pushed yourself to the limits.

Not only did you have your sports fest earlier in the morning, but you also had to finish your choreography which had to be repeated several times because of some mistakes and revisions.

Opening the door you lazed past the hallway, going to the living room to crash on the couch but your whole body came to a stop as you suddenly felt wide awake, Haseul stood in the middle, a smile on her face before she opened her arms to you.

Without hesitation you bolted towards her, jumping into her embrace as she tried to balance herself, failing and landing on the couch with you on top of her.

The laugh that registered in your ears made you smile so wide that Haseul mirrored it, wrapping her arms around you just as tight and hugged you, melting in her arms you sighed and pushed your face to the crook of her neck sighing as you inhaled the familiar scent,

“I missed you so much,” you muttered softly, making the older sift her hand through your hair as she closed her eyes.

The rest could only watch with bright smiles, seeing you and Haseul happy as ever while you held each other.

It was everything they ever wanted, the two people who would constantly make them happy, their source of joy and energy, leader and maknae both happy and giggling as they rested on the couch.

—

Throughout the night you couldn’t wipe the smile on your face, not that you wanted to as you stuck beside your leader and when Haseul announced that she would be moving back to the dorm you couldn’t hold in your squeal as you and the other girls pounced on the older girl.

Surprised and happy at the news as all of you trapped her in a hug, cheering and celebrating as you ate happily. Joyous that you would have your leader back at the dorm again.

When you finished eating all of you went to wash up, planning to rest early since you had a rest day tomorrow because everything was essentially done.

Once you left your bathroom your gaze landed on the sudden stack of books which reminded you of what you have to do, the smile on your face dropped just in time for the door to open, Haseul peeking in and seeing the frown on your face.

“Hey,” you turned your head to the door, seeing the girl enter and close the door behind her. Approaching you before she held your hands in her own,

“What’s wrong?” she asked, your eyes moving to your desk, making the older follow your gaze as her own expression lowered before she pulled you towards your bed.

“Listen to me Y/n, you’re hardworking we all know that, but please don’t forget to take a rest,” Haseul said, cupping your cheeks as she brushed under your eyes, frowning at the dark circles that already formed. You closed your eyes and leaned into her hand, the warmth radiating from her forcing a sigh out of you.

Haseul glanced at the stacks of books, a smile reappearing on her face as an idea formed in her head, pulling away the older girl who waited until you opened your eyes.

Seeing the smile on her face made you confused but she was quick to pull you up and lead you to your desk, sitting down she smiled and got a book of her own, seeing the older woman's plan you had to smile. Thoughtful that she would do that as you reached for your glasses and put them on.

“Where do we start?” she asked as you looked at your sticky notes and told her where, you opened your book and started your own work, butterflies floating in your stomach as you couldn’t help but glance at the older in admiration, thankful that she would help you.

When you glanced down Haseul raised her head, she noticed your stares here and there, she found it cute each time she would see the smile on your face then after a minute she called you.

Raising your head you looked at her in question as she gave you the sweetest smile,

“I missed you too.”

[straight-into-the-animus]

(Not) Getting Married Today (French Fryes)

This was a fic request for my amazing pal @etzee-ohs that was a long time coming, but finals kept getting in the way. Sorry about the wait and I really hope you enjoy it!!

Read on Ao3

Jacob could hear Evie’s heels clacking on the tile as she came into the bathroom, and quickly slid the lock shut on the stall door.

“This is the men’s room!” He tried to protest, but it came off as more a whine.

“Why’d you run off?”

“I had to piss.” Jacob scooted back on the toilet, almost willing his body to become more compact to avoid being seen.

“Are you a racehorse? You did it twice before we left the house as well.” Evie must have found where he was, since he could see through the gap in the bottom that her short heels and bottom of her pantsuit stopped in front of his stall door.

“Maybe I had a lot of water.”

“Are you even dressed? The ceremony is in an hour.”

Yes, Jacob was somewhat dressed. And no, Jacob didn’t need to be reminded of the time crunch. Arno’s family had gone full out with renting a hall for the ceremony and reception, a lovely villa in the countryside that was way too clean for the rustic look it was going for.

They said they want to take care of it all, Arno had smiled, obviously happy his family had such a blessing and wanted to help, and Jacob tried to get away with a joke that he still wanted a say in the catering and cake -- which he did get the choice of, and thoroughly enjoyed so much that he had hard times with every cake. It wasn’t going to be a big wedding, just the people closest to them. For the past thirty minutes even Jacob where he was had been able to hear the sound of tires crunching on gravel as expectant guests rolled up, and all made excited and general conversation. Jacob was a simple man and would’ve been happy to have a courthouse ceremony in their pajamas, so to get married in a hall was more than he ever dreamed of getting. But in the year and a half it took, neither of them backed out. Jacob didn’t say anything, never questioned Arno and why he wanted this, and he was regretting it.

It wasn’t to say he didn’t want to spend forever attached to Arno, because he did. He knew that even if they ended up splitting, which killed Jacob to think of, he’d never marry again because Arno would’ve been it. But he didn’t want Arno to spend forever attached to him.

“It’s not too late to run, right? I mean. We’re not gonna get the deposit back. I can send something to compensate Arno’s stepdad. You think they’ll accept American money?”

“I’ll drag you back if you think of leaving.”

“Can you just stop, Evie? You’re not helping.” Jacob got off the toilet and opened the door, taking in the concern of his sister’s face. “Why the fuck would Arno wanna marry me?”

“Because he obviously loves you. Can’t you see that? He asked you, right?”

“He asked ‘cause he doesn’t know anything.”

“You’re calling him stupid now?”

“No! Or- yes. Stupidly romantic. It sounds like a good idea but it’s just gonna be a pain in the ass for him eventually.”

Evie fixed him with a look that just seemed to scream that he was an idiot, and he hated it with all his heart because he knew he wasn’t. She spoke, slow and measured, and even if Jacob didn’t want to listen he did.

“You’re not a pain in the ass.” At Jacob’s snort, she rolled her eyes. “Not most of the time. Right now you’re pushing it a bit. But I think Arno really did know what he was doing when he proposed. Have you ever known Arno to back down on anything?”

And Jacob hadn’t -- it was why he was the best at pulling Arno away from fights or at the very least supervising to make sure it didn’t go too far. And why their rare arguments lasted for days sometimes. But he refused to answer and went to wash his hands all the same to avoid her.

“Okay, just- Just don’t cancel anything. Please. We can figure things out.” Evie put a hand on his shoulder and led him out the restroom to go to his actual room, getting no fight in the action. He felt like a livewire and she had to sense it by the way he was silent for once. “I need to step out for a minute to talk to someone and you’re going to relax. Okay?”

Jacob glared but did as asked, looking all the picture of a petulant and scared child as he sat down on the cream sofa.

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

Evie stepped out of the room, closing the door, before walking to the end of the hallway and dialing the first number in her contacts. Élise picked up within a few seconds.

“How is he?”

“I finally got him to settle down. He’s curled up on one of the couches. How about your brother?”

“This close to hyperventilating into a paper bag.” Élise sighed, and Evie heard her moving quickly to likely go somewhere more private. “He’s deadset on thinking Jacob doesn’t want this.”

“Obviously we can tell they’re made for each other if they’re going to be like this,” Evie mumbled, pacing a step back and forth at a time before something hit her. “I might have an idea.”

“I do love those.”

Evie grinned.

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

Evie waited a few minutes, unwilling to go back to verbal abuse, and came back into where Jacob was likely wanting to drown his sorrows, glancing up at her. At least he had moved on from the whining and shivering aspect and now just seemed to sulk in his seat.

“It’s fucking raining now.” Jacob bemoaned loudly, looking out at the dark sky that had just recently been light and sunny.

“I’m sure they’re moving anything they need to inside. And they say it’s good luck, you know.”

“They made that shit up to comfort the piss poor bride who lost her expensive summer wedding.” Jacob sniffed, and Evie tried not to notice the red puff under his eyes from rubbing them until it became too much.

“Do you want me to put some makeup on that? Get you all dapper?”

“There’s no point,” Jacob said, “there’s not going to be a wedding.”

“I promise you there will be. Everyone’s showed up, besides.”

Jacob sat back, obviously displeased with what she said. But at this point, she couldn’t mince words. It was all or nothing. Both of them were silent for a while before Evie’s phone buzzed, and she checked the notification.

“Here. A video to cheer you up, maybe.”

“Is it a virtual cat poster thing?”

Evie rolled her eyes and pulled up the video Élise had sent her, handing the phone over to Jacob. Jacob pressed the small triangle for play almost absently. The video had some motion in it of the phone being set up, and lean subtly against something small while two people were right in the middle of a conversation. He recognized the visible figure standing in front of one of the small mirrors, undoing and redoing his hair in an anxious manner.

Despite what Jacob thought, his heart did that standard skip it always did upon seeing him. He hadn’t gotten to see him since they arrived and separated, but Arno was half-dressed in his blue shirt and crisp dress pants, bowtie undone haphazardly.

“-don’t get why do you think Jacob is going to regret this? He said yes, didn’t he?”

Faintly he realized it was Élise speaking to Arno, and Arno sounded… panicked.

“He said yes because he didn’t know what he was getting into! I didn’t want that.”

Jacob’s heart sunk, but Arno continued, giving up on his hair with a frustrated groan.

“I’m grateful we did- Were going to do it here. And it’s beautiful. But… I’m not exactly marriage material, Élise. Don’t give me that look, it’s true. I��m an idiot most of the time. What happens when the honeymoon phase is over? And he realizes after a year or two that he doesn’t want to deal with me? It’s his right, but… I’d be heartbroken. And if I hurt him? I love him too much to put him through this.” Arno mumbled something else, sitting in one of the chairs with a dramatic huff and burying his face in his hands. There was one final line Jacob caught. “I’m nothing without him and he’s everything without me.”

Jacob was vaguely aware of Evie shouting about how he could’ve broken her phone, but he didn’t even realize he had dropped it as he hurried off. There could have been more but he didn’t need or care to hear it. He ran off through the hallway, almost knocking over poor waiters and workers alike as he looked for his fucking perfect fiance, who was somewhere thinking that Jacob couldn’t want him more than anything in any sense of the word.

Élise was waiting outside a door, and she barely looked up as Jacob stormed into the room she was near. Arno saw him in the mirror, jumped, and spun around, a tremulous smile playing on his face before it fell.

“What’s wrong, Ja-”

“I love you too, Arno. I said yes because I love you. Yeah, even with your fucking wardrobe and ego and attitude and smarts and good fucking heart.” He blurted out, not letting Arno get in a word edgewise before continuing. “Don’t you ever think you’re anything less than it for me, please.”

“Jacob, darling, mon amour , just breathe.” He held Jacob loosely but tried to get the man to look him straight in the eyes as he spoke. “Where- where is this coming from?”

“I saw the video. Evie had it. Where you said that shit all about you.”

“I- Élise filmed that?” He sent a half-hearted glare as if his sister could see him through the wall, but Jacob held his face and turned him back to look at him.

“I get it if you don’t wanna get married to me. But don’t be a dick to yourself in the process.”

“Of course I want to get married to you. I proposed. And I meant it.” Arno said, serious before turning shy. “I suppose… I just got worried. That I was being selfish by asking somehow.”

Jacob looked down, shyly grabbing Arno’s hand and playing with it. It was a distraction so he didn’t have to watch Arno’s no-doubt judgy gaze. “I was worried. I thought you were making a mistake with all this. With me.”

“I could never. If anything I was worried you’d be making a mistake with me. Compared to you, I’m-”

“You’re not nothing.” Jacob’s head snapped up. “Don’t say that again. ‘Sides,” Jacob ended up giving a half-smile, “I need someone around to keep me in line. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

Arno smiled and ended up giving a somewhat surprised huff of laughter. He glanced down again. “Looks like we’re both a few idiots.”

“It’s us. I wasn’t expecting things to go perfectly.” Jacob’s smile grew at Arno’s second bit of laughter and it turned a bit sheepish. “So… After all that… Do we want to get married still?”

“If it means I get to have you for good, then of course. If you’re sure you want it as much as I do.” Arno looked up and gave a small smile, but it was brilliant and blinding. “But you’ll need to leave so I can finish getting ready.”

“I dunno. I quite like the idea of undoing your work so far.”

Arno chuckled and gently stopped Jacob’s hands from teasingly going too far up his chest.

“We’ll have the honeymoon for that. I promise.”

“Making me wait so long. Glad I know it’s gonna be worth it.” Jacob grumbled good-naturedly, and leaned in for a tender, chaste kiss. He was only barely pulled away when he spoke again, unable to help it. “I love you.”

“And I love you too.” Arno smiled. “Now. If we want to ‘do the damn thing’, as everyone says, we both have to finish getting ready.”

“Already nagging and we haven’t even exchanged rings.” Jacob grinned and gave him one final kiss before walking out of the room. Élise looked up as he left, and she grinned.

“Glad to see you’re finally acting like adults.”

“I’m definitely doing something at you and my sister’s wedding in return.” Jacob sent her a look, but he was smiling all the same before he hurried back to his room.

The wedding ended up starting just ten minutes behind schedule in one of the halls, hastily set up to work against the rain. But neither of them wanted to rush it.

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

Evie wanted to hit them for how much they ended up making everyone cry. There wasn’t a dry eye at the vows, or the kiss, or the reception, and Jacob and Arno held onto each other in a first dance that didn’t consist of anything more than just swaying in place. Evie and Élise sat back at the head table, red hair brushing Evie’s shoulders as Élise leaned on her.

“You think our wedding will be as hectic as theirs?” Evie asked, and Élise rested her chin on Evie’s shoulder as she looked up at her.

“Knowing us? Absolutely.”

Title and work inspired by Getting Married Today from the musical Company!

I hope you enjoy! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request! Thank you so much for reading and have a wonderful day!

[lumini-317]

Hello!

This will be my official “introductory” post!

My real name is Erica, but I go by many names. My nickname repertoire includes but is not limited to: Lumi, Lumini, Cricket (I have a habit of rubbing my feet together, lmao), Jinx, Eri, Er, EriJoy, Sunbaeby, and Aceir (my real name but in alphabetical order).

This is my first ever Tumblr blog. I’ve had it for a while but have rarely posted anything, that along with the fact that I’m on mobile is kind of a mess so I apologize for mistakes and all that.

I have 3 older brothers, an older sister, and a younger brother.

I’m an ambivert. Sometimes I love hanging out with bigger groups of people, other times I dread it.

I’ve taken the “16personalities” test 4 times and all 4 put me in the “Diplomat” category, however I got “Advocate” (INFJ) 2 times, and “Protagonist” (ENFJ) and “Mediator” (INFP) 1 time each.

I am LGBTQ+. I’m asexual, aro+panromantic flux, and while I feel like I’m genderfluid, the changes are very subtle and so I sometimes just go with agender, gendervoid, or neutrois. It’s a lot less complicated that way. I’m ambiamorous, and also pronoun apathetic!

I love whump. I’ve loved it for as long as I can remember but only found the whump community maybe 3(?) years ago.

I also love K-Pop, C-Pop, J-Pop, and Asian dramas, mainly K-Pop and K-Dramas, though.

I’m a HUGE multistan. ATEEZ, SKZ, TBZ, EXO, BTS, Red Velvet, SHINee, iKON, MONSTA X, TWICE, TO1, WANNA ONE, SuperM, X1, MIRAE, Ciipher, Golden Child, Purple Kiss, BAE173, SF9, IU, ONEUS, ONEWE, The Rose, PIXY, LUCY, STAYC, WEi (which I pronounced as “way” for an embarrassingly long time), Dreamcatcher, Brave Girls, TXT, ENHYPEN, SNSD, KARD, AKMU, SHAUN, Gaho, NCT, GHOST9, 1team, SE7EN, Cross Gene, D1ce, AB6IX, CRAVITY, BLACKPINK, CIX, VIXX, f(x), 4Minute, CLC, YEZI, B.I, Wonho, (G)I-DLE, EVERGLOW, SEVENTEEN, BROOKLYN, Ha Hyunsang, DAY6, GOT7, Teen Top, BAP, TREASURE, UNIQ, etc! It goes on, far longer than I can list. I am also very much against fanwars, they disgust me.

I’m also a HUGE animal lover, and a big softie. I can’t even squish insects. I don’t care that they can’t feel pain and don’t experience emotions, I just can’t bring myself to. I make it my mission to save any type of animal I come across. I find toads in our koi pond and immediately pick them out and take them to a safe place. I help turtles across the road. I got a mouse out of a puddle and revived it, releasing it when it was healthy enough. I saw a snail on a piece of wood that was going to be thrown on a fire and carefully pulled it off and put it somewhere else. So far I’ve found 5 stray cats (Piper, Toothless, Felix, Kai, and Kit Kat—all were found as skinny, sickly kittens) and took them in, raising them as my own. I rescued a chipmunk from certain death-by-cat. I’ve even saved a few baby raccoons, ducklings, lizards, spiders, and snakes in my time. And I’ll keep doing so for as long as I live.

I love writing, drawing/sketching, and painting, however I’m not confident that I’m good at any of those things, lmao. I mean, I don’t think I’m the worst, but my finished “works” often leave me unsatisfied with my “skills”. But of course, that won’t stop me from trying to improve!

I’m a maladaptive daydreamer. This can cause issues in some places while helping me out in others. On one hand, it makes doing chores and such kind of difficult. Like one time I had to take care of my dad’s pigeons while he was fixing our shed and one time he pointed out how slow I was with the chores. His words were something along the lines of, “I’m already almost done with what I have to do and you’re still working with the pigeons.” Also, it (and maybe ADHD if I do have it?) made school a nightmare for me. But it’s also helpful because then during church it’s really easy to keep myself occupied while the pastors go on about their Magical Sky Daddy™’s son throwing a tantrum and killing a figtree because it didn’t have any figs and how that story should “challenge” us or something.

The characters in my daydreams are weird, though. They merge and separate with each other to make different characters depending on the situation. Most of them don’t have definite genders. Only a handful of them have names because they’re always merging and separating like some kind of Shadow Clone Masters or something. Stuff like that.

One of my characters is for sure a demi-boy, though, and his name is Kyler.

I brought this up because I was watching The Andy Griffith Show and Andy was giving Opie a lecture on how many poor kids there are in the world and used the ratio “one and a half boys per square mile”. Opie then says that he’s “never seen a half a boy before”. Kyler just sort of pops into (fake) existence, jumps off the couch, and throws his arms in the air while saying, “Half a boy, right here!” I burst out laughing. Thankfully it didn’t seem weird, since my parents started laughing at Opie and thought that I was just laughing at it, too.

Any-who.

If I daydream while I’m standing, I’ll often pace and gesture with my arms while moving my lips. Sometimes I’ll even whisper. If I’m sitting down, I usually fidget a lot (such as pick at my shirt and rub my feet together), stare into space, and move my lips or whisper. My family sometimes ask me, “Why are you whispering?” Or, “What are you grinning about?” And I just shrug because I don’t know how to explain it to them without risking them calling someone to pray over me, lmao. I mean, I wasn’t even allowed to have imaginary friends because that was “evil”. When I was about 7, I told my parents about my imaginary unicorn friend and they gave me a lecture and “prayed over me”. It was embarrassing and awkward for me.

I’m suspicious that I might have ADHD, but don’t have the money to actually get a professional diagnosis. I’m also too scared to ask my parents about it.

Speaking of which, my family and I don’t see eye-to-eye. I mean, they don’t know it because I’m good at hiding it, and they think I agree with mostly everything they do but boy, is it a mess.

You see, they’re evangelical conservative Christians. “LGBTQ+ people are going to hell”, “ThE LeFt ARe eViL AnD ARe TrYiNg To BrAiNwAsh OuR ChiLdrEn”, “Trump was sent by God”, “Intersex is fake”, “Women must submit to men”, “You should get married no later than in a year or ‘the temptation’ to have sex might become too much”, the whole bit.

Meanwhile I’m over here with my (imaginary) pride flags, just existing as an agnostic leftist who wants everyone to have equal rights, regardless of gender identity or sexual orientation, and would rather redo my horrifically atrocious kindergarten closing program role than pray to a god who (if they/he/she/it/whatever exists) gives cancer to kids and killed millions of innocent animals and people in the Bible.

But they have no idea that this is how I feel and now expect me to be baptized within the next month to show that I have “accepted Jesus Christ as my savior”. Yeah...that’s gonna be an awkward discussion...

Anyway, that’s just some things about me. Sorry that I got sidetracked a few times, lmao!

I look forward to posting more and maybe even making friends!

Thank you for reading (:

[clotpole-art]

Retrospective: Illustrated Merlin Alphabet Challenge

Finally finished the Merlin Alphabet Challenge, so here's the artist notes no one asked for! See below the cut for comments on each piece by order of creation. Be warned folks, it's a long post.

Before we begin: credit to @merlin-gifs for the challenge, which can be found here. It's awesome, go do it.

First thing you should know is I did probably 80-90% of these while on phone calls or in Zoom meetings and that's reflected in the simplicity of most pieces -- the compositions aren't complicated, the lines aren't refined, the coloring is slapdash. If you noticed variation in quality of the pieces, that's why!

Second: I tried to focus on trying something new for each drawing. Didn't always happen, but this challenge did succeed in helping me push me out of my own comfort zone.

Without further ado...

A is for Arthur Pendragon

Textures, baby! Brushed metal of his armor, scratchy linen texture of his shirt, wispy softness of hair and skin. I'd recently gotten my tablet out of storage after a year of figuring out where the hell I was going to live and this was one of the first pieces of digital art I spent time on. Glad it was Arthur kicking us off!

B is for the Beginning of the End (1x08)

Fun fact, I did not draw this with my tablet. I drew it with my work computer's touchscreen. It was awful, would not recommend.

C is for Camelot

I wanted to get used to different brushes, so landscape of the castle it was! There are brushes that help with drawing grass; I did not use said brushes and my wrist hurt afterward. That being said, I really enjoyed working on this and it was one of the few pieces I didn't do while multitasking.

D is for Daegal

Also drawn on my work computer's touchscreen, not my tablet. I didn't learn my lesson from B and the experience was even worse. This is my least favorite piece which sucks because it's Daegal so I'm slated to redo this sometime in the near future. Gotta do our boy justice.

E is for Elyan

Oh, I adored drawing this. Elyan often gets shafted in terms of fandom appreciation so I made sure to choose Elyan for this prompt and to participate in the Elyan fest. Plus, I love a good ghost story and figuring out a way to include the druid spectre was fun. Didn't multitask on this piece because Elyan deserved my full attention.

F is for Freya

Ho boy. This piece. I have such mixed feelings on this drawing. Really really didn't like it after I'd decided it was done and very nearly scrapped the whole thing. I had a vision in my head that I just couldn't render into reality and it frustrated me SO MUCH. Looking back, I like it much better than I did when I first created it.

G is for Gwaine

What can I say, he's pretty when he's cold. I didn't stretch too much with this one -- it's my normal drawing style, I was just trying to find a brush that mimicked the softness of pencil.

H is for Hunith

Another one that didn't stray too far from my comfort zone. I was stupid sick and slammed at work, so a motherly Hunith manifested herself. I blame the bad brush choice on the cold medicine.

I is for Isolde

I woke up and chose violence! Tried to vary my figure drawing style a little in this piece but my brain resisted, resulting in... this. Not mad at it, but not happy with it either. Poor Isolde.

J is for Juggling

Ah, this lovely piece was drawn during a particularly vexing meeting at work. Fun fact, there's another version of this line art that's less about Merlin's stress and more about mine.

K is for Knights of Camelot

Continuing the theme of doodling through bad news and shit meetings. Like I said above, normally meeting doodles aren't complex because I'm concentrating on something else. This one was more involved because I didn't want to concentrate on the meeting. I have a few issues with this from a technical standpoint (perspective, my nemesis) but it's still one of my favorites. Tried some funky coloring technique, didn't hate it.

V is for Vibrant Colors

And here is where we said fuck the rules and started going out of alphabetical order! This one was really fun to do and I loved kicking off Albion Party with this as my first submission. The colors were a challenge (as I hoped they would be) and this is the first time I had to do some color tweaking midway though and after finishing the coloring process. Vibrant Arthur, my beloved. This started as a multitask doodle but took dedicated time to finish.

O is for Old Religion

The concept for this one was buzzing in my head for a bit before a quote-prompt solidified it. I adore the thought of more visible, tangible representations of Merlin as the son of the elements, of "magic itself" -- not just sun-gold eyes, but sea-water hair and sandstone-skin. A complement to the vibrant Arthur portrait.

S is for Sorcerers

When I said I wanted to challenge myself, I wasn't kidding. Ho boy, this was fun but frustrating. I wanted to completely illustrate a gif. So I did. Will I do something like this again? Maybe. A while from now.

M is for Morgause

See above -- same illustrated gif style so at least I was able to reuse some drawings. Poor Morgause ended up looking a little wretched here because I was mentally done with this when I was drawing her. Love the concept of tarot cards + Merlin but others are doing it so I won't continue this series.

Z is for Zzzz

This one was specifically done to test out some custom brushes I made in Krita to make abstract background drawing easier for me. I think they turned out well! Plus who doesn't love bb iridescent Aithusa.

L is for Leon, P is for Percival

Quick, minimal doodles of the boys! Mentally, I was going for a Brady's-style retro ensemble cast TV show credits feel. Not mad at it! Some boys look closer to their actors than others (I think my brain broke drawing Percy, my apologies to Tom Hopper).

T is for Tristan

It wasn't until after I posted this that I realized there was more than one Tristan in Merlin. Could have drawn Isolde's bf but I drew Ygraine's dumb jock undead brother instead. Had some fun with dark greys and blacks here regardless.

Q is for Queen Annis

Best royal in Albion, bar none. I tried a different coloring technique here and I kinda like it! may make it my go-to but we'll see. Old habits are hard to break. Also: our queen deserved more badass clothes.

X is for Arthur X Merlin

Oh, be still my shipper heart. Doodled and colored during a meeting. I had hoped to spend more time on it outside of multitasking but alas, work is a bitch. This one is slated for a rework sometime in the future; I adore the concept too much to let it go without creating another version of this that isn't an utter mess.

U is for Uther's Ward

And here's my attempt at forgoing line art. Not fun, do not like.

Y is for Young Warlock

Channeled some pain into this one. Those are the dead eyes of someone who had been told that he'd succeeded when his friend died. That the destiny he'd been expecting to carry on his shoulders into old age was done and dusted before he turned 30. Grief plus the existential dread of the aimless immortal. Oof. One of my favs.

N is for Nimueh, R is for Rising Sun, W is for Will

And we end on this sorry offering. I was away from home for a while without my tablet and I just got tired of waiting. So, pen doodles at the airport. This was a challenge in its own right because 1. pen only and 2. I wasn't able to pull Netflix up for a reference on the fly. Which is why Will's face is obscured and Nimueh looks.... not like Nimueh lol.

In summary: this was a goddamn joy to do. I finished 26 letter prompts in approximately 21 weeks, which exceeded my own unspoken goal of filling one letter per week. I found a good, happy corner of the Merlin fandom after a years-long hiatus away from being a fandom creator. If you did make it this far with me, thanks for reading my inane comments and giving this little project even a moment of your time -- I'm so grateful.

[thegirlwithataser]

hey hey, could you write buck and eddie in a car accident with hurt!buck and love confession from eddie? thank youu

Hi! Thank you so much for this prompt, I hope I did it justice. I really enjoyed writing this, so let me know what you think!

If you have a prompt for anything surrounding 911 on Fox send it to me and I can almost guarantee I'll write it for you!

You can also read this on ao3!

Never Letting You Go

Eddie doesn’t mean to tell Buck that he’s in love with him as the other man bleeds out. It just kind of happens.

They’d been driving back to Eddie’s house after a shift, Buck offering to drive Eddie to and from work while his truck was in the shop. They’d been joking about something Chimney had said during shift when Eddie saw a truck careening towards them, running the red light and going at least seventy-five in a forty-five. Eddie had barely gotten out Buck’s name in warning before the Jeep jolted and everything spun.

Eddie comes back to the present slowly. His vision is blurry and he tastes something metallic. Blood, his mind supplies. His ears are ringing and for a moment he can’t remember where he is.

It all crashes back to him as his vision clears partially. Car accident. They were in a car accident. The jeep seems to be upright, but there’s glass everywhere and the metal frame of the car is bent unnaturally.

Buck, Eddie’s mind screams at him. Where is Buck?

Eddie turns his head, sending a sharp pain to his shoulder as he moves.

His breath rushes right out of him when he looks at his best friend in the driver’s seat. His eyes are closed and there’s blood trickling down his face. Too much blood. Buck isn’t moving and Eddie can’t tell if he’s breathing. Frantically, he tries to reach over to Buck but he can’t move. Seatbelt, right.

Eddie groans as he manages to unclick his seatbelt. He extends his arms, bruised, but not broken, and sighs in relief. He’s able to maneuver himself closer to Buck with some difficulty, forcefully ignoring the throbbing in his head and focusing on getting them out of this. Alive, preferably.

Buck still isn’t moving but looking closely, Eddie can see the shallow rise and fall of the other man’s chest.

“Buck,” he says. His voice is scratchy and desperate but he doesn’t care. Buck has to be ok. He’s going to be. Eddie reaches over and puts his hand on Buck’s cheek. “Buck, come on, I need you to wake up.” Nothing happens. Eddie is panicking now. “Buck! Wake up, damn it!”

Buck doesn’t respond. Eddie drops his hand from Buck’s face and his head rolls to the side. Eddie forces his knees under him on the seat so he can lean over Buck and assess the damage.

Buck’s left arm is visibly broken, but that will heal. Eddie can’t see his legs, so he has no idea if they’re broke or not. He prays that they’re fine, Buck can’t handle redoing the crush injury from the fire truck. There’s blood on Buck’s shirt and Eddie reaches out to pull it up. There’s a long gash on Buck’s abdomen, deep enough that he’s going to need stitches. There’s another cut on Buck’s neck. It looks like it missed the carotid but it’s bleeding heavily. That combined with the cut on Buck’s abdomen and the cuts on his head could mean that he’ll bleed out if they don’t get help soon.

Eddie takes off his own shirt, faintly registering that there’s blood on it. He must be bleeding somewhere, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. “Buck, please, you need to wake up.” Eddie puts the shirt on the gash on Buck’s torso and presses down hard, hoping to stem the blood flow. “Buck,” he sobs, “Buck, you have to wake up. Wake up! Buck, don’t leave me, don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to Christopher. Please, Buck, we need you, I need you. Buck! Please, I love you, you can’t die, not like this.”

Eddie is truly crying now, desperate to hear his best friend's voice, to see the light in his eyes when he laughs.

Eddie hears Buck groan right as he hears the sirens and he nearly sobs in relief. “Buck, that’s it, wake up.” Eddie wipes the blood away from Buck’s eyes, still pressing his other hand over the cut on his stomach. “Come on, Buck.”

“Ed—“ Buck’s voice catches in his throat. His eyes blink open slowly, but only slightly and Eddie lets out another sob.

“I’m here, Buck, I’m right here.” Buck’s eyes flutter closed again and Eddie’s panic is back. “Hey, no, you gotta stay awake for me. Buck, open your eyes.”

With what looks like a considerable amount of effort, Buck opens his eyes. He mutters incoherently but Eddie nods. “I’ve got you, help us coming, you just have to stay awake.”

Buck nods before groaning in pain. A paramedic runs up to the car, bag in hand being followed closely by a firefighter holding jaws. Eddie nearly passed out from relief.

What comes next is more of a blur than anything else. They get Buck out of the car first and onto a stretcher, rushing him over to an ambulance. Eddie goes next, and honestly doesn’t remember much of the ride to the hospital.

Doctors rush around the emergency room as he gets checked out. A few cuts that need stitches and a mild concussion but overall he’ll be fine. He asks everyone that passes him if they know anything about an Evan Buckley but no one will tell him anything.

What if—no. No, he’s not doing that to himself, he’s not letting himself go down that road.

“Dad!” Eddie whips his head around too fast and feels a sharp pain behind his eyes. Chris is coming towards him as fast as he can with Carla’s hand on his shoulder.

“Chris,” Eddie breathes out, deliriously grateful to see his son. He pulls him into a tight hug, hoping he never has to let go.

“Dad,” Chris repeats into his neck, holding him just as tightly. “Are you ok?”

Eddie pulls back slightly to brush a piece of hair away from his son’s eyes and give him a watery smile. “Yeah, buddy, I’m ok?”

Chris nods, looking unsure. “Where’s Buck?”

Eddie chokes back a sob, looking out at the emergency room, then to Carla, then back to Chris. “I’m not sure, but we’ll see him as soon as we can, ok?”

Carla puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll go see what I can find out.”

She disappears around the corner, presumably to go harass some nurses into telling her what they know. Eddie helps Chris onto the bed and settles back against the pillows, holding his son close. He starts to drift off immediately, even though he knows he needs to stay awake.

“Eddie, oh my god,” Maddie’s voice snaps him back to reality and he stares groggily at her.

“Maddie?” he finally manages to say.

She sighs, eyes roaming over him, obviously trying to assess the damage. “I was on my way to work when they called about Evan. The nurse says he’s still in surgery but directed me to you,” she explains before he’s able to ask.

“Did she say anything else?” Eddie asks, fully awake now and desperate to see Buck.

Maddie shakes her head, looking like she’s barely holding back tears. “No, she didn’t. God, what happened?”

Eddie closes his eyes, fighting back tears as well. “There was a car accident, a truck sped through a red light and hit the driver’s side. I don’t remember much else, but it was bad. I’m mostly fine, a few stitches and a mild concussion but Buck—“ Eddie’s cut off by a sob and he has to look away.

Maddie’s eyes are wide when he finally looks back at her. She nods and clearly puts a lot of effort into composing herself. “He’ll be fine, he has to be. Everyone else should be here any minute,” she says softly. “Chim took Jee-Yun to Mrs. Lee and Bobby, Athena, and Hen said they’re on their way.”

Eddie nods, looking down at Christopher who is sitting silently in his arms.

“He’s still in surgery,” Carla says, appearing around the curtain again.

Eddie nods, thankful that she’s here if nothing else. Maddie looks up at Carla hopefully. “Did they tell you anything else?”

Carla shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry, dear.”

Maddie nods, shrinking into herself as silence settles over their little crowd.

Eddie’s doctor comes back in a few minutes later and gives him the all clear as long as he follows concussion protocol. Eddie thanks him with less gratitude than he’s probably owed and follows Maddie and Carla to the waiting room with his hand on Chris’s shoulder.

Bobby and Athena rush into the waiting room mere moments after the other four sit down. They both frantic as Carla waves them over.

“What happened?” Bobby asks, his voice desperate.

“You said there was an accident?” Athena adds.

“Eddie!” They all look around and see Hen rushing towards them. She pulls Eddie into a tight hug, looking terrified. “Are you alright? Where’s Buck?”

“I’m—“ Eddie can’t get out the words. He can’t say anything. How is he supposed to explain this to the people he loves, the only family Buck really has he… he can’t.

Carla steps forward, filling them all in on what happened, Eddie’s condition, and what they know about Buck. Eddie sits silently the whole time, barely registering a word.

Chimney arrives a few minutes later and someone must explain the situation to him but Eddie doesn’t hear it, doesn’t notice anything around him.

They sit there in silence for what feels like hours. Dozens of people filter in and out of the waiting room as they all wait for news. Eddie sees a few people crying. Me too, he thinks.

At some point someone must have gone to get coffee because a hot cup is pressed into his hands. He doesn’t drink it.

“Family of Evan Buckley?” a female voice says. Eddie hears it distantly, not registering what’s going on until Maddie stands up shakily.

“That’s us, uh, I’m his sister. This is Eddie, he was in the car with Evan.” Eddie snaps his head up and watches the doctor walk over. She’s wearing a scrub cap.

“Of course, well, Mr. Buckley has just come out of surgery. There was quite a bit of internal bleeding from the accident but we got him fixed up.” The doctor looks at Eddie. “The paramedics told me you stopped the blood flow before they got there. You saved his life.”

Eddie nods, unable to say anything. The doctor gives him a small smile and turns back to Maddie. “He has a few broken ribs, a broken arm, a pretty bad concussion, and more stitches than I’d like to see on one patient but he’s stable. He’s still asleep, but you can go visit him if you’d like. We just ask that you limit it to two at a time.”

“So he’s going to be ok?” Maddie asks, a drop of hope finally seeping into her voice.

The doctor smiles. “He should be just fine. He’s going to need lots of rest and someone to keep an eye on him with that concussion, but he’s okay.”

Maddie sobs in relief. “Thank you. Can you take us to him?” She looks over at Eddie, motioning for him to stand up. He does, on autopilot. His mind is reeling. Buck is okay. He’s alive. I love him.

Eddie follows Maddie and the doctor down the hallway silently. The mantra of Buck is okay continuing in his head on repeat.

Maddie goes in first as Eddie takes a moment to steel himself for the sight that lays ahead.

Buck is unconscious when they walk it, although the doctor had already told them that. He’s hooked up to a heart monitor abd a few other machines are beeping around him but overall he looks better than Eddie expected. He’s breathing on his own, there’s no more blood caking his face. He has bruises up and down the left side of his body and the cuts in his face are still ugly and red but he’s alive.

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s crying until Maddie grabs his hand, forcing his eyes to meet her gaze. “He’s alive, Eddie. You saved him.”

Eddie shakes his head. “He was only on that road because of me, he wouldn’t have—“

“Stop.” Maddie’s voice is firm and there’s a strong emotion flaring in her eyes. “This was not your fault, this is that idiot driver’s fault. You did everything right, Eddie. You saved my baby brother’s life.”

Eddie stares back at her, tears stream down both their faces. Without warning, Maddie pulls him into a bone crushing hug and he winces, pain flaring from where she’d hit a bruise.

“Sorry!” She says, pulling back quickly. “I forgot.”

Eddie manages a watery smile. “It’s ok.”

They each take a seat on either side of Buck’s bed. There’s a cast on his left arm, so maddie can’t grab his hand. Instead, she reaches out and brushes a lock of hair off his face. “You’ve gotta stop scaring me like this, Evan,” she says sadly.

They sit together quietly for ages. At some point, Eddie takes Buck’s right hand in his own and squeezes. He puts his other hand over Buck’s wrist, feels the pulse beat in time with the monitor.

“I told him that I love him,” Eddie whispers. Maddie’s gaze snaps to his face, shock clear in her expression. She doesn’t say anything, simply sits and waits. Eddie takes a shaky breath, staring at Buck’s face. “He was unconscious, back at the accident and I—he needed to wake up. I needed him to wake up, I couldn’t let him die. I wasn’t thinking about anything but keeping him alive and it just—I said that he couldn’t leave me like that because I love him.”

“Eddie,” Maddie says, barely above a whisper. She looks like she wants to say something else but then Buck groans and Eddie feels Buck’s fingers tighten around his own. “Hey, Evan, are you awake?” Maddie asks, immediately moving to rest her hand on his cheek.

Buck makes a noise that almost sounds like a word and his eyes flutter open. He looks around the room slowly, his eyes pausing on Maddie before they land on Eddie. He squeezes Eddie’s hand again and Eddie chokes on a delirious laugh. “You’re awake,” he says, almost in awe.

Buck cracks a small smile. “Did you mean it?” His voice is scratchy and it comes out weak.

Eddie's heart starts beating harder in his chest. “Mean what?”

Buck looks down at their intertwined hands then back up at Eddie. “At the accident. You told me you loved me.”

Maddie stares between the two of them, fighting a smile. Eddie gapes at Buck. “You heard that?”

Buck nods. “Did you mean it?” he repeats.

Eddie is at a complete loss for words. Buck was unconscious, he was dying, he—he heard Eddie? Eddie gives a miniscule nod.

Buck laughs, although it sounds more like a cough. “Good. I love you too.”

Eddie stares at Buck. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Eddie must have died at the accident because this isn’t possible. “Buck, you—“

“I love you,” Buck repeats, firmer this time. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Eddie.”

And suddenly Eddie is grinning. Buck is alive and he loves Eddie back and none of this should be happening but it is and Eddie is crying again. “God, I love you so much, Buck. I thought you were dead.”

Buck smiles. “I can’t believe you waited until you thought I was dead to tell me you love me.”

Eddie huffs out a surprised laugh. Maddie is looking between them both like she can’t decide if she’s happy or angry. “I didn’t want to ruin anything,” Eddie explains. It feels like an inadequate reason now that he knows Buck loves him too.

Buck rolls his eyes at Eddie fondly. “Is Chris here?” he asks hopefully.

Eddie nods. “Yeah, uh, I can—“

“I’ll go get him,” Maddie says, interrupting him. She shoots her a grateful smile. He’s not ready to let go of Buck’s hand just yet.

Buck comes to stay with Eddie and Chris while he’s recovering. Bobby and Athena offered, since Maddie and Chimney have baby Jee-Yun to take care of, but Buck declines.

“I’d rather be with you,” he says, when Eddie asks.

It’s a long recovery for Buck, Eddie is back at work after a few weeks off. But this is better than when his leg was crushed. Buck isn’t afraid that he won’t be able to return to the 118 this time around. Eddie worries about him all the time, but he knows that Buck has Chris and Carla with him all the time and at night Eddie gets to climb into bed with the man he loves.

Eventually, Buck is completely recovered and asks if he should go back to his apartment. Eddie doesn’t even hesitate before saying no. He just got Buck, he’s not letting go of him. Not ever letting go if he has any say in it.