#acid green au

[zofi-persson-quotes]

Chosen: The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.

Dark: And Second! We should fear them as well!

Chosen: ...?

Dark, grabbing Chosen's shoulders: No, you don't understand Cho. The other day, I saw him drink liquid energy, which can kill a grown Stick in moments, and survive.

Chosen: WHAT?!

[nighttimepatrons]

even from the daves of my yuth i believed that the dnd green and black dragons should fuck

[h3lgertime]

Underrated character

[willowedspirits]

Hollow Knight Linked Universe AU! I've finally finished it!

If you don't know much about Hollow Knight, a lot of the technicalities might not make sense, and I would encourage you to look into the game. Or you could just enjoy the chain as bugs and see them off on their buggy adventures!

I've made this AU trying to keep as close as I can to Hollow Knight's story, but some creative liberties were of course taken.

My main idea is that the infection is the equivalent to Dark Link's (who does exist in this) infected monsters and it's up to them to try and slow/stop the infection. My first thought was to have the infection start to spread outside of Hallownest, and the chain needs to go and stop it, but I'm still going back and forth on it.

I'm still open to changing concepts if I find something that works better, but after literal months of working on this on and off I'm happy with how this has turned out!

Rambling about character details below!

Small note: I've set this AU at roughly the start of the infection, when Radiance was starting to take over Hallownest.

Time

Is not from Hallownest. He traveled to Hallownest from a distant land, where he met Malon and settled down with her.

He encountered Radiance upon entering Hallownest, but was protected by a god that had already laid claim to him, Fierce Deity, who protects him from the Radiance's infection.

He and Malon live in the Howling Cliffs.

His wing and antenna injury are from Radiance when she tried to infect him.

He is not able to fly because of the injury, and now fights with a heavy nail.

His wings used to be green, but after encountering the Fierce Deity, they slowly started to change in color until they were blue.

I'm not sure if I would do anything with the eyes on his wings, I was trying to make a connection to Majora in that, but I'm still debating whether to add it.

Twilight

Is a part of the Traitor Mantis tribe that lives in the Queen's Garden.

He met a Sibling (Midna) that escaped from the Abyss. They gave him the ability to harness Void.

Still working on the detail for how exactly they give him this ability, but my rough idea is that perhaps both of them were attacked by and infected villager, and they saved him by giving up their Void essence.

He's grown up wanting to be infected by the Radiance. He was taught the Radiance was a god that gave bugs great strength, but after seeing what the infection really does, he starts to have second thoughts.

The cloak he is wearing is new. The one he wore before was damaged. I'm still debating on when exactly he gets it, but I think it's something he makes after he leaves the traitor village.

Warriors

He is the head knight of the Hive and oversees whoever enters their territory.

His scarf is a gift from the princess of the Hive given to him when he leaves to join the group.

Since he is a bee, he is connected to the Hive via the hivemind. He uses this to check in on his home whenever he can.

This also makes it very dangerous if he gets infected, since it would quickly spread to the other bee's.

I kept his nail the same as Hive Knight's, but it's open to change.

Four

(I'm still very iffy on Four's story concept, but here's what I have so far)

Lives in Green Path.

He has a passion for weapon smithing, and planned on moving to the capital of Hallownest (City of Tears).

But he accidently stumbled on a weak Unn, and agreed to help protect her while she recovered.

When she did recover, she blessed him with a power that allows him to split into 4 parts of himself using his SOUL.

He can split while in the physical world, but will always be split while in the Dream realm. This also makes it difficult for Radiance to infect him.

Wind

Lives in the Kingdom's Edge and works as a guide across the acid lakes. Most of the travelers are those who are seeking to fight in the Colosseum of Fools.

This is how he found the Colosseum, and regularly attends (but not participate in) some of the fights, which is how he meets Tetra.

He is just learning to fly, but is picking it up really fast.

I wanted to keep the lobster apart of his design... But there are no lobsters in Hollow Knight... Then I remembered this was an AU and I can do what I want with it. So lets just pretend that Lobsters are seen as these awesome ancient beings that he wishes to see one day.

Wild

He was a guardian of the Beast's Den before he became infected, leaving the Den to reside somewhere in Deep Nest.

He is cured by the Dream Nail when the group meets him, and the last to join.

His shell is cracked and damaged because of the infection. The cracks have healed over time, but will never go away.

He has trouble with his memory due to being infected for so long before being cured. He is slowly regaining his memory, but there are still a lot of pieces missing.

His infection spread through to his arm, but is hidden under his cloak.

He uses his nails almost as throwing needles.

Legend

Is a shop owner in Hallownest's capital. He sells all kinds of items from all across Hallownest, small things he's found that could be valuable.

He's managed to make his way into the upper class of the capital due to his shop. His cloak is a modified version of the upper-class wardrobe. He dyed and added the hood himself.

Has a great sense of exploration, and has been all over Hallownest, but still has some places he needs to check off.

His jewelry are all gifts from Ravio.

My original concept for his design was to give him 4 arms. I was thinking of the Collector when designing him, and thought it fit. But after working on finalizing the design, I wasn't sure if I wanted to keep it. I still love the concept though.

Hyrule

(Again, I don't have a clear story concept for him but I have some notes)

Lives in the Ancient Basin.

Has learned how to use SOUL, and is in hiding from the residents of the Soul Sanctum because of it.

He has access to spells and is able to heal himself using SOUL.

I originally gave him a cloak, but couldn't decide if he looked better with or without it. So he does have it, but only sometimes.

Sky

Is the wielder of the Dream Nail, which can be used to cure infected bugs by purging the Radiance from their dream's.

Has wanted to learn to fight with a nail since he was little, and would practice his skills.

He learned about the Dream Nail after some of the moth tribe became infected. He left shortly after he learned this infection was spreading through Hallownest, with the goal of stopping it.

He isn't the only one that can use the Dream Nail, but is the one dubbed the "owner" of it.

And that's what I've got!

I didn't go much into Dark Link here, but would be happy to show some concepts I have for him as well if anybody is curious. I'm making him almost like a living version of the Radiance's infection, and is able to spread it from bug to bug without needing to access their dreams. This is mainly why I'm torn on having them leave Hallownest. If Dark Link could spread the infection to farther lands, or to keep him inside Hallownest and just spread it faster there.

I thought that using the Dream Nail was a good equivalent to the Master Sword here, so I just mashed them together, and a lot of the motivations for the chain trying to stop the infection is "I'm seeing this awful thing happen to these bugs that I don't want to see happen to others," with some small variations here and there.

I've been working on this for so long, I just want to share by bug boys. I would love to gush and ramble about them some more. I have stuff I want to do with this AU.

[help-me-im-in-the-fandom]

Dc x Dp

Soulmate and Wing Au Prompt

Everyone has a Soulmate Mark, when you are born it is in a bright color outline, just the simple shape.

Then, when you meet your Soulmate it becomes colored in, becoming a beautiful picture of something that shows you and your soulmates love for each other.

Jason Todd is born with folded wings across his back in acidic green, and when he becomes Robin he knows the wings symbolize that part of him, showing that he had always been meant to fly.

Then when Jason is fifteen, his back goes ice cold in the middle of the day, like someone dumped a bucket of water across him. His outline is no longer vibrant green of life and energy, but the soulless black of a dead soulmate.

It doesn’t take to long for him to go off the deep end and start taking risks as Robin, and even as Bruce yells at him for hurting someone to much and one guy getting in accident, Well when Jason learns about his mother, his true mother.

Well Jason Todd welcomes that blinking countdown inside the warehouse Joker has left him in.

Then he wakes up and all he can see and feel is green rage and pain.

It takes him a long time to notice the changes to his soulmate mark, but when he does it makes his pain all the more real.

Where had once been an outline when he died, was now dull color across his skin, not quite black and white, but washed out color.

Black wings, with red-orange shoulders, the wings of Red shouldered Blackbird.

Jason tries to ignore it, but the knowledge that he had met his Soulmate in Heaven or Hell, despite not being able to remember it, soothes his broken heart just a little bit.

Meanwhile, Danny Phantom searches desperately for his missing Soulmate, across his back large white and green wings beating desperately.

This started because I wanted to Draw Dead On Main with wings, and then, it kind of drew me in to creating a tiny story for it, so here you go, anyone want to write a fic for me??

[holybibly]

ℑ𝔗'𝔖 𝔜𝔒𝔘 |𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔫 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯| 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑ

♡ Pairing: Best friends Woosan x reader ♡ Genre: smut, f2l!au, college!au ♡ Word Count: 6.6k ♡ Summary: Sometimes drunken decisions lead to the most unexpected results and the most shocking confessions. Or, after your boyfriend cheats on you, you propose a threesome to your best friends and it might just be what they have always wanted. 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑ ♡ WARNING: only!18+ pet names, explicit sexual content, explicit language, unprotected sex, pussy eating, size kink, oral giving and receiving, double penetration, threesomes, dirty talk and more. ♡A/N: Here they are, our winners. I'm a little overjoyed because I'm about to try out a new style for myself. I'm still trying my best to write smut. So please be gentle with me. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated.

One year ago.

It was a feeling of sweet euphoria coursing through your veins. Pure, scalding ecstasy that frothed your blood and clouded your mind. Multicolored neon lights licked greedily at your wet, naked skin, leaving acid green and poisonous pink burns on it. All your senses were overloaded, and every touch felt like a liquid flame. The throbbing bass of the deafening music echoed through your body like the beating of your own heart and completely consumed all of your other senses, except for absolute pleasure.

You lost track of the amount of alcohol you had consumed that day, shot after shot, until a pleasant fog began to form in your head, blocking out all other thoughts. The tequila flowed down your throat like water, and you were sure you'd remember how it tasted in the morning, but you didn't care what you'd done tonight or how you knew you'd feel tomorrow. You didn't care about that. Your aim was to forget yourself, to disappear into the crowd, to merge with the music until any connection to the outside world was nothing more than the beginning of the next day.

Dance, baby, dance!

The atmosphere in the club grew fuzzier and fainter, sweaty, hot bodies pressed closer together merging, the hot touches of forbidden pleasures caressing the skin with the fingertips of strangers, wet lips touching the bare, sticky skin on you shoulders, pressing rough impatient kisses into it. Too many people and too many strangers are here for nothing but fuck.

You weren't a stupid little girl who believed in virginal marriage and pink ponies; to be honest, you were far from that gentle picture. God, Wooyoung, and San had been your best friends since high school, and now you were at university, and if after all that time you couldn't repeat every position in the Kama Sutra by heart, it really surprised you. Innocence and modesty were the last words in your vocabulary, and with Wooyoung's big mouth, you were well aware of the whole of theirs sex life. And when you say everything, you mean every fucking detail, and to Wooyoung's credit, he has a great memory and meticulous storytelling.

How long has it been since you started dancing? 20 minutes—or was it two hours? You could swear that Sang and Ueyoung were at your side a minute ago. Or did they leave you alone on the dance floor hours ago?

You can't remember at all.

Your mind is buzzing, your fingertips are tingling, and your heart is pounding against your ribs from the adrenaline rush of matching the beat of some new-fangled track and creating a world of your own inside your body. This sound will vibrate more and more strongly under your skin until your brain ceases to function, allowing you to let go of all the worries in the world and give yourself over completely to the music. Alcohol really does work wonders.

Man, you felt so good.

In the back of your drunken mind, you can't help but wonder if tonight could have gone differently. Probably, but here you are, drunk as hell, huddled with a stranger on a neon dance floor instead of a soft bed in your favorite man's arms. Where the hell did you take the wrong turn? It would seem that something in the universe hasn't gone quite according to plan. Did you have any idea this morning that your sweet, perfect boyfriend would be cheating on you? Correction: he's been cheating on you for a long time. You probably never would have found out if you hadn't come home from couples earlier than usual and continued to be his "convenient girlfriend." Hell, it wasn't nice, and maybe not as hurtful, if he'd been fucking someone else instead of your best friend. Were you that bad? Weren't you good enough? Either way, you've still got time to destroy yourself—maybe tomorrow, maybe never.

Maybe you'll even think about it when you visit the bastard in the hospital. He should have known better than to even think about cheating, and the clotted blood on San's knuckles proved that. Everyone at the university knew that you were Ateez's golden girl, and to mess with you was to mess with them. And since you, Wooyoung, and San were literally glued to each other, it was tantamount to suicide. 

At the moment, the only thing that was more upsetting than the image of your ex-boyfriend driving his dick all the way up to his balls into your ex-friend's skinny body was the fact that your beautiful vintage sofa would have to be thrown away. Semen doesn't wash off. You checked.

Hongjoong is going to be absolutely devastated. That sofa was the absolute love of his life.

It's all nothing more than a vague memory of the day gone by, mixed into an indecipherable cacophony of shrill screams and blurred images. To be honest, you don't remember much of the chaos, as Wooyoung pressed your face against his chest with such force that you wouldn't be surprised to see your make-up imprinted on the light fabric of his shirt. All you could hear was loud cursing and the sound of a punch in the face. You hoped that San's punch was strong enough to break the asshole's jaw. And after that, there were a few hours of tears and emotional crisis until they'd had enough and pulled you into this club with a gentle and accepting hand: "Come on, baby, you could use a break and a change of scenery" from San, and "Fuck that scumbag, go show him what he's lost, baby" from Wooyoung. It was an absolute mystery how the two of them synchronized perfectly.

You have no idea what you would do without these two.

A few more minutes go by in this way, until you feel hot hands on your hips, pulling you closer to the hard body on your back. You don't have to turn around to see that it's San; the scent of his perfume, mixed with the sweat and the smoke of a freshly smoked cigarette, makes you dizzy, and you rest your head on his shoulder, taking a deep breath of the intoxicating mixture. Suddenly you want to get as close to him as possible, turn around and press your face against his hard, structured chest, breathing in deeply and sinking into him completely. Your arms reach out behind you and wrap around San's neck, tangling your fingers in the scarlet strands of hair at the nape of his neck. You feel it on your back as the action makes him purr like a cat. You wonder what other sounds you might be able to catch him making.

You shake yourself. The thought of it sends shivers down your arms and makes all the muscles in your lower abdomen tingle.

You should stop. These are bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts.

"Damn, baby girl, how much did you drink while we were away?" Wooyoung's voice is rough and husky, but his touch is gentle and careful as his fingers intertwine with yours. He has always touched you in a way that no other man in the world, with the exception of him and San, has ever been able to touch you. There was no comparison with your ex's touch. Wooyoung's touch is a promise. A promise to protect, to care, and perhaps to love? You could swear you saved the planet in your past life because you have such great friends in this one, or maybe a little more than friends, but you're not sure what to call this feeling. 

You had been friends for so long that it wasn't weird not have a crush on Wooyoung or to dream of being married to San. The guy was literally a walking husband; he was second only to Songhwa in that respect, but please, Hwa was the epitome of husband material. You might even have wanted to be in the middle of it, sandwiched between hot bodies while they literally fucked the life out of you. But it was all just thoughts. Fleeting dreams that clung to the edges of your consciousness. You were the type to date, and they were the type to fuck. You were different when it came to loving. In any case, it was all a long time ago. You had a boyfriend, and Wooyoung and San collected girls like Pokémon. Somehow, you were sure that if you slept together, your friendship would end.

You weren't ready for that. With a strength that only Jongho could match, you ignored any romantic feelings for them

"Mmm… Woo, I have no recollection, but I had fun." You licked your lips as if you were trying to taste the lingering taste of the tequila and opened your eyes to stare straight into Wooyoung's face, full of worry. He could have been the biggest bitch if he wanted to be. But for you, that 'maternal' instinct of overprotection has kicked in. You stare at him unblinkingly in that moody light, he looks beautiful, to the point of being stupidly handsome, so damn handsome that you want to pull him to you and kiss him without explanation or reason. And you can do that because you know he's never, ever going to say no to you but kiss you? Wooyoung's tongue will be the first to enter your mouth. He will suck on it like a drunk, and he will hold on to you until there is almost no air left in your lungs.

"We leave you alone, gongjunim, for five minutes, and you're already in trouble. Shall I give you a lesson in obedience?" San is speaking into your ear, loud enough for you to hear him clearly, each word coming through the loud electric bass. His voice is too sultry to be sober enough. Woo probably talked him into a few shots, although he always got drunk pretty easily. The two were threatening each other. And to you as well.

The evil voice inside your head grinned: You know you want it. He's going to punish you for being such a bad, naughty girl. He will teach you to be the best little girl for him and for them and to follow all his rules. He'll make you beg and make you cry…

Fuck, girl, come to your senses. Since when did you start to think with your pussy instead of using your brain? Or do you automatically turn into a horny, over-excited idiot after a break-up? Turn on your brains; they are your best friends.

Completely ignoring San's words, you whimpered:

"I'm thirsty." Your tongue is dry in your mouth, and your lips feel unpleasantly rough as you say the words. It looks like the fun's over for today.

San can't help but laugh at your capricious behavior, and you wriggle restlessly in his arms, trying to free yourself from his firm grip, but he only manages to hold you even tighter. You sigh in annoyance and decide to try your luck with Wooyoung.

"Woo, help me." You whine again, reaching out and pulling Wooyoung closer so that your forehead rests against his collarbone.

He smells good, like sandalwood and vanilla, like home.

Wooyoung lifts your face with his fingertips. The touch is soft and comforting, despite the roar of the music and the crowd of strangers around you. He stares intently into your eyes, almost too serious for your drunken haze. He hopes to find something more than alcohol-induced excitement.

"Come on, baby. It's time to go home." He releases your hand and carefully wipes the sweat from your forehead and cheeks with the sleeve of his shirt, his fingers lingering on your lips for a moment, and you playfully stick out your tongue and lick the pads of his fingers. God, may you not remember this tomorrow.

"But I don't want to…" You purse your lips again. You turn your head towards San, looking for his support. "Sanni, let's stay a bit more." Your big, shining eyes are not making it easy for him, but you were already quite drunk, and judging by the way your body was leaning against him, you could hardly stand properly.

"Wooyoung's right, gongjunim, it's over for you today."

Something wild in you just wants to be a brat and start arguing, but the rational part of your brain wins out. You sigh tiredly and try to wriggle out of his grip, and of course you stumble, grabbing Wooyoung's biceps with your hands in an attempt to stay on your feet and not break your high-heeled leg, which would be a great way to end the night.

A strong arm immediately wraps around your waist. It digs lightly into the exposed skin between your top and your jeans. You can feel the coldness of the thin band of his ring. It actually burns from how sensitive you were now.

"I got you, chagi." San whispers softly and hoarsely into your ear, and you cling even more tightly to Wooyoung's arm as your legs begins to shake, but no longer from the alcohol you've drunk and the tiredness, but from his sultry tone. Damn, was that a saturi, or was it just your imagination?

"We'll be on our way now, for sure." Wooyoung takes your hand once more, pulling it away from his bicep, and quickly leads you through the crowd of sweaty bodies, completely ignoring your feeble protests until you see the flashing exit sign. The red neon sign brings you ominously close to the point where you are left alone with them. And you feel San's heavy presence at your back like never before. 

The sounds of the city swallow you up and make you dizzy as Wooyoung opens the heavy metal door. Couples are kissing all over the place. Noisy groups of people are huddled together waiting for a taxi or sharing a single joint, leaving a faint smell of weed in the air. You can still hear the vibrating bass of the music that is pouring out of the club; it echoes in your head in an unpleasant way, with a slight throbbing pain. All of a sudden, all you want to do is find yourself in a warm bed, snuggled up against San or Wooyoung, or even better, against both of them.

San's hand on your waist tenses as you bend over to hail a taxi. Wooyoung's hands come down on your hips, hot and strong, and just like that, you find yourself sandwiched between them, their bodies shielding you safely from the searing cold and dirty stares. You could swear that you can hear Wooyoung swears to himself while a drunk guy is moving his tongue between two spread fingers and looking in your direction. San's body tenses instinctively. What's with all this protection? We're not in some kind of alpha-character romance; you can take care of yourself.

But in spite of that, your body still relaxes, your head leans back against Wooyoung's shoulder, and you rub your face against his like a cat.

"You're so drunk, baby." Woo chuckles and gives you a light kiss on the top of your head. "That's my girl."

My girl, just the sound of that one sentence makes a little fire start in your belly. What the hell is wrong with you today? A week ago, you were rinsing his mouth after Woo drank too much, and now you're ready to lick his mouth from the inside. 

Fuck.

All these thoughts make you lose track of what's happening until you feel the smooth leather of the car seat beneath you and the soft touch of San's lips on your bare shoulder. You moan, either from annoyance or excitement. San just smiles and presses his lips harder against you. Finally, you are going home.

You faintly hear Wooyoung giving the Uber driver the coordinates of your apartment complex, your hands intertwining again, relaxing further as Wooyoung's head rests on your shoulder. His long hair tickles the back of your neck.

Sobriety slowly begins to clear your head as the ride continues. You're still drunk, but you're much more aware than before.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Your voice is low, barely above a whisper, but in the confined space of the car's backseat, they can hear it well. It sets them in motion again, hands clasped around you with renewed confidence. You play mindlessly with the silver rings that adorn Wooyoung's long fingers, and you don't go unnoticed by San's light strokes on the outside of your thigh.

"All for you, chagiya." San whispers back and gives Wooyoung a meaningful look. There's something special between the two of them—a dialogue that is spoken without words but in which they both know exactly what is meant. If only you knew what was going on inside their heads…

You let your hand drop to Wooyoung's muscular thigh and ran the palm of your hand over it a couple of times, feeling the tight muscles under the skin of his trousers. He covers the palm of your hand with his own and squeezes it in a silent, gentle gesture of affection.

"I love you guys…" You whisper, sticking out your tongue to lick your suddenly dry lips. You hear them giggling together before you feel San press his nose against the soft skin of your collarbone, rubbing against it like a cat. He's the ultimate cinnamon bun; how he can be someone who's had sex with half the university is still a mystery to you.

"I love you too, gongjunim." And he means it, like he really loves you—much more than a friend should.

"Mmm, I love you more. You know that, baby." Wooyoung bites the skin on the back of your neck in a playful way, and you feel his wet tongue pressing against the site of the bite for a few seconds. 

"You're not sleeping in my bed. Woo, stop it; that tactic won't work on me anymore."

He whimpers back with a puff of his swollen lips, turning his face away from you with an irritated roll of his eyes as you and San laugh, his arms naturally wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his body so that you're practically sitting on his lap. A faint melody, from some kind of soft track, pours out of the speakers and lulls you into a state of serenity. You find it harder and harder to keep your eyes open. Your body relaxes even more in San's arms.

The next twenty minutes fly by, and you only begin to wake up when the cab door slams behind you and Wooyoung drags you into her flat. The fobs on your keys jingle loudly in the silence of the corridor as San fiddles with them to unlock the door. You sway in Woo's arms as you wait for the door to your apartment to open. The soothing scent of neroli and orchids greets you as you enter, your body automatically relaxing into the safety of your personal space, and you fall wearily into the armchair opposite sofa.

As the door closes, you hear the sound of the boys hurrying down the corridor, taking off their shoes and jackets. You can imagine San carefully placing his shoes next to yours and Wooyoung's one shoe being kicked further down the corridor. So damn different.

Woo sprints into the kitchen, slams the door of the fridge shut, and there is a bottle of cold water in front of your face.

"Here you go, starlight." He sinks to the floor at your feet and leans back against them, resting his head in your lap as he does so. You run your fingers through his long black hair, brushing it away from his face, and meet his gaze with your own. It's familiar; away from the deafening music and the sweaty crowd, you feel much better now, despite the fact that a few hours ago your ex was fucking your friend on the couch across the hall. This is still your home, and you're sure that in a few days your entire apartment will be taken apart and put back together by the caring hands of Seonghwa and Yeosang, when there won't be a trace of your failed past relationships left.   "Are you okay?" San asks, leaning against the doorjamb.

"I'm… fine, yeah. Probably not as good as I'd like to be, but I'll be fine; it'll just take some time. At the moment, I'm just tired of it all."

"Go take a shower, sweetie; San and I will take care of the rest." Wooyoung says as he gets up from the floor and pulls the leather jacket off of his shoulders. The wide collar of his black t-shirt shows the tattoo on his back. You always found that part of him extremely sexy.

You rise from your chair, grimacing at the pain in your legs after so many hours in high heels. Your top falls to the floor as you take it off, the lace of your black lingerie clinging to your body like a second skin. They've seen you naked more than once or twice, and in any case, you're not one of those cute girls who blushes at every opportunity. You have to struggle to pull your jeans down your legs because they are so tight around your arse. The next thing to come off is your underwear, which you leaves halfway to the toilet somewhere. You let them take care of that too.

The level of intimacy that you have with San and Wooyoung is so high that it virtually erases any barrier to acceptable standards of friendship. Years of shared memories, from when you started high school to when you practically star graduates of Seoul National University. God, the things you've done and the situations you've been in—it's been a hectic time. The three of you literally know each other to your bones—sharing habits, feelings, clothes, and even some sexual practices under the influence of alcohol and chance. You've seen them fuck; they've held your hair when you've puked, helped with periods, you've seen them jerking off in the morning or heard them moaning loudly in the bathroom, you all watched porn together—it's all been part of your friendship. In a way, the three of you have been completely and utterly shameless.

You close the bathroom door and stare wearily at your reflection in the large mirror. Your hair is disheveled from those beautiful waves there's not a trace, your skin is glistening with sweat, your make-up looks messy—a bit of smudged eyeliner, smeared lipstick—and in general, you look like you've been beaten up. The pupils of your eyes are dilated, even though you're still feeling sleepy, and there's a bit of puffiness under your eyes from previous tantrum.

Wow, you look like a real mess. You turn away from the mirror, turn on the tap of water, and sink back into your usual daily routine. The water cleanses not only your body but also your mind, spectacularly washing away all the memories and regrets of the day.

It seems to be at least a minute before you hear the sound of a heavy knock on the door. San's voice is muffled over the sound of water and steam, rough, husky, and incredibly sexy, sending electric shocks through your body and unexpected heat building between your thighs. Your fingers turn the handle, stopping the water from flowing, and you take a few long breaths, trying to get rid of this strange feeling. What's wrong with you today?

"Chagi, are you okay?"

You mooed in response, stepped out of the shower, and wrapped the towel around your body before opening the door to face him. He's standing across the bathtub, slumped against the wall, so soft and fluffy, when you open the door. San has changed into a pair of loose pajamas, which are very cute, according to your taste. He has washed off his make-up and generally looks more like an adorable bun than the voluptuous demon he is supposed to be at the university.

"What the hell took you so long? Wooyoung's already starting to climb the wall from here." He whimpers with a pucker on his lips.

"I needed some time to myself, Sanni."

He bites his bottom lip before nodding. His burning gaze travels over you from head to toe, lingering a little longer than usual on your thighs and breasts, and your body heats up at the sensation. When your eyes meet, there is an emotion that you are unfamiliar with that hovers just above the surface of his gleaming dark irises. Something predatory flashes across his face, just for a second, but it's enough to make your skin tingle with an unknown sense of anticipation.

"Just a few more minutes, and then I'll be on my way, all right? Tell Wooyoung to be a little more patient."

"Alright."

You step back into the tub, close the door behind you, and press your back against the wall. You bite your lips, trying to hold back a groan of disappointment. It's not that after all these years of friendship you've never felt sexually aroused in their presence; after all, Wooyoung and San were so damn attractive and even flirtatious to the point of insanity, they fit the cliché of lusty, popular boys at university so well.

Perhaps you had once or twice wondered what it would be like to be close to one of them, or even better, both of them—what their bodies would feel like and what their tastes would be like. Yet, consciously ignoring any romantic urges in their direction, you buried those thoughts deep in the back of your mind. You didn't want to think about how beautiful San's smile was, with those sweet dimples, or how your skin burned under Woo's playful, incessant kisses. But those were only fragmentary thoughts, a dangerous feeling creeping into your heart.

For a while your hunger for them was satisfied by a succession of boy toys until you found yourself a steady boyfriend, well until you caught him with one of your girlfriends tonight. Either way, the sex was hardly satisfying enough to get too upset about, but still, the ache in your heart and your bottom-punched self-esteem stung like a bitch.

But today there was something different between the three of you; on a day like any other, there was a different feeling. It wasn't anything special; San's tearful face had been tucked between your breasts more than once or twice after another romantic fiasco, and Wooyoung had been a complete fool in love, getting burned so many times because he wore his heart on his sleeve. You have been friends long enough to know how to comfort each other after breaking up. You have never experienced such a tension between the three of you before.

There was a barely perceptible change in the air; there was an electric tension in the chemistry between you; a crackle in the air like a thunderstorm was about to break. The storm was coming at a furious pace, and you weren't sure if you were going to be able to handle it. To end up between them was like voluntarily stepping into a hurricane rated at twelve. Was that what you wanted? You probably did. Did they want it? There was no way of knowing. Would things have changed if you'd fucked, yes, of course, but would you have had a 'happily ever after', you weren't so sure.

You brush your hair with your fingertips, hissing in pain when you can't untangle the tangled locks, and continue this compulsive action as you step out of the suddenly claustrophobic space of the bathroom. The corridor is cold, and the change in temperature causes goose bumps to run down the length of your skin. Cold air climbs under the towel's edges, clinging uncomfortably to your tender inner thighs.

"I left some fresh clothes for you on the dresser next to the bathtub. Didn't you notice?" San asks. His pronunciation is as simple as if he hadn't been the one who just a few minutes ago ate you alive with his eyes. He is sitting on the arm of the chair Wooyoung is comfortably ensconced in, mindlessly scrolling through social media.

The couch, which was once your favorite place to be, is clearly in disuse. You're already anticipating Hongjoong's endless complaints about it. That couch was the love of his life.

Wooyoung has changed his clothes too; there's no trace of the seductive college hottie left; the stretchy top of the oversized shirt slipping off his shoulders to expose his collarbones made him look so tiny and cuddly; and the soft disheveled hair falling over his face gave his features something adorably puppyish. They both looked homely and terribly comfortable, as if this was legitimately their home and not yours, as if their place had always been here, the space they belonged to.

"It's stuffy. I don't want to get dressed." You reply, pulling the towel tighter around your chest. You actually contradict yourself by wrapping your arms around yourself, but you don't want to explain anything to them either.

"Personally, I like it all; you can keep going, baby."

"Of course you like it, Woo; we all know about your love for exhibitionism." You say this nonchalantly and let your body fall into Wooyoung's lap, not caring that you're actually naked under the towel or that his shirt is getting wet as the water from your wet hair drips onto it. You're trapped between their bodies again, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't like the feeling. You savor his scent and the feel of his smooth skin as your face sinks into the curve of Woo's neck.

You all sink into a nice, relaxing silence as the boys scroll through endless social media feeds, your eyes grow heavier, and the need for sleep becomes more palpable. But you love it so much—just being around them, not thinking about anything else, feeling the way San's fingers play with your hair while you twirl the rings on Woo's fingers—that you probably have a fetish for his hands. Anyway, you don't mind.

Minutes go by like this, slowly approaching an hour. You feel content and warm as you sit on Wooyoung's gorgeous muscular thighs. He is humming something to himself, drawing scattered patterns with his fingertips on your bare thigh. Your lips press against Woo's neck, leaving a sweet kiss on his skin. He squirms beneath you, his fingers clenching tighter and tighter on your thigh. God, he's so hot.

"You're so needy, kitten," San says with laughter before you feel his lips on your shoulder. It's not a chaste, friendly kiss; no, his lips are wet with saliva, open so you can feel the scorching breath and his tongue tip gliding across your skin in slow motion. San is licking you like a cat, damn it.

"Is this a side effect of the break-up or something like that? Look at you, Peach. You're a horny mess." Wooyoung raises an eyebrow in curiosity and pulls you closer to his chest. You slide down his thighs, and the towel scratches a little higher, a little more, and they can easily see your pussy. At that thought, the familiar throbbing between your legs reminds you just how wet you are, the viscous, clear liquid threatening to run down the inside of your thighs and stain Woo's clothes.

Praying that neither of them will notice how flushed and horny you feel at this moment, you squeeze your legs together and slide your hand down to pull the towel further down your legs, as far down as possible in this position.

You're so thirsty; the lust is bubbling just beneath the surface of your skin, and the heady mix of their scent and the residual alcohol in your blood is making you feel like such a needy slut.

The rational part of your brain tells you that you should be in a completely different state right now—a mess of tears and snot, probably on the verge of a complete nervous breakdown. Somewhere between the self-destruction of your own self-esteem and a crisis of identity, But here you are, practically naked in Woo's arms, with an obscenely wet pussy and no shame whatsoever.

In contrast to the'real' half of you, something small and evil urged you to go further, to spread your legs, to expose yourself shamelessly, to ride Wu's thigh and have a hot rodeo until you couldn't cum any more, and then let San use you however he wanted; you don't mind at all being a chew toy for him. Hell, boy, all you want to do is let him fuck your brains out.

You sink your teeth into your lower lip with force; the taste of blood is almost in your mouth.

"Fuck me. I want to sleep, baby. You can use me. Let's go to bed."You whine, puffing up your cheeks.

"Okay, okay, baby, let's put the princess to bed." San lifts you from your place on Woo's lap and pulls you tightly against his chest, and you can clearly feel every ripple of muscle on that perfect body. When did he have time to get that big?

He carries you into the bedroom like a princess. Wooyoung's shuffling footsteps can be heard behind you, and you throw your head back to meet his gaze.

"We had a change of sheets. Personally, I'm in favor of burning all his stuff."

"Have I told you I love you?"

"Mmm, let me think. Maybe just a few thousand times." He gives you a cheeky smile, and you laugh.

"Love, love, love, love, I love you so much. You're the best boys in the world. You sing with a big smile on your face, and the sound of their laughter fills the bedroom. 

"We love you too; we love you so much."

If you weren't so drunk and tired, your brain might have been able to process Wooyoung's changed intonation, but you completely ignored any possible hint of how they felt about you.

San gently laid you down on the bed, and Woo's lithe body crawled beside you, snuggling against your side, hugging you like his personal teddy bear.

"Woo, let her go; she has to put on some clothes." He pulls off his T-shirt and holds the soft fabric out in front of you. Your hands lazily crumple it up in an attempt to decide whether or not to put it on, but the boys decide for you. 

Wooyoung sits you down and holds you tightly by the waist while San pulls the T-shirt over your head and pulls off the towel at the same time. You are still naked, but you are a bit more decent now.

"You're such good friends. I wish I could date someone like you." You lie back down, and Woo's hands paddle you again, as if it's his natural reflex. You're not aware of the exchange of glances between the two of them. The silent conversation that goes on between them is completely ignored.

"Hmm, someone like us?" San sits down on the bed in front of you, and in an instant, your fingers cling to his naked chest. You want so badly to sink your teeth into the smooth, bulging muscles of his chest. "Baby, aren't you afraid we're going to be jealous?"

"You and jealousy, come on. I went out with Suho, and none of you minded."

"It's because the idiot has a tiny dick." With an evil giggle, Woo whispers in your ear.

"Wooyoung!"

"He's right, chagia. When was the last time you had an orgasm?"

"San, not you too." You whine and give him a light tap on the shoulder.

"Well, if you were with someone like us, you'd know what it means to have a good fuck. We'd fuck your brains out, baby."

"Jung Wooyoung, wash your filthy mouth. San, tell him." You call out to your more rational friend in a resentful tone to calm Woo down.

"Well, I can't say that he's wrong. You won't be on foot for days after we are." The grin on San's face is so predatory that you can't tell that it's your sweet himbo friend. It's making the muscles at the bottom of your stomach clench in anticipation of this promise.

"You do know that I used to sleep with Yunho before I started dating Suho, right? You can hardly come as a surprise to me; he's very good."

"We know." Woo hissed in annoyance, and his arms tightened around you, planting his foot on your thigh and completely cutting off any attempt you might have made to pull away from him, even if you wanted to.

"But we're so much better." A hot palm slides just over your waist near to Wooyoung's hand, practically covering your breasts. You feel the full weight of it on your body.

"In your dreams."

For a few moments, you close your eyes and fall silent. The comforting silence lulls you to sleep, but there is one thought that keeps you from falling completely into a deep slumber. With a groan, you come back to reality, blinking slowly as your brain forms the words that seem to be too heavy on the tip of your tongue—heavy, but so damned sweet.

"I wanna… I mean, let's have threesome." 

"Sorry, what!" Wooyoung almost yells, sitting up in bed in an instant and staring at you with his eyes wide open. If the situation wasn't so serious, you could laugh at his shocked expression. "Is it an offer for sex? Right now?"

"Jesus, Wooyoung, just let me finish." You sit down as well and take each one of them by the hand. "We graduate next year, and if… if we are all free and you don't mind, maybe we can have threesomes."

"I'm ready. Why wait?" Woo clings to you like a leech. He presses every inch of his body against you so tightly that you practically melt into each other. His skin is hot, and you can feel his breath brushing against your ear and his lips touching it as he speaks. "Come, Y/N, we can do this now. I'm going to take you to heaven."

"Wooyoung, I'm serious."

You have to look at San, who's been silent the whole time. The look in his eyes is so dark, full of lust and hunger. It doesn't leave you for a second.

"San…"

"I'll do anything for you, Y/N."

"I'll be ready for you in a year if you're still willing. Now get out of the room, the both of you. Tonight I'll be alone in bed."

You push them off the bed, San rolls over on the floor with a clatter, and Wooyoung jumps up like a man who has been scalded.

"But chagi…" He whines, loud and nasty, as San drags him out of the room.

"Sweet dreams, gongjunim." That's the last thing you hear before the door slams shut behind them and you're left alone in the bedroom.

You can hear their muffled voices coming from the hallway, trying so hard to keep quiet. Wooyoung's incessant complaining, mixed with San's low muttering, effectively lulls you to sleep. You probably won't even remember tonight, let alone this stupid proposal, but little do you know that neither San nor Wooyoung have any intention of letting you forget.

You are going to have a very funny year in front of you. 𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖚𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ❧ ℑ𝔗'𝔖 𝔜𝔒𝔘 | 𝔓𝔞𝔯𝔱 ℑℑ

[imjustasugablob]

Feel Me Up

Trainer!Leon x Female!Reader

tags: trainer au, asshole!Leon, slight angst? hate sex,

part 2

Blinding fluorescent lights were the first thing you saw as you opened your eyes. A blaring alarm, almost a siren, woke you from your "peaceful" slumber, on a cold metal bed topped with a pile of cloth that could hardly be called a mattress.

Four A.M. It was time to train. You hadn't planned on joining the government. Ever since you were young, you'd always dreamt of becoming a doctor, just like your parents. You thought they used to help people, save lives. Not create the demons that made hell on earth in the form of the C virus.

That horrendous day in Tatchi. The scene was burned into the back of your eyelids, seeping behind your vision when you turned to rest, like acid slowly coursing through your brain and frying it. You didn't have much of a choice after that, did you? They thought you'd join Neo Umbrella just like your parents had. So it was either - live a life under constant surveillance from the government, or join them to win back their favour.

Shaking your thoughts loose, you made your way to the bathroom to clean up before reporting to your trainer. Skennedy's gonna eat me alive if I'm late.

It was a terrible nickname, but you couldn't take the credit for it. Your teammates had come up with it after day 1, when Leon had successfully traumatised anyone who was getting cold feet about joining the DSO. The batch went from 51 trainees to about 23 that day. For good reason - Leon was not going easy on anyone.

For the past month, all of you had been coming back to the dorms covered in scratches on every piece of skin left exposed, and bruises on skin that wasn't. When you first saw the grape coloured mark the size of a palm on your ribs, you thought you were dying. You didn't even know bruises could be that dark. Or outlined in green.

But it wouldn't be fair to say that everyone was going through it. Cause Leon particularly hated you. Every quip, every correct answer, every successful parry only seemed to piss him off further. As if he wanted you to fail, to cry in front of everyone and quit. Others had noticed it, too, but no one wanted to say anything out of fear of coming in his line of fire. But you never gave him the satisfaction.

Grabbing some food from the dining hall, you made your way to the training room.

"You're late." Leon's voice had an icy edge to it this morning.

There were 5 others who weren't there yet. But you were used to it by now.

"It was four thirty on the dot when I walked-"

"Don't. Talk back to me."

Taking a long stride, he was right up to your face in an instant. His voice had dropped in volume and in pitch. A silent threat for only your ears to hear. You could practically see him foaming at the mouth. You didn't back down, however, keeping your chin up and staring straight down his eyes. His intimidation tactics didn't work on you. You hated his guts too much to offer him respect unless it was forced out of you.

You noticed the colour of his irises was a soft blue, like the morning sky, hardened around the edges by the years who had been unkind, more to his mind than his body. It felt like they were the only thing holding back the demons inside his head. You wondered how much shit he had seen, all the way from Raccoon City till now.

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?", you could hear your friends whispering. You didn't have the guts to say anything back to Leon. Not today. You didn't wanna lose a limb. He slowly retreated back to the centre of the room, on the training mat.

"Everybody, pair up. You'll be fighting each other today. You will be ranked on the basis of your scores. I hope everyone knows that your ranks will affect your position and assignments after joining."

"And since there's an odd number of you,", he looked straight into your eyes, "you'll be fighting me today."

Well, fuck.

You watched impatiently as one by one Leon called out the names of your peers, watching them beat the shit out of each other on the mat. Nobody was "friends" inside the training room, that was for sure. Blow after blow landing over flesh, you could hear a few bones crack even from a distance. One of them called for timeout as their nose broke, bleeding profusely, staining his white clothes with scarlet.

"No." Leon's voice echoed in the big hall, ceasing all the jeers and cheering from everybody egging the fighters on.

"No? What the fuck do you mean, "No"? He broke his nose, the fights over", called out his opponent.

"The fight isn't over until one of you is physically incapable of continuing. Carry on, otherwise you know where the door is."

Leon's demand was met with silence. The young man took a moment to catch his breath, looking at his partner with pity. He pulled him to his feet, maybe so he wouldn't feel as bad about what was about to come next. You couldn't bring yourself to watch, so you turned your eyes away. A sickening crack resounded in the silence, before the man landed in a heap on the mat, knocked out.

"Next." Leon's voice was curt and neutral, completely devoid of any sympathy or emotion. You didn't expect him to be wallowing at the sight in front of him, but a little humanity would have been appreciated.

"It's you", Leon called out.

Just then, the sirens blared again, signalling that training was over for the day. Was it already eight? But of course he wasn't gonna let you up that easily.

"You'll be staying back. The rest of you may leave."

Holy shit. Was he seriously gonna challenge you to hand to hand combat? You know you didn't stand a chance against the seasoned veteran he was - trained by Krauser himself, had more than 10 years of experience on the field. You felt the hair rise up on the back of your neck at the thought that it would just be you and him.

He could destroy me right now and no one would stop him.

You slowly walked towards the centre of the mat where he was standing, inhaling deeply. It's okay. You got this. He's fucking old. And big. I'm faster.

You tried not to dwell on the fact that he was almost twice your size, and that his biceps were almost the circumference of your whole head. He could crush you like a grape if he wanted to.

You swallowed, and Leon wasn't gonna let a sign of weakness go unnoticed. "You scared?", he asked in a mocking tone. "Let's not act like this is a fair fight, shall we?", you snapped back.

"Look around you. You think anything in this fucked up reality we're living in is fair?" His voice shook slightly as he spoke. It was the most emotion you'd seen out of him.

You paused for a second, biting back the quick retort that rose to your mouth.

"Why do you treat me differently? You think I'm not cut out for this line of work?" He was quiet, almost taken aback at your question. He didn't expect you to ask it upfront.

"Let me tell you something, Mr. Kennedy, unlike the others, I'm not here by choice. Hell, you couldn't pay me enough to complete this stupid training and fight those monsters out there. I'd do anything to be free and leave you to your job. But I can't. So here I am. And you're not making it any easier by being a prick."

You breathed out, hard; his silence only making you regret your decision to speak your mind. With each passing second you only grew more and more uncomfortable, when suddenly, he grabbed your hand. You instantly raised your other hand to fight him off, before realising that he wasn't attacking you.

He was tracing the lines on your fingers with his own.

"Look at you. Skin so fucking soft, like you haven't worked a day in your life."

What the hell is happening?

You didn't trust yourself to say anything so you kept quiet.

"I used to be like you, you know. Bright eyed, bushy tailed, take on the world with hope and determination, yada yada. It's all such bullshit."

"Well then what makes you still fight for your life? You must have something to live for, or you'd just walk away, wouldn't you?"

He chuckled a little. More like a sigh leaving his lips. He looked so good like this.

What?

Before you could process your thoughts, he suddenly twisted your arm, putting you in a chokehold.

"Well these days it's been getting to see you fight like a little lamb, so adamant against accepting your fate", he whispered against the shell of your ear. It was your fault for giving in to his manipulation. You should have known better.

But even now, instead of trying to fight him off, you stood completely still, frozen in place. His breath on your neck sent shivers down your spine, as every molecule in your body screamed DANGER, as if you were teetering on the verge of a cliff. Except the cold waters at the bottom enticed you this time, inviting you to jump in, even if it was to your death.

"You've been such a little brat lately, refusing to give up. You think winning here or impressing me is gonna win you points in the real world?" His voice was like explosives on your nerve endings, making you gasp out loud.

You pawed at his arm desperately as his grip on your neck tightened, making you struggle to draw air. He laughed at you.

This motherfucker has the audacity to laugh right now. It was all a game to him, isn't it? Well, two can play, Leon.

He flipped you onto the mat, pinning your arms above your head, with his knee between your legs. God, he looked good on top of you. His golden hair shielding you from the harsh white light above, forming a halo around his head. His eyes were playful, teasing, yet somehow pleading, begging you to make a move.

You almost wanted to forget how much he had tortured you over the last month, how you had been limping back from training sessions like an old hag.

You wanted to scream at him. Go fuck yourself, or something of the sort. But the words died in your throat. You hated the effect he had on you. He was leaning over you, pressing his whole body weight down, but his weakness was exposed. One good kick to his shins and he would lose balance, leaving you free to slither past and regain your footing.

A mistake a beginner might make, not someone like Leon. As you gazed into his eyes, you realised he was aware of it. He was giving you an out. You could oh-so easily tackle him down, and be done for the day. But his lips looked so fucking good right now.

"Goddamnit", you managed to choke out, before reaching your head up and trapping his lips with your own. His mouth melted against yours, finding a steady rhythm. It was a messy kiss, your teeth clacking with his as he nipped at your bottom lip, threatening to draw blood.

His free hand roamed over your torso, slipping under your shirt and grasping at your hips, digging his fingers into the supple skin. It was driving you crazy, as could be proven by the heat pooling between your legs.

You struggled against his grip on your wrists, silently pleading him to let go so you could touch him, too. He broke free from your kiss and looked down at you, panting. "Such a needy girl, hmm? You're a little slut for me, aren't you?" He smirked.

You couldn't remember the last time you'd been in such a haze, driven only by your primal need to satisfy the ache between your legs. Leon's teasing was not gonna be tolerated tonight. So you did what you should have done from the start.

Aiming for his leg, you quickly pushed your knee up. As your leg met it's target, Leon let out a grunt. You hadn't hit him hard enough to hurt, but just enough to surprise him. Taking the opportunity, you flipped him over, sitting upright and straddling his waist. From this position you could feel his semi under your clothed cunt, straining against his trousers, begging to be released. Leon groaned at the unexpected contact, closing his eyes. He looked ethereal from this point of view.

Without missing a beat, you slowly began rocking your hips against his, creating much needed friction for both of you. You let out a soft moan as you paced yourself, throwing your head back in pleasure. Now that you had the reins, Leon had nothing to do apart from looking up at you completely hypnotised. He had never experienced a woman trying to take control voluntarily from him, most of them simply wanted to be fucked dumb, or be taken care of.

But the way you were using his body for your own pleasure flipped a switch, triggering something animalistic inside him, making him instantly rock hard. He let out a low growl. You looked so fucking pretty like this, your chest rising and falling rapidly, beads of sweat trickling down your temples. The soft moans that left your mouth were like music to his ears. You looked down at him, seeing him almost cross eyed as he gazed at you, his pupils completely blown out with lust.

You smirked at the sight, and leaned down to whisper against his ears, "Enjoying the view?" Your hips never faltered, steadily increasing in speed and fervour, trying to rub your sweet spot against him. Leon's brain had completely short circuited. He was only focused on you, meeting your movements with his own thrusts, trying to chase his own high.

"You act so fucking self righteous all the time, like you're some kind of saint. Look at you, Leon, tryna' fuck a girl half your age. Anybody could walk in right now and catch us, but that probably just gets you going even more, right?" You spoke against his ears, your dirty words setting Leon off. But you weren't gonna let him have it.

Suddenly, you became completely still and stood up, walking away from his body. Leon yelled out, "What the fuck? Where're you going?"

guys I've written part 2 but I'm still editing it so I'll upload it tomorrow if this post gets like 10 likes lmao. You guys should also get teased like Leon, hehe. Am I too evil?

"Well training's over so I'm going to dinner. What else?", you spoke so nonchalantly, throwing him for a loop. You had to admit, it had taken every ounce of self control to walk away from that temptation of a man. But you weren't gonna let him win again. Not this time.

part 2

Its the first work I'm uploading so please give any feedback or things you would have liked seeing in this story in the comments. you can be harsh, i really don't mind, as I use this platform to improve my irl writing. I wanna figure out all the cutesy banners everyone else does but im still getting familar with tumblr rn :)

[paceprompting]

finding stars

written for ‘together’ | wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: future au (early 2000s), parents steve and eddie, domestic fluff, married (if they could be) steddie

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Eddie used to stargaze with his mom.

Almost every night on their back porch, counting the stars while they shone in the night sky. Even in winter, she’d bundle them up in blankets with hot chocolate until Eddie fell asleep in her arms.

He was seven the last time they stargazed together.

Then he’d gone to live with Wayne, and the trailer park wasn’t exactly safe or conducive to sitting out for hours at a time looking at the sky.

If he was honest with himself, he never considered passing on the tradition. Besides being extremely gay, he’d decided early on that he was better off like Wayne—staying on the outskirts, not bothering to shove himself in somewhere he didn’t fit anyway.

The first person who’d thrown that plan right out the window was Dustin.

From the second that curly-haired, sarcastic kid had loudly joined Hellfire Club, bringing his gaggle of gremlin friends along with him, Eddie had been sucked into having this makeshift little family. One that he’d been willing to risk his own life for, just for a chance they’d be okay.

And through Dustin, he’d met Steve.

And Steve…had made Eddie want what he’d given up.

First, just a relationship. Something that, if it didn’t work out, he’d look at fondly in his later years as getting to love the golden boy of Hawkins, Indiana. Because it was never a question of whether or not Eddie would love Steve.

And then, lightning struck the same spot twice, and Steve actually loved him back.

They moved in together. Well, them and Robin.

But once she, and then later Steve, both got their degrees and jobs—and Eddie’s band managed to miraculously go gold on an album, they bought a house.

Eddie was doing everything he’d always told himself he would never, ever do.

Even adopting a six-year-old after reaching forty.

Even going out onto the balcony overlooking the backyard of their cozy two-bedroom house in the middle of winter with an armful of blankets and thermoses of hot chocolate.

Steve and “officially their’s” Ethan were waiting for him, wrapped in the two blankets from the hall closet. Apparently, being babysitters to Dustin Henderson had prepared them for the ten-mile-a-minute way that Ethan chattered at Steve.

Wayne called it the universe’s retribution for the graying stress inflicted on him by preteen Eddie.

Eddie hoped it was a good sign that they were helping Ethan. He’d been a conflicting mix of quiet and angry when he and Steve had first started fostering him—just like Eddie when he’d been upended from a shitshow life, but was all he’d ever known, and started living with Wayne.

Then, nearly a month of staying up night’s wondering if the dissonance between them and Ethan meant it wasn’t going to work out, Ethan started talking.

And he hadn’t stopped.

“…then, the dragon opened it’s mouth super, super wide and was going to spray acid all over Topher,” Ethan regaled Steve, arms extended out wide in front of him.

Steve glanced at Eddie, a slight raise in his brow.

Lucas, he mouthed back.

Hellfire Club hadn’t lasted as long as Eddie had once announced it would to an entire cafeteria full of people—but he still hosted a game night every once in a while. Especially now that he had a future DM in the house now to imbue with his wisdom.

And since Steve still refused to play, Ethan took it upon himself to make sure Steve never missed out on the chronicles of their household.

As Ethan went into, quite meticulous, detail of the campaign, Eddie pulled out the knitted blanket from the pile he’d retrieved from their bedroom. His grandmother had made it for him before he was born and it was much too small for either him or Steve.

But it was absolutely perfect for, say, someone about six years old.

Eddie draped the green blanket across the back of Ethan’s shoulders, brushing aside his dark hair to press a kiss to his temple.

Then, he sat on Ethan’s other side and covered all three of them with the rest of the blankets. He grabbed the hot chocolate and began to the hand them out.

“Made with milk for me and Ethan. The correct way.” Eddie shot Steve a pointed look before handed over the blue-plaid thermos. “And made with water for the weirdo sleeping on the couch.”

“Hilarious,” Steve deadpanned.

Ethan missed the back and forth, having forced off the top of his thermos and was downing his hot chocolate straight from the main compartment, both hands holding it up to his mouth.

After a couple gulps, Eddie stepped in, easing the thermos away. “Work up a thirst there, kiddo?” he chuckled.

“I asked him about school, I don’t know how we got here,” Steve said, carefully pouring a cup of his hot chocolate.

“All roads lead to D&D, Stevie,” he said, despite Steve’s huffed breath. “But for now, I will give you a break. Everyone scooch in, gotta stay warm.”

Steve and Eddie turned toward the middle, enveloping the three of them in the warmth of the blankets. Ethan was taking smaller sips of his cocoa, giving zero attention to Steve and Eddie snuggling in.

Nearly a year ago, Ethan wouldn’t let them.

Now he had the unbothered behavior of a kid desensitized to their parent’s affection.

“What are we doing?” he asked, peering into the thermos for more marshmallows.

“We’re going to look at the stars and find the special ones that make pictures in the sky.”

Ethan hummed, and Eddie wasn’t sure he’d paid full attention. That was okay. Eddie’s mom had started him on much earlier, so getting a six-year-old interested was going to be a tad more complex.

“I used to do this with my mom. And she taught me everything I know. So, kiddo,” He laid his hand on the center of Ethan’s back, leaning close to whisper, “I’m going to teach you how to find Cassiopeia.”

And, have a little Prequel fic if you'd like <3

[gladiatorcunt]

- # 🎰 All or Nothing (Ace in the Hole) !!

cw: afab!reader, breeding, implied murder, inaccurate fallout au (vault inspired by Fallout 76 bc i just wanted one mention of appalachian horror vibes), reader lowkey has a old man fetish (mentions of age gaps though no specific men are mentioned), childhood best friends to strangers to lovers (forcibly), future extreme dubcon, fallout typical sexism and expectations & creepy behavior (attempted grooming (?)), biblical undertones, ambiguous time period, implied southern setting & characters, unedited

1k event / commissions

It’s been so quiet for ages now, deathly silent as if everyone in the world was perfectly sound asleep. Your world consists of metal tunnels buried deep underground, a myriad of dark rooms that are meant to simulate the life you’re supposed to have on the surface. A cafeteria, where there’s hearty chuckles and playful ribbing over food even astronaut’s would have turned their noses up at. Piles of meat the same color as a fresh corpse, slightly moldy cheese and bread on the days the ego maniac people in charge are feeling fancy.

Green Houses, meeting rooms, infirmarys, kitchens, breeding rooms bedrooms, you truly have it all in vault 426. Jewel of the Texas Commonwealth. Even the howling coming from above like a hailstorm can be soothing when you have nothing else to listen to. They say your name when your back is turned, when they know you can’t venture out to see them. The temptation has driven people mad before, it will again. Right now, you wander through the vault searching for any sign of life. Yesterday you were arguing with your Ma over what she had done, hitching your wagon to one of the few unclaimed men your age. Now you were wishin’ on stars the elders used to talk about seein’ that you would peek around the rusting corner to find her waiting. You don’t want to wonder why there’s blood on the wall, varying between bright and darker shades of red.

Not a single peep from the man you were meant to marry, ‘your last chance at a proper purpose’ Pa had said. This vault wasn’t strongly steered in the direction of being a hive for breeding, but in these uncertain times more pairs of hands ready to rebuild the world were more than encouraged. Seeing as this bubble of refuge from the acid sky was so precious, every life counts. You knew that future would be yours someday, and you didn’t really mind. It got boring occasionally in the vault, knitting the same garment again and gossiping with your Ma’s friends about the same subjects. Maybe a cock in your cunt would settle your nerves, caring for a baby would be a task that would never end.

The wedding was supposed to be today, at noon on the dot. You overslept, panicking when your kitschy alarm clock didn’t rouse you from your dreamless sleep. It wasn’t until you zipped up your blue and yellow suit and tip toed outside of your room that you truly felt afraid. What reason would you have had to feel the uncomfortable emotion before? Life was so serene and idyllic nestled in the dirt, your vault a poor man’s sword in the stone. An intoxicating comfort zone that you cared more about staying in than fighting against, though there whispers from dwellers who felt otherwise. Your childhood friends, Patrick and Art, who you have drifted apart from over the years.

It was childish, your past feelings of jealousy, it wasn’t hard for them to become the most eligible bachelors in the community. There were only a handful of single young men left these days, or your only option was a old timer who had already broken in quite a few wives. They have the chipped belts and rough hands to prove it, you’ve gotten a rush of fluid in between your thighs when you lie awake and think about it for too long. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too terribly awful if you got saddled with a stern older man, some beaten down part of your brain begs for it. Your Pa’s buddies used to say that they would bet good money on tight your velvet grip would be.

There were many invitations to sit in on their blackjack games left unanswered in your Ma’s nightstand, under brass lock and key.

But to see your friends be giggled and fawned over made your stomach churn, so you pushed them away and focused on living as any good dweller would. Preparing to spend your years with your lips frozen in a smile and your holes split open around wrinkly skin, your shape molded by your husband. If you could’ve known that that would only make more determined to prove their toughness to you, that they would be the hands clasping pearls around your neck and slamming their dicks into your untouched flesh.

“Aw, hell-” A deep voice gasps and grabs ahold of your fore arms, wrestling you into an abandoned bedroom as you walk past.

You squawk, flapping your arms around in an effort to fight. Then you see him, Art, smiling gently and reaching out to cup your tear covered cheek. His other hand is free, which means that the man restraining you has to be Patrick. Where one is, the other will he close behind. There’s a saying about smoke and fire, and you hear the crackling embers as Art gingerly slides his other hand around your neck. A new fangeled set of pearls, hard won and all yours. Call it an engagement present.

“There you are, Angel Face, we were so damn worried about you.” Art coos, the ‘damn’ hissed in a way that gives off a ‘I still haven’t got used to being allowed to swear’ impression.

You think he could the be the angel, a scythe discarded in favor of a well used hatchet lying on the floor. His blood splattered curls call to you, or the absurdity of the situation must be sinking in and overpowering your ability to accept reality. Of course you had sensed their hungry eyes burning holes into your soul, yes you had heard the shuffling and muffled shouts outside your door. The way it would creak open when you were believe to have succumb to slumber. You don’t feel bored, and that’s enough of a thrill for you to recognize where your new place in the food chain is. The bottom.

“I don’t- I- What’s goin’ on? Where is everybody?” You ask, stupid and content to be their lover in distress.

Patrick readjusts his hold on you and wraps his arms fully around you, spinning you around to come face to face with him. If you thought Art looks drenched in blood, Patrick appears to be made of it. There’s lightning in his eyes, a phenomenon you’ve only heard and never seen. But this must be what it’s like, electrifying and God given. You’re stained now, no doubt about it, visibly and in your spirit.

“They went nuts, like a bunch of rabid dogs.” He grunts. “We had to defend ourselves, had us out here runnin’ around like headless chickens because you were gone.”

You weren’t brought up to know much, except that animals will be animals and man reacts accordingly. Patrick’s words make about as much sense as anything ever could, and you’re desperate to believe whatever yarn they have to spin you. Art nods and saunter up behind you. He wetly pecks you on the cheek, his lips ‘Smack!’ing the plump skin as he pulls back. You gasp and they share a foreboding laugh, shoving you further down a long dusty hallway where you can pretend that nothing bad has ever happened to you. That your Virgil and Dante followed after you with innocent intent.

“Get ‘em in the stirrups, Pat. Need these legs spread nice and wide. Don’t we, sugarpie?”

Your heart drops and floats back up at a jackrabbit’s pace, “W-what?”

Your look over your shoulder is perfectly timed, your hair framing your face like a pre-war Hollywood starlet. The kind that could cry at the drop of a hat and deep throat a stuffy executive’s cock in one go. Simmering heat pools in your belly, every circle of hell seemingly setting themselves aflame in your body. And while you know they wouldn’t dare seriously terrify you, they would probably get a kick in their pants if you let a sliver of fear slip. They’re men who no longer have a societies rules to wear as if they were costumes after all, perfectly chiseled faces and painted masks.

Offering you a marriage license so they plant you in a gilded cage, but Midas ghosted his fingers along your roots years ago. When you stumbled in on two boys playing a game that used to be popular in the pre-war days, a yellow-green fuzzy ball bouncing on a wired net racket. You giggled when an elder scolded them for staging their challengers match in the hall. And with the sound of a bell, the walls came tumblin’ down.

Patrick’s grin writes your name on the dotted line, “Our pretty lil’ cock socket, we’ll repopulate in no time at all.”

They had already stolen your wedding outfit that same day way back when, slim pickings have to be snatched up in this dog eat bitch world. But they were something far above dogs with malleable forms and a blunter bite, they were opportunists and God always has his eye on those who can seize what he provides.

The House always wins.

- 2024, do not cop/translate/feed my work to ai

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 8

part 1 | part 7 | ao3

He finds himself on Cherry Drive by muscle memory alone. Quarter mile past Maple Street, take the third left, the second right; drive straight through the next stop sign and suddenly the Hagan house is coming into view around the bend, bathed in dim yellow light from a flickering street lamp. A 50s era ranch house, painted brick with a detached one-car garage, weeds sprouting through the crooked old stones of the front walkway and leaves scattered across the lawn in mushy browns and orange-reds.

It's not as nice as Steve's place is.

Was.

Whatever.

Steve blinks, shakes himself fully awake; feels a jolt of fear at the idea that he just drove here in some kind of fugue state because he doesn't know what he's doing here. Tommy left for college, and fuck Tommy, anyway.

He pulls up to the house. Slows the car to a crawl.

It's dark inside, all the lights turned off except for a single table lamp in the entryway window; shaped like a sea turtle, its belly full of blue-green light. Mrs. H. loves the sea.

He wonders if they're out of town or if they're just asleep.

The Hagans go to bed early, he remembers. He spent so many nights talking in a hush in Tommy's room; 8:45pm and they'd be lying side by side on the floor beside his bed, reading comic books or sports mags and whispering about nothing. Tommy'd always thank Steve for coming over because he knew his house was a little boring; he was the kid with old parents who went to bed early and kept the radio turned down and wouldn't let them have sugary snacks even on the weekends. Steve would always just knock their shoulders together and smile 'don't mention it' because he'd hang out with Tommy anywhere.

"Anywhere?" "Yeah, anywhere." "What about in a cave?" "Sure." "Under a bridge?" "Don't see why not." "In the belly of a whale?" "Now you're just being dumb." "Am not!" "Are, too." "Oh, yeah? Well- shut up!"

That was usually the part where they got in trouble for making noise, caught red-faced and laughing while they wrestled on the floor.

There's warmth in his chest at the memory, and that part, he expects.

But also...

Something about it makes heat flare in his gut, shameful and feverish as it flashes through his mind: the phantom press of Tommy above him as he pinned his shoulders down; the way the flush on his cheeks made Tommy's freckles pop; the breathless smile he gave, so close their noses almost brushed...

A light turns turns on in the Hagans' hall.

Steve hits the gas.

He drives for a long while, feeling like an asshole for burning through their precious gas money, but too— too something to fully care. He's alone on a highway with dark pastures blowing by, with the heat on and windows down, and he's circling back toward home when Bruce Springsteen starts to play, all croaky static over the spotty radio.

Born down in a dead man's town. The first kick I took was when I hit the ground.

Steve cranks it up and sings along. The song is cheesy, and he feels stupid, but he also feels free. Like there was a shackle around his throat and he didn't notice until it was gone. He shouts along to the chorus and then just shouts in general; long, guttural screams that feel like poison being purged. Tommy, his dad, the Russians, his mom. All of it, all of it spewing out of him into the cold night air.

He misses Carol suddenly. Her acidic attitude. The way it always ate through the worst of his sullen moods.

He can picture her now: perched on someone's lap in the crowded backseat, no seatbelt, manicured hand braced on the ceiling. She'd be smacking bubblegum and twirling a lock of her hair, and she'd roll her eyes at Steve's dramatics and ask whether he was done untwisting his panties yet. Steve would say something dumb and pervy in response, like, "Too busy dealing with girls' panties to focus on my own," and she'd roll her eyes harder and go, "God, you're fucking gross."

Carol's not here, though, so he just screams about her, too.

When he get back to Forest Hills his voice is hoarse. His body is tired; his soul is light. He's thinking, like: maybe he'll be okay. He'll channel his inner Claudia or Joyce and soldier on. Resilience, and all that shit.

He's almost smiling to himself when he turns into the park.

And then he sees the flashing lights.

There's an ambulance on his lot.

—

part 9

just gonna start tagging whoever commented the day before (if your settings will let me) bc i have the memory of a goldfish @a-little-unsteddie @slowandsteddie @pennyplainknits @thesuninyaface @hotluncheddie @messrs-weasley @pitrsattabhaadmeinjao @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @blackpanzy @disrespectedgoatman @i-have-three-feelings @sirsnacksalot @estrellami-1 @manda-panda-monium

[antebunny]

a cuckoo in the nest

(part three. for @authenticaussie whose comments on parts 1 & 2 inspired me to write this. i might actually finish writing the whole thing now hehe).

Premise: fae!Tim AU where Tim's parents gave him to the fae when he was nine. Now he's twelve, part fae, and trying to escape the Unseelie Queen. He strikes a bargain: if he can make every member of the Wayne family love him by the end of summer, he can leave. If not, he must stay with the Unseelie Queen forever.

Meanwhile, Bruce strikes his own bargain with her: he gets Jason back, safe and sound. In return he takes in this creature of her choosing, which resembles a human boy. Of course he won't let it hurt his family, but he'll play along for Jason's sake.

[part one] [part two]

~

“What the fuck, Bruce?” 

When Bruce’s eldest bursts into his study he knows it’s going to be a long afternoon. Dick has spent much more time around Wayne Manor since he brought Jason back, but he and Bruce haven’t spoken much one-on-one. So Dick approaching him now means he’s ready to fight.

Dick waits for the doors to slam closed behind him before he demands: “Why didn’t you tell us that Tim’s our neighbor?”

Bruce sighs and gestures for Dick to take a seat in the green velvet lacquer chair across from his desk. “What are you talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb,” Dick rages, “I know you knew that Tim used to be our neighbor before his shit parents gave him away. You didn’t think this was relevant information for the rest of us?”

Usually Bruce is pretty good at figuring out what line of thought Dick is racing after like the world’s largest bunny rabbit. He’s not subtle and in fact is usually openly cheerful about it. In this case, however, Bruce struggles to connect the fae in his house with anyone living in Bristol. He mentally sifts through all the information stored in his brain about the current and past Bristol residents (very paltry, compared to his database on the most effective acids and poisons) and finally comes up with Jack and Janet Drake, of Drake Industries. They’d had a son of approximately the right age of the fae–or what the fae appears to be. 

Bruce reminds himself that just because the fae looks and acts like a human child doesn’t mean it is anything even remotely human. Like the Unseelie Queen it will exploit every weakness and loophole it can find in the bargain if Bruce lets it. That said, he is reluctantly impressed by the fae’s acting. Of course, the fae says and does things that are transparently unusual for a human child, but given that the fae is not a human at all, it’s doing a rather convincing job of pretending to be one. More than pretending, it attempts to stir sympathy and protective feelings from the other members of Bruce’s family through its lost little boy act. Worst of all, it’s working on them. 

“Tim…Drake,” Bruce ventures. 

Dick rolls his eyes explosively (quite the feat for anyone but Dick, for whom it is a natural talent). “Yes,” he huffs. “At least with Jason you told us you fished him out of a dumpster. Tim you just dropped him here without a word. I mean I’m trying to include him and stuff but…you aren’t exactly making it easy, B.”

Even though Dick is mad at him, Bruce can’t help the creeping feeling of fondness. It’s been a while since Dick sat in that chair, and Bruce had nearly forgotten how he sprawls, half-noodle, half-boy, into any container he’s put into. Dick has a way of being laidback and looking comfortable everywhere, even at galas where he is distinctly uncomfortable. In Bruce’s office, he looks right at home. When Dick was younger, he used to insist on sitting in the chair even though his feet dangled half a foot off the ground, determined to be grown-up and taken seriously. Now he overflows, draping himself over and around an old wooden chair that no longer fits him. 

The memories remind Bruce exactly of what exactly is at stake here. It’s no longer just Jason. Dick, Alfred, even Barbara who is spiritually his, and the mantle of Batman depend upon Bruce winning this battle with the fae. 

Unfortunately, the Unseelie Queen’s bargain with Bruce has trapped him in an awful cycle. In order to protect Jason, he must act as if this fae is a regular human boy. But in order to protect his whole family, he must not only keep an eye on the fae but also convince them to be on their guard around it. 

“It is not easy,” Bruce enunciates carefully. 

Dick rolls his eyes again. “Boys, you have a new little brother, his name is Tim Drake, I acquired him through dubious and doubtless wacky magical means. Boom. How hard was that?”

It is deeply distressing to Bruce that the fae has convinced Dick that it is Tim Drake. A lucky coincidence, perhaps, that the real Drake boy is approximately the right age? But why him, out of all the boys in Gotham? Bruce doesn’t believe in coincidences. He’ll have to look into that. 

But first, he must rid Dick of his delusion. He has refrained from interfering with any of the fae’s interactions with his children of Alfred so far, terrified that he might jeopardize Jason’s life. Now the fae goes too far. Nevertheless, Bruce has faith in his children, in his brilliant, clever, caring boys. They’ll figure the fae out.

“It is not easy,” Bruce repeats. “It is…impossible.”

“Impossible to say what? His name? Where you got him?” Dick’s eyebrows knit together when Bruce stays silent. “B. What type of magical means?”

Bruce sits ramrod straight. He places both palms flat on the desk, brushing aside some old papers on WE finance reports. Stares right into Dick’s eyes. And says nothing.

“Ohhhhhhhh.” Dick leans back in his chair, fingers laced behind his head. “I see what you’re saying. Or what you’re not saying. I’m picking up what you’re putting down.” He waggles a finger at Bruce, frown replaced with his typical cheeky smile. “Don’t worry B, me and Babs are on the case. We’ll figure this out for you no prob.”

“Hnnnnn,” Bruce says neutrally.

“Hehe, I knew you couldn’t suck that much at communicating.” Dick springs up and leaves the office whistling what seems to be birdsong, in a much better mood than when he entered.

As soon as the doors close again, Bruce sinks into his chair with a deep sigh. Dick knows something is awry. He’ll get Barbara, perhaps his friends on the Titans, and definitely Jason whenever he finds out, to solve the mystery for Bruce. He has faith in them. He taught Dick everything that he knows, and Dick is plenty innovative on his own. If nothing else, his establishment as Nightwing has proven that he can roll with the best of the best. Bruce is unbearably proud of his kid. Now he just hopes it is enough.

Bruce is nearly certain he did nothing to imply that the fae is not human. Perhaps he implied that the fae was “acquired,” as Dick put it, through magical means, but that by no means implies that the fae itself is not human. It isn’t, of course, but that is for Dick to find out through no suggestion or help on Bruce’s part. 

He knows that Dick will agree with his decision to bargain their safety for Jason’s safe return. The only person he suspects might disagree is Jason himself. Already he can picture Jason lecturing him if and when he finds out: accusing Bruce of doing it for himself, of being unbearably selfish, of forcing Jason to bear a responsibility he never asked for. And Bruce will bear it all because it’s all true. He saw a way to have his son back without having to break his moral code and he seized it. Jason can call it self-serving and hate Bruce all he wants, because Bruce would do it again in a heartbeat. 

-

“So, Timmy,” Dick says casually, “are you a metahuman or what?”

Barbara, Dick and Tim are in the middle of a near-empty Staples when Dick pops out with his invasive question. They’re shopping for school supplies, since come fall Tim will need to go to school. Bruce has registered him, through a combination of fake and real forms, for Gotham Academy. Tim’s memories of school were his first to go from Before, when he was purely human. Needless to say he’s not looking forward to school again. But he’ll be going with Jason, and maybe they can talk about it even though they’ll be three grades apart. He’ll get to know kids his age who will learn his name and never think twice about using it. Anything that makes Tim more human is a good thing, in his book. 

“Dick, for the love of God,” Barbara groans. She casts a quick look around the Staples. Luckily, no one is around to hear. 

Sometimes she wonders how she got caught up in not one but two school shopping trips for Dick’s little brothers. No less than eight employees and customers at the various stores they’ve stopped at have given them strange looks, no doubt thinking that Dick and Barbara are a tragically young couple to have a kid Tim’s age. She isn’t sure who would be most embarrassed if she corrected them, so she said nothing.

The truth, that Barbara is a freshman in college taking her high school boyfriend’s new kid brother shopping, potentially sounds stranger. Add in the part where they’re trying to acclimate the kid to human society, and Barbara’s certain she’d be kicked out of the store.

“What?” Dick protests. “I have a deal with B. C’mon Timmy, you don’t want your favorite big brother to lose to the big bad B, do you?”

“A deal?” Tim warbles.

“Yeah,” Dick persists doggedly. He still hasn’t figured out what triggers Tim, so for now he continues until Tim comes to some internal resolution. “He doesn’t think I can figure it out. C’mon Tim, my ego’s on the line here.”

Tim stares at the blue spiral notebook in his hands. Both Dick and Barbara lean in, anticipatory, as he turns it over and over. Despite Barbara’s reservations about Dick’s timing and bluntness, she’s also desperately curious about where the new kid comes from. All he has been able to tell her so far is that Bruce seems to have sworn some kind of oath not to talk about the details.

“You don’t have to tell us,” Barbara adds, only a little reluctantly. “But you know, no matter if you’re an alien or a cyborg or a sentient piece of mud, you’re a part of the family, right?” She gestures in a wide circle, to encapsulate the absurdity of their situation. 

Two first-year college students, arms full of Ticonderoga pencils, notebooks, binders, rulers, calculators and the like, all for a not-quite-human twelve-year-old boy. Jason insisted on getting his own trip, which really made Barbara feel like she and Dick really were parents with two kids competing to be the favorite. Jason also strong-armed Barbara into agreeing to a Dragon Ball Z marathon next weekend. She really doesn’t know how she’ll explain that one to her new college friends. They already think she’s a bit strange for still dating her high school boyfriend. 

“I’m not…I made a bargain,” Tim whispers. He trusts them, even though he grips that notebook so tightly it folds over. Weeks ago he gave Dick and Jason his true name and they have never used it to make him do something he doesn’t want to do. Surely, if he can trust them not to use his name against him, he can trust them with this. 

“With who?” Barbara asks immediately.

“About…?” Dick prompts at the same time.

Tim ponders over the phrasing until words lose their meaning. There really is no safe way to explain that he made a deal with the Unseelie Queen to secure their undying affection in exchange for his freedom, is there? No matter how he says it, he’ll be outed as the emotionally manipulative little infiltrator that he is. In the end, all Tim can do is shake his head. “If I win my bargain I’ll be fully human,” he evades.

“Oookay.” Dick attempts to fit this piece of information into his catalogue of Timmy facts. So far it includes “used to be Timothy Drake, age nine” and “my parents handed me over as part of a mysterious deal” and “I’m not fully human (anymore???)” and “Bruce can’t talk about where he found me” and now “I made a bargain with my own humanity.” It’s not making any goddamn sense. Dick has some amount of pride in his skills as a detective, and Tim’s situation is pretty thoroughly destroying it. The only through-line he’s found is an awful lot of bargains and deals. Which perhaps explains Tim’s overreaction to Dick saying he made a deal. Whoops. 

“But you know,” Barbara jumps in again, “you don’t have to be fully hu–”

“I want to be,” Tim cries. “I want it back. I will be–”

Someone clears their throat. At the end of the notebooks aisle, a Staples employee points at the analog clock on the western wall. It’s rather unhelpful as a visual signal, since only Barbara can read it.

“It’s almost closing time,” the employee explains delicately. They look anywhere but Tim’s teary face or Barbara and Dick holding hands. 

-

“Mr. Wayne,” Tim says bravely, “can we talk, sir?”

School starts in a couple of weeks. Tim is running out of summer, but he has Alfred, Dick, Jason and Barbara firmly on his side. Last week Jason taught him how to make frijoles and tried to get him to read Jane Austen. Neither attempt succeeded, but the intent was there. Dick tried to teach him parkour, which went much better. His one remaining problem is that Batman still does not want him at all. 

So he corners Batman when the man’s alone with one solid plan of action, a heart full of hope, and two shaking knees. 

Batman stares down at him suspiciously. “Yes.” 

He turns away abruptly and Tim hurries to keep up with his long strides. After so long in the human realm, he no longer have the floatiness they once did. By the time Batman makes it to his office, Tim is panting. His feet hurt. He worries and waits in the corner as Batman shuts the doors, shutters the windows, and manually activates enough security measures to shock Harry Houdini. Is he in trouble? He hasn’t even done anything yet. 

Wordlessly, Batman gestures for him to take a seat. “What is it.”

Tim collapses into the chair. His feet dangle half a foot in the air. “I would like to make a deal.”

“No.”

“Please, Mr. Wayne.” Tim can’t cry yet, he hasn’t made his proposal. “I–I think–”

“I said no–”

“I’m offering information!” Tim says quickly. His hands, driven to distraction by all his stress, twist into pattern after pattern in his lap. “I can tell you what I can do and how the fae work.”

Batman is a regular human who operates in a world of gods and monsters. He works with the most powerful superheroes. He leads the best of the best. In order to do that he plans. He needs information, and there’s only one area where Tim knows more than him. 

Batman’s eyes narrow. “And what do you want in return?”

The same love and affection he gives so freely to Dick and Jason. But Tim knows better than to ask for that. That’s why he’s proposing this deal in the first place. He can’t trick Batman into loving him the same way he tricked the others, but maybe he can offer his services. Maybe if Tim is useful enough, good enough, that will be enough for Tim to get to stay. So instead:

“A Nikon D850,” Tim answers. “It’s a camera, sir. For nighttime photography.”

For a tortuously long moment, Batman just stares at him with that dark, unreadable expression. There isn’t a hint of emotion, much less affection, in his eyes. Tim’s hands flap around loudly. He jams them under his thighs to quiet them. 

“Done,” Batman says tonelessly. “Now tell me everything you know. And,” he adds, voice dropping to a growl, “I will know if you’re lying.”

Despite his promises to himself, something hot stings Tim’s eyes and tickles the back of his throat. He’s not sure if Batman has magic powers, but he doesn’t doubt the threat for a second. 

“Right,” Tim acknowledges, only a half-step from crying. “Well. I was born Tim Drake. When–”

“I know you purport to be Timothy Drake.”

Tim’s shoulders hitch. Batman’s interruption cuts, paper-cut-like, into his thin skin. One wrong word from flinching, one quarter step from crying. 

Batman pins him to the chair with cold eyes. “I already said I will know if you’re lying. Try again.”

It’s so unfair that Tim almost bursts into tears just from frustration. Just because his parents sold away his right to be Timothy Drake doesn’t mean that he wasn’t born human. But he knows better than to argue with Batman, so he takes his second chance and changes the subject. 

“Yessir. Sorry, sir. I can teach you how to find fairy circles,” Tim offers. “The trick is not to look for something out of place. ‘One may enter the realm of the fae wherever the–”

“–Wherever the wild and mundane meet,” Batman interrupts, voice so flat he sounds bored. Unspoken is the order: tell me something I don’t already know.

Tim had forgotten that Batman journeyed to the fae realm by himself. It isn’t as though he stumbled upon a fairy circle by accident and decided to strike up a deal with the Unseelie Queen. He must have researched how to locate fairy circles by himself. He’s Batman. What in the world can Tim possibly tell him that he doesn’t already know?

“I can tell you about the abilities of the fae in the human realm,” Tim suggests, nearly despairing. “We can commune with plants. We are more in tune with the weather. We can, um, float a little. Sometimes. I think I can also make people not notice me. It’s like a veil on people’s senses. Like I’m always in their per-fory–per-fi-fory–periphery vision–”

“You can also make plants grow a little fast,” Batman interrupts for the third time. “You sometimes cause video footage of you to corrupt. You attract the loyalty of animals, both wild and domesticated.” His lip curls. “You are a superb actor.”

Somehow Tim doesn’t feel complimented. The underlying dark tone to Batman’s observations is I told you I was watching you. But it is the lip curl, a small, nearly intangible action, that finally breaks Tim, not a word or even anything serious. Just the slight hint of a sneer on Batman’s face even though the Unseelie Queen has accustomed Tim to far worse condescension and Batman isn’t even wrong to judge him. Hasn’t he tricked the rest of Batman’s family into loving him with his acting?  

Tim squeezes his eyes shut. A tear escapes and leaves a cold trail on his cheek as it snakes its way to his chin. He fights the urge to vomit. “I can teach you how to use a fae’s true name against them,” he whispers.

When he opens his eyes, Batman is watching him cry with a blank, apathetic face.

“To test that,” Mr. Wayne says slowly, “I’ll need to use yours.”

All at once Tim is struck by the childish desire to close his eyes and wish himself into a world where Batman never looks at him like a dangerous, evil, life-sucking parasite. Wants so dearly to deny the existence of this world where he must replace the Unseelie Queen with his hero. But Batman demands it must be so. Declares that Tim has no other use. So Tim trembles and shakes and falls apart in that oversized lacquer chair until he’s cried his little heart out, but in the end he gives Batman what he wants.  

“I understand, sir,” Tim says miserably. 

It won’t be forever, Tim vows to himself. If Mr. Wayne accepts him, if Tim is allowed to stay, then one day he will be fully human again. One day his name will hold no power over him than it would over any human. Mr. Wayne doesn’t want to use it like the Unseelie Queen does anyways, he just wants to verify Tim’s honesty, which is fair because Tim has done nothing but lie since arriving to Wayne Manor. 

Even though it feels awfully cruel. 

Tim scrambles through his memories to recall how it was explained to him. “A fae is under the thrall of whomsoever can speak their true name.” Then he struggles to verbalize what it actually feels like to have your name used against you. “But the effects–they’re temporary. It’s like…a rubber band. You can pull it into a shape but the moment you stop it instantly snaps back. And if you use it again and again and again then it works less and less and less.”

“Fae names suffer from diminishing returns.” Mr. Wayne looks just the tiniest bit amused. At least he’s not interrupting Tim this time.

Tim has no idea what that means, but he nods anyways. “And it is easier to command that which is easily given. The…effect is…quicker.”

When the Unseelie Queen says dance then Tim is swaying before his body can communicate with his head, but when she says won’t you stay with me forever, Timothy Jackson Drake? then Tim digs his heels in and refuses. You can be the prince of my Unseelie Court, little one. Drink the blood of stars, dance with the mad and the lost, and serve at my feet forevermore. Tim shudders and shoves the memory away firmly. It won’t ever come true. Tim won’t let it.

Tim straightens to the fullest height offered by the giant chair, acting for all the world as if he is making a business deal with an equal. “You may use Timothy Drake,” he offers primly. “Though it doesn’t work very well on me.”

“But of course.” Bruce assumes that this is because Timothy Drake is the assumed name of a fae who refuses to give Bruce its true name. He cannot say he blames it. “Stand up, Timothy Drake.”

Tim pushes the chair back and stands. He blinks. Feeling return to his legs as pinpricks of sensations. He sits back down. 

For the first time, Mr. Wayne’s gaze breaks away from Tim. He casts about his office in search of a command which Tim would be reluctant to do yet doesn’t break Batman’s moral code. Tim, who had begun to recover his nerve, starts to tremble again. Mr. Wayne received the information of fae’s true names positively, so Tim became more confident. Now he worries that Mr. Wayne received it too positively. Where is his line? What wouldn’t he order Tim to do, if he could? 

“Come here, Timothy Drake,” Mr. Wayne commands finally. 

Tim’s legs move of their own accord again. They carry him around Mr. Wayne desk until he stands before the man. He may be a liar but he is not so good that naked terror isn’t written plainly on his face. He keeps his hands behind his back and lets them twist around and around out of sight.

“Now,” Mr. Wayne says. “Timothy Drake. Take a step to the left. Right. Spin. Sit. Up. Right. Left. Left. Jump. Down.”

The rapid volley of commands ends with Tim flat on his stomach, chin stinging fiercely from its introduction to the floor. His body interpreted down as fall on your face for him. He gets back to his feet unsteadily and waits for more. 

“Take this batarang.” Mr. Wayne pulls it out of one of the desk’s many secret compartments. “Timothy Drake. Cut my hand.”

Tim lurches, batarang between his fingers, for one heart-stopping moment, towards Mr. Wayne’s outstretched hand before he gets himself back under control. Batman watches just as unemotionally as before as the batarang nears his unprotected palm, as Tim wars with himself.

“I don’t want to,” Tim pleads. “Please, Mr. Wayne.” His hand shakes violently. “Please don’t make me.”

“Stop.”

The batarang clatters to the floor. Mr. Wayne leans back in his chair, unaffected. Tim staggers back to his own chair, cheeks stained anew with hot tears. 

“It feels like someone altering who you are.” Tim offers this truth in a last, desperate appeal to make Mr. Wayne understand. “It’s like someone possessing you. I know it’s not very powerful, Mr. Wayne, but–it hurts. It–”

Mr. Wayne raises a hand. “Enough.” His voice is just as gravely as before, but it feels a little more gentle. “I believe you.”

The next morning, a Nikon D850 appears in Tim’s bedroom. He leaves it on his nightstand. In a week he’ll pick it up and head to the streets where he first found Batman and Robin. But for now, the sight fills him with dread. 

[scribblue]

Like Father, Like Son [A Bitten!Lloyd Fic]

"He was trapped inside himself, forced to bear witness to the loss of his own identity."

Lloyd Garmadon's life, and the fate of Ninjago itself, is altered forever when he is bitten by the Great Devourer.

2,416 Words ☆ Angst, Canon Divergent AU, Lloyd Garmadon needs a hug ☆ Rated T, no major warnings

This is the first of several oneshots I have planned for this AU, detailing important milestones in Lloyd's post-bite life!! Read it below, or on AO3!

𓆩✧𓆪

In a single agonizing instant, Lloyd understood his father.

As the Great Devourer’s fangs pierced through his sleeve and infused its villainous venom into his veins, as he was shaken like a ragdoll and left to bleed on the desert floor, as the first wave of inner turmoil overtook him, he understood it all. Somewhere in his half-awake stupor and blackening heart he found it, a glimmer of empathy at the end of the tunnel. So, this was the reason for his father’s fall from grace. For his poor choices. For his lengthy absence. It was something Lloyd had long been aware of, at least as much as a young child could be, yet nothing could have prepared him for the reality of his experience. 

Pure, unfiltered hatred and vile thoughts clouded an already swirling mind. He felt his morals being corroded away as though he'd been injected with acid rather than venom, stripping him of all sense of self. It was a metamorphosis of the soul he was powerless to stop, and his body was the cocoon he couldn’t escape, forcing him to lay still in the sand no matter how hard he willed himself to move. He was trapped inside himself, forced to bear witness to the loss of his own identity. 

No. No, he had to fight. He had to. Lloyd couldn’t let the venom win. He was the green ninja. He had the choice to be good. He couldn’t let everyone down. He couldn’t let his father down. He had to do better.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear the cries of his friends, the crack of wood as the Great Devourer went back for seconds. The bounty would surely not survive another attack by the giant snake. Lloyd hoped…he hoped…

It was like grasping for a fleeting memory. He wasn’t sure what he hoped for, if anything; it felt so far away. His body was burning hot and wracked with chills at the same time. His vision blurred and darkened at the edges. Was the wetness on his face sweat or tears? 

Someone called out to him. He couldn’t tell who it was over rushing blood in his ears and the violent storm that raged inside him. When he tried to respond, all that came out was a mangled groan. A hand took him by the shoulder and gave him a shake, which he barely registered; in his loss of blood, consciousness, and identity, this body no longer felt like his own. And it put up no fight as his consciousness was finally claimed.

𓆩✧𓆪

You’re a monster now. 

“How is he doing?” 

Despite a soft tone, the broken silence was enough to startle Wu from his trance. He whipped his head up to face Nya, who had entered the room as quietly as she’d spoken and now met his gaze with a worried expression. Wu wordlessly beckoned her closer and she complied, joining him by Lloyd’s bedside. The young boy was swathed under heavy blankets to sweat out a fever, though an elevated temperature was the least of his problems. He tossed and turned fitfully with eyes squeezed tightly shut, muttering gibberish.

“He is as stable as possible,” Wu said. “I wish we could offer more comfort but…I’m afraid we’ve done all we can do.”

Your friends will never trust you again. Your father will be so disappointed. 

“No, no…” Lloyd whined under his breath.

“You can’t wake him up?” Nya said, worrying the hem of her top with anxious fingers. “It’s been a whole day now.”

Wu let out a resigned sigh. “Lloyd is fighting against the venom as my brother did many, many years ago… this is just the beginning of a lifelong battle. If we do not allow him to emerge victorious from today’s struggle, he may never have the strength to fight it at all.” The words were true, despite Wu’s desperate wishes for the contrary. Seeing Lloyd in such a condition brought a wave of traumatic memories to the surface, and threw salt in wounds that never had a chance to properly heal. Wu couldn’t help but blame himself for Lloyd’s condition, as he had for Garmadon’s. If only he had been there.

You cannot fight the darkness in your soul. You must surrender to it. This is who you were always meant to be. 

Nya pulled up a stool next to Wu and settled into it, keeping her gaze trained on Lloyd. “There has to be something we can do.”

“I wish it as much as you do. But I— we were too late.” Wu cleared his throat to banish a slight tremble. “The venom cannot be removed now. He must learn to coexist with it.”

The world will pay for letting you down, and you will be the means for their demise. Pave the path for your future with their early graves. 

Lloyd yelped and began to toss more violently, tangling the blankets with his thrashing limbs. Wu rose to his feet and stepped forward to gently tug the coverings free of his flailing body, then fetched a washcloth from a dish of cold water at his bedside. He wrung out the excess and placed the cool material across Lloyd’s forehead. The relief was immediately apparent. The boy ceased his thrashing and settled into a state of relative calm, and Wu let out a sigh of his own moderate relief, settling back in his seat.

“What does it mean for the prophecy? Is he still the Green Ninja?” Nya asked with marked hesitancy.

That same question had weighed heavily on Wu’s mind in the past hours, and unfortunately, no amount of meditating brought him closer to an answer. “That will be revealed in time. I’m afraid the fate of Ninjago is uncertain, even to me… that said, one thing is clear: we must focus our efforts on Lloyd’s training tenfold. He will need extra guidance to not only hone his elemental powers, but to hone the darkness inside. We must help him find the light.”

Fighting back merely delays the inevitable. Give in. Give up. Accept your fate.

“No!” Lloyd yelled. He lurched upright with swinging arms, an outburst that elicited a jolt from the pair sitting beside him. He maintained the offensive stance for a moment, panting and surveying his surroundings with wide, fearful eyes. 

"Easy, Lloyd," Wu said gently. "You're safe now."

"Yeah, it's alright Lloyd– it's just us," Nya chimed in with a small, somewhat unconvincing smile.

Lloyd looked over at them, expression softening and fists lowering as recognition kicked in. “What…what happened? Where am I?”

Wu rose from his seat and approached Lloyd with a tentative gait. He studied him closely, as though a thorough enough examination would reveal the depths of the venom's effect. “You are in Ninjago City. Tell me, how do you feel? What do you remember?”

“I feel… awful.” He peeled the towel off of his forehead and Nya reached forward to take it from him, dipping it back in the water dish. “I had a horrible nightmare where I was bit by…the…” His eyes widened in a state of sickening realization, which he aimed at his bitten arm; bandaged tightly below the elbow and surely still sore. Faded patches of blood and venom stained the inner layers of cloth. “…I was bit by the Great Devourer.”

So, he was aware. At least that was one less bandaid for Wu to rip off, for lack of a less ironic metaphor. “Yes, I’m afraid your nightmare is reality,” he said. “I’m sorry, Lloyd. The Great Devourer’s venom now courses through your veins as well.”

Nya offered Lloyd the compress, which he stared at blankly before rejecting with a slight shake of his head. She set it aside. “I’m sorry too. We all are. I can’t even imagine how hard it is for you right now. Don't worry though, okay? We’re gonna get through this together. All of us.”

Lloyd averted his gaze to some far off corner of the second-rate apartment building they were holed up in, though his vacant stare was clearly not one of judgment for their living situation. There was anguish behind those eyes, anguish that Wu was most familiar with. That he dreaded the sight of. “Where’s my father?”

Wu and Nya shared a knowing glance, and Nya took it as her queue to exit. “I, uh…think I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said, sparing Lloyd another sympathetic smile and slipping out of the room. 

With Nya gone, Lloyd’s full attention snapped to Wu. “Where is my father?” he repeated with increased insistence.

Wu stroked his beard as he gathered the words to explain. His conflicting feelings about his brother's conflicting actions made it a particularly difficult task, especially with Lloyd’s intense scrutiny. Not that delaying the news made it any more bearable. “...When your father heard of the bite, and your compromised condition, he took the golden weapons and used them to defeat the Great Devourer in your name. His act of bravery saved us all. However... once the dust had settled, he was nowhere to be found. Along with the golden weapons.”

Lloyd’s face fell. In the silent room, one could hear his heart shatter from within. "He...left?” 

Wu didn’t respond. The answer was already evident and hung heavily in the air between them. Garmadon’s decision was not one Wu agreed with, but he wagered that speaking ill of him would not offer any solace; instead, he reached up under his hat and procured a scrap of paper curled into a roll. “I found this at the scene of the Great Devourer's demise. I think you need to read it.” 

Lloyd accepted the paper gingerly and unfurled it with equal caution. His eyes flitted across the messily scrawled ink. 

To my brother,

Take care of Lloyd for me. He will need someone to guide him through this, and, despite our quarrels, I can think of no one better suited than you. My own venom has run too deep, and I fear my presence would influence him in the wrong direction. I cannot allow that to happen. Please continue his teachings in my absence.

To my son,

I love you. I hope you will understand my decision one day, and possibly even forgive me, though it is certainly not owed. I am so sorry, Lloyd. I never wanted this for you. I know how terrifying and isolating it all is. No matter what happens, never lose sight of who you are at your core: a strong, adventurous young man with a heart of gold. Do not let the venom take that away from you. 

You must maintain balance within yourself, rely on your companion's wisdom when yours fails, and keep moving forward even when the road gets difficult. One way or another, I will be there by the end of it. And I will be so proud of you.

It's not your fault, Lloyd. 

Your father always,

Garmadon

Wu had reread the message enough times to nearly memorize it himself, so when Lloyd’s eyes began to well up with tears, it came as no surprise. He was taken aback, however, by the sudden shout of frustration as Lloyd balled the paper in his fist and threw it across the room. “I hate him, I hate him, I hate him!!” he cried, green eyes blazing red like a forest overtaken by flame. “How could he do this to me? How could he leave me again when he knows how much I need him? Doesn't he know how much I need him?!” 

Wu stumbled backwards and instinctively reached for his staff, realizing the mistake too late as Lloyd’s furious expression landed on him and twisted in betrayal. The fire behind his eyes extinguished, leaving a wounded child in its embers. “...You think I’m a monster like him.” His once furious tone was now trembling and dejected.

The staff fell to the floor with a hollow clatter. “Lloyd, no, it’s not like that. I was simply startled. Neither of you are monsters, this venom, it— it isn’t you. I would never– er, I know you would never...” Wu heaved a sigh. His tangled tongue was doing him no service. "I'm sorry, nephew."

Lloyd held his gaze for a beat before dropping his attention to his wounded arm, curling and uncurling his fingers wordlessly. He didn’t appear convinced, and Wu didn't blame him. Further placations surely couldn't ease such a troubled mind, so the pair remained in uneasy silence, accompanied only by a ticking clock on the wall and blooming dread inside Wu’s chest. He willed himself to fight it, just as Lloyd was fighting his own darkness. Strength was a skill he must model.

Wu turned to survey the room, eyes landing on the crumpled page. He plucked it from the floor and began carefully smoothing it out to the best of his ability. The words were still legible, if a bit creased and stained with teardrops. For this, Wu was grateful. They were important words, ones Wu hoped would one day soothe Lloyd's heart rather than break it. He rolled it back into a makeshift scroll and set it on Lloyd’s nightstand. 

“I’ll still have to fight him…won’t I?”

It was nearly whispered, as though the reality behind the statement was too heavy to bear fully. Wu considered Lloyd thoughtfully, taking note of his puffy, tear-stained face with a frown. “Hm…perhaps,” he admitted. “Although, that is a battle for another day, and one we have ample time to prepare you for. Tonight, allow yourself to rest, Lloyd. Your body and mind are still healing and need time to recover."

Lloyd sniffed and wiped his face into his sleeve. "Okay," he said, and Wu had never heard him sound so defeated. He eased back into bed and closed his eyes, letting out a shaky sigh.

Wu lingered in the doorway for just a moment longer before turning off the light and slipping out to update the others on Lloyd’s condition. He wished he bore more hopeful news. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, to himself or the ninja, their situation had become far more dire. At this time, he could only pray external guidance would be enough to tip the scales of balance back to a steady equilibrium, lest all of Ninjago pay for Wu’s neglect.

Lest the vicious cycle continue.

[ddejavvu]

hi lovely could i request dealer! remus (established relationship) where he notices james/sirius have a crush on you and he's lowkey jealous but also likes to tease them about it :))) thank you!!!

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

--

James is staring again. Sirius is more subtle, but he does it just the same. James's big brown eyes are lazy when he's high, drifting over your body like he's perusing a magazine.

Remus knew it would happen. He's sure you've noticed it, too, but you're curled into his side and it ignites a spark of pride in him. You're still his.

James reaches for his lighter, and Remus decides to see how far he can stretch things.

"She's got it here, Prongs." Remus motions to the lighter you're fiddling with, acid green in color, "Go on, dove, light his smoke for him."

You rise to your hands and knees, leaning over to lazily aim the lighter at the end of James's blunt. It means he's now level with your tits, a down-the-shirt shot all that he needs to start squirming. Sirius stares hard at your ass, tongue shooting out to

Remus keeps a firm hand on your bum, patting it when the flame rips to life. You hover as the end of the joint catches, glowing orange as the paper begins to burn.

"Thanks, love." James hums, eyes glossy as he watches you sit back down. Remus reaches around your shoulder to tip your chin up, hand splayed over your jaw as he leans down to kiss you.

"My helper," He croons, and he doesn't need to glance up to know his friends are staring when you kiss at his chin.

[rheydhotts]

Drabbles #1 — Modern Au! Timebomb

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko are first year college students.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx is a chemical engineering major and ekko is a political science and engineering major.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko are academic rivals who can't admit their feelings for each other.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko have study dates sessions every Saturday.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx falls asleep less than an hour in since she's quick to bore due to the fact she knows everything.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko can't help but admire how peaceful she looks while she rests.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko catches himself by mumbling about how lazy jinx is.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko begrudgingly gives her a blanket and moves her notes to make sure she doesn't drool on them.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko takes another photo of her to add to his album, not as blackmail but something to keep him motivated.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx also has photos of him sleeping in her camera roll that she does use as blackmail.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko sometimes paint murals on abandoned walls they find.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko sometimes lets jinx ride his skateboard.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko tries his hardest not to think too much about the fact he's holding her waist so she doesn't eat shit if she falls (and she will)

modern au! timebomb, where jinx puts herself in situations where she's touching ekko or ekko is touching her.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko often brag about getting the better grades or a higher test score even though they aren't studying the same thing. they just want the other to know that they're smarter in their respective topic than the other is in theirs.

modern au! timebomb, where ekko often criticizes jinx for how messy her dorm is.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx keeps it messy just to annoy him since she thinks it's cute.

modern au! timebomb, where jinx and ekko have been dancing around each other since high school.

modern au! timebomb, where it's finally spring break and ekko decides to make a move.

...

can you meet me at the park near the campus? i need to talk to you..

ekko nearly threw his phone out the window after sending that text. his hands were shaking and his nerves were shot at what he was about to do. he's liked her for years now but the thought of possibly changing their relationship terrified him. what if she said no? worse. what if she said yes? what would he do then?

ekko started to get ready, ignoring the cold sweats that would drip from his brow and how shallow his breaths are. he cursed himself for not owning anything more casual. most of his closet was occupied by turtlenecks, sweater vests and button ups. occasionally, there would be a hoodie or two. he decided to go with one of those. a green hoodie with a graphic of a huge tree plastered on the back. and for his pants? he didn't worry too much about those since he only had 2 valid options. jeans and sweats. he went with the jeans. they were acid wash with a few rips below the knees. jinx had made them for him. she originally just accidentally washed them with the whites one time after saying she'll do his laundry for him. she tried to make it look intentional but clearly it wasn't. ekko was pissed but he'll admit, they do look cool.

sure?

y?

watz goin on?

ekko rolled his eyes and smiled when he got her response. though he made fun of her for it, he secretly loved the way she typed. even if it meant spending a few minutes to decide it, the ridiculousness makes him laugh.

nothing. i just want to talk to you

...

um ok

weirdo

be there in 15

and with the finishing touches of his cedarwood cologne, he was out the door.

who has time to write full length fics? — xoxo, rheyd.

[drdonogood]

Yes hello I'm hear to listen to your yaps about J&H plz

OMG, HELL YAAAHHHH ok swag. So. Drawing randomly from a hat, some various ideas of mine- My AU/ideas are mish-mashed from some of my favorite Jekyll and Hyde adaptations. And some of my own ideas stitched in. (I'm also putting it out there that this AU has no name yet, and I would love suggestions from anyone) also of there are any typos i'm sorry. This is half word vomit and there are only so many times I can re-read it.

> Other monsters and gothlit bullshit probably exsist in my universe. I just haven't thought enough about it.

> Jekyll is right-handed, Hyde is left-handed. They both have a mole in the same spot under their left eye (his left your right). Hyde's veins look green through his skin- Aaand Hyde vaugly looks like a more feral, compact, and fucked up version of younger Jekyll. These are the absolute basis/my fav JnH ideas I've seen around.

> In that recent Hyde Shitpost, you may notice that he is covered in blood. This is because the pressure of condensing into a smaller body shoots blood out of his face. (There's a lot less blood when turning into Jekyll. A super bad nose bleed- At worse some ear bleeding?) It's kinda like the fun glowing mysterious green goo you see in a lot of adaptations. And I almost went with the green goo too. But decided on blood with freind input 😭 This also means that they have low iron and Jekyll is prone to fainting. (Jekyll has always been a bit of a stress fainter though...Hyde is a bit too energized to faint easily but he might)

> I think I've mentioned it here a little- But my Hyde has a tendency to....eat things that are inedible. Raw fish and rocks and paper and dirt and wood. His stomach acid is strong enough to digest small rocks (because this freak's biology is FUCKED)- anything heftier would be a problem. But it still makes Jekyll... a little ill in the morning. I had the thought that maybe this was because Jekyll had suppressed Pica and it presented itself hevily in Hyde? But I haven't developed that idea too much.

> Hyde has thicker, denser bones. Which helps with his "Amateur Parkour Hobby" (aka: His compulsion to jump and climb on everything like a little freak) He also has beans little callous spots on his hands that help him grip things better! .....beans. sorry.

> Hyde's eyes look like they are void black- but if you shine a light on them, they are iridescent green! Bright lights also seem to bother him quite a lot, and he doesn't like being out on sunny days.

> Jekyll's body was slightly changed/modified after drinking HJ-7, so he has a few toned down physical aspects of Hyde's. Like sharp canines and sharp nails (that he frantically cuts down every time he wakes up) and fucked up eyes and even some of the weird biology stuff (Like the digestive thing, faster heart rate, lower body temperature, slight aversion to light ect. Just not AS much as Hyde has it)

> Jekyll and Hyde don't technically age. Their bodies turn back to the day they took the potion. If one of them was stuck being physical for an extended period of time- they WOULD start to age. But it would be reverted the second they transformed. BUT physical injuries only get slightly healed. So they can't just ITV heal injuries by transforming. It helps! But not entirely.

> Hyde HAS to be let out. It causes major problems if he isn't. He gets VERY stir crazy and it effects the both of them negatively. Physically and mentally. It would eventually trigger an involuntary transformation. And Hyde would be a bit fucked up. Likewise, Hyde uses up too much energy just by existing to stay out for days on end. He has to get back in eventually or else. Yk. Involuntary transformation.

> Also Hyde is biologically both sexes. Something something representing the aforementioned Jekyll closeted Tfem stuff that probably won't ever be addressed. He wouldn't care what pronouns you called them but. Obv victorian era everyone uses He when they see him 🤷🏻‍♂️.

> Depending on how long he gets to live (no set plot so him Jekilling himself could or could not happen) Hyde does infact develop a consciousness. Or...His consciousness develops....Or something. Idk how to describe it in such few words. He's definitely starts off distinct and split enough. But Hyde doesn't think about the nature of his existence or Jekyll all that much. He's clearly far too caught up in the joy and rush on being alive and experiencing things. If he exists for long enough, he will eventually have a pretty bad existential crisis. Bro realises that he thinks, therefore, he is. He'll get better, though. And probably be better off.

> Jekyll and Hyde don't find out until way later that they can see each other and communicate and all that regular fanon stuff. (And even still it takes a long and stubborn while for Jekyll to realise just how conscious Hyde is). They CAN make each other KINDA feel a weird sort of Phantom touch. They can see eachothers apparitions. And maybe the non-physical one can see things in a room even when the physical one isn't looking at it. But that's the extent of their interaction with the real world if they aren't physical.

> I'm not a big fan of Hyde being a serial killer type malicious evil guy? He dosen't represent evil obv. Im much more into that TGS style Hyde characterization. But then again, I don't have a set plot, and the idea is fun sometimes. Like he still has the capacity for murrder.... Maybe as a side AU for my AU. I think reasonably he wouldn't be- and at most kills Carew randomly during an emotional outburst. I do think that Hyde likes to start bar fights and beat the shit out of people, though. He loves the rush of being punched but isn't very happy on the very off chance that he doesn't win. Maybe he isn't evil, but that guy is a freakish asshole. And a bit of a man whore.

> This is my friend @ilovebeesandallthat 's fault. But Jekyll is one of those old people who go CRAZY for the holidays. Like he tries soooo hard to be normal about Christmas. He is not. Jekyll isn't the type to throw big parties (attend them? Maaaybe. Host dinners for his friends and colleagues? Definitely. But throwing a big party? Eeehhh-) And yet every year, high society gets excited for Jekylls' yearly Christmas party. Unfortunately, Jekyll's insane Christmas spirit has pierced the soul of our poor London's night Incarnate- and dragged him down to the hellish depths of Holly Jolly Christmas insanity. I fear both Jekyll AND Hyde turn into the most disgusting Holliday feinds the second it turns midnight on November 1st....

> Oh yeah, also because I'm an unoriginal TGS AND TMA fan- Hyde will sometimes refer to himself as "London's Night Incarnate." Beacuse, I thought it sounded like just the sort of thing he would think was cool.

> Lanyon and Jekyll's families were very close. They both were born and grew up in Scotland (Scottish Jekyll truthhhh sorry). They moved to England for university, and for the first chunk, it was them against everyone else. But then Jekyll started hanging around this 'Utterson' guy and started speaking in an English accent and started being uber charismatic with everyone- and it very much bothered Lanyon. He still stuck with Jekyll- but this is what started the strain on their relationship. Lanyon did end up being close to Utterson. But now his relationship with Utterson is better than his relationship with Jekyll....

> Despie all that- Sorry folks, Lanyon is the token straight (I HAVE joked abour him being a Henriel fudanshi though lolll. He loves the drama). He has a wife named Lindsey (she's a nurse!), and they love each other very very much (even though Lanyon is a grumpy ass stubborn old fart). They have 2 adult kids who have moved out and live elsewhere but visit as much as they can. They had a Scottish wedding, and Jekyll was the best man (even though Lanyon considered making it Utterson out of spite...he had to keep the family peace). Utterson also got to be there.

> Lucy and Emma exist in this world, too! Beacuse I like them too much to leave them out despite my beef with the musical and my more book based ideas. Emma is a...bit less developed. She's a wee inspired by some stuff I have seen about Hyde and Seek (the MazM spin off that I haven't played yet). She is Jekyll's ex-fiancé. She left because- despite how much she cared about him- his work was clearly too much. And honestly, she was a wee bit scared of it and how...weird he would get about it. She just couldn't take it anymore and knew she deserved better. Even despite not getting married, they act like a divorced couple on the off chance they cross paths. BUUUUt they still care about each other. Just...not in a romantic way anymore. And they kinda have their own lives going on. She has a husband now and some grown kids! She hasn't been in London so...she actually doesn't know what's going on with Jekyll. Maybe she finds out later, ooooo.

> I probably won't delve TOO much into Lucy's character as much as I could rn. I have...a LOT I could say about her. I'll save that for another post since I'm tryyying to not prolong this and also keep it at least a little on the topic of JnH spesifically. I always thought that if I *did* have an adaptation of my AU- she'd be either the main or a frequent POV. She isn't a love interest or a victim of Hyde. In fact her and Hyde are kinda besties??? She's like a middle ground between ITV/TGS Lucy and musical (which I haven't yet watched ITV but have been infodumped about it) She meets Jekyll...somewhere idk- and has an interesting philosophical conversation with him. Which is a cover for her pickpocketing him. He is...well aware that she is doing so- but doesn't say anything about it. Much like in the musical, he gives her his card and tells her to keep in touch if she ever needs anything. Later down the line, she gets approached by a weirdo in a bar who yaps her ear off about the most ridiculous things. She keeps expecting this guy to ask for her services and get this over with- but he never does. And she keeps seeing this guy day after day- until one of his yap sessions goes on so long that he's just following her home and yapping (you can probably take the hint that yes, this is Hyde). And now she's starting to realise this guy isn't threatening- he's just weird. And probably not human....and maybe even a tad bit endearing? Mostly weird, though. And now he Kimmy Gibbler-ing his way around her apartment in the middle of the night. Crawling through her window when he feels like it to hang out and show her gift her all the cool new trinkets he has stolen and raid her fridge and bring her dead things. And she starts to appreciate it beacuse it starts to break up her monotonous and depressing daily cycle. They take care of each other and it's nice (once again- can get more into it in another post)

> Hyde is a disgusting little slime ball who is somehow always covered in filth and grime. Lucy fucking hates this.

>Hyde has an accidental common theme of being a Devil-On-The-Shoulder to more than JUST Jekyll. He tends to bring out the most weird and hidden sides of people- which is....fitting considering what he is. It's something that happend accidently as I was thinking of character interactions- but something that I think is really really fun....

ANYWAY THAT'S ALL FOR NOW- MORE LATER.....MAYBE 🫡🫡🫡

[junkiefox]

Teen Wolf "Green Creek au"

Where Theo turns into his Wolf form 100% of the time because he can hunt like that, can sleep anywhere, his omega loneliness is easier to face, and feelings are easy to process.

Everyone thinks he left, his truck hidden in the forest where he can lie on its bed when he needs something familiar.

The pack can smell his scent when they go running through the woods, but Theo isn't stupid, he knows where and how to hide, how to slow down his heartbeat until is barely heard. He is relieved that they ignore him, don't look too hard to find him. Theo thinks that's Scott allowing him to stay, even though he doesn't deserve it.

He listens to them howl on the full moon and holds back his own needs to do the same. Because he isn't pack, and he can't out himself.

He should leave Beacon Hills. There are other woods where he can hide, without all the fear and distrust. Where he could relax, not bring alert all the time.

But his truck is there. And everything is familiar, bringing a sense of comfort, somehow. The only thing preventing him from getting insane is this small feeling of belonging.

And then

There's a bunny

A little bunny running and running and theo is hungry, so so hungry

Here bunny here

Just want to play

Hungry

Bunny don't hide

Here come here

Please

Running running

The moon so pretty and it's singing, singing!

It loves Theo, even though his not actually born from the moon, he doesn't belong to it, but it loves him anyways. It accepts him.

And Theo is happy, so happy. Finally hunting, running, his free, free! The moon loves him, and he wants to sing to it too.

But then, there's pain. So so much pain. His leg hurts, and he howls. He's not stupid, but he got distracted. Silver dents into his skin. And it burns, and Theo howls.

Is not stupid, but he got distracted, too much into his wolfself to be cautious. And now, pain is making him stupid because he doesn't want to die. Not again, not again, please.

Pain pain pain

Someone please

Not again please

It's an old Hunters trap (he hopes is an old one, they can't be there, Scott's pack needs some time without danger. They deserve it). And it hurts. He is not affected by silver itself, but it hurts anyway.

He howls until he can't do it anymore. The moon leaving him, abandoning him too. He's left whining and crying to old trees, the wind taking his sounds away.

There's too much blood and he can't heal because its dents are deep down his skin, into his flesh.

Alone, he's going to die alone. And please not again please

Until, a rapid heartbeat and a salty smell come to him overlapping the pain and the smell of his own blood.

Strawberry and wet earth, autumn and slight acid rage

And oh, Liam

Here Liam please

Please

It's all strawberry and wet earth, autumn and slight acid rage and a heartbeat too fast. Too erratic.

A breathless Liam kneels in front of him. Shaking hands caressing his head. He is into his pajamas, an old shirt and sweatpants. He's pretty, so so pretty. It's all Theo can think about.

Theo whines when pain is drained from him, Liam shaking even more when black veins appear on his arms. He relax into Liam, his scent all Theo can feel.

"Theo, I-" his voice is hoarse, he takes a few more breaths. "You screamed. I heard you howl and it was so-" Theo closes his eyes. There's still so much pain and he's tired but Liam's here. He's here, he heard him and he came.

"Sorry for taking so long. It's going to be okay." He continues to stroke his head, scratching behind his ear. "You're my responsibility, right? You're going to be okay."

And Theo trusts him. It's okay. It's going to be okay.

And it's all strawberry and wet earth, autumn and slight acid rage. Sunlight shines again and he allows himself to relax for the first time since he became a wolf.

Part 2