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explorevenus · 2 months ago

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something permanent pt 14 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors. i stg. do not interact or i will call the cops

reminder that this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon kennedy, kidnapping, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pregnancy, non/dubcon

in other words, dead dove: do not eat !!! u have been warned and u are responsible for ur own media consumption.

chapter index: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13

'something permanent��: the spotify playlist

word count: 6.8k

description: leon and darling become parents at last.

tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, no use of (y/n), some gory descriptions cus darling goes into labor obvi, girl dad leon, corny dad leon, horny dad leon (no smut tho i'm sorry. she just gave birth idk what u want from me), medical setting, breastfeeding, manipulation, stockholm syndrome-ish implications, some angst but also fluff

a/n: !!! i hope this was worth the wait <33 big big big big BIG sexy thanks to @dollfacefantasy and @gigabyte-flare for beta reading <3 i don't really have anything else to say other than that i appreciate everyone's patience while i've been dealing with some pretty major life things and i just hope you like it. gentle reminder that the taglist has been moved to the bottom of the chapter to reduce clutter

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy !!

-venus ♡

It went without saying that Leon had seen a lot of gore in his life.

A whole lot of gore.

He'd witnessed gushing bullet wounds, gaping slices of undead flesh, pulverized bodies, genetically modified monstrosities exploding into even more horrific versions of themselves, only to be slain by his hand, often spraying back to douse him in the kind of fetid rot that couldn't be washed out, only burned, the kind that clung deep in his skin for days after... and yet nothing could have possibly prepared him for what it would be like to witness you going into premature childbirth.

Nothing.

You were in so much pain, you were hollering and crying so hard you could barely get a breath in, and apart from holding your hand, he was powerless to help you. It was gutting.

"Shh, shh... you're doing so good, baby, just breathe with me, just breathe," He said to you, trying to manage his tone to be as reassuring as possible, but the stress had long since become him.

How could it not? He was watching his own lover split apart while conscious, pleading with the universe to ease the pain, even with an 18-gauge needle in the spine. You were miserable, and you were terrified, and Leon was terrified too. Perhaps even more than he'd ever been, because this wasn't supposed to be happening yet. He was supposed to have at least another month and a half to pamper you and watch you grow, at least another month and a half to prepare for this.

Not to mention he wasn't entirely fond of the swarm of nurses in your face and between your legs, the rotating door of doctors and specialists working on your exposed body with absolutely no capability of understanding how important you were to him, how special and sweet you were, how little you deserved this.

It did occur to him, in the midst of all the noise, that perhaps this was the wrong idea. That he shouldn't have forced the one person he loves the most in the world to suffer like this on his behalf. That maybe he'd made a grave mistake that he could never atone for, a mistake that would surpass anything he's ever experienced in its devastation.

But all of those fears crumbled to ash when he saw her for the first time.

Monday, December 21, 2015. Winter solstice. 3:36 a.m.

She was so pink. She was so, so small, so pink, and so angry to be alive, but she was alive and crying. She was alive.

In that moment, Leon experienced whatever the opposite of blacking out was, a shot of pure adrenaline down his spine that made everything shine a little brighter. He didn't even realize he was crying with relief until he turned and saw that you were, too. You were barely cognizant, what with the delightful cocktail of shock and panic and pain medication coursing through you, but you were conscious and aware— at least for now— limp with exhaustion aside from clutching Leon's hand for dear life while the professionals got to work sewing you up, and he couldn't help but swipe your slick hair away from your forehead to shower you in tearful kisses.

"My good girl... I'm so fucking proud of you," He spoke into your hair, pressing a heavy kiss to the crown of your head as his free hand cradled your cheek, holding you as close to him as he could physically manage. "I love you so much... I love you..."

You weren't really registering much other than the pure relief of it all, but Leon couldn't blame you. In his eyes, he just witnessed you creating his entire universe, and you deserved all the rest you could get. You'd certainly need it in the coming months.

And even just the coming weeks, as many as it might take for her to incubate and grow a bit.

She was alive, and she was as healthy as she could be, considering the circumstances, but Christ, she wasn't even done cooking yet. She was so little, weighing in at just three pounds, seven ounces, and she looked more like a gummy bear than a baby. She was hooked up to so many machines in the NICU that he could barely stand to even watch after a while, for his own peace of mind.

But he couldn't relax, either, so Leon just stayed at your bedside for most of the night, watching you sleep. Killing time. Occasionally he would wander off for a walk up and down the halls, or to the cafeteria for a bitter black coffee to jump his brain, or he would linger by the window into the NICU for a while to watch her sleep, to see her pink and yellow baby blanket just barely rise and fall with every tiny breath so he could know for sure she was really here. And then he'd repeat his rounds all over again.

The nurses promised him over and over again that she was healthy, that there was no cause for concern at this point, but that didn't really stop him from concerning himself quite severely. He wasn't even sure he understood his own metric for what it would take to get him to relax at this point, so he just stopped asking questions after a while.

Walk the halls. Bitter black coffee. Check on baby. Walk back. Check on you. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eventually the nurses were looking at him like they were debating offering him an Ambien under the table just to calm him down, and perhaps because he'd grown so used to avoiding drawing attention to himself, that was when he finally decided to just sit his ass down at your bedside and stay there.

In his boredom he found that the TV was perpetually stuck on the Hallmark channel, streaming from an endless well of corny, poorly written holiday movies that left more than enough to be desired, but it was better than nothing. Leon couldn’t stand the silence, and at least it kept his mind somewhat occupied while he thumbed through that heavy book of baby names.

He’d already found one he liked— Abigail— but that still left room for one more. He couldn’t even decide if he thought that should be her first name or her middle name. All he knew was what the book told him, flowery words describing the meaning of the name as that of my father’s joy, and that was quite true, wasn’t it? She was his firstborn, and more than that, her mommy was you. Nothing in the entire universe could possibly stand to make him happier or more joyous, and thus Abigail was fitting. But how was he supposed to find another name to describe her when he hadn’t even had the opportunity to get to know her yet?

Or was this secondary name his opportunity to start a thread of her destiny for her?

It’s not like he never asked you for your opinion, you had just chosen time and time again not to give it to him. You were almost completely impartial when it came to talking about the baby, so regardless of how badly he ached for your participation in planning for the life you’d created together, he had long since become bitterly used to making decisions like this on his own.

With a deep sigh Leon let the book rest in his lap, fingertips drumming on the wooden armrests of his chair in thought of the kind of life he wanted for his baby girl. All he could think was that he wanted her to run, play, and be happy. He wanted her to be good to the world and he wanted the world to treat her even better in return. He wanted to ensure she’d never have to worry about a thing, that she would grow up kind and quick and a much better woman than he ever was a man.

He wanted her to be gentle and sweet and protected, like a princess, his jubilant little baby princess.

Lifting the book once more, Leon opened it back up to its table of contents and skimmed over the lines for the millionth time, only now he actually had a vague idea of what he might be looking for. The book was structured in sections, the first being cultural and regional names, the second being historical and literary names, and the last section was an alphabetized glossary of them all in one. It was exhaustingly organized and comprehensive to the last detail, but hey, so was he.

Tracing the page with two fingertips, he found the historical section of the table and went down the line, skimmed over architects, artists, explorers, war heroes, religious figures… all the way down to royalty.

Leon’s hope wavered a little bit when he found most of the names under that section to be underwhelming or flat-out bad when paired with ‘Abigail,’ but his mind had been set on that for so long that he’d already decided he wasn’t budging on it. He was toying with the idea of taking a break from his search for the night, until an entry on the list of princess names caught his eye. In his exhaustion, he must have previously overlooked it.

Charlotte.

“Charlotte Abigail,” Leon mumbled aloud, testing the name on his tongue. “Charlotte Abigail Kennedy…”

It flowed from his lips like a beautiful waltz.

The enticing scent of Leon's umpteenth black coffee was the first thing you noticed when you woke up, followed by the dull, full body ache that weighed you down to the hospital bed. Your head was throbbing, your eyes and throat were stinging and dry from overexertion, but more than that, you felt something like relief.

Yes, it was definitely relief, because any amount of pain in that moment felt like reprieve in comparison to active labor. And maybe you were still a bit fuzzy from the meds, but you weren't complaining.

Slowly, you blinked awake and took in your surroundings, the room quiet aside from the occasional beep of electronic medical equipment, and the subtle, rhythmic rumble of... Leon snoring?

Tilting your head, you saw Leon right there at your bedside, coffee untouched and still steaming on the little tray next to him. His legs were outstretched, arms crossed at his chest, and he had his head tilted back with that comically large book of baby names split open to rest over his face, blocking the fluorescent lights and rising sun from his tired eyes. You just watched him for a moment, knowing he'd likely spent all night fretting over you until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

For as much as you would have loved to just lay there and enjoy the quiet for a moment, though, you knew it was probably wiser to let him know you were awake. At least that way you could talk him into forfeiting his coffee.

"Hey," you spoke up gently, your voice hushed with sleep and a bit hoarse, "I'm pretty sure the shop in the lobby sells bookmarks."

He jolted a little and then stirred, gravity pulling the heavy book down until his arm shot up to catch it and lift it from his face with an exhausted look of surprise. "Y-You're awake—”

"Gimme that," you interrupted, arm outstretched in a dramatic show of grabby-hands at the paper cup of coffee placed just outside your reach. You could barely even remember the last time you were allowed a sip of coffee, and having to lay here smelling it but not tasting it when you so sorely needed it was torture.

Leon blinked once or twice in confusion, clearing away the haze that clouded his frayed neurons, and as his eyes followed the path between your fingertips and the shitty cup of black coffee he'd fallen asleep before having the chance to drink, he couldn't help but puff out a little laugh, handing it off to you without hesitation. For fuck's sake, you'd earned it, hadn't you?

The cup had been sitting there idle for just long enough that its contents weren't blistering hot, but perfectly drinkable. You took a quick sip, and then another, nose scrunching up for a moment because it tasted more like a dirty ashtray than it did coffee, but somehow it still went down like liquid gold. At least the taste was enough to keep you from drinking it too fast.

"How do you feel, pup?" Leon asked, tracing the curve of your cheekbone with a delicate thumb. As joyful as it was to see you awake and in decent spirits, he had to ask, because it's not like you were just waking up from any old nap. He watched you split apart last night. He could still smell your blood. Surely you had more to concern yourself about than caffeine.

Setting aside the cup, you searched your mind for the right way to articulate how you felt right now, but found it exceptionally difficult to encapsulate what all was going on up there after giving birth for the first time. So, you decided to start with how your body felt and work your way through it from there.

"Sore, like a bowling ball went through me... but it's not unbearable. I think the pain meds are still working," you began, tilting your head to let your cheek squish into the palm of his hand. "I feel a little numb and groggy."

With a sympathetic hum, he nodded, leaning over you to smooth your messy hair back and press a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not surprised, baby, you do seem a bit silly. They drugged you up pretty good," he said, speaking from experience, "but at least you're not in too much pain."

A beat of surprisingly comfortable silence passed between you two as you finished waking up and Leon just stared at you, as he often did. While the air between the two of you felt thankfully free of tension, it wasn’t without anticipation, nor was it without the presence of that massive elephant.

You knew she was okay because if she wasn’t, Leon would be having a nuclear meltdown, but you barely even got to see her before you passed out, so you didn’t know how okay she was.

“Where is she?” You asked gently, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“She’s in the little incubator, but they said they could bring her in here when you woke up, if you were feeling well enough,” he answered, looking up at you through his lashes like a pleading puppy as he asked, “are you?”

You felt a rush deep in your chest that you couldn’t explain, emotion, and you found that your head was bobbing up and down in a nod before you even thought about it. You didn’t need to think about it. Of course your feelings about your situation and this baby were… complicated, to put it kindly, but you spent seven-ish months cooking the damn thing, so you might as well take the chance to hold her and get to meet her, right?

Leon didn’t waste any time scrambling off to get a nurse, and as you sat there waiting, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to be like. You weren’t ignorant of the fact that newborn babies didn’t have strong features yet, but you wondered if she would have any hair on her head, or what she would feel like in your arms, or what little sounds she might make. The few short minutes it took for Leon to return with your baby and a couple of nurses felt like a million years.

The door opened, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your mouth dried and your eyes burned with tears.

She was so little.

Even swaddled up in a blanket, her tiny body was barely the width of Leon's forearm, her little head rested in the crook of his elbow while her socked and blanketed feet were tucked in the palm of his hand. Everything you felt in this moment was truly overwhelming— fright, nerves, and perhaps even a bit of pride, because come on. You made that thing. Willingly or not, you made your own little human, and in a removed context, that was crazy.

She was so little that you were almost afraid to touch her, trembling as Leon lowered her into your arms, but right away there was something about having her near that felt familiar to you.

Like an old friend.

For a long few minutes, you just cried. Deep, ugly, open-mouth cries that made your entire body feel weak. You couldn’t possibly get ahold of yourself, or even begin to understand how you were meant to.

Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon spoke gently into your hair, voice thick with emotion, “I-I named her Charlotte. Charlotte Abigail.”

Oh, how pretty. Internally you had to admit that he chose well, whatever his reasoning was.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” you sniveled, thumb caressing the thin, tender skin of her cheek, your chest throbbing as she squirmed and poked the tip of her tiny tongue out. “I-Is she okay? Are there any issues?”

The nurses calmly explained to you that she seemed to be regulating her temperature well enough on her own, but that the incubator was a precaution that would allow you and Leon the opportunity to get some actual rest. Her blood tests didn’t show any concerns and her oxygen levels were okay, but other than that, it was too soon to tell if anything else might be off, and they spared you the anxiety of getting too specific about the potential complications just yet. She would likely be spending at least 30 days in the NICU for good measure.

You, on the other hand, would be well enough to be on your feet as soon as the numbness wore off. That wasn’t to say it would feel good if you did, just that it was possible and wouldn’t kill you, though Leon would probably need to help you around for a few days… as if he needed the doctor’s order to do that.

Once they were sure you were healthy and comfortable, the nurses stepped out and for the very first time, it was just you, Leon, and your child.

“I’m so proud of you,” Leon whispered, watching you reverently. The sun had risen enough now to drench you in a saintly glow, your skin radiant and dewy with motherhood, your eyes glittering with tears as you gazed down at the sleepy baby cradled in your arms. “You’ve come such a long way, puppy, and just look at what you made for me. Look at what a perfect little angel you made for daddy.”

Letting out a slow breath from your nose, you resisted the urge to react to that. He’d done a pretty decent job of acting normal since you went into labor, and you didn’t realize how badly you were hoping he would keep it up until he ruined it with a brisk return to form. Perhaps the blame was on you for getting too comfortable with your expectations that high in the first place.

What felt especially unfair about it, however, was that his phrasing got beneath your skin more than you thought it would. Telling you that you’d come such a long way, and all because you made a perfect baby for him.

For daddy.

You’d only just had the chance to allow yourself to feel some kind of a bond with her, and Leon was already claiming ownership over it without a second thought. You wanted to snap at him that not everything was about him, that it wasn’t your goal to please him even if something you did made him happy, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it.

Charlotte hadn’t even been born for 24 hours yet, you couldn’t start fighting in front of her already.

You stood in front of the window with Charlotte swaddled tightly in your arms, letting her watch the glittery, falling snow outside in an attempt to calm her. She was red in the face and hollering with all the power in her little lungs— which was a lot, you’d come to learn— quite cranky about the fact that your milk was taking its time to come in. In defense of your boobs, the girls thought they were going to have eight more weeks to prepare than they ended up getting.

But at a certain point you just had to wonder when enough might be enough. You knew it wasn’t your fault, that your difficulty producing breastmilk so soon after going into premature labor didn’t reflect negatively upon your ability to love and provide for your daughter, so why did it feel that way? You were trying to keep ahold of your emotions for the sake of your daughter while wondering somewhere in the back of your mind if you were even fit to care for her, if it was your fault that she was starving.

“It’s common for newborns to lose a little bit of their birth weight in the first few weeks, especially waiting for mama’s milk to come in,” the attending nurse calmly explained to you as she changed the sheets on the bed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. There’s no guide to being a new mother.”

“Thank you,” you replied over the shrill cries of your daughter, letting some of the tension drop from your shoulders. Leon had told you nearly the same thing practically a thousand times over the past few days, but it was hard not to convince yourself that he didn’t know what he was talking about and was just spouting nonsense to make you feel better. It felt more legitimate coming from a professional.

Once she finished up changing the bedding, the nurse offered to take Charlotte for a while if you needed a break, but for right now, you didn’t really mind. Having her close was supposed to stimulate milk production, as you’d been told, and for lack of a better way to put it, you sort of enjoyed hogging her from Leon. He’d stepped out for the morning to check in at work and grab a few things from the house, so he wasn’t here to take her anyway, but you felt it was your responsibility to seize every available opportunity to bond with her. You needed her to know that you were there for her, that you weren’t budging, and that you never would.

Being alone with her was a treat. She really was so cute, just a teeny tiny little thing, and you could have already sworn she had your nose. She was pretty.

“Oh, Lottie, Lottie, Lottie,” you sighed affectionately, cupping the back of her head to cradle her close to your shoulder, gently swaying and bouncing on your feet. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

As expected, her only response was a continuation of shrill cries. Part of you worried that your presence wasn’t comforting her at all, but every time you slowed in rocking her or made any move that she perceived as you getting ready to put her down, she hollered louder and clung to you for dear life. Clearly she knew where her bread was buttered.

You crossed the room in slow, bouncing steps, trying to keep her distracted just long enough for you to sit down with her in the rocking chair. Little as she was, your arms were getting tired from holding her up, and you just needed a bit of a break from it. Pressing your lips to her soft forehead, you breathed in through your nose and began quietly singing to her.

“I’m… a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch,” you hummed, “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, and all I do is cry all day… boo-hoo, boo-hoo…”

It was an old, old song, and you weren’t even really sure where you remembered it from, but Charlotte seemed to enjoy it, and it felt fitting enough right now. Dragging in a breath, Charlotte reached up to rub her eyes with her chubby little fists, wailing cries beginning to soften down to weepy whimpers. It was victorious moments like this that almost made you forget how you got here.

“Hey, sweetheart,” came Leon’s voice from behind, reminding you exactly how you got here, “how are my girls?”

Almost immediately, Charlotte started screaming again.

Sighing out an exhausted breath, you turned over your shoulder to watch Leon approach, trying not to let it show on your expression just how annoyed you were that he’d ruined her calming mood right after you managed to get her there.

“Cranky,” you answered him simply.

Leon clicked his tongue and moved to sit at the edge of the coffee table in front of you, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face with a sympathetic gleam in his eye. “No milk yet, huh?”

You shook your head.

“Oh, puppy… I’m sorry.”

The look on your face gutted him. He could tell you were blaming yourself in some way, feeling guilty for not being able to produce quite yet, but his mind wasn’t lingering anywhere near blaming you for this. You’d already been through so much just to deliver the baby— if anything, he’d be more surprised if these next few weeks were to proceed perfectly after that. You were a superhero to Leon right now, a goddess, and not even gods or heroes were exempt from hardship, from plain bad luck.

“It’s fine,” you said with a slow sigh, “the nurses swear we’re getting somewhere. There was some of this… I don’t know, like… clear, sappy stuff that came out this morning, and they said it’s good for her, so…”

Nodding gently, Leon took your hand and squeezed it, trying to get you to actually look at him. “Well, that’s a good sign, right?”

“I think so… I don’t know. I hope so.”

“I hope so, too, baby.”

A few moments of silence fell between you— aside from the screaming newborn, of course— and Leon continued to think about how proud he was of you. When he first brought you home with him, you were adamantly against the idea of having babies, let alone being pregnant at all. But you took it like such a champion, nourished and cared for your child anyway, his child, and even after going into labor unexpectedly early, your priorities and your focus still remained on her.

He couldn’t confidently say he’d have been as brave if it were him. That alone gave him a lot of reflecting to do.

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Leon asked, squeezing your hand again. “Absolutely incredible.”

“I don’t know about that,” you puffed out a dry breath, finally looking up at him. “Women have been birthing babies for thousands of years. I’m no different from any of them, unless you count panic-attacking myself into early labor, and even then I’m not the first. And I definitely won’t be the last.”

Shaking his head in affectionate disagreement, Leon said, “As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t just hang the moon, you molded it with your bare hands. Just… take the compliment, pup. You deserve it.”

A slight smile graced your lips for just a second, like you briefly allowed yourself to believe what he was saying. As much as it pained him to think about, Leon knew you hadn’t been given a whole lot of incentive to take him at his word on anything, but when it came to the praise you’d earned for making him a father, for growing his baby in you, it was so important to him that you knew he wasn’t just talking out of his ass.

So he spoke up again, following his praises with a gentle, genuine question; “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

This gave you pause. He wasn’t wrong by any means— you absolutely were being hard on yourself here, in every way you could think of. The ways you’d been talking about and carrying yourself since he came home from San Francisco were indicative enough of that. It was like you were cowering from yourself, avoiding every part of you that made you you, like a mouse in a lab finally recognizing which buttons would shock you.

“She needs me,” you finally muttered, cradling Charlotte closer to your chest, even as she screamed your eardrum out. “She depends on me, I can’t just… fail her.”

“Fail her?” Leon whispered, encouraging you to continue.

Swallowing back nerves, you suddenly found you were having a difficult time making sense of what you’d been feeling lately, let alone putting it into articulate words. Still, you replied to the best of your frazzled, tired ability, “She was supposed to have eight more weeks… she wasn’t ready to be born yet, and I freaked myself out so much that I put her at risk. I’m so grateful that she’s okay, that it didn’t end badly, but Leon… it could have. It really could have.”

“I know,” he soothed. “I know it could have, but it didn’t. It didn’t. Look at her, she’s here and she’s alive and she’s healthy. She’s got strong lungs. She’s got your nose. She’s perfect, sweetheart, she’s absolutely perfect, and that’s not in spite of you, it’s because of you. I’ll repeat that as many times as it takes for you to internalize it.”

That framing of the situation was surprisingly insightful, coming from Leon, though you supposed he’d had some practice in forgiving himself over the years.

Sniffling, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “T-Thank you… daddy.”

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, and Charlotte began to settle.

You were so confused when you woke up in the middle of the night to Charlotte crying again— not because of anything she was doing differently, but because of how you felt. Sitting up in bed, you briefly glanced over at Leon to find that the commotion had roused him too, stirring him from a light sleep.

“I can get her,” he was quick to rasp out, voice clouded with grogginess, but for once, you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“No, no, wait,” you whispered, your other hand kneading at your sore chest in an attempt to soothe the discomfort, but this wasn’t the same kind of breast pain you’d grown used to by now. They were tender and full to the touch, nipples stinging under your nightgown.

And leaking.

Eyes widening, you shot out of bed with a quiet, excited exclamation of, “oh, shit,” not even taking the time to mull over how silly it seemed to be so ecstatic that your nipples were leaking milk through your favorite nightgown. All you could think about right now was her. You could finally sate her hunger.

Leon sat up too, rubbing his eyes and leaning over to turn the bedside lamp on, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what you were acting so urgently about. Only once Charlotte’s cries were silenced and replaced with a soft, greedy suckling sound did he realize what was happening.

“Oh,” he gasped, stunned, “shit.”

You just laughed, completely unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. Feeding for the first time felt really fucking bizarre, but with how happy you were that your daughter was finally able to eat, you couldn’t bring yourself to care even slightly. That was far from the biggest thing on your mind.

“She’s eating,” you beamed, turning over your shoulder to look at Leon, desperate to share this moment with the only person who could truly understand your relief. “She’s eating, Leon, she’s— she’s perfect. Holy shit.”

“You’re perfect,” he smiled wide, crawling out of bed to join you where you stood by the crib, his strong arms slinking gently around your waist. Pressing a kiss to the highest point of your cheekbone, Leon whispered in your ear, “I knew you could do it, puppy. I love you, I love you both so much.”

And now you were crying. You couldn’t help it.

Charlotte fed for a good long while that night, gulping down every stray drop she could find, and you and Leon just watched her in complete awe. She could barely keep her eyes open in her satisfaction, long lashes fluttering angelically upon chubby cheeks, her squishy little lips bobbing back and forth with every suckle as you both cooed at her and cheered her on.

Wiping away a drop of milk from her chin, Leon preened, “Oh, little Lottie… such a good eater, princess, my goodness…”

“Such a good eater,” you echoed, adding playfully, “must’ve gotten that from your daddy. He gets grouchy without breakfast, too.”

“Hey now, it is the most important meal of the day,” he pointed out to his own defense, very much in on the joke, though he couldn’t help but add another cheeky point that was reserved only for your ears. “Well… the second most important meal of the day, right behind dessert.”

Groaning, you rolled your eyes at him, “Cornball. You’re a horny, horny cornball.”

He only smirked, “Guilty as charged, pup,” and kissed you again.

Your mood improved a lot over the next several days, and Leon was so grateful for it. The timing couldn’t have been better for squashing your insecurities about being able to care for Charlotte. Waking up to feed her wasn’t something that stressed you out anymore, it was something that made you feel useful and needed, which you always were, but now you truly believed it. Leon joked more than once that he’d never seen you happier to whip your boobs out at any given time.

You were eating well, you were laughing, you were getting lots of good rest, and you were actually talking to him. Like, talking talking, not just nodding your head and pretending to follow along. You told him about your day, you told him how you were feeling, you commentated on TV shows together. Your unanticipated stay in the NICU was turning out to feel a lot more like a dream than a nightmare, and as such, he was almost reluctant to see it end.

But time marches on, as it always does. Part of him worried you’d go right back to being difficult once you were home and the novelty of new parenthood wore off. Part of him wanted to trust that you wouldn’t, because you truly understood everything now. Didn’t you?

The final week of Charlotte’s monitoring was dwindling down, and now that he wasn’t so preoccupied with worrying himself sick about you both, he couldn’t stop thinking about what you said to him before you went into labor.

‘Daddy, I have to tell you something.’

Whatever it was, you never told him. In the chaos of everything that happened right after, he almost forgot you even mentioned it, but it’d just been gnawing at him since the dust settled.

Leon wasn’t sure how to approach this with you. Talking about it clearly distressed you last time, even though you brought it up on your own, and he didn’t want to risk setting you off, but the intensity of emotion it brought was undoubtedly indicative of its importance. By principle, you should tell him if there’s anything he needs to know, right?

Maybe it wasn’t all that important. Maybe your reaction at the time was just a product of your condition, the hormones and anxiety, and maybe you hadn’t even thought about it since that night. Maybe it really wasn’t a big deal.

So why had it been so obviously eating you alive during the final leg of your pregnancy?

“Baby?” Leon asked quietly, tilting his head to look at you. It was three in the morning and you were laying in bed together after Charlotte finally fell back asleep for the millionth time, partly trying to get some more rest and partly preparing yourselves to have to get up again at any moment. But it was peaceful, and he hoped that would mean you were calm and comfortable enough to have this conversation.

Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes met his. He had his arm around you, thumb caressing you at the waist, your cheek against his chest. It was now or never.

“I’ve just been thinking lately… the night Lottie was born, you said you had something to tell me,” he began, pouring all his effort into coming off as non-threatening as possible, careful not to spook you. “The little lady interrupted you and I never got to hear what it was. Do you remember, sweetheart?”

At first you couldn’t move, completely paralyzed in his arms. Your initial inclination was to panic, of course, but for once in your life, the nerves weren’t manifesting like they probably should have been.

Or, rather, like they definitely should have been.

You resumed breathing, biting your lip while you tried to organize your thoughts and come to a decision. It would be a tough shot to lie right now, you knew that, and while you would have usually tried to come up with a convoluted way to worm yourself out of this, for some reason, you didn’t even really feel the need to right now. Leon had been in a great mood. You were pretty sure he hadn’t stopped smiling since Charlotte was born, and even leading up to her birth, he had been acting so gentle and loving with you.

But you still needed to cover your bases if you were going to be honest with him.

“Do you remember saying that whatever it is, we’ll handle it? That I wouldn’t be in trouble?”

Uh oh, Leon thought to himself, but didn’t dare let it show on his expression. That’s not a great start.

“I do,” he nodded encouragingly, “and that still stands.”

All you had was his word, and that was going to have to do, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, you tightened your arms around his middle as if preemptively pleading for mercy, and then you quietly admitted, “I-I broke the rules while you were away on that mission.”

He figured as much while speculating on what it might have been, so this didn’t really floor him too much yet. “Okay. What rules did you break?”

You hesitated for a beat, looking away to collect your thoughts and then back again, hoping he could see the guilt in your eyes, the regret.

“I went outside,” you whispered, feeling an awkward and unpleasant heat burning at your ears— shame. “I-I went on a walk, a long walk, and…”

Now it was Leon who wasn’t breathing. “And?”

“And I tried to get h-help.”

There it was. You tried to get help. Help. As if you needed any fucking help when you had Leon.

But then again, he thought, she didn’t have me. I wasn’t there.

His bottom lip quivered until he bit it back, stooping his head down to bury his face in your hair, hiding, both arms holding you tightly to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He thought he was prepared for anything you might have to confess, but this… this was devastating. This felt awful.

“God fucking damn it, puppy,” he wept, “what were you thinking?”

The realization that he was crying made you tear up too. He wasn’t angry, he was anguished.

“I-I’m sorry… I know, I’m sorry—”

“Did anything happen? Did anyone see you? Did anyone touch you?”

“No, no, n-nothing happened, no one touched me, I promise—”

“Don’t you ever do that shit again,” he sobbed weakly into the crown of your hair, clutching you to him like you’d fall apart if he let go, or perhaps like he would fall apart. “Do you hear me?”

You just nodded, stifling your cries with a hand over your mouth to keep from waking the baby. She was sleeping so peacefully in the crib a mere few feet away.

“I hear you, I hear you, I promise I won’t ever do it again… it was freezing and I was so scared, I… I couldn’t get home fast enough…”

Home. Was that what it was to you now?

“Good,” Leon said firmly, but not apathetically, sighing out a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t just have yourself to worry about anymore.”

You and Leon were practically tangled with one another, stuck together like glue as you desperately tried to soothe each other. Silence fell around you again.

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bluetimeombre · 9 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲𝐩𝐨𝐨L 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢e

Deadpool and Wolverine but your lady pool and an absolute SLUT for Wolverine.

[this is a complete self insert with just everything I was thinking about during the movie and since then I’ve watched it three times. It gets better every time. Snippets of the movie, will probably do a part two. SPOILERS!]

part two

Warning/disclaimer: femreaderxwolverine, sexual content, sexual language, offensive language, just being a whore the man, cursing, repeat daddy issues, never proof-read.

After digging up Logan and expecting to find a shirtless and oiled-up Hugh Jackman, you were a little more than disappointed to find the bones and metal. 'Damn it! Shit! Fuck! They Les Mis'd him!'

Eventually, you settled down next to the remains, against the same log that had impaled him. 'That was weird,' you chuckled. 'I'm much calmer now. Look, I'm not a woman in stem but you seem incredibly dead to me. Oh, you sexy lump of bones and metal. I would have let you slide them into me any day.'

'But it's good to see you,' you pat his knee. 'I gotta be honest, I've always wanted to ride you, Logan. Oh, whoops, I meant with you. Ha! Who am I kidding, no I didn't. Just you and me, getting into it. And I mean into it. Every style. Doggy. Sixty-nine. On the kitchen counter to the bathroom. Till my back broke. Yea, we'd have been good together.' You ranted, fantasies flying across your mind too quick to focus on one.

With your red-gloved hand, you jerk the chin. 'G'day mate, there's nothing that'll bring me back to life faster than a big bag of Marvel cash. Ha- I hear you, Hugh. But no, no, no, no you had to go and get all noble and die for real. I could really use your help right now. And a massage. Your big manly hands just rubbing all over me-'

Just as you were about to go into further detail about what you want him to do to you, the sound of portals opening and heavy boots stomping closer alerted you.

Quickly, you pulled the skeleton down on top of you.

'There are two hundred and six bones in the body. Two hundred and seven if i'm watching Van Helsing.'

Que the fucking montage.

You have a mission. Find a Logan to take back with you. First up you end up in a bar, catching an axe as it was thrown at you. 'Logan! I'm gonna need you to come with me.'

The Logan sitting at the bar slowly turned to you. 'Who's asking? ' He slipped from the bar stool to reveal a 5'3 Logan.

You coo. 'Well, who's this little ankle biter. Did you stick the landing little guy? Yes you did, comic-accurate short king. Such a cute little Wolvie.'

The little guy started stalking toward you.

'Que the fucking montage.'

You found a Wolverine for the seventies, or eighties, something close enough to that, one hand missing. 'Oh yea, sexy, you have anchor being written all over you.'

You found patch Logan. 'Oh hello, Patch. Should've worn my white suit.'

You found another old man Logan, sitting solemnly on his front porch. 'Howdy! Oh, I see, you're the daddy issues one. Good to see god has answered my prayers. So soldier, do I need to be a bad girl so you put me over your knee, daddy?'

Another was tied to a cross with red bloody skulls acting as a floor.

One was dressed in a tight yellow and brown suit, walking through the woods. 'Hubba hubba. Classic! Now, you fought the Hulk in this suit, right?' as he snicked his claws out, the green of the beast reflected from behind you. 'I am Marvel Jesus you dull creature and I will not be-'

One, your favourite, was working on a bike in a tight white vest and dark pants. You drooled. 'That's the whole goddamn package right there. You know from behind you look a bit- holy Shit!' he turned, and everything about him was Wolverine. Except for the fact he was Henry fucking Cavil. 'The Cavalry has arrived. The prophecy has been fulfilled. Can I say, sir, sorry, daddy- on behalf of all of humanity, this just feels right! We will treat you so much better than those shit fucks down the street!'

He took the cigar from his mouth, stalking to you. You had never been so aroused in your life. 'You were just leaving'

Giggling and twirling your hair, you hold a hand out, ghosting over his chest. 'Can I just, one- one touch. Oh my god! You're like Superman or something.'

He punched you right into the Logan you needed. Thank you Cavil.

'You two gonna fuck or fight?' asked the bartender. 'Both if i'm lucky,' you said.'

'Oh look at those sexy little jammies, that only took twenty fucking years!'

The trash heap was the last place you wanted to end up, but when you woke to Logan looming over you, a snarl on his face, you sighed in relief.

'Well, hello sexiest man alive, 2008. Wanna give me a hand? Or head?'

He sniked his claws out.

'Kinky! That's new for Disney!'

He dug his claws into your ribs and dragged you up with them. 'Where the fuck are we?'

'I dunno, but it looks a bit mad maxxy to me. But that would be IP infringement right?'

'Fucking jokes,' Logan uttered. He threw you over his leg, your back breaking.

'Till my back breaks, Wolvie!' you yelled out, quickly rolling yourself back up and shaking it off. 'Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot. I'm a big fan. How about we strip off our suits, take a tumble in the sand, get to know one another you know. Personally, I'm more of a cowgirl fan but I'm willing to do whatever you want baby.'

'You're unbelievable,' he grumbled. It was still sexy. He turned his back to you.

'Oh, I see, is that what you did when your world went to shit!'

He paused, his head slowly turning to you. 'Say again, bub?'

'Oh, I am so horny right now.'

The two of you engaged in a fight, and not the sexy stradling fight that would happen later, but the guns firing, swords slashing kind of fight. that was only interrupted by a familiar voice.

The only other voice that could have you dropping your panties as quick as Wolverine. He was hooded, hidden, but you knew him from your sex dreams.

'Dear god almighty, it's him.'

'Who?' growled Logan.

'Don't be jealous baby, I have two holes for a reason. Don't worry gorgeous, you're gonna encounter some delicate language, a smidge of ass play but we've been prohibited from using cocaine, at least on page.'

He raised a hand. 'They're coming.'

'Who's they?'

The three of you watch cars and trucks drive through the waste, keeping you trapped. There were familiar faces, Pyro, Toad. And Sabertooth.

The mysterious figure jumped down and mastered the superhero landing that had you clapping your hands and jumping up and down.

'Oh my god! Oh my god!' you held onto Logan's shoulder as you jumped while he just glared at you.

'I've got this,' the man takes down his hood, showing the beautiful, hot, strong, handsome, hubba-hubba worthy, Chris Evans.

'Oh yes, you do sexiest man alive, 2022!' you cheer.

'Stay close,' Chris- or Steve- called back to you.

You stalk over to him. 'Aye aye, Captain.' you wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers trailing over his abs. He removes you and you groan, sulking. You walk back to Wolverine and jump onto the side of his hip.

Instinctively he holds your ass which makes you giddy before he realises his mistake and drops you.

'You're not gonna love what happens next,' shouted the captain.

Your jaw dropped from behind the mask. 'Holy shit, omg! No way, he's gonna say it! He's gonna say it!' you flick one of your swords that was still poking out of Wolverine's chest. 'Avengers-'

'Flame on!' Steve- no, Johnny- yelled and took to the skies in a ball of fire.

It was sort of stupid in hind sight as Pyro lifted a hand and extinguished him, causing him to fall from the skies and go crotch first into a billboard.

'No!' you screamed, rushing to him and rolling onto his back to get a look at him. 'No, no baby, stay with me. Let me take a look!' you tried to pull down his pants but Logan literally pulled you off him.

You were tied up with Wolverine on the front side of you and Johnny on the back. When you woke, you giggled. 'Woah, just like my dreams.'

Johnny woke to, lifting his head from your shoulder. 'How long was I out?'

You smirk under the mask, looking back to him. 'Not all of you was asleep, say Cap, is that a Glock in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

'Is that Chuck? Hey Chuck, over here! Hope it's you young, god, we got James Macovy in this?' you yelled as a wheelchair rolled out as you entered the thing that was apparently large Paul Rudd.

'Cassandra Nova. Charles's twin,' the villain introduced herself.

'Holy shit,' said Logan.

'How was anal birth?' you asked.

Cassandra smirked. 'You two are cute. I have a good feeling about this.'

'Right!' you cheered. 'Just wait till this ends, the smut is off the charts!'

She took the chain from around the two of you but you wrapped yourself around Logan's arm, he only grunted at you. He only pushed you off when you started to go off and off about what Johnny said about Cassandra. 'People think i'm a shit talker but this guy-' you chef's kiss. 'Next level!'

Cassandra, with a flick of her hand, shed the skin from him as he fell in a heap of bones and blood and skin,

You cried out, holding onto Logan for dear life. 'My favourite Chris!'

'You silly little bitch, you just got him fucking killed!' yelled Logan.

'Fine, spank me then! P.S. Do you know what he was doing to the budget!'

You were brought to Ultimatum with Cassadra, Oliath or the other British villain, but all you wanted was to save your world, bang Wolvy and go home.

'I didn't want it to come to this, either you help us or my boyfriend here is gonna perform the whole of Greatest Showman as a one-man show,' you warn.

'I'm not her boyfriend,' Logan grumbled.

Cassandra went on a trauma dump that had you groaning. 'Couldn't you just turn into accomplishment like the rest of us?'

But I'm not like the rest of you, except maybe the Wolverine, now we could be truly terrifying together.'

'Sorry lady, he's taken!'

'Not for long,' Cassandra smirked and as Logan attacked, she sent him in the ground and away from you. You only whined at his disappearance, a whine that turned into a groan when Cassandra's fingers entered you in the worst way possible. Through your head.

'What can I see here?' she asked. Cassandra gasped. 'Oh, you are a whore.'

Oh yes, she saw the million filthy things you wanted to do to Logan.

The two of you made it out and to the diner where Logan was intent on finding food and taking rubbing alcohol shots. When he sat across from you, chucking a tin of spam at you, you pulled of your mask.

Logan stilled, looking at you with finally something a little different than anger.

'What?' you asked.

'I thought you'd be ugly under there.'

'No- no, that's the Deadpool. I'm better, and a self-insert.'

The two of you took to walking through the rather nicer side of the waste. You had his hand in yours, swinging it happily like you were a couple before he threatened to chop your hand off.

'You said Logan was a hero, what happened?' he asked.

'You died. Technically you were chest fucked by a tree, but really you just ran out of batteries trying to save this girl- a kid really. Always wanted a man who's good with kids. The shit heels who grew her in a lab called her x-23, but she was just a kid. A smaller, cute and mean version of you. Yep, you saved her, very hero, very demure.'

The two of you were interrupted when a bark sounded over the hill and the BEST DOG EVER ran out to you, ears flapping in the wind, tongue out as it always was. The little boots. The collar. It was Dogpool.

You threw off your mask and picked her up, cuddling her close. 'She's coming with us.'

'No she's not!' he argued.

'Yes, she is!'

'No!'

You pulled out your puppy dog eyes and lifted the dog to your face and slowly the resolve in his face slipped.

'Sorry!' another man ran out, chasing after the dog.

'Fucking shit bag!' you cursed.

It was another dead pool, a good-looking one with long hair.

'What's Ryan Reynolds actually doing here, I thought I replaced him?' you said.

'In here everyone calls me Nicepool.'

'Can we have your dog?' you asked immediately.

He laughed. 'over my dead body!'

You nod, thinking about it but Logan holds out his arm before you can even move.

Whatever Nicepool was saying was you didn't care as you cooed and hugged the dog closer and Logan watched.

Fuck, he was paying attention to you.

'Why are you so nice?' you asked eventually.

'It costs nothing to be kind,' he said.

'Shutting the fuck up is also free,' said Logan.

You bite your lip in his direction. 'God I am so attracted to you right now. This is Logan, he's usually shirtless but he's let himself go since the divorce.'

Finally, the Nicepool took you to his ride to get you and Logan and the dog to the borderlands.

It was a honda fucking odyssey.

Logan wasn't willing to listen to your complaints. 'Get in the fucking car.'

'Make me, Daddy,' you said.

He took one step closer to you and you backed away with the dog. 'No, we're running away!'

Logan forced her from your arms and handed him back to the Nicepool.

'The corn was to dense girl!' you called after her, pouting.

Logan shoves you into the passenger seat while he takes the wheel.

You pull of your mask, hair falling around you like you were in an advert. 'So, what shall we do to pass the time...'

Honda Odyssey coming soon, that my friends, is called edging.

#deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #ladypool #dogpool #ryan reynolds #hugh jackman #wolverine #x men #logan howlett #logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #wolverine x you #wolverine x reader #chris evans #captain america

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charmedimsure · 4 months ago

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uuuhhhhhm can i pretty pretty please with cherries on top request a Dae-ho x reader where the reader was also in the military? but its like that ep. where they revolutionized? if that makes sense? idk i think it be cool if reader eas good eith a gun

anyways HAVE A LOVELY DAY/ NIGHT love reading your stuff (i binge read it :p)

WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x gn!reader

summary: As a former soldier, you know just what to do when all hell breaks loose.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: guns, death, blood, squid game stuff, panic attacks, ptsd

A/N: i've played so many shooting games i feel like i've been training to write this fic my entire life. i even named it after a shield from my favorite game (brownie points if you know which game). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3 tried to make this gender neutral but if you find any slip ups lmk so i can fix it

**this can be read as romantic or platonic**

You look at the woman standing between bunks with wide eyes. You weren't sure earlier when you saw her on the screen, but seeing her standing ten feet away from you, you're absolutely positive that you know who this is.

"Sergeant?"

Cho Hyun-ju turns and gasps when she sees you, a smile lighting up her face. She quickly embraces you, you happily hugging her back. You were always her favorite soldier (she never admitted it, being the sergeant of the Brigade, but you both knew she liked you best). You were one of the only people who supported her when she came out. You tried to fight against her discharge but, as a low-ranking soldier, you had no say in the matter.

"I knew it had to be you!" you say, pulling back with a smile. "When I saw someone go back into the playing field to help a guy with only ten seconds left, I just knew it was my sergeant!"

"It's good to see you," she says. "Though, I wish it was under better circumstances."

You nod solemnly. You had just watched at least a hundred people die while screaming and begging for their lives. As a former soldier, it was hard that you couldn't do anything to help the civilians. All you could do was stand there and listen to the screams and gunshots, and then the silence.

"How are you here? Are you not part of the Brigade anymore?" Hyun-ju asks.

You shake your head. "No, I actually left not long after you were discharged. It wasn't the same without you, and I just couldn't be civil with the others after how they treated you."

She nods, understanding. "Well, if I'm going to be here with anyone, I'm glad it's you. I trust you with my life, soldier."

You smile. "And I you, Sergeant."

You and Hyun-ju had made it through the next two games together, along with some allies you made along the way. Together with Young-mi, Yong-sik, and Geum-ja, you had been the first team to succeed in the six-legged pentathlon.

You had also made it though Mingle with some new allies, though not all of your old allies made it. Young-mi's death was hard on your whole group, but Hyun-ju had been taking it the worst. While you had grown closer with Yong-sik and Geum-ja, she had formed a special bond with the young girl and had to watch her die right in front of her.

While you would like to take the time to mourn Young-mi, a lot has happened in the few hours since the third game ended. The vote on whether to go home or stay ended in a 50-50 tie, meaning you're going to have to redo the vote tomorrow. Then, a huge fight apparently broke out in the men's bathroom, leaving five players dead.

Both sides group together to count their numbers, and you find that there's now one more X than O. While the players around you celebrate, a feeling of dread shoots through you.

"Attention please. Lights out in 30 minutes. All players, please return to your beds and prepare for bedtime."

Shit.

Player 047 stands in front of the group. "Listen, you cannot change your minds. We have to win the second vote and get out of here tomorrow, alright?"

As the other players around you nod and move to their beds, you stay sitting, watching the O players. They're already looking at your group. Watching. Waiting. You look at Gi-hun, the previous winner, and know that he's thinking the same thing you are.

"Those bastards are acting suspicious," Dae-ho says, returning to the small circle you formed on the ground. "It looks like they're up to something."

Jung-bae breathes out a laugh. "Whatever those idiots do, once we win the vote tomorrow, it'll all be over."

"You think we'll be okay?" Dae-ho asks, concerned. "They say things were really crazy in the bathroom earlier."

"We need to be ready," you say from your place between Dae-ho and Gyeong-seok. "They've been watching us since the moment they found out the prize money goes up if we kill each other."

The group around you tenses before Gi-hun speaks up as well. "Once the lights go out, people on the other side will attack us."

"Really?" Yong-sik asks from beside his mother.

Gi-hun nods. "Because if they kill us, they'll be able to win the vote and increase the prize."

"So what do we do?" Yong-sik asks.

"Let's attack them first," Young-il suggests. "They're probably thinking we'll just wait for the second vote. We can use it to our advantage. We'll attack them first once the lights go out."

"That's right," Player 047 says. "It'd be better to attack them first. We have more women and elderly on our side. If we get attacked we'll be at a disadvantage." You send him a glare that makes him freeze for a moment before continuing. "Attacking them first would give us a better chance of winning."

"I agree," Player 145 adds.

"We can't do that," Gi-hun says.

"But we have to get out of here," Young-il argues. "You said it yourself. Staying calm won't get us anywhere now."

"That doesn't mean we should kill each other," Gi-hun says. "That's exactly what they want us to do."

Jung-bae leans forward. "'They'?"

Gi-hun looks at him. "The ones who created this game." He turns to face the rest of the circle. "The ones who watch us play. If we're going to fight someone, it should be them."

It's silent before Dae-ho speaks up. "Where are they?"

Gi-hun looks to the ceiling. "Up there."

You all follow his gaze before looking around at each other.

"On the upper levels," Gi-hun says, "are the rooms they control the games from. The man in the black mask is their leader. Once we capture him, we'll be able to win."

"How are you going to fight them?" Young-il asks. "They have guns."

"We'll fight them with guns, too," Gi-hun says.

"But we don't have any," Jung-bae says.

Gi-hun turns to him. "We'll take their guns."

You and Hyun-ju look at each other. This is what you were trained for.

"From those masked men?" Gyeong-seok asks nervously.

Gi-hun nods.

"That's too dangerous," Young-il says. "Even if we manage to take a few guns, we'll still be outnumbered."

"What then?" Gi-hun argues. "Are you going to kill each other all night and hope you survive? Is that what you want, Young-il?"

Hyun-ju breaks the silence. "Do we... stand a chance?"

"We do if we catch them off guard," Gi-hun says. "Out of everyone, they're the ones who would least expect us to attack first. This is our last chance to end these games once and for all."

"How are you going to take their guns?" Young-il asks.

"Once the fight begins tonight, we'll have our chance."

"Lights out in ten seconds."

"Ten,

nine,

eight,

seven,

six,

five,

four,

three,

two,

one."

The lights dim, then turn off completely, leaving only the red and blue lights from the floor.

You roll out of bed, getting under the frame. You feel someone else trying to get under your bed, and you move a bit to make room for Dae-ho. Just as you get in position, you see bodies creeping towards your side of the room, illuminated by the bright blue O on the floor.

There's a scream, and all hell breaks loose.

The lights strobe as you hear the sounds of screaming and bottles being smashed coming from all around you. Somewhere to your right, a bunk is toppled over, sending someone to the ground. Another player runs up to them, stabbing their fork into their neck.

You feel the ex-Marine next to you tense up and put a hand over his, trying to bring him some comfort, or at the very least trying to keep him from blowing your cover.

You hear the buzzer of the door and the lights come on. One of the soldiers fires into the air to stop the fighting as about twenty masked guards come into the room, all armed.

You quickly army crawl out from under the bed, Dae-ho following you as you lay down on the ground.

You hear footsteps getting closer to you, and your ear is moved as a device scans behind it.

You open your eyes, grabbing the soldier so they can't move. "Dae-ho! Now!"

The ex-Marine smashes a bottle over the head of the guard, knocking him unconscious. You take the opportunity to grab the submachine gun off of the soldier, shooting another soldier coming toward you and Dae-ho. You're so focused on the fight that you fail to notice the quivering boy holding his hands over his ears against the bunks.

Grabbing another gun, you quickly scale one of the bunks to get a better vantage of the fight.

"Sergeant!" You yell, gaining the attention of Hyun-ju. She looks to you and you toss the SMG to her. She drops her pistol and catches the weapon, turning just in time to shoot one of the pink guards coming for her.

You use your position to fire at the guards hiding behind bunks. You pull the trigger until you hear a click, cursing as the mag runs empty. You jump down from the bunk, using the butt of the gun to knock a guard out cold. You quickly take his ammo and reload your own gun, firing at a guard trying to shoot Gi-hun.

"Retreat. Retreat."

The voice over the intercom announces and the pink soldiers make their way towards the door. You're able to shoot two more, but most of the soldiers who are still alive are able to make it out of the room. The main guard with the square on his mask is too busy firing back to realize that the door has closed behind him, sealing him in the room with you just as he runs out of ammo.

"Stop! Hold fire!" Gi-hun yells.

Jung-bae and another player run over to the square guard, making sure he won't fight.

"You goddamn bastards!" you hear someone yell on the other side of the room and turn to see Player 047 aiming his gun at a bunch of O players.

"No!" Gi-hun yells, stopping the man before he can shoot. "This is not what we took these guns for. If we do this, we'll be no different from those masked men."

Player 047 lowers his gun, hanging his head and he softly cries.

Gi-hun steps to the center of the room. "Everyone! Don't be scared. Gather round, please! We're not trying to hurt you!"

You walk to stand by Hyun-ju and Gyeong-seok.

"Get the guns and ammo from the dead," she tells the both of you.

You nod, doing as your sergeant says while she takes out the cameras in the room.

Placing one of the last guns on the mattress in the center of the room, you move to stand in line between Jung-bae and Dae-ho, handing the extra SMG in your hand to Dae-ho.

Gi-hun steps forward. "Everyone. We will now head up to the masked men's headquarters. We'll capture the ones who captured us, put an end to this game, and make them pay. Anyone who knows how to use a gun and wishes to join us, please step forward."

You look at the crowd in front of you, but everyone stays where they are.

"Hey," you hear a voice next to you say and turn your head to see Jung-bae stepping forward. "I know you're scared. I'm scared too. But this may be our last chance to make it out of this place alive. Fight with us so we can go home together. All together."

One of the players in the back of the crowd steps forward. "I'll fight with you."

Gi-hun waves at him to come and take a gun. Two other players come forward as well.

You watch as Yong-sik makes a move to step forward, but he catches your gaze as you shake your head at him. It's very brave of him to think about volunteering, but he hasn't even served his mandatory military service yet, and it would kill his mother if he didn't come back. You breathe a sigh of relief when Yong-sik stays where he is.

When it's clear that no one else is stepping forward, Gi-hun turns to you all. "Please check your guns and ammo."

"Let's take one radio each," Jung-bae says. "We'll use channel 7, the lucky number."

You put the strap of your gun around you, checking the mag and putting it back in place when you're satisfied with the amount of ammo that is left. You look to your right to see Dae-ho fiddling with his own gun. Just as you're about to help him, Hyun-ju steps forward.

"Attention," she says, holding up her gun. "This is the MP5, a submachine gun." She continues on the demonstrate how to load the weapon and set it to the mode you should be using. When she's done, she looks at you all. "Are we clear?"

"Yes," you answer, falling right back into the rhythm with your sergeant.

Hyun-ju nods to you, silently telling you to stay by her when you get out there.

"How do you two know each other?" Dae-ho questions, his voice a bit shaky.

You smirk, cocking the MP5. "I was in the 13th Special Missions Brigade. Hyun-ju was my sergeant."

Dae-ho stares at you, completely stunned. "You were in the Decapitation Unit?!"

You chuckle at his disbelief, nodding.

The man can't believe it. He's been bragging about being an ex-Marine while there's been two ex-Special Forces soldiers right next to him the whole time.

Gi-hun points a pistol at the square-masked guard. "Take it off."

The guard slowly removes his mask, revealing a boy no older than 25.

"Good God," Jung-bae says. "Do your parents know what you're doing here?"

The guard just stares at him.

Gi-hun cocks the pistol. "Take us to your captain."

"All players, it is bedtime now. Please return to your quarters immediately. Otherwise, you will be eliminated from the game. Let me repeat..."

Gi-hun fires at the speaker, effectively shutting up the voice. Three guards are stood over you. "Get down!"

You duck behind the wall of the stairs. Feeling a hand on your shoulder, you turn to look at Hyun-ju behind you.

"Cover me!"

You nod, shooting at the guards while she sprints to the top of the stairs. From her new vantage point, she is able to take out one of the guards, causing their body to fall over the ledge and down to the floor.

When you duck down to reload, you see Dae-ho next to you. The ex-Marine is sitting in a ball, covering his ears and flinching every time a shot rings out. You look at him with concern, but your attention is stolen by Gi-hun telling everyone to hold their fire. Dae-ho gets a grip on his weapon and you all move, following Gi-hun and the un-masked guard.

As you move down an alleyway, Gi-hun stops the guard. "How much farther? Is this the right way?"

The boy points toward the end of the hall. "The entrance to the management area is around that corner. The control room is right above it."

Gi-hun pushes him. "Move it, then!"

"Wait," the guard says, reaching toward his pocket.

"What are you doing?" Gi-hun stops him.

"I need my mask to pass security," the guard explains. Gi-hun nods and the guard takes the mask out. He looks up, but before he can say anything else, a bullet goes right through his head.

You all take cover as more shots are fired at you. Something slashes onto your face, and you turn to see Player 072's lifeless body falling to the ground.

You drop the floor and crawl over to Hyun-ju, both of you taking positions in a green square area of the stairs. You nod to each other and duck out of cover, firing at the guards. You can hear the men speaking to each other at the other end of the line, but you focus on taking out as many guards as possible.

You and Hyun-ju alternate firing and taking cover, both of you shooting with deadly precision, doing your best to not waste any of the already low supply of ammo you have.

A player next to you screams and is shot. You turn, shooting at the guard approaching from your rear, taking out a few that are behind that one as well.

"Everyone! Check your magazines!" Hyun-ju calls out.

You take the mag out of the gun, seeing that you have about half of a clip left. Everyone announces that they're around the same.

"Young-il, Dae-ho, can you hear me?" The voice of Jung-bae erupts from your radio.

"Go ahead!" Young-il says.

"I think we're right below the control room." Shots can be heard in the background. "But we need backup and more ammo."

"We're running out of ammo, too!"

"There should be spare magazines in the soldiers' pockets in our quarters. Go get them!" Gi-hun yells through the radio.

"Did you hear that?" Young-il turns to the group. "They need backup! Three of us will go, and the rest will stay! Join us once you get the magazines! Who wants to go with me?"

Players 047 and ... volunteer and they run off towards the end of the hall.

"I'll go get the magazines!" Hyun-ju yells. "I'll come back as soon as I can, so just hold on until then!"

"Hyun-ju!" A voice yells. You turn to see Dae-ho raising his hand. "I'll go!" He hurries over to where you and Hyun-ju are taking cover. "I- I'm out of ammo."

"Do you know the way?" Gyeong-seok asks. Dae-ho nods.

"We destroyed the cameras on the way, follow them," Hyun-ju says.

"I'll go with him," you say. "I still have some ammo, so I'll cover him."

Hyun-ju nods. "I'll cover you. Go!"

You and Dae-ho take off down the stairs. He stops a few times, but you pull him along, keeping your eyes up to watch for the broken cameras. As you're running down the stairs, Dae-ho stops, and you turn to see him staring at a dead guard hanging over the ledge of a window.

"Dae-ho!" Jung-bae yells. "Can you hear me? Where are those magazines?"

You lift your own radio to your mouth. "We're getting them now."

"Alright! We're counting on you!"

You put your radio back in your pocket, grabbing Dae-ho's hand and pulling him along behind you.

You burst into the quarters, letting go of Dae-ho's hand as you sprint to a guard, taking the spare mags out of their pockets. You hear someone say your name and look up to see Yong-sik.

"What happened? Why are you back by yourselves?"

"We're low on ammo," you say, not looking up from the guard you're looting. "We need to get the magazines from their pockets. Help us!"

You look up to the boy to see him nod and run over to a nearby guard. Geum-ja and Jun-hee come over to the help, as well.

Once you've looted all the ammo from the guards, you place them into a jacket you found on one of the dead players. You tie it up and give it to Dae-ho, thanking the others as you lead him out of the room.

Gunshots can be heard as soon as you step outside. You keep moving but when you check behind you, you see that Dae-ho has stopped where he is.

"Dae-ho, we need to go," you urge.

He looks at you silently, but the fear in his eyes sends the message. You've seen soldiers like this before you joined the Special Forces.

Dae-ho stands in his spot, paralyzed other than the shake of his body in fear.

You hear your name and Dae-ho's through the radio. "Where are you? Can you hear me?"

You watch as Dae-ho lifts his radio, staring at it as Hyun-ju's voice comes through.

"Did you find the magazines? Are you on your way?"

Dae-ho looks at you. "I'm sorry," he whispers, dropping the radio on the ground and running back into the quarters with the magazines.

"Shit," you say under your breath. You follow Dae-ho into the room, looking around to find where he went. Yong-sik points toward a bunk and you find Dae-ho curled up there, rocking back and forth. Running over to him, you take the jacket with the mags, ready to run out of there. You take a look at Dae-ho, the pure fear coursing through him as he whispers apologies over and over.

You sigh, remembering one of the lessons Hyun-ju taught you as your sergeant.

Never leave a man behind.

Taking out your radio, you bring it to your lips and press the button. "Charlie Foxtrot."

You put your radio down, knowing that Hyun-ju will know what to do. You had picked up the phrase from your U.S. counterparts, saying it to each other when something goes wrong.

Moving to sit on the bed, you take Dae-ho's hands into yours. "Dae-ho, I need you to breathe with me, alright."

He slowly looks at your face before launching himself into your arms, sobbing into your shoulder. You rub his back comfortingly, knowing you can't leave him alone like this.

After a few minutes, Hyun-ju runs into the room shouting you and Dae-ho's names. She comes running over to you, stopping when she sees Dae-ho in your arms.

"What happened?"

Dae-ho jumps a bit at the new voice, burying his face farther into your jacket.

You look up a Hyun-ju, shaking your head at her. She nods, understanding. You point at the magazines and she scoops them into her arms, ready to take them to the others when the buzzer for the door goes off and more pink guards enter the room, firing in the air and making everyone scream.

Hyun-ju reloads her SMG, ready to take on the entire group on guards by herself. You watch as Geum-ja puts a hand on her shoulder, stopping her.

"You can't die like this."

You sigh in relief as Hyun-ju puts the gun down. From your hidden area, you try to get the guns and mags away from you, making it seem as though the three of you have been here the whole time.

As the guards come further into the room, you use your body to shield Dae-ho from them as he whimpers. You make eye contact with Hyun-ju. Whatever happens next, you'll face it as a team.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @thebiggestigurosimp @come-as-you-are-111 @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5

#squid game #squid game 2 #player 388 #squid game season 2 #dae ho #dae-ho #kang dae ho #dae ho x reader #kang daeho #squid game fanfic #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #daeho #daeho x reader

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dj-of-the-coven · 11 months ago

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trigun 1998 episode simulator

[3 minutes of guitar solo]

Vash the Stampede: hi my name is Vash the Stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love. all I really want to do is have a sandwich and a morning coffee without getting chased by bandits

some bandit: (gunshot) absolutely not. square up faggot

Vash: rats.

[gunfight]

Vash the Stampede: my name is Vash the stampede. I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Love.could I please have a sandwich

Meryl from the Bernardelli Insurace Society: how long are you going to sit on your ass doing nothing but playing games with children and doing chores for the elderly and disabled and looking after lonely youths and cooking dinner for the homeless

Vash: I've been here for like 2 days

Milly Thompson: Hi Vash!

Vash: Hi Milly

[exit left pursued by bounty hunters]

Vash the Stampede: (panting, entering a bar) my name is Vash the stampede.... I am a hunter of Peace chasing the elusive mayfly of Good L*rd what is going on in here

Hostage: mphdsfhapff!!!! mffmpphhf!!!!

Villain of the week: well if it isn't the elusive Vash the Stampede! you see it all started when I was 4 days old and you kicked me like a football and then exploded my parents to death with a laser canon and killed every puppy in a ten ile (translator's note: this is the No Man's Land equivalent of the American Mile) radius

Vash: I don't remember doing that but well I suppose you can shoot me if it'll make you feel better

Side character of the week: Are you insane? Just shoot him instead???

Vash: but my mom told me not to be mean to people

Villain of the week: (still going) And as I am now 47 years old I have finally decided to get my revenge. Say your prayers, Vash the Pisshead

[Wall explodes and reveals a motorcycle with a sexy priest on it]

[sfx: guitar with a hint of electric distortion]

Vash: is that..... Wolfwood?

Meryl who was in the background this whole time: the priest?

Nicholas Dickolas Wolfwood: (brings his fingers up to a pair of luscious lips to grab the cigarette from right between them, taking one more slow inhale before crushing the cherry red underneath his heel)(sensually cocks one of his 8 guns) Are you just gonna let this guy talk down to you like that needle noggin?

Vash: I g-

[guitar riff bumper]

Vash: -uess not, since you're here to help now... (slow, warm smile) Wolfwood

Nicholas D. ranged Wolfwood: Vash

Milly who was also in the background this whole time: Hi mr priest man! isn't this lovely, I haven't seen you since the last time you spoke with mr Vash yesterday evening when you were helping him buckle all those silly belts on his pants after he had lost them somehow

Vash: On a cactus

Milly: On a cactus! Oh it must've hurt so terribly; how fortunate that Mr Priest man was there to help you

Wolfwood: Hi Milly

[gunfight]

Villain of the week: ohhhhh curses!!! CURSES!!!! I have spent my whole existence getting ready to fight Vash the Stampede but he's just too good at swallowing all my bullets!!!!!!

Vash the Stampede: my tragic dead mother would be sad if I didn't swallow everyone's bullets so I've trained diligently every morning at digesting gunpowder without dying immediately

Wolfwood: [internally: I can't believe it. All this time I've spent walking the path of darkness, reaching to a pure light that I could never grasp, and yet here is a man who's dedicated his life and his body to the pursuit of Peace. I wish he were a woman so I could fuck him romantic style. I've got a whole plan for it and everything. Whiskey, sunset, a bed with no sand in it, 6 hours. This would be fully and completely possible if only he were a woman. Unfortunately he's not, but I can still think about the what-ifs. platonically of course. Maybe if he got some good dick he'd stop being so annoying. And maybe he'd stop making me rethink my morals. I wonder if the seven drunken handies meant anything to him. Platonically]

Wolfwood: Well anyway it looks like my job is done here

Vash: (teary) Will I see you again?

Wolfwood: I don't know. And besides, whenever I look at you, I'm reminded of everything I hate about myself. You know, it hurts.

[exit Nicholas D. Wolfwood pursued by repressed homosexual desires and immense catholic guilt]

Vash the Stanned Peat: (looking out the window like a widow whose husband was killed in action) Nicholas... D... Wolfwood.......

Meryl who was in the background that entire time, yes, the whole time: shut the fuck up already

Vash: when will it be my turn Meryl. When

[roll credits]

#trigun 98 #vashwood #vash the stampede #nicholas d wolfwood #milly thompson #meryl stryfe

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writersblog20 · 8 months ago

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Sick baby🍒

Neighbor!Joel Miller x reader

Credits to the very talented : @a7estrellas 🫶🫶

Summary: When sickness catches you and you seemed to be doomed to take care of yourself, your hot older neighbor is going to make sure you get better. (Lots of fluff and comfort)

Warnings: age-gap (Age of reader isn't classified but is in mid 20s). Mention of neglect and ptsd but NO details of traumatic events in itself. Sickness and hints to anxiety. Pet names like: baby girl, sweetheart, princess etc. I'm sorry if I missed anything else.

Words: 3.1K (I could've made this shorter, but I didn't)

A/N: Hi.... So, I'm back? Sort of? Anyhow, here's a soft fic after 2 (or 3?) years of hiatus. I'm not dead just anxious and traumatized but I'm trying to get back to writing again! Please take it easy because I've been out of training. Anyway, I want to try to write about Hugh Jackman as well! So get ready for that, but also give me a second hahaha. I hope Youa'll are doing good!

Sick baby

It all started with a throbbing headache and the feeling of thorns in your throat. You groaned which made get an entire cough attack. You wiped the tears away from your eyes from coughing so violently. You felt exhausted and sick. It was in fact, that time of the year again for getting a cold.

You made your way downstairs to make some tea. You looked into the cabinets for some honey but groaned when you remembered you had to do some grocery shopping today. The thought of having to go out of your house made you want to cry. You felt emotional, horrible, weak and sick. You just wanted to curl up in bed and someone to take care of you but that wasn't happening anytime soon.

You heard the car door closing outside and it caught your attention, as it always would when he would arrive home. Your insanely hot, sweet and older neighbour, Joel Miller. You had a huge crush on him since you moved into your new home, and he helped you with your moving boxes as he saw you struggling. A couple of days later, when you got all settled, you made him some muffins as a toking of gratitude, and he invited you in to have a cup of tea.

It didn't take much to get a crush on your older neighbour. He was incredibly handsome, sweet and you had a thing for older men, and he just made you turn into a complete puddle every time. He seemed to notice that you got flustered and shy around him and he absolutely loved it, which he made it now a mission to get you shy and flustered around him. It made his chest feel all warm and fluffy, something he hadn't felt in years that it turned him in a grumpy old man. Except, you made him feel happy and fuzzy inside. He would never admit it, but it was true. He was so very intrigued by you. For him, you were a sunshine even though you were alone a lot of the time, he saw you as someone very special for your age. He caught you more times, watching old movies. Like 1925 and 1950 old movies. Or when you caught you walking to your front door with new records in your arms. The times he caught you outside on your own porch, completely indulged in your book that you were reading at the time, a cup of tea next to you, a blanket over your lap as the rain hit the roof.

He caught him staring at you so many times. Joel was a difficult and sometimes troubled man but when he looked at you, he found peace and serenity. The kind that he had been looking for his whole life, and now that it was in front of him, it scared him deeply. But no matter how hard he fought that feeling and wanted to keep a distance between the two of you, he found himself even closer to you. There was one thing he noticed, you were alone for most of the time, and it made him curious.

One night, when the two of you had a beer on his front porch, he asked you why and how you were able to move into a home already at your age, hoping by asking you that question, he would get to know why you were alone a lot. You told him that you would tell the part of why another time and went straight to the how. He figured it wasn't a nice story and it wasn't. Let's just say for now that you didn't have a relationship with your parents and that it truly was for your own good. You had to leave your parents' home for your own safety.

One evening, you stood in front of his door, soaking wet by the rain, and tears streaming down your cheeks. It left a hole in his chest seeing you like that and he felt instant rage, knowing that someone was the cause of how you felt. The moment he saw you, the features on his face showed deep concern as he pulled you into a tight hug as an impulse. When he opened the door and saw you like that, he had an overwhelming feeling to protect you. He pulled you inside carefully as he shushed you softly. His hand on the back of your head as he carefully tucked your head against his chest. He placed multiple kissed on the top of your head.

You told him about the altercation that you had with your father. That was the moment you told him everything. You babbled so much that you struggled to get through your own words. “C'me here sweetheart.” he told you, held your hand and let you to the kitchen. He lifted you up on the counter and set you down while he quickly made some tea. Your make-up was all over your face and he got a soft cloth, made it wet and gently wiped it over your face to get the remains of your make-up and tears away. The soft look that was on his face, made your lip wobble again and gave you new tears on your cheeks. Joel looked into your eyes and his eyes softened even more as his heart broke for you. “Oh, baby girl...” The softness by a man and the feeling of safety and how secure and taken care of you felt, was new to you and it brought you to a completely new breakdown. Joel pulled you in a hug again and tucked your face into his neck. Even though you were on the counter, Joel was still taller than you. It was at that point that you've started to became emotionally attached to Joel.

~~~~~~~`~~

You looked out of the window and thought about asking Joel if he could go to the store for you, but you felt so fatigue that you couldn't master up the courage to ask him, knowing that you would be too shy right now. Yes, you've shared that intimate moment together but since that night, your crush turned into love. You were head over heels for your neighbour.

You sighed, which got you into another coughing attack. “Fine” You grumbled and heard that you had almost no voice left. You nose started to run and you knew that it would be better if you went to the store now before it got worse.

You quickly went upstairs and got your oversized hoodie and sweatpants, throwing them on, brushed your teeth, cleaned your face and quickly did your hair. You noticed that you looked horrible, and a wave of warmth came over you. “A fever? Already?” you sighed and quickly got your stuff to go to the store.

You got all the groceries you needed and headed home. You got so many extra things to make this cold disappear as soon as possible. Once you got home you tried to get your bags out of the car, but you felt a hot wave go over you again, started to get dizzy and felt so weak that you couldn't even lift the stupid bags out of the car. You were already out of breath, and you started to mutter curse words in yourself. Your vision started to get warry and black and you had to hold yourself to the car

“Woa, take it easy baby girl.” Joel ran to your aid and held you, looking worryingly at your face. You held onto Joel now and slowly started to get your vision back but with a major headache... A migraine. “God fucking dammit...” you muttered, and Joel looked a bit in surprise at you. He never heard you curse before. “You okay there baby doll?” You held your palm to your head and groaned. “I'm sick” you spoke up louder and he was finally able to hear your voice correctly. Without saying anything he held his hand to your forehead, feeling how warm you were.

“Let's put your things inside and get what you need but you're coming with me after. You're burning up.” he told you and got your stuff out of your car. You felt your heart skip a beat from nerves. “I ehm...” Joel ignored you and got your stuff. You wanted to get one bag out of his hands to help but he shot daggers at you for even thinking about getting a bag out of his hands.... ever. You quickly looked down as if you were in trouble and Joels look softened and got your hand in his. “You're too good for this world princess.” he remarked and helped you towards your house.

You unlocked the door and Joel hinted for you to get in first. He made his way to your kitchen and unpacked your stuff, putting it away and keeping the things, he figured were for the cold, in the bag so he could take it with him to his house and nurse you back to health. You were shuffling on your feet and Joel looked up. It was pretty clear that you felt uncomfortable and not really knowing what to do. It wasn't Joel that made you feel uncomfortable but more because you weren't allowed to help and you felt like a burden.

“Why don't you get the stuff that you want ready, and we can head back to mine in a minute.” he proposed softly. You nodded, giving in silently. You made your way upstairs and gathered some stuff, but you felt so exhausted and out of breath that you sat down for a moment. You felt so terrible that the tears started to gather in your eyes. Your head and mind were so preoccupied that you didn't hear Joel. He softly knocked at your door, scaring you a bit. You quickly wiped away your tears, even though he'd seen you cry before.

Joels gaze was so full of care and gentleness at that point that you couldn't stop crying right now. “What's wrong sweetheart?” he carefully kneeled before you, holding your hand and his other hand stroked your hair. “I don't want to burden you, Joel. Or take up too much space, change your schedule and stuff. I’ll be alright by myself.” you told him, but you couldn't even convince yourself of that right now. Joels hand that stroked your hair, went gently over your cheek and his thumb and finger held your chin and made you look at him. “Princess, you will never be a burden to me, at all. I like your presence around me. Sick or not. You'll never take up too much space and you are allowed to be yourself around me. I want you to feel safe, secure, comfortable, loved and adored enough to be yourself around me. I know it's difficult for you, with what you've been through, but I promise you, I'll never let anyone hurt you again. Let me teach you what it's like to be cared about and loved. I want you to be with me so I can take care of you, and I promise you, you'll never be a burden to me. Let me take care of you right now baby girl. You deserve it. And secretly I know that you really want to right now.” he playfully told you and gently poked your side.

You couldn't help but smile a bit. “Okay...” was all could say right now, and it was more than enough for Joel as he got a big grin. “Let me help you pack up sweetheart. And if you need more stuff, I can always walk back.” he told you and kissed your forehead. He asked you where your pj's were and put it in your bag, with your toothbrush and all the necessities for now. Joel already chose to give you his hoodies for when you got cold. It was easier, so he didn't have to take much with him but the biggest reason was so he could see you in a hoodie and sweatpants that were his. He saw your book at your night cabinet and got it in the bag as well. “You need anything else princess? If we forgot something, I could get it in a second, that's no problem.” He told you convincingly. “I think we're good.” Joel hummed in satisfaction and gently helped you stand up and helped you down the stairs.

He got your grocery bag, your keys and locked your door. When you got into his house, he placed the grocery bag on the floor for a second and helped you up the stairs towards his bedroom. You felt butterflies in your stomach seen you've never been upstairs before.

“Don't worry, I changed the sheets this morning.” he told you but honestly, you wouldn't have mind if he didn't. He placed you gently on his bed and you looked around for a bit. “Why don't you take a shower to freshen up a bit and I'll get you some tea and fruit when you're done, hmh?” You nodded and he showed you the bathroom. “I'll get you some towels and your pjs.” he told you and you nodded, looking around for a bit and feeling out of place.

When Joel came back, he flashed you a comforting smile “Yell if you need anything or when you need help sweetheart.” he told you and you smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Joel.” you told him and he smiled, closing the door.

After your warm shower, you felt exhausted and wanted to sleep. You got into your pj's and crawled into Joels bed. You snuggled into the pillows and pulled the sheets up to your chin, getting comfortable. It still smelled like Joel, giving a comforting and safe feeling. Like you were finally able to relax and be taken care of for once. You closed your eyes and gave into the tired feeling.

You didn't know how much time had passed but you were awakened by Joel stroking your hair softly. “Hi baby girl, I made you some tea and some fresh fruit. You can continue sleeping if you eat and drink something.” he told you softly and sweetly as he sat beside you on the bed. You nodded, getting up. Joel adjusted the pillows behind you and walked around the other side of the bed and sat next to you, handing the tray with the fruit, tea, water and painkillers. “Thank you, Joel. I mean it. This means a lot to me.” Joel couldn't help but smile almost proudly. He gave you a kiss on your forehead. “Thank YOU, for letting me take care of you, and trusting me. That means a lot to me as well.”

You started to feel a bit more comfortable and slowly finished the food he gave you. Joel handed you the tv remote with a wink and you searched something to watch on it. Joel got up to put the tray away but you were quick to take his arm. “Please, stay with me.” Joel melted by your big puppy eyes and smiled “I'll be right back baby girl.” you were content with his reaction and let go of him.

Joel was as fast as lightning at that moment because he was back in a blink of an eye. He got next to you again and made himself comfortable before hinting to cuddle with him. Your heart was filled to the brink with love. Your head was on his chest and you grabbed onto his shirt before making yourself comfortable. Your eyes started to feel heavy while Joel softly massaged your head. His breathing and heartbeat calmed you down “It's okay baby girl, you're safe here. Get some sleep.” He whispered and in response you snuggled even closer to him and gave into the much-needed sleep.

~~~~~

When you woke up, Joel was gone and with that, it left a sort of emptiness in your heart for a second. The tv was still on with the sound softly echoing through the room. You heard some pans clink together downstairs and you felt at ease, knowing Joel was close by. You sniffled your nose and hid underneath the blankets again from the cold. You heard the rain violently hitting the roof as it covered the sound coming from the tv.

30 minutes later, Joel came upstairs and you peeked a bit from the covers, looking at him. He smiled warmly at you. “I made you some soup. I promise you, this will get you back on your feet.” he told you with a proud smile on his face as he gave you the tray with the soup. You saw that he had, once again, cut some fresh fruit for you, had a bottle of water and some lemon tea with honey. You smiled shyly “Thank you Joel.” He sat down next to you. “I missed you when I woke up.” you told him honestly without really thinking. Joel smiled proudly again and his cheeks changed in a pink color. “Well, I'm glad you did” the realization of what you had said, kicked in and you felt your cheeks heat up and immediately turned shy again. Joel noticed, and knew it wasn't the time to joke around right now. “But don't worry, I won't go anywhere, princess.” He interlinked your fingers through his and placed a kiss on the back of your hand. You leaned more against Joel in response, not really knowing what to say, so you tried to show his through getting closer and luckily, Joel picked up immediately on them and let out a gravel chuckle.

“You stay here as long as you need. Even when you're better. Or when you feel like shit, you can always come here. See it as your second home, doll. You're always welcome here, and.... I really like you here.” He looked at you and for the first time, you could see Joel a bit nervous as he confessed to you. “I really like it here too. But only because of you...” You shyly admit, hoping he would catch on what you said, which, of course he did. “Same here, princess.” he gave you lingering kiss on your forehead, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable. “I'll make sure you're better soon, baby girl. But for now, what old classic movie do you want to watch?” he asked you with a smile, making you giggle.

You were down bad for this man but in the end, you were very glad and happy that it was this man.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller oneshot #joel miller fluff #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfiction

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felassan · 5 months ago

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Dragon Age Day 2024 – Developer Reddit AMA (Q&A session) – compilation post

Introduction: “Happy Dragon Age Day! John Epler and Corinne Busche are here to answer your questions for the next ~2 hours. Looking forward to chatting with everyone. We won't be able to get to all questions, but hoping to get to a good mix!”

I gathered the questions and answers from the AMA together in this post, as the AMA has now concluded. The rest of this post is under a cut due to spoilers and length.

Q: "If you could’ve developed DLC, what — and/or where — would you have wanted to explore? Would it have been a new locale with a complementary, self-contained story or something that adds to the main plot and teases the future?"

Corinne Busche: "On the gameplay side, I had a thought about adding a new class option, which is directly related to the environments and story. I've always wanted to revisit the Bard, and I've long felt in the context of Veilguard the best way to handle player-controlled blood magic would have been to build a unique 'Blood Mage' class for it."

Q: "Can we look forward to more lore-supplementary material, for example World of Thedas vol.3?"

John Epler: "With all of the lore reveals in DATV, another World of Thedas is something we'd absolutely love to do. That said, they're complex beasts and require a lot of work from a lot of people, so I can't really promise anything, but it's something we're interested in, at least."

Q: "1. How exactly did Solas's blood magic manipulation of Rook work? Did he only alter Rook's perception to make them think that Varric was still around, or did the blood magic actively prevent Rook from reacting to Varric in a way that would have given up the ruse to the other characters? 2. What is the state of Southern Thedas after the events of DAV?"

John: "Solas' magic caused Rook to see Varric when he wasn't there. Originally, of course, Solas wanted Varric to keep Rook more off-balance - but the thing about the Fade is that things don't always work the way you expect or want them to. As for the state of Southern Thedas - it's been pretty radically altered. The balance of power has shifted, but even those who rode out the storm of the Gods' blight better than others are still reluctant to start anything as the whole place is in rough shape."

Q: "When looking back on DAV, is there any part you wish that you could have spent more time on?"

John: "For me, it's about the Antaam and their split from the rest of the Qunari. There are elements of that story in both the Crows content and in Taash's personal quest, but in a dream world, having the Ben Hassrath as an additional faction (albeit, one you don't know if you can trust) would've been nice."

Corinne: "And for myself, I certainly share some of the desires the community has. Going deeper on romances, and more choices to import. I love our choices and consequences in the game already and maybe we could've added a few more on the scale of the Minrathous/Treviso choice, that significantly alter the remainder of the game. I think we learned how to make that work within our gameflow and content structure, so I look forward to being able to lean in on these beats more heavily. That said, no artist or creator is ever going to be completely content with their work, and even so when I take a step back and look at the game as a whole, I'm extremely proud of what were able to accomplish."

Q: "Can we get confirmation on what happened to the other Evanuris? Will we get any more lore? Shame we didn't hear a whole lot about them besides essentially being behind the previous Blights."

John: "We haven't been SUPER specific about this, but at best the other Evanuris are a shadow of their former selves, and at worst they're dead. The death of their Archdemons, particularly when they were still trapped in the Fade, caused enough magical feedback that it broke their minds and bodies. A couple may have survived as shells, but they aren't in the same state as Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan."

Q: "Will we get at least anything post launch that via free updates that further expands some story elements? Will rook continue to be the main protagonist going further??"

Corinne: "We've been continuing to improve upon the game post-launch through various bug fixes, balance updates, and quality-of-life improvements. Notably new character creator options and armors for DA Day and N7 Day, and some cool features like Photo Mode filters. Beyond this focus however, we largely view this story as complete and are not planning for further story content. Whether Rook will return in the future, well it's just too early to say :)"

Q: "The marketing for the game claimed that choices not imported from prior games wouldn't be overridden. However, certain dialogue from characters like Harding seemed to establish certain canon events from previous games that were not locked in. Is the intention that a hard canon is being established from DATV forward?"

John: "Ultimately, there's still no intention for there to be a hard canon going forward. These games have been going on for 15 years, though, and with all of the previous games to remember, as well as developing this one, there are absolutely places where we unintentionally suggested there was a hard canon (the one I've seen specifically is that Isabela is always assumed to have joined Hawke's party). I'd say those are oversights and not part of a deliberate strategy. While there are definitely some smaller decisions we will likely never revisit, I want to keep those other choices alive and relevant in the future, and with the state of Thedas the way it is at the end of DATV, I don't really think there's a way forward that DOESN'T involve bringing some of those bigger choices back to the forefront."

Q: "Was there anything at risk of being cut from the game that you fought tooth and nail to keep in?"

Corinne: "Oh, absolutely. There are always those things in game dev that are at risk due to scope and deadlines. There were 3 big ones that immeadiately come to mind: The Transmog feature, the Lords of Fortune Hall of Valor, and Haunts questline. I'll throw in Photo Mode as well, but that was one that we always knew we'd like to do, and had to dig deep to find the time and resources for it."

Q: "Is it set in stone that we will not be getting DLC?"

Corinne: "Correct, our focus was to tell a complete story with the release of Veilguard. Beyond the quality of life improvements and a couple new armor sets we're doing to support the game, we won't have any new story or gameplay content coming to the game."

Q: "Are there any plans to try and increase character saves on console to more than 3?"

Corinne: "This is something we've investigated, but because this touches our save file architecture there are no plans at this time to increase the limit."

Q: "Are you planning to make another Dragon Age after this one ?"

Corinne: "There are so many more stories yet to be told, and threats to defend against, within Thedas, but that's all we can say for now as we don't have anything new to announce."

Q: "With the polarizing nature of this iteration of Dragon Age, how did the media attention affect the team as a whole and the morale leading into and post launch?"

Corinne: "This is a tough one to answer, because it's so personal and specific to each member of the team. So let me say this, we've seen that with each Dragon Age release there has been a passionate, and sometimes polarized, response. When you consider how invested the players are, the nature of reinvention in the franchise, and the commitment to inclusivity, it makes a lot of sense to see the broad array of reactions. What I can say is that the team is really proud of what they have built, and the positive critical reception it's received. Within the team, we've been sharing all of the wonderful letters, fan art, and anecdotes from the players, and listening closely to the constructive criticism. That's really where we focus our attention."

Q: "Could you comment on current logic of Lucanis romance? Him leaving PC because of a certain choice does not make sense, because right after that he picks up the romance arc with Neve, who did exactly same choice. Was it intentional, or are we dealing with a broken plot flag or oversight?"

Corinne: "Lucanis is a deeply passionate individual, and rightly or wrongly, can't overlook that it was Rook's decision as the leader of the Veilguard to support Minrathous, when so many lives were bound to be lost in Treviso. It hasn't dimmed his passions, which is why he ultimately still pursues Neve, but it does come at the cost of the fledgling romance with Rook. As with all people, Lucanis is complex in the way he internalizes his experiences, and this is one he couldn't look past."

Q: "Are there any comics or books planned that are set after the events of DAV?"

John: "Ancilliary media is always tricky but personally I'd love to do more in that space. I think the ending of DATV leaves the world pretty well open to a number of different stories and exploring how the dynamics of Thedas have changed after the events of DATV is, IMO, a really fun path to go down."

Q: "Can we see Sandal in the future Game/DLC?"

Corinne: "That's an interesting possibility to explore. Especially given what we've learned in Harding's quest line and the awakening of her powers through her connection to the Titans. It's a really fascinating side of lore, but like we've mentioned already we don't have any new story content coming to the game or anything further to announce."

Q: "I want to give a shout out to John, Corinne, and Trick in particular. What a great group of people who clearly love this series! Would love to know about their canon Rooks/romances and their playthroughs"

Corinne: "At this point I've done so many playthroughs it's difficult to keep them all straight! If there was one that I'd say is my "canon" however, I'd say it would be my Shadow Dragon Qunari Rogue, named 'Rin'. She was a Veil Ranger who was always a bit quick on the draw, chose to save Minrathous, selected Maevaris for Archon, and romanced her one true love: Taash! Ultimately Rin and Taash agreed that Taash should honor their life as a Rivani, before we defeated the gods, redeemed Solas, and sent him off into the fade to be with his own true love: The Inquisitor. <3"

John: "Qunari mage Rook who's romancing Harding. He's the handsomest Qunari in Thedas, and that's a burden he bears every day. I'd also just add that while I appreciate the kind words, a game like this couldn't come together without a tremendous number of people, far more than are active on social media. So shout out to the whole team for the hard work they've done."

Q: "Can we hope to see something related to Awakened Darkspawn in the future that the franchise has? (As in prequels or new instalments.)"

Corinne: "Difficult to say. I've always been a fan of the rare cases of Awakened Darkspawn, but if they were to turn up, it would need to be because they were right for the story."

Q: "My question is - what are your plans for upcoming patches? Do you expect that they'll mainly be bug fixes, or is there a possibility that there could be content patches? And if so, any chance for more interaction between Rook and the companions, since that's top of many of our wishlists for the game right now? (Lucanis in particular for me :) but every one of us has their own favorites!)"

Corinne: "I'm so glad you enjoyed it!! I believe we've responded to another question about the post launch plans, but let me include some of that information here as well. We're currently focused on various bug fixes, balance updates, and quality-of-life improvements. Notably new character creator options and armors for DA Day and N7 Day, and some cool features like Photo Mode filters. Beyond this focus however, we largely view this story as complete and are not planning for further story content."

Q: "Where does Andraste and the Maker fit into the world of Thedas given all that was revealed during Trespasser and Veilguard. We obviously know the whole story about the Evanuris and their role in shaping the world as it is, the Black City, the Blight, etc. Is The Maker just a human mythology that sprang up to explain this? Does The Maker still exist?"

John: "That's a weighty question. I do think there are some questions we should never (and likely will never) answer completely - I think the moment you reveal everything there is to know about a fantasy universe, you start to lose some of the mystery that brought people into it in the first place."

Q: "Are you going to add new armor or skins as you added the Mass Effect one?"

Corinne: "We actually just dropped the new Hawke-inspired armor, face paint, and body paint, as of today in celebration of Dragon Age Day!! Really hope you enjoy! I know for me personally, it's going to be my go-to transmog armor from now on."

Q: "What features/storylines were left on the cutting room floor? Followup if you're feeling generous: How was the development of Veilguard viewed internally, and was the majority of the studio satisfied with the time given to develop the game?"

Corinne: "Tightening up content and making cuts is a tough but typical part of game development. A few of the biggest cuts we had to make were trimming down the Faction story arcs, and letting go of a few explorable spaces. There were also a few areas, like blighted Weisshaupt that we could've returned to and explore. In both cases however, I believe we rightly opted to let go of these quests and areas in favor of increased focus on the quality of the existing Faction quests and exploration areas and shipping a high quality performing experience."

Q: "After reading the Dragon Age: The Veilguard book I noticed the jurassic tortoises didn't make the cut into the game, they were also teased in the initial teaser trailer from a few years ago. Any particular reason they were cut?"

John: "It's less about them getting cut and more that they just never moved far enough ahead to be a part of the game with full animation sets (combat, locomotion, etc)"

Q: "Is there any hope that you'll be announcing official mod tools, or a toolset like Dragon Age: Origins?"

Corinne: "No, we don't have any plans for official mod support."

Q: "My question is >! where does Solas/where do Solas and the Inquisitor go off to at the end if he’s redeemed? Back into the prison he made or just the fade in general?"

John: "We're leaving that ambiguous on purpose, but given that the Fade is shaped by dreams and thoughts, I think it's fair to say that the section of the Fade that Solas and the Inquisitor end up in is a lot nicer than the Fade that Solas gets trapped in with the other two endings."

Q: "How do you think Veilguard sets up the future of the franchise? Where would you like to take it from here?"

Corinne: "I'm sure it won't surprise you when I say we riff on this topic a lot! What really captures my imagination now that we've resolved some of the mysteries pertaining to the blight and the Elven gods, is exploring the aftermath of this crisis in a deeply destabilized Thedas. As you can imagine, given a blight of this magnitude, and the revelations of the Elven gods, it's going to have long lasting geo-political implications, and there will be those eager to take advantage of the situation. Not to mention, there is so much yet to explore in the nature of the the Dwarves and Qunari, and their relationship to the Titans and Dragons respectively."

John: "To riff on what Corinne is saying - I think, for myself, I'd love to look at taking it down from 'end of the world' to 'the world is changing, how do you adapt and react'. The balance of power has changed, and the Sword of Damocles that is the Evanuris and the Blight is no longer hanging over the world. What does that look like? Who's on top now? And with all the revelations brought up in DATV, what does that look like for the Dwarves, or the Qunari?"

Q: "1) I've seen people that they believe Andraste was a vessel for Mythal because of a comment Morrigan makes about a previous vessel falling in love with an Almarri Chieftain. Is this the case or was she talking about Flemeth? 2. About the Executors, is their manipulation more on the level of leaking information to select people to guide events, or is it more along the lines of "Loghain suspects that Cailan wants to ally with Orlais, let's stoke his hatred by having him see/hear events that remind him of what they did." 3. Lastly, are there any plans to let us visit Kal Sharok proper in any future games? It was great getting a small glimpse of the Dwarves from there and see an outpost but would love to see the actual city!"

John: "I think I'm going to have to keep the first question a mystery for everyone. :) For the second, it varies. The Executors are very mysterious and, more importantly, incredibly risk averse. They attempt to manipulate events in the most subtle way they can manage. Sometimes that means leaving a particularly inflammatory document on the right desk. Sometimes it means stoking existing fears and doubts. Not everything they try is successful, in part because of how unwilling they are to put themselves at risk. For Loghain, it would have been incredibly subtle. He's smart, strong willed and, in his own way, loyal to Ferelden to a fault. For others, it would've been different. I'd love to do more with Kal Sharok as there are some interesting stories still to tell that involve them, but we don't have anything to announce as it relates to future games."

Q: "If you could make one of the faction leaders a party member in the next game, who would you choose?"

Corinne: "For me, it would absolutely be Evka and Antoine (you have to bring them as a couple, right???). They've come to have place in my heart, and I would love to know what the future of the Wardens looks like. That said, a couple of runners up: Maevaris Tilani, and a reprised companion role for Isabela, would make me very excited!"

Q: "Did you expect so many players to be so thirsty over Emmrich? He is the best player in the game for me, thank you for his lovely presence."

Corinne: "I mean, we definitely had our suspicions. Within the dev team, we are also fans of the game, and what we found was that some of us were very drawn to, and quite vocal about, our resident necromancer. There's something so endearing about his gentle demeanor and that juxtaposition of necromancy as a force for good and reverence, that makes him really compelling."

Q: "I wanted to start out by saying I love this game, but one of my major questions is: What happened with the Lords of Fortune? They have significantly less content and reactivity than the other factions with Rook not even commenting on things that they would already know like Isabela explaining what "Pulling a Barv" is. Similarly, the Lords don't have a theme for the Lighthouse OR colorways or even a real faction quest line like the others have. Were they intended to be a different faction (a qunari/tal vashoth one maybe) and it got swapped late? Where they just added late when time/budget was already running low? Was it determined that fewer players would pick that faction so less resources were allocated? I feel like there's a reason as to why since the difference between playing as a Lord and playing as any other faction feels really extreme."

Corinne: "We always knew that some of the factions needed to have a larger presence in the overall story than others, so when we approached our content planning, we took that into account. They are inherently assymetrical. That said, I think there is a lot of interesting material to now work with in regards to the Lords of Fortune and the Rivain Coast if that's right for another story."

Q: "What was the motivation behind writing the Inquisitior's missives and the ultimate fate of southern Thedas? Is that an area you are likely to revisit in future games? T his question is the result of a lot of discussion that's been had in the fandom as of late and one to which there's no definite answer, but I'm curious: as developers and writers, what features and qualities do you believe make up Dragon Age's core identity?"

Corinne: "Around the time we approached Alpha, we realized that this blight, and the impact of the gods on all of Thedas was so much bigger than what the player would see in the north. We felt this was a natural opportunity to have the Inquisitor serve as that connection to the events happening in the South, to show that the entirety of Thedas was impacted, and the Inquisitor was not one to stand idly by. Sometimes I daydream about exploring the parallel adventures of the Inquisitor in the south while these events are unfolding in the north. That could be a really fascinating tale and perspective. Regarding Dragon Age's core identity. Well, that's a big question and one that will mean different things to different people. I can tell you that internally we've always stood-by the mantra that 'Dragon Age is an experience about people'. That is to say, the setting serves as an opportunity to really explore the depths and motivations of characters during times of crisis, joy, and companionship. Another that I reflect on frequently is how Dragon Age has become a franchise where each game has been different in its approach, and while it can make these titles challenging to develop, it also creates an opportunity to keep the franchise fresh."

Q: "What was the reasoning behind only making Dock Town an explorable area in Minrathous, rather than a combination of areas of the city, such as where the upper class lives?" [I think this comment was edited at some point after posting hence some of the answer below seeming unrelated]

John: "Given the state of Thedas at the end of DATV, Minrathous has become the diplomatic hub for the entire continent. While we could, to some degree, avoid references to the Divine and Ferelden's leader by virtue of this game taking place in Northern Thedas, I don't think that would be possible (or satisfying) going forward. There will, as always, be some choices that we won't reference, but others are, I think, going to be required to tell a coherent story in the future. Focus, more than anything. We originally had a few areas in Minrathous but rather than spread our resources thinly across multiple areas, we chose to focus on Dock Town and make sure it felt coherent and cohesive, as well as doing our best to stamp out any bugs we found. If we ever revisit Minrathous (which I'd love to do), I think we'd spend more time in the other districts. Both Harding and Davrin have specific, non-quantum reasons for being willing to sacrifice everything to stop the gods. For Davrin, he saw Weisshaupt fall - and he had his own opportunity to heroically sacrifice himself taken away. For Harding, she's been on this quest for nearly a decade, and she saw Varric, her friend and mentor, fall. Neve/Lucanis could have worked in either slot but that multiplies the complexity even further - and Neve already was earmarked for the wards."

Q: "During development, did you plan for a cameo of any companion from previous games that ultimately got scrapped? If so, may I ask who? And on this topic, has an appearance of the Hero of Ferelden on the table at any point? Is there a reason they haven't appeared since Origins?"

Corinne: "Thank you so much for the kind words! Glad you enjoyed! While not a companion, for a long while Charter had a role in the game. Ultimately we felt this wasn't the best fit and decided to move away from her appearance. In some cases, the opposite was true, where we added former Companions. Bringing back Isabela was a relatively late call, but we did feel we had the right role for her to fill within the Lords of Fortune. I often think about the role the Hero of Ferelden might play. It's a challenging one due to the choices the player may have made, not to mention how we handle giving them a voice that matches player expectation given they were a silent protaganist. But I do think there is something there, and I would like to explore it, if we can find the right story to tell."

Q: "If an elf were to, say, exist in the Fade for an extended period of time, would they regain the elven magic (if not already a mage) and immortality? 👀 And if, hypothetically, they one day returned to the physical realm, would those qualities persist? (Tried to be as unspoil-y as possible!)"

John: "I think, at this point, no one really knows what's going to happen to an elf who spends an extended time in the Fade. In part because the Elves of today and the Elves of Solas' past are not really the same at all. But also, the Fade has changed since Solas was a spirit. So while he may have theories, he can't say anything for certain."

Q: "Throughout the game there are many hints at a new storyline involving the past of the Qun, The Devouring Storm, and the involvement of The Executors. In what capacity can we expect this new narrative thread to be explored (novels, comics, next game)?"

John: "I think that if these story elements aren't at the core of any new material, they're at the very least going to exist on the periphery. The story of the Evanuris is done - the gods are dead (or imprisoned) and Thedas is in a state of flux and uncertainty. I imagine that whatever happens next is going to be a surprise to everyone, including the people of Thedas."

Q: "I was wondering what happened to the forgotten one and why was he scared of the eye does that mean something or is it just him say that he is scared of going back into the fade"

John: "When Anaris is defeated, he's sent back to the Void. What's there isn't something anyone really knows, but if you read the other Codex entries scattered around Arlathan, it's clear that Anaris has touched something far darker and more dangerous than he expected, and now it has his scent, so to speak."

Q: "Compared to previous installments, Dragon Age: The Veilguard makes an effort to de-centralize the moral complexities of Thedas (i.e. the softening of the Antivan Crows, the lack of slavery seen in Tevinter, etc), instead focusing on choices based on character arcs instead of politics and/or morals. Is this shift an intentional one? If so, should we expect these kinds of character choices to be the new standard for Dragon Age games?"

John: "What worked for DATV isn't necessarily what's going to work for the future. Particularly with Thedas left in the state it's in - the balance of power has shifted dramatically. The South is suffering and the North isn't doing much better. Even those who may have forgotten past prejudices and put aside their differences in the name of stopping the gods are now being faced with a very different world than when they began this fight."

Q: "What other player choices from Inquisition and/or Origins & DA2 would you have liked to have implemented if you had more time and resources? Also, what characters would you have wanted to bring back?"

John: "Well of Sorrows. I think that's the biggest one - and we had some ideas for what we wanted to do with it. Unfortunately, making games is rarely a straight line endeavour, and some of the challenges we ran into required us to scrap that choice. I'd have liked to do more with the Divine as well, though with how little we touched on Andrasteism in this game I think it would've been a bigger challenge than expected. I think Fenris is the easy answer, but it's also the real one. Given his history, his relationship with Dorian and Mae could've been fun to explore, particularly depending on how you left him in DA2. That said, the challenge always does come down to 'quantum' - if a character could be dead, you can't make them load bearing, so they end up relegated to a cameo."

Q: "Is there a canon reason (maybe in some supplemental stories) that explains what happened to Fen'Harel's agents? Are some of the Dalish clans still working for Solas? What are the Arishok and the rest of the Qunari doing while the Antaam are conquering parts of Thedas? Does their absence in veilguard imply that they secretly approve of their actions or are planning on using them to their benefit? The faction of crows we interact with is very heroic and often puts aside their role as assassins in order to protect Treviso's citizens. Does their altruism create fiction between them and the other factions, who might see them as weaker or idealistic? What are some of the other factions like?"

John: "Solas' experience leading the rebellion against the Evanuris turned him against the idea of being a leader. You see it in the memories - the entire experience of being in charge ate at him and, ultimately, convinced him he needed to do this on his own. And his own motivations were very different from the motivations of those who wanted to follow him - he had no real regard for their lives or their goals. So at some point between Trespasser and DATV, he severed that connection with his 'followers' and went back to being a lone wolf. There are Dalish clans who are sympathetic to his goals, but even there, there's an understanding that he's too dangerous to have a more formal connection with, and that he will, ultimately, sacrifice them to his own ends if necessary. The Antaam no longer recognize the authority of the Arishok. Part of why they've split into warring factions of warlords is that they felt his adherence to the Qun (which he still adheres to, even now) was holding them back, so they organized what I'd describe as less of a coup and more of a 'choosing to ignore his orders' and launched their own attack on the mainland. Absolutely. I don't recall if this exchange made it into the final game, so apologies if not, but it's very clear that the faction of Crows you interact with is the 'idealists' of the bunch. The rest of the Crows, on the other hand, are far more pragmatic and willing to work with whoever emerges on top of the pile. Illario's far more representative of the average Antivan Crow than either Teia or Viago, and it's only Caterina that kept him in check this long."

Q: "What led to the player Quanari appearance compared to the Antaam, who look like Quanari from the previous game. Was it an armor modeling issue or just a design choice?"

Corinne: "To be honest, it's both. First let me say that when you have a character creator with the breadth of sliders and options for both head and body, that does create some constraints that you need to work within. We felt this was ultimately a good trade-off for the player, to ensure they could get the full range of face and body sliders that the other lineages were afforded. Also, we viewed the player-created Qunari as a continuation of the style of player-created Qunari in Dragon Age: Inquisition, which in both games, differ from some of the other forms of Qunari we've seen."

Q: "Having reviewed some of the game files, I'm curious about what the "dreamer" mechanics would've looked like? Would there have been dreamers on every map? Would it have just been a dialogue or would we have been able to see/experience the memories/dreams the dreamers are stuck in?"

Corinne: "We explored the idea of Dreamers at several points in developement. I believe the instance you're referring to was a mechanic in which you could encouter a Dreamer in the world, and then also encounter their corresponding consiousness in the Crossroads. We would have used this as a way to encourage a "back-and-forth" set of optional quests and mysteries to encourage exploration and discovery. Ultimately we abandoned the concept because mechanically the Crossroads Gates and corresponding Champions were providing a similar experience in driving the player from the Crossroads, out into the world, and then back to the Crossroads again."

Q: "The hair physics in the game are incredible. When did the studio commit to improving the hair options/physics, and was there any conversation/debate over that? Bad hair has been a staple of the franchise, so this was a delightful change to see."

Corinne: "Thank you so much! We heard the fans loud and clear, when it comes to character customization, that we needed to step up our hair game. This tech was something our engineers, character artists, and technical animators were all deeply passionate about (as you can tell!). So all of that combined it was a relatively early decision to invest in."

Q: "Some of the companions’ questlines left me craving more lore! For example, how did Valta end up as the Oracle and how does her gift differ from Harding’s? How did Zara manage to get Lucanis possessed as a rogue? Are there any other Forgotten Ones like Anaris actively trying to make their way back to the world? In short, might these questions be answered in the next Dragon Age game or additional media, or are they purposefully left open?"

Corinne: "I'm so glad these stories have their hooks in you! We have to leave some threads to tug on for future stories. ;-)"

Q: "(Spoilery question) Do elves or dwarves exist beyond Thedas?"

John: "That's a great question - and it's actually one that Bellara herself asks. I think 'what lies beyond the sea' is one of the most interesting spaces to explore in Dragon Age and whether the same people exist there is something that... well, I have some ideas, but I don't want to get into spoilers."

Q: "What happened to red lyrium? It feels like it was all but forgotten after DAI, even though it is blighted lyrium, and it felt like it would have made perfect sense to dig into its lore and workings a bit more since Ghilan'nain is the mother of the blight, and now knowing what the ancient elves did to the titans for lyrium.Red lyrium caused a lot of grief over the games that feels is just up in the air now, I'm curious if it was written out for the sake of a different narrative. Sortof connected to my previous question, if red lyrium is now not so significant in the lore/missing from it, why did the two gods need a specifically red lyrium dagger after losing Solas' purified red lyrium idol one? How does one purify something/someone of the blight itself?"

John: "Red lyrium is still present in DATV - it's how Ghilan'nain and Elgar'nan are able to craft their dagger, after all, and it ties directly into Harding's personal quest - but at a certain point it felt like it wasn't serving much of a purpose 'out in the world', so to speak, that the Blight wasn't already serving. It made a lot more sense in DAI, where you had the Red Templars who were directly using it to gain power, but without them in the picture, we chose to lighten the emphasis on it for DATV. Particularly in a game where the connection and threat of the Blight is so much more immediate, with the gods out in the world."

Q: "How did you get the hair physics to do all that?"

John: "A lot of tremendous work from character art, programming, tech art and tech animation. I'm sure I'm missing some groups but, yeah, the hair really is incredible. I've been on DA since DAO and I recall the (fair) critiques we got of our hair post-DAI. It was incredible to see it come together."

Q: "Where does Emmrich sleep? He’s the only one without a bed in his room lol"

John: "He sleeps standing up, like a horse."

Q: "which of the three/four endings do you find the most thematically satisfying? in regard to solas and/or rook (because i’m not sure the answer is the same for both!) & why isn’t rook invited to the book club?? sorry this is my villain origin story, why is my beloved emmrich enabling this social ostracism. does rook canonically hate to read?"

Corinne: "As a Solavellan, I personally love the Redeem ending with the Inquisitor/Solas romance variant. I cried my eyes out at the end of Trespasser, and now that they can finally be together to know the joys of their love makes me so happy."

John: "I'm a big fan of Outsmart, largely because I think there's something deeply satisfying in outsmarting someone who is very confident about their cleverness and spends a lot of the game reminding you of it. That said, I will admit that the Solavellan ending is deeply moving, even for someone who, at one point, wanted to fight Solas like a Yakuza boss. As for why Rook's not invited - it's entirely an attempt to avoid forcing roleplay on a character that may not fit your idea of Rook. Some people's Rooks may not have the connection to the team that would let the book club make complete sense. That said, I totally get why people wish their Rook could be involved."

Q: "TLDR: ll some classes be buffed? Iirc in an interview corinne (i think? I dont remember where or who), said shield toss got nerfed cuz it was waaaay too strong. Having playing the game now with pretty much all classes, will there be some balancing changes? I definetely dont want shield toss to be nerfed again, i love it soooo much, but its definetely waaaaaay above everything else i managed to build so far."

Corinne: "We're definitely monitoring class balance, and have generally taken the stance of "buff not nerf". That said, we're finding pretty good viability for all of the specializations, with the right supporting skills, gear, and companion builds. So in terms of priority that's lead us to largely focus on addressing properties on skills and gear that were not functioning as intended. I don't want to dismiss your feedback here though - I'll take a moment to dig deeper into our Veil Ranger data and see how those builds are comparing specifically. Glad you're enjoying the shield toss builds. That playstyle was definitely one that we were very excited about supporting!"

Q: "Why did Assan have to die with Davrin in the Ghilan'nain choice?"

Corinne: "Turlum is a powerful bond. There was simply no way Assan would have given up on Davrin so easily. Hope is a powerful force when it comes to the people you love, and sometimes we risk everything for it."

Q: "Something that has me confused. When Bellara/Neve are blighted but help use the blight to stop Elgarnan and at the end when all the blight in the area died and they were cured of the blight. How did they get cured? Is the blight itself now curable? Also, how did Solas manage to cure the red lyrium idol of the blight so he could have it back to it being the normal lyroum dagger?"

John: "When Solas bound himself (or, depending on your ending, was forcibly bound) to the Veil, it severed the connection that the Blight had to the waking world. The reality is that the Veil has been leaking ever since the Magisters first entered the Black City, and the dreams of the Titans gave it its terrible and awesome power. Now that the Veil is fully repaired, the Blight lacks that motive force, and being so close to the epicenter of that change has stripped the Blight in Minrathous of its vitality. It's calcified now - dead - and Bellara/Neve no longer suffer its effects. If they'd been anywhere else, further from that epicenter, it would've likely been different and they still would be looking for a cure. But without that power behind it, it's less dangerous and deadly than it's ever been before. So while it isn't generally 'curable', it's less of a short-term death sentence than it has been previously. As for how Solas cleansed the idol - another ritual. This one was much smaller scale, but a lot more dangerous."

Q: "What lead you to the decision to step away from active conversations with the companions as in previous Bioware games, where you can initiate them at any moment and ask exhaustive questions?"

John: "For us, because of tech limitations, it became a choice between exhaustive investigate conversations, or letting the companions move more freely around the Lighthouse. With the kind of experience we were going for, one where seeing the team grow around you is paramount, we felt that seeing them interact in common spaces (and in each other's rooms) made more sense."

Q: "I have just one very important question: what are your thoughts on Solas and Rook as a pairing? Their chemistry and interactions were a highlight in the game for me personally and I need to be able to sass and then kiss that egghead."

Corinne: "Oh gosh, you and me both! I'm not sure any of us could have anticipated how notable that chemistry turned out. And what excites me is how this relationship is something that could be developed even further."

Q: "I was wondering if it would be possible to see Cassandra in Nevarra interacting with Emmerich or Zevran in Antiva interacting with Lucanis? I understand that there a danger of turning any game into a cameo fest that would only appeal to old school fans but I did miss them. Especially as we had Isabella and Dorian in Rivain and Tevinter. To make the question a little more general what are the chances of seeing pre veilguard companions in any future iteration of dragonage?"

John: "I think the joy of the kind of 'fresh start' that the end of The Veilguard gives us is that, if we do make another game, we're no longer spending so much of the early game not only onboarding players into a new story, but also onboarding some of them (namely, those who didn't play DAI or don't remember it) into the story that leads up to this story. And part of what that allows you is more opportunity for returning characters who are meaningful, because their past is less likely to be narratively load bearing to the story. People who recognize them will have a moment of recollection, and people who don't won't be any more confused by the experience."

Q: "How did Jowin achieve the rank of First Warden? Was he ever deserving of the kind of respect Davrin seemed to have for him?"

John: "By the time you meet Jowin in DATV, he's become a political creature more than anything else. Which makes sense - after what happened to the Order in Origins, I think there was an internal realization that they had to spend more time making nice with the leaders of the various countries so no one would ever do to them again what Loghain did back then. But he didn't get that position entirely due to his connections. He was a fearsome warrior and a brave Warden in his own right, saving people and winning against impossible odds time and time again. He's older, though, and is still fighting the last war in his mind. Internally, we always described him as the general who was a brilliant tactician back in his time, but war has changed so dramatically and he refuses to keep up. I think he was deserving of that respect, though - and if you choose to talk him down (which very few of you seem to have done) you'll get a glimpse of the man he used to be."

Q: "If Solas ritual succeeded, what would have happened to the elves? And to the human? The art book make it look like they just drop dead but solas dialogs don't seems to go in that direction"

John: "I think the reality is that even Solas couldn't properly answer that question. In his mind, there would be some pain and suffering, for sure, as everyone adjusted to the raw magic now pouring into the world and the demons everywhere, but eventually everyone would live surrounded by magic and possibility. Immortality would be possible as well, and you can't make a world saving omelette without breaking a few eggs. I also think Solas is a gifted liar to everyone, including himself. Deep down he knew that the ritual was going to result in large scale casualties, but he saw it as an acceptable price to pay to fix what he saw as his mistake."

Q: "Unlike the last game, there were 2 fewer Companions, a rouge, and a warrior less, if it was up to you what sort of characters would fill up those two spots? and also if you could have a character from earlier games temporarily join you for a single quest who would you choose? with the exception of Bioware games which RPG game is your favorite"

Corinne: "Oh gosh, well I'll answer some of questions 1 & 2 together... I would have loved to bring back Fenris, either as a cameo or to fill that Warrior slot. As for the Rogue role, I do think something akin to the Saboteur Specialization would have been an interesting style for a Companion. Favorite RPG outside of BioWare games, well I'll give you three in order: Baldur's Gate 3, then Xenogears, followed by FFXII."

Q: "What happens to the lighthouse and the crossroads after the end of the game? Do the Veiljumpers claim it?"

Corinne: "Good question! I actually daydream about this one a lot! Does Rook, assuming they survived, continue to reside there given what they'd been through with Solas? Is stewardship returned to the Elven people? One thing has always been true for me: The Lighthouse existing as it does is intrinsically linked to the Caretaker, and I doubt we've seen the last of them."

Q: "My questions are mainly centered around the game's lore. Dragon Age Veilguard seems to have established a very elf centric past for the world as well as the races populating the world. Current state of the Titans, the Blight, the Old Gods, and some other things I may be forgetting, they all have links and origins to the Evanuris and the rest of the elves. In future installments, can we hope for other races to get more attention with respect to this? Because right now, it feels that most of the biggest mysteries of the universe as well as circumstances leading to the present state of the world, are a result of the elves... T o me, the magic system in Veilguard felt very different from the other games in the series. When Bellara mentioned stuff like 'recalibrate the matrices', 'readjusting energy flow', etc., it felt more scifi than fantasy. None of the past Dragon Age games had this kind of talk and it felt too big a leap for going from Southern Thedas to the North, especially considering none of the Northern characters in past Dragon Age games spoke like this either. This was one of the few instances in the game that felt immersion breaking to me. Can you guys help reconcile Veilguard's magic system with the magic of the past games?"

John: "I do agree that the elves have had their place in the sun at this point. We're never going to stop telling stories about the elves, but I think there are plenty of interesting stories to tell in Thedas where the Evanuris are tertiary characters at most. I think that's a fair reaction, but I'll answer the question in two parts. First - Bellara assumes she knows everything about magic. She probably knows more about the way ELVEN magic works better than anyone else in the world who isn't an Evanuris - but that doesn't mean she actually knows how magic itself works. The thing about the Evanuris is that, ultimately, they were able to take a very specific type of magic and shape it into doing what they wanted. But even their understanding of magic was only skin deep. Bellara and Emmrich get into this a little bit in their banter, but so much of the rest of the world - the magic of death that the Mourn Watch wield, for example, or the magic of the deep Fade that Bellara feels when she does some of her experiments in the lighthouse - is not the same as Elven magic. Even the magic that Tevinter wields, the magic of the Southern mages, is different from what the Evanuris used. The magic of the Evanuris is powerful but it's sterile, and it's constrained. So while the Evanuris have made magic work in a way that's more predictable and understandable, it's not the only kind of magic out there, and even then, I'd say they understood it at a very surface level. People were confidently describing how the natural world worked back in the 16th century. Very few of them were right."

Q: "I need to know about companion approval! I understand how companion bond rank works as it is well explained and visible in-game, but I cannot seem to find a good explanation for approval. Are the two linked? What effect does approval/disapproval have in the game? Is there something I'm missing in-game where current approval level is visible and I just haven't found it yet? PS: Spellblade Supremacy"

Corinne: "Yes! They are linked! Approval does contribute a small-to-moderate amount of progress towards your Bond. Disapproval is a small negative, but it's important to note that your Bond cannot de-level. Overall however, the surest way to advance your Bond is by helping the Companions with their personal quests. Also, really glad you enjoyed Spellblade as much as we did! The gameplay team really outdid themselves with that Specialization."

Q: "I'm mostly wondering if/how the griffons can be saved as a species since there's only one surviving clutch. It seems like a lack of genetic diversity would doom them to re-extinction, but I'm hoping there's a lore-friendly way to overcome that."

John: "It's funny you say that because I keep thinking the exact same thing. I can't remember exactly how much genetic diversity you need to have to make a species viable but I am sure it's more than just the clutch of eggs you saved from the Gloom Howler. But in a setting with as much magic and mystery as Dragon Age, I think that's probably the least of the problems the Griffons are going to face going forward."

Q: "With the ending showing a cured Neve/Bellara is that implying that the Blight outside of the Fade has been cured? If so, do Wardens no longer hear the calling, and what does that mean for the Kal-Sharok dwarves? Especially curious about this since DA:I implied the HoF was searching for a cure to the calling. In the concept art book it seemed like there were plans to show us more of Minrathous/Tevinter than just Dock Town. Curious to know what changed and if we will ever have an opportunity to return to other areas of the city?"

John: "The Blight is forever changed. It's less perilous and less virulent than it was before, and whatever motive force was coming through the Veil to empower it at the end of the game has been severed. That said, it still exists in some form, and not everyone is going to be cured in the same way. Beyond that - the Wardens no longer hear the whisper of the Calling, but right at the edges of perception, they're hearing something. What is it? Great question. With how long this game's been in development, there are things that have come and gone over time as we shift the project's scope and direction from one type of game to another. Originally we did have more of Minrathous built out for the player, but we chose to focus on making Dock Town feel meaningfully full of content instead of creating more areas just to put nothing in them. I will say that, for me, I want to revisit Minrathous in the future. I don't think we gave it enough time and there are multiple other stories that can be told both in it and with it. Particularly with the way the game ends, its importance in the world has only gone up, as it's become the diplomatic hub of Thedas, and thus a place of even greater importance in the world."

Q: "Maybe someone else can answer this question but why does Mythal’s essence relieve Solas of his guilt in the romanced Inquisitor ending when in his memories, she’s objecting to what he’s doing? Since winged dragons are female, does that mean the Archdemons/Old Gods are female? I noticed they’re labeled as male on the wiki and was unsure if it’s not updated or Old God followers assumed or were told they were male. I understand if this might pose as a logistical nightmare but would the devs consider polyamorous and/or open relationships instead of monogamy if they haven’t already? Given how diverse sexuality is in Thedas, I’m surprised there aren’t more instances of poly/open relationships. I miss going to brothels too"

John: "People grow and change over time. Mythal's essence - and in particular, the fragment of her spirit that Morrigan carries, that she got from Flemeth - is not the same Mythal who he knew millennia ago. Centuries of living in this world and being around the kinds of people Flemeth found herself around - the Hero of Ferelden, Hawke, the Inquisitor - changed her views, and made her realize her own culpability in turning Solas into the kind of person he is now. Correct, all Archdemons are female. Elgar'nan, of course, doesn't really care what reality is, only what HIS reality is, and so he's quite happy to see Lusacan as simply being an extension of himself and, thus, male. Something about Elgar'nan that we only really show in the ending is that he is, in truth, just as scarred and blighted as Ghilan'nain, but he uses a portion of his magic to always look handsome and regal, because his ego really is that big. Polyamory is something we've talked about doing before, and it's something that I know the writing team was into, but rather than simply turning it into a 'you can have multiple romances' toggle we wanted to be sure we did it respectfully and properly."

Q: "Does Solas know about the Executors and will he ever appear again in future games (similar to Morrigan)? Was there ever a point that the Inquisitor was considered as the main or secondary protagonist for this game? It was interesting to have a person with no knowledge about Solas–a cunning, ancient elven god–try to track him down especially when that anonymity did not work in their favor anyway (Solas knew about Rook for a year prior to meeting). Was 'rook' initially an alias for the Inquisitor, which they'd utilize to stay under the radar in the north, away from Solas' agents eyes and able to track him down because they knew him well (ex-companion/friend/lover)? Like was this idea ever discussed at the table or suggested by writers but trunked for xyz reasons? Idon't know if Trick Weekes will see this but I just wanted to tell them thank you for writing Solas-- in a HEA ending, what do you think they're upto in the prison? (besides the obvious)"

John: "Solas knows more about the Executors than he's let on - in fact, he knows more about the Executors than any other living being, including the other Evanuris (though I suppose they're not technically living beings anymore). But even he isn't entirely sure what they're up to or who they actually are. Their paths have crossed before, though - beyond the Tevinter Nights story that they briefly show up in. As to whether he appears again - I think it's fair to say Solas' story is done, at least for now. Even back in early development, the protagonist for this game was always going to be someone other than the Inquisitor. I don't recall if, in those early days, we ever discussed the possibility of bringing them back - the struggle with having the same protagonist game after game is that you really do paint yourself into a corner. Either it becomes prohibitively expensive to account for branching, or you ultimately underserve the very people you're bringing them back for. Rook was always the protagonist, though in very early days Rook had a number of other potential monikers including Shrike and a number of other bird names that I do not remember."

Q: "Why aren’t the Tranquil ever mentioned or depicted in the game? Correct me if I’m wrong but I’m pretty sure the word tranquil isn’t used even once. Have they been retconned? During development was there ever a conversation about potentially including a Solas wins ending? Where he succeeds in tearing down the Veil either because you let him or because you fail to stop him? I know I’d be curious to see what Thedas would look like afterward."

John: "Tranquility still exists. While not unheard of in Tevinter, the reality is that it's a far more common punishment in Southern Thedas than it ever was in Tevinter. In Tevinter, in particular, it's used more of a tool of political vengeance - but generally, only against a mage who is utterly without allies or political power. All the Tevinter mages you encounter in DATV, including Maevaris, still have some clout and subjecting them to the rite would be a huge expenditure of political capital for very little gain. Better to leave them alive and stripped of their formal authority. We had a few conversations about some non-standard game over endings, actually - anywhere from 'player takes too long in the Prologue' to an out-and-out 'yeah you know what I think I'll help Solas' conversation choice early on. What we released in the game I'm happy with though, as there are already multiple different endings you can get depending on your choices in the game."

Q: "Any chance we're going to get any behind-the-scenes content? I CRAVE a high-quality video clip of Zach doing mocap for Assan."

Corinne: "You never know! We do enjoy sharing new content from the game on our social channels so follow along in case something pops up."

Q: "What was your favourite region/area to work on (whether that be writing quests, level design, or any aspect)?"

Corinne: "For me, it was definitely Arlathan Forest. The team had so much fun with the exploration, the environmental storytelling, and the strange magic manifesting in the area. In particular I remember the first time I saw people that had been twisted into trees showing up in the area, I was taken back by the inventiveness of the team in capturing that beauty in horror. I must say, I also found the sightlines in the area absolutely gorgeous. It was really fun to watch it develop."

Q: "What are these called? [link]"

John: "Tadpoles is the name we use internally."

Q: "are telemetry surprising you in any regard?"

Corinne: "The biggest surprise for me in the telemetry is that the Save Minrathous/Treviso choice is basically split 50/50. We were all anticipating that saving Treviso would be the clear winner, but I'm happy to see it's not so cut and dry."

Q: "Did you ever thought that players would be addicted to having Rook barrel through crates and chests? There should be an Achievement for non stop barrel rolls lol."

Corinne: "Oh 100% yes! In fact, originally wide-spread destructibles weren't really planned for as a part of the game. We found with our particular take on combat that it just felt reaaaally good to smash the few destructibles that we did have. I think I spent the better part of a year putting in constant requests to make more and more things smash and break apart - not to mention the ability to roll through them! I'm glad to see I'm not alone in my obsession. Let's go break things!!"

Q: "1) Was there any plan with Radonis during concept period? 2) What more about Neve's family can you share? 3) Is there a parallel in the way Solas sacrificed the world to restore the elven world and Celene burned Halamshiral to save Orlais from a civil war? (Trick Weekes p l e a s e)"

Corinne: "At one point we did toy with having Radonis make an actual appearance in the game. In fact, if Minrathous falls to the Venatori, we had discussed having his execution on display, but we ultimately chose not to pursue this."

John: "For Neve, I'll have to ask Neve's writer, as I don't recall off the top of my head. For the question about Solas - I think it's less a direct parallel and more that Dragon Age is a series where major players sometimes have to make incredibly difficult decisions that may NOT necessarily be the best decision, but it's the best for them at the time - true for both Solas and Celene."

Q: "I just want to know... do the other companions also think Davrin's a hunk? Do you think there are companions who were rooting for a Rook x Companion romance as it was happening?"

John: "I think the different companions have different relationships with Davrin. Bellara, for example, sees him as almost a big brother - someone who she has a unique connection that she doesn't share with the other companions. Neve sees him as a fellow professional, who hunts monsters in much the same way as she does, just that his monsters are a lot more literal. As for who's rooting for a romance - I think Bellara is just excited whenever people get together. She's a huge romantic and a believer in happy ever after, so she's going to fully support whoever of her friends get together."

Q: "Please humor my newfound Nevarran cuisine obsession - it seems, based on the menu at the Lords of Fortune bar, that Nevarra is majority vegetarian ("want it Nevarran-style? Ask to leave off the meat!" or something like that), and we know Emmrich is a vegetarian. But Emmrich also reveals his father was a poor butcher. So, my questions - Who is eating the meat produced by Nevarran butchers if Nevarra is vegetarian enough that other countries equate Nevarran = veggie? Do butchers largely cater to non-Nevarran immigrants or visitors? Are the Mortalitasi/Mourn Watch entirely vegetarian (would make sense, just because of being put off by being around corpses all day, and their reverence for said corpses)"

John: "While Nevarra is a primarily vegetarian country, that doesn't mean everyone who lives there is a vegetarian. Nevarra attracts plenty of students and scholars from around the world, given its unique connection to the Necropolis and the specific magic tutelage that the Mourn Watch offers. With that in mind, its cuisine is going to be pretty broad across a number of different cultures and regions - and for some of those cuisines, meat is absolutely a very big part of it."

Q: "My biggest question is this: if Solas had been released by Mythal before Inquisition started, would he have let go of his plan? Was service to her all that was motivating him? Or would he have decided to continue with his plan until the inquisition showed him that the modern world mattered?"

John: "The latter, I think. It took the confluence of everything that's happened to him in the time since he woke back up to get him to where he needed to be for the Redeem ending. Guilt and regret motivate Solas."

Q: "When I’m writing, I tend to listen to music that goes along with it. Did any of the Devs have songs they listened to that they felt tied into the game or the characters?"

John: "I can't speak to the other writers necessarily, but for Bellara I listened to a LOT of Aphex Twin. There's something about the ambient weirdness that really worked for me as I was writing her character (to the point that one of their songs is my most listened song in 2024)."

Q: "Are rivalry paths abandoned for Bioware games? What made you design approval/bond in a way that only goes up?"

Corinne: "Oh definitely not! Rivalry will continue to have a role when the story calls for it. In the case of Veilguard, we conceived of this threat being so large, that your companions would commit no matter the cost. This afforded us some unique opportunities, like being able to tie the progression of the Companions to your relationship with them."

Q: "What are you as a team most proud of and are there any plans for a NG+ Update ?"

Corinne: "Gosh, there are so many ways I could answer this. And I think the answer would differ depending on who on the team you were to ask. So let me just say this: The creation of any game of this scope, with a team this large, is kind of miraculous when you consider all the knowledge, coordination, discussion, and expertise required. So broadly speaking, what I'm most proud of is the way the team came together to pivot and be true to BioWare's roots of creating great single-player party-based RPGs, and delivered such quality and stablity. I'm also quite proud of how player-first the effort was; Everything from being Steam native, to no Denuvo, to no micro transactions. We mustn't take for granted what monumental task it was to make this happen. There are individual features and experiences that I know we are all proud of as well. The character creator, for example, was a really big one for us. We've long sought to put the control over player-characters in the hands of the fans, and this is the game where the team believes we've best done that. In fact, it was central to one of our creative pillars "Be who you want to be". As for NG+, that's something we discussed, but at this point we don't have any plans to support it."

Q: "Can you go into more detail of Spite’s role in Rook and Lucanis’s romance? Did you expect everyone to want to romance Vorgoth?"

John: "Spite gives Lucanis and Rook privacy whenever they're being intimate. This was, I'm sure you'll be surprised to hear, a consistent topic of discussion as we planned out some of our romance scenes - is Spite watching? But no, he wanders off and reads a book (or whatever demons do for fun). At this point I am not surprised about anyone y'all want to romance. Sentient fog bank? Sure"

Q: "Looking further, what parts of Thedas you personally want to explore more (regardless if that will or will not be implemented in the future games)? Maybe specific time periods?"

John: "I don't think it's any secret that I find the idea of 'what lies across the sea' to be fascinating. It shows up a lot in Bellara's content - what happened in the parts of the world that weren't Thedas? But Kal-Sharok is another place I'd love to spend more time in. It has a very unique relationship to dwarven culture, and particularly in a post-DATV world, it feels like it'd be super interesting to get more time with them."

Q: "What made you decide to remove greatswords as an option? It's one of The fantasy weapons. Why did you choose to have a "convergent" design, gameplay wise, of classes? What i mean is that all classes have a melee option, a "parry" of sorts, amd a ranged option, with warriors throwing a nonexistent shield when 2h. Usually, in an rpg, different classes have different capabilities and limits, to make them feel more diverse. What made you choose otherwise?"

Corinne: "Originally when we concieved the 2-handed weapon stance for Warrior we did want to include Greatswords. We moved away from it largely because the movement set when swinging a large blade diverges quite a bit from what you'd see with an axe or a hammer. Ultimately we felt, given the number of bespoke animations and transitions it would take, that the time is better invested in other areas of the experience. Regarding the classes, we opted for a unified control scheme and baseline set of actions each could take (e.g. every class having a ranged attack for example) for several reasons: 1. In knowing that each class has a similar core set of actions, it allowed to better design the encounters, levels, and missions with a greater level of variety. If Warrior, for example, had no ranged attack, a large number of the missions would have much more egregious constraints on what we expect the player to do. 2. It allowed us significantly more space to play with the types of builds and breath of the skill tree. We're all very proud of how this played out in practice, and in our view created a high degree of divergence. 3. Given the real-time nature of the gameplay, it's a benefit to lean into the muscle memory the players have already established on prior playthroughs"

Q: "Hi I'm non-binary and the ability to be non-binary in this game was really special and made me feel seen in a way no game has before. In addition---TAASH! "NUFF SAID. Love em! My question is: how did you get so much past censors in 2024? How did you deal with localization? Was EA supportive of the push for more representation? Do you think we can see more diverse companions like Taash and our own player character in the future in Bioware games? I am a little worried about the backlash to Taash and the player character, especially right now. It is scary to think about going backwards after you've just achieved this amazing thing for video games. Thank you so much for making me feel so loved playing a video game, this game gives me so much hope and joy for being a trans gamer and nerd and person. I know there's a lot of hate but for me it means the world."

Corinne: "I'm so glad Taash meant so much to you, and so many others! There are two mantras we often refer to within the team: 1. We believe stories are better when they reflect a large variety of relatable experiences. 2. Games can be a reflection of the teams that make them. Taash's journey and support we had in bringing it to life, was something everyone on the team wanted to do and was invested in. It was a story and experience we wanted to tell that made sense in this time and place. I wont lie, it wasn't easy. This is a delicate subject, deserving of respect, that is deeply personal to so many. We didn't want to mess it up, especially for those it would mean the most to. We were fortunate to have a lot of support through internal and external partners to ensure we were handling this story with care, and of course the talented writing and experience of Trick Weekes. It lead to a lot of edits, localization challenges, and some rewrites. But as the old adage goes, nothing worth having comes easy."

Q: "If Solas is bald because the ancient elves just go bald during their immortal lifespans, then why does Elgar’nan have hair?"

John: "I think maybe it's more accurate to say that Solas lost hair because of stress. Elgar'nan, on the other hand, doesn't feel stress - he makes other people feel stress. And, honestly, Elgar'nan is incredibly vain. Something that doesn't show up until the end game is that he's also very vain. The reason he doesn't look blighted and corrupted throughout the game is he uses a portion of his magic to remain looking the way he does."

Q: "In the DAI trespasser DLC elves saw the crossroads different from the other races. Why was that not the case in this game?"

John: "The Caretaker gets into it a little bit, but while the Crossroads in Trespasser were 'peaceful', the Crossroads in DATV are under assault by the gods."

Q: "If you could start DAI or DATV again, what would you change/add/remove? Could you share with us the most emotionally difficult moment to achieve in DATV? And the easiest? Favorite moment?"

Corinne: "One of the most difficult moments to land was actually the prologue. It sets up a lot of context for the player, and evokes a lot of big feelings. We did many revisions on it before we found the right balance of pacing, information, and tension. In my experience, prologues always are among your most reworked content"

John: "Absolutely the Varric twist. There's always a balance of trying to leave hints for the players while not having them guess the ultimate end game of it, and it's INCREDIBLY hard to make that judgment yourself, because you KNOW what's coming, and all you can see is 'how could anyone NOT get that this is coming?' But I'm happy with how it was received and how it landed. The actual conversation with Varric at the end, though - that one was a gut punch."

Q: "So… does Bianca know?"

John: "Yeah. Harding would have gotten word to her."

Q: "I'm curious to know two things, both Solas related: -What happened to his followers? Presumably they weren't /just/ following him and were on board with the revolution that he represented. -What was his plan past making a new prison and transferring the two Evanuris? It sounds like still an eventual tearing down of the Veil but how was he actually mitigating the risks across Thedas? (Presumably with that network of followers)"

John: "Essentially that. Keep the Evanuris imprisoned, tear down the Veil, and then Solas was CERTAIN everything would get better, even if some people had to, tragically, die. One of Solas' defining characteristics, of course, is that he overestimates how successful his plans are going to be (if you listen carefully to the argument between Solas and Varric in the prologue, Varric makes this exact point - everything Solas has tried ended in disaster, so why wouldn't this as well?) As to mitigating the risks - he had a few things going on, but as to how effective they would've been, I think it's safe to say that it wouldn't have worked as well as he'd hoped."

Conclusion: "We've answered everything we can for now, thank you all so much for your questions and the love for Dragon Age!"

[source]

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strawberryvanillafrosting · 1 year ago

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success life story ♡

heyy i'm here to share about my success story, the beginning is only before i started manifesting and about when i just started, all my success are on the very end of the blog, so feel free to skip directly at it if you're not interest by all the rambling !

have a good read ☆

michiko is so pretty, i've literally been told so many times i looked liker <3

the old story that i don’t live in anymore

okay so before i didn’t hate my life, at all, but i just found very dull and so poor of entertaining like it was just too fucking regular and repetitive.also a bit depressing. i thought of myself of such an unlucky girl before and i was like affirming all the fucking time that i was unlucky and guess what? everything really used to go the way i didn’t want it to go every single damn time and i’d be like i knew it im so unlucky boo-hoo.

same for the money i would just go every single fucking day rambling to my friends how poor i was and how i wanted money so bad and the same story every single fucking for days, weeks, months.

i really wanted a new appartement and my own room cause i used to share same room as my sister and it really was getting on my nerves, i had no privacy and place for myself. the apartment was small, my mum always kept complaining about it and then she would argue about my dad about it but the reason why we couldn’t move out despite trying for several months was cause my dad had whole lotta debts and my mom had a really low paying and hard job she was exhausted and, it was quiet hard to see them being this unhappy and they still tried their hardest to make us happy so i really wanted to get back at them.

about social life i had very few friends and barely went out, i'd say probably one time a month. and i really wanted to get that life of the party, and those big ass friends group and also i was crazy desperate about having black friends cause i am black and literally the only black out here without none of black friends and i felt pretty left out like wtf am i the only black girl with no black friends cause all of them (that's so dumb tho.. ) were friends and gets invited to the most fun hangouts and i was embarrassingly jealous of that and also complained a lot about it…and kept asking tf was wrong with me.

STRONGLY on this one : i wanted a relationship so bad and i kept hating and being sad to those couple on tiktok’s. one time i actually cried cuz i wanted a boys’s love so bad like i was craving it so bad. i was in such despair state before..cringy ahh ☠️

i used to be rlly insecure about my looks too even tho at some moments i felt more confident, i kept comparing myself and waisting dozens of minutes enumerating my "flaws ". i knew about manifestation but not really about law of assumption , for me manifesting was really all about listening to subliminals, method and scripting. we all once knew that phase yeah? i used to manifest from time to time but then would just give up again,since i was not seeing results and so on. so useful wow.and then there’s the others things like mediocre grades, poor family health, just constant tiredness and fatigue feeling,

tw : mention of being depressed,sh,ed, : felt empty like life had absolutely no meaning, suicidal thoughts, tried to end by over-consumption of medication, self-harm and bulimia, constant complaining and NEGATIVE ONLY mindset.

but now, NOW i tell you ever single thing i’ve just listed changed completely like every single damn thing i’ve just listed is no more, it’s out of the date, dead, buried and no longer existing !

it clicked

then at some point at my life i was just like. yk what? fuck i just wanna change it all. then i really like really got into it all over again and for good. no more 1 week i try then giving up cause i ain’t seeing no « results ».

i watched hours and hours of ppl talking about loa (i’m not saying you should do this at all it’s just that i was very under-informed and wanted to know everything about loa)on youtube, shoutout to rita kaminski and hyler who really put me into it and informed me. then i started reading neville’s pdf books, and tumblr blogs, kinda overconsuming but i liked getting myself informed.

and then that’s where everything started and that i got aware of all the power i actually hold. all the things i actually can do just cause of my mind. i wrote down all my wishes in present tense ,like every single aspect i wanted to change/have in my life. and i started fully living in the end like really got myself into and at first of course, wavering from time to time in the beginning. it was pretty easy for me since i was used to manifestation.but what i didn’t do before is persist no matter what and that’s what was really tricky for me in the beginning to persist no matter what and not just give up to bullshit 3D. but when i kept moving forward no matter the 3D and made it facts the only my 4D matters and everything has already happened, ALL and every single wish down to the last one flowed into my life. ONE by ONE every single hour of the day i would get my manifestations down to the last letter i wrote in my notes.every single thing

success storyy

in a matter of few weeks like really 3 week-ish like- 1 month max.

starting off LUCK i’m extremely lucky now every single time i play gambling activities i win. i’ve won insane amounts at scratch cards i think i’ve won in total more than 5’000$. JUST FROM SCRATCH CARDS.and before i started i NEVER EVER WON. now whenever i play there’s not one time that i’ll win absolutely nothing even just a small prize

won huge lottery prize (from 200 to 12k the biggest i’ve won yet)

winning a gambling games, either online or dice rolling luck,bets, bingos etc.. its literally insane every one keep telling that i literally has got god’s blessing (i’m the god guys🥰)

financially freedom, my parents upgraded jobs and i’ve got lots of incomes + the money my parents give me

all the debts my dad had, he got rid of ALL of them and when i tell you mf had a lot of em☠️

move out in a new huge ass condo which is a duplex (like really like i wrote it it’s actually scary how powerful we are..) I’VE FINALLY GOT MY OWN ROOM and we’re getting my desired furnitures and decorating the house i’m so grateful

friends and popularity i think biggest shock for me is really this. like my social life has gone from very paisible to completely fully booked and passioning life. like seriously i’ve been to more parties, concerts, birthdays, and hangouts during the last 2 weeks holidays than in my entire life

got lot of new friends, healthy relationships and quality time passed on lots of fun activities and sm memories

black groups friend. WITH AN S.so thankful to myself to be this good a manifestation i litteraly got into a black friend group of girls and i’ve never felt more at my place and understood this much. and these girls know the black group boys (when i tell you that 2y ago they were the person that i wanted to be close with so bad..also they’re really hot and funny lol)so we hung out with them and i was literally so highlighted and became pretty much friends with all of them !!

my man. HELLO I LITERALLY MANIFESTED MY DREAM RELATIONSHIP? when i met him i didn’t actually realize right on the spot that he was exactly how i wanted him to be and reading back to when i scripted out all the things i wanted at the beginning, everything matched. he’s literally physically and mentally the man of my dream LIKE REALLY. we’re no bf and gf YET cause it’s just a little soon but we see each others super often and we have the best relationship ever i swear it’s giving wattpad. the flirting is crazyyy.

dream bod.from head to toe my desired body. heavy on the lower body all for that azz and wide hips.ive got smooth and clear skin and smell good all the time!! litteraly flawless face + got my braces which suits so much and dimples

plenty of vacations (went to ibiza, usa and dubai )

lenient parents they use to be so strict before i swear its crazy they let me go so easily now, i can hangout without asking 3 days ,like they accept even if i've gotta go in the next hour or if wanna go on trip that's in another country. i can come back home so much later too

attractive & magnetic aura + being really charismatic (everyone i met keep telling me i’ve got this thing that really makes them want me, get closer to me)

good grades without doing much

perfect self-concept - as i kept living 24/7 in the state of wish fulfilled, my self concept only got better making me really know what i’m worth and never wavering/ going back to the old story

whole ass pc set up

all of my desired skincare/makeups/shoes/clothes

and so much more...

outro

i hope y'all liked my blog and that it motivated some of you to NEVER GIVE UP cause y'all are reallyy some powerful mfs and y'all already got all of yours desires !!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ honey kisses, shayama

#manifesting #law of assumption #sucess story #loa success #loa blog #loassumption #neville goddard #self concept #nondualism #void state #state of the wish fullfilled

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kingdomaddiction · 6 months ago

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I've been thinking in a Cumplane friendship idea.--

You see, everyone seems to believe SQQ and SQH can't stand each other. Quite the opposite, really. When it's only the two of them they don't feel the need to keep up the pretence. It's so easy to relax, to put the mask aside.

They aren't peak lords nor cultivators. They're just two dudes in their mid tweenties trying to survive in this forsaken world.

SY knows he might not be the kindest nor the most loving of friends, (he spent so many years alone in a cold, hospital room, he's not good at socializing) but he does care for Airplane. A lot. He will never say it out loud because it's embarrasing but that stupid author is his best friend.

So, that's why when the news of Qinghua's disappearance finally reach him (two weeks, it took two full weeks before someone decided to tell him--- )they absolutely destroys him.

He seems calm at fisrt. Not truly procesing the news. LBG makes a few comments about something Mobei told him (you fucking knew and didn't tell me, how dare you, husband?! )

Gone, SQH? No, that's dumb. He couldn't be gone. He's a peak lord, he has responsabilities, a bunch of little ones to teach. He even takes care of the north. And most importantly why would he leave Mobei? It makes no sense, not fucking sense.

SQH wouldn't leave like that. He... he wouldn't leave SY behind.

He can feel sob building up in his throat. That... stupid, idiot--HACK AUTHOR!

His crying fit is so strong and sudden that sends LBG and his whole demon staff into a panic.

"Shizun?!" He says looking for visible injuries-

"Don't touch me!" He screams and LBG looks at him with hurt.

"Husband? Have... have this disciple done something wrong?"

SQQ just turns and walks to his chambers ordering LBG not to follow him. His husband is left feeling distressed and cries for very different reasons.

Later that night they talk. SQQ feeling tired and sad finally calls for his husband to comfort him. He explains to him why he is angry at him and LBG apologizes.

"This one thought you hated Shang-shibo and that Shizun wouldn't care about his dissapereance." He says in a small, careful voice. "Mobei jun came to the palace days ago to beg for help in his search... "

"You turned him away... " SY says, sounding very tired.

"Yes. But this husband will make it right, Shizun. I will find your friend for you, promise."

SY sighs and hugs his husband, hiding his face in his chest.

Idk 'm all over the place but the idea is that the system is glitching and took SQH and is kind of keeping him hostage? Like, in between worlds. Not the mordern universe, not PIDW.

I imagine LBG having a very hard time accepting his shizun worries and loves others and not just him (??? why??? I'm more than enough you need NO ONE else shizun). He's too possesive and would like very much just to lock his shizun away, but that would break him and he never wants to see him cry like that ever again. Even if that means he has to share his attention.

MBJ is very broken in this one fiding himself lost without SQH. they had just finally stablished their relationship so he's between angry and scared. Also his trust and loyalty to LBG has taken a blown since he refused to help him find his lover. Didn't he help LBG when everyone turned his back on him as he clinged to his dead shizun's body?

While they work together (before they can even figure out where sqh is) LBG slowly realizes he might have fucked up a bit and ??? misses Mobei ??? are they friends???!!

SY tries his fucking best to keep it together. Really, he loves Binghe but that man can be so dense.

They find where SQH is being kept. The place is like a limbo. Cold, and vast where no time passes. In order to get him back LBG, MBJ and SQQ work together to reforge Xin Mo and travel there. There's a cool fighting montage, tears, hugs and everyone is happy at the end

Yeah that's all i got so far. I'll be going back to work now--

#mobei jun #shang qinghua #svsss #svsss mobei jun #svsss shang qinghua #svsss luo binghe #mxtx svsss #shen yuan #svsss shen qingqiu #svsss shen yuan #bingqiu #moshang #missing qinghua au #king writes #cumplane friendship

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sanguineterrain · 1 year ago

Note

Hi Sanne! I'm not sure if requests are open, but if you're up to it I'd like to request red hood x reporter! Maybe reporter reader is getting too close to a case and is starting to become a target and hood takes her protection into his own hands? ((Including lots of midnight rendezvous and rooftop bump ins))

i love this prompt sm! i've been thinking about a reporter reader ever since i read task force z :) thanks for requesting!

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: reader is attacked (but they're okay), guns, violence, fighting, jason being both a force to be reckoned with and a big softie. 2.5k words

****

"I don't need protection."

The Red Hood crosses his arms. You cross yours right back.

"Yes, you do," he says.

"No, I don't. I've lived in Gotham my whole life. I can take care of myself."

"Living around and being in the thick of violence are very different. You're already chasing this story; they will come after you."

And what a story it is. The story of the decade, at the very least. A task force of formerly-dead Arkham patients wielded against Gotham by a mysterious benefactor.

It's terrifying. It's dangerous. It's sure to win you your first Pulitzer.

And it all means absolutely nothing if the Red Hood keeps wrapping you in red tape.

Your jaw ticks. "This is my story, Hood. You can't turn it in, so I will. And I won't be scared off by some slimeball."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't even have known about this story if it wasn't for me, smarty."

Smarty. His favorite moniker for you because, according to him, you think you know everything.

Working with the Red Hood has been an unfortunate side effect of chasing your prize-winning story. Not only is he wanted in twenty-six countries (you Googled it) and is a ruthless crime lord (supposedly formerly, but you're doubtful), but worst of all, he's got an attitude to match yours.

He's also built like a tank, which is why you can't just. Outrun him.

"I can't just not publish the story," you say.

"I don't want to stop you from publishing the story. Hence the protection."

"I can't afford a bodyguard."

"Well, it's a good thing I already paid my rent this month."

You scoff. "The Gotham Gazette has a strict 'no armed and dangerous' policy. I'm afraid we all have to leave our gun-toting vigilantes at home."

You open the driver's door of your car, ready to end the conversation here and now. Hood calmly closes the door with his hip and leans.

You glare. "Get off of my car."

"Fact." He holds up a finger. "These kinds of people always strike before the story comes out. They know you're scared and stressed, and they wanna do it before the story gets out. Otherwise, it's obvious who killed who."

"And where did you read this fact? Crime Lord's Digest? We don't even know if they know I'm the reporter who broke into the lab."

"Listen, smarty, I've been in this game a lot longer than you. I know how they operate," he says, finally getting off of your car, only to lean on the hood. Jerk. "It's only a matter of time before whoever's behind this snuffs you out."

"I am not letting a wanted criminal nest in my apartment!"

"That's why I'd be there."

"I was talking about you, Hood."

"Funny."

"I'm not joking. Look, I appreciate your... help." You try not to show your exasperation. "But there's no way I'm inviting you over to my apartment. That'll set off more alarms. If anything happens, I'll call you. Until then, stay away. Deal?"

Hood looks you over.

"Hm. You're awfully comfortable with giving me orders, smarty."

Your adrenaline spikes for a second. But it quickly calms. You've worked with Hood for a month now. Sure, you were petrified the first week, but it quickly dissipated. You've fallen into an odd camaraderie with him.

It's actually kind of nice, having him on your side. No one at the Gazette gives you the time of day. You've become used to having a partner. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"You take orders so well, I can't help but dole them out," you say, only a little smirky.

"Watch it," Hood rumbles, only half-serious. Probably.

You beam and wrench open your car door, sliding into the seat.

"See?" you say, turning the ignition. "No snipers waiting to take me out. I'll be fine."

He shakes his head and slides off the hood. "Ten bucks says they'll try by the end of the week."

You close your door. "You're on."

****

As it turns out, Hood doesn't need the end of the week to earn his tenner. Trouble breaks down your door the very same night.

You're on your couch with some well-earned Lebanese takeout when your door is ripped off of your hinges. You shoot up from the couch, chest immediately tight.

Your assailant is masked and isn't that typical, giving masked men everywhere a bad name.

You run to the kitchen, hoping you can grab a knife. But you're grabbed before you can get there. You slip on the carpet and trip further into your assailant's arms.

"Keep still so I won't make a mess," is all he says.

You start screaming. He covers your mouth and you bite his hand. That earns you a thump on your cheek, so hard your vision blurs.

Bang!

You freeze, expecting the warm drip of blood and the excruciating pain to accompany it. Instead, your assailant falls to the floor, clutching his ribs. You stumble backwards and see Hood at your door, gun still aimed. He stalks over and kicks the assailant in the chest as he does. The assailant groans.

"You okay?"

You're still staring at the man who very nearly killed you a minute ago. Blood roars in your ears. You think you might be close to fainting.

"Hey." Big, gloved hands hold your face. You flinch and hold the owner's wrists. Hood comes into view once more.

"Are you okay?" he asks firmly. "Look at me, look at me, sweet. Breathe. 'S okay. Does anything hurt? Did he—"

Hood cuts himself off as he touches your cheek, where you were hit. He lightly runs a thumb over what is probably a budding bruise.

Hood lets you go and whirls onto your attacker. He hauls him up and presses a gun to his stomach.

"Go ahead, shoot me!" the attacker shouts.

"If I shoot you, it won't be out of mercy. You won't get a quick death. You don't deserve it," Hood snarls, and you suddenly remember all of your good reasons for fearing the Red Hood.

"I ain't telling ya shit!"

"I don't expect you to," Hood says, and fires again.

The man crumples to the ground, but he's clearly still breathing. Still alive. Hood drags him to the door by his collar.

"You go back to your boss. And you tell 'em that they're fucking with the Red Hood now. And, in case I'm not being perfectly fucking clear through all that blood loss—" Hood grabs the man by his hair and wrenches his head back. "If you come for my reporter again, you'll wish I was kind enough to put a bullet in your head."

Hood hauls your attacker outside. You hear a car start a minute later, and it tears down the street.

You look at your guardian angel, spattered in blood.

Not nearly as much blood as I expected, you think manically.

Your body aches and shakes with adrenaline. You can't even get enough control to move to the couch.

"How–how did you get here so fast?" you ask, staring at your now cracked coffee table.

"I've been monitoring your apartment since you got home. One of the traffic cameras picked up a stolen vehicle turning onto your block, so I came here."

You look at Hood. He seems very collected, all things considered.

"You—how did you find my apartment? Have you been stalking me?"

"Please. Lend me a little credit, smarty. I don't need to stalk you to find where you live," he says, holstering his gun.

"Are you insane?!" you burst. "That is such a gross invasion of privacy! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hood looks at you.

"What's wrong with me is I just saved your life," he says evenly. "And on that note, you owe me ten bucks. Maybe even fifteen, considering it took less than a day for them to do exactly what I said they would."

Your lip wobbles. You don't know what triggers it; maybe it's your scratched up door or torn sofa or the fact that the Red Hood is in your living room right now with blood on his suit.

The tears form quickly. You can't stop them.

You cover your face but a sob claws out of your throat. Soon, you fall into big, heaving cries.

"Whoa, hey." The floorboards creak under Hood's unsure footsteps. "Hey, I didn't mean that. Shit. I was just kidding about the bet part. Aw, don't cry, smarty."

A hand lightly touches your shoulder. You lean in, but don't dare to initiate more contact. So Hood eases you into a side hug, awkwardly patting your other arm. He's extremely warm and solid with muscle, but his chest is soft enough to rest your head on. He unclips his holster so it doesn't dig into your body.

"I was just kidding," Hood says quietly in your ear. He rubs your arm. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make y'cry."

You sniff and shake your head. "No, it–it's not that, I'm just—God, I'm t-terrified, Hood. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? They're gonna kill me! I'm gonna die before I win my first Pulitzer!"

You try to suck in deep breath but it's not working. Hood leads your unsteady feet to the couch. You sit, fingers gripping his jacket. Hood carefully loosens your grip.

"They're not gonna kill ya, smarty. I won't let 'em. C'mon, let's have a seat. Where's your kitchen?"

You point, lashes still thick with tears. Hood leaves and returns shortly. A glass of water is held to your lips. You drink it, breathing stilted.

"'S okay. Take it easy. Breathe. That's right."

You swallow half of the water, and he sets the glass down on the coffee table. Hood hands you a wad of tissues.

"This is pathetic," you say, wiping your tears. "Can't believe I'm being nursed by the Red Hood."

"I think nursed is a strong word. But it's more than I usually do for my informants. Then again, they don't usually burst into tears."

"Don't make fun of me. I'm fragile."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Hood says, gentler than you've ever heard him. He puts the tissues aside and rests a hand on your shoulder. You turn into it, appreciative of the weight. "You handled this better than most people would. You didn't even pass out. Hell, I've passed out."

You're sure that Hood is leaving out important details behind that anecdote, like fighting off a hundred men or being swallowed by a whale beforehand. You're grateful nonetheless.

You turn to him, fresh tears in your eyes. "They're gonna kill me, Red."

He shakes his head. "No. Listen to me. Nobody is gonna do anything to you, okay? I'm not gonna let 'em hurt you, smarty pie."

"That's an impossible promise," you say. "One of these days, something will happen. You can't be everywhere at once. Especially not while I'm at home."

Hood tilts his head. "Well..."

"Well, what?"

He rubs his throat. An old injury, he'd once told you. The pain flares up sometimes.

"I could call in a favor. Get you into a safehouse."

"You would do that for me?" you ask. You probably shouldn't ask. Shouldn't look a generous vigilante in the mouth. But you can't help it.

"I can't very well publish the story myself, can I?"

You shrug. "I doubt that. You have your ways. Once you have the evidence, you don't need me."

"That's not true," Hood says fiercely. "I do need you."

Your eyes widen. Hood fumbles for a moment.

"That—I mean for the case. Obviously. I don't have any journalistic links besides you. And I wouldn't want the story to fall into the wrong hands."

"Oh." You have a strong urge to wrap your arms around him. Weird. "Well, um, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet. It'll take me a few days to get the safehouse," he says.

You deflate. "Oh. So I have to stay here until then?"

Hood is quiet for a long time. So long, you briefly revisit your original theory that the Red Hood is actually an AI remotely controlled by a billionaire.

"Hood?"

You reach to touch him. He flinches, a tiny movement. You immediately draw back.

Nope. Still a man.

"Sorry," he says, hand slipping from your shoulder. "I was, uh, going over options. No, your place is toast until we find whoever's behind this. But, um, it would be possible for you to—if you want to, 'cause if you don't, y'know, I understand, but I—it would be doable for you to, uh, stay with me. Until I get the safehouse."

"Stay... in your apartment?"

"'S not far from here. And it's a hell of a lot better protected than your place. And, y'know, I'd be there most of the time, so like..." Hood clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. It'd be safe. I promise."

"I wouldn't want to impose," you say, nervously scratching your arm.

"Mm. If you're scared of staying with me, y'can just say so. I won't take it personal."

He does kind of sound like he's taking it personally.

"No, Hood, it's not that. I don't... I'm not afraid of you. That, uh, went away a while back," you say. "I just... I don't want to burden you. After all, it's your space."

He makes a sound that tells you he's rolling his eyes behind his helmet.

"Saving your life is important, smarty. Why you don't think so, I'll never know."

You make a soft, pleased sound. "Got a real bleeding heart there, Red."

He sighs. "Yeah. I'm working on it."

You grin. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Part of the job. If you don't wanna stay with me, I could..." Hood hesitates. "With your permission... I could get the Bats involved. Ask one of them to house you."

"You mean Batman?"

Hood grunts. "Preferably anyone but him, but yeah, if it comes to that. He'll probably get involved anyway. Fuckin' busybody."

"The Bats would protect me? But they don't know me."

"Don't matter. If I asked them to, they would. If that's something you want."

You think. Is it something you want?

Sure, any reasonable person would prefer Nightwing or Batman to protect them.

"I don't want to stay with them," you say. "I'd rather stay with you."

He jerks like you've told him the sky is falling.

"You do?" he asks.

"Well, yeah. I know you, Red. And I know you'll keep me safe."

"At any cost," he says.

That simultaneously frightens and thrills you.

"Then I'd like to go home with you," you say. "If you'll have me."

"'Course, smarty. Anything to keep you safe. Go pack some stuff. I'll be out here. You're okay?"

"I'm okay." You stand and turn before he can see what he does to you.

Yes, it's an odd thing, being partners with the Red Hood.

You're starting to fear that you can't have it any other way.

(pt 2)

#jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood x you #Red Hood fanfiction #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #Red Hood imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #dc imagine #Jason todd x gn reader #inbox #blurb

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mintmatcha · 1 year ago

Text

one, two, and....

Hanamaki x reader x Matsukawa

cw: cisfem reader, threesome, PIV sex, squirting

a/n: I've been working on this forever and I think it's time to release it into the world. Originally it was supposed to have three different endings to choose from, so maybe one day I'll release the Snyder Cut With all three lol!

"I've been thinking of starting an OnlyFans."

You and Makki turn to your friend, sharing identical blank expressions. Mattsun doesn't crack a smile, eyes never leaving the television screen. With a few swipes of his thumbs, the dark-haired man has knocked your video game character off of the map with absolutely no mercy, forcing you to half heartedly return to playing.

"You kinda gotta be hot for that," Makki chides. He's been dead for a while now, so he just tosses his controller to the side. He's on the other side of his friend, leaning back away from the arm of the couch with a half-cocked smile.

"I am hot. Like, really hot," Mattsun replies, "And I have a pornstar cock."

A heat washes over your face and drains down your whole body. You can't deny it: Matsukawa Issei is hot. Like, really hot. Even in the low light, with only the neon flickering of the television illuminating the sharp angles of his face, he's beautiful. Heavy lidded eyes and thin lips that break into a troublesome grin-- it's almost tragic how beautiful he is.

You'd give your right leg for either of them to think of you as anything other than a 'bro'.

"Shut the fuck up." You're jamming the controller too hard and the plastic whines under the pressure, " 'Pornstar cock.' As if. You're such an asshole."

"Nah, that's true. He does have a massive cock." Makki nods, sticking his tongue through the gap between his canine and molar. He's cuter than his dark haired friend, with round cheeks that dimple when he laughs and round eyes that almost disappear when he smiles. It's a different type of hot-- an imperfect one that you crave all the same.

"Oh, you've seen his dick?" you ask, a bit sarcastically. They did play sports in high school; it's possible a penis popped out in the changing rooms.

"Duh." Makki puffs his chest, "We've had a threeway."

That's news. A sticky, dark feeling clings to your chest. It's wrong of you to want either of them, and yet you want both-- the idea that someone else beat you to it makes your stomach flip.

“It was a good one too.” Mattsun says. He doesn't even bawk, clearly more concerned with the game than this.

“Aww, it’s always good with you, babe.” Makki blows a kiss, with a flourish of his wrist, "That hand job? Phenomenal."

Your character dies in a blaze of color and lights, it's sad little noise soon drowned out by victory music. Mattsun tosses his controller to the side, pumping his fist in a rather calm victory. You quickly exit out of the game and let the opening screen loop, your mood soured.

"You guys are just fucking with me,” you grumble.

“Like I’d ever joke about sex.” Makki sends you a wink and you hate that it makes your cheeks a little hot.

“It’s the only thing he takes seriously," Mattsun agrees. They both elbow each other conspiratorially, sharing a laugh that might be at your expense. Mattsun’s dark eyes flicker to you and his wolfish smile grows toothier as he draws his gaze down, raking over every inch of your body. Oh, they are definitely lying. Your jealousy immediately drains from your body.

“Are you -?”

You interrupt Mattsun before he can even finish.

“Prove it then."

Both men turn in unison, Makki’s eyes wide and Mattsun’s narrowed.

“Prove you’re had a threesome,” you clarify with a shrug. Your voice is dripping with victory and you can barely keep the grin from your face.

“How can we prove that?” Mattsun laughs, “I didn’t take pictures.”

You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Kiss each other.”

“What?” It's Makki's turn to laugh.

“Kiss each other,” you repeat, making a jerk off motion in the air, “You guys rubbed cocks, but you won’t kiss? Really?”

They share a quick glance, communicating silently between themselves with fleeting expressions and pointing chins. Mattsun suddenly scoffs, turning back to you with a raised brow. Neither of them say anything and you know you’re won.

“‘I’m going to start an OnlyFans,’” you taunt, “‘I have a huge cock.’ ‘I’ve had so many threesomes.’ You’re such bad liars.”

Makki moves first. He presses forward on to his hands, gripping his friend’s thigh as he leans in head first. He lingers in the lack of space he's created, nose brushing up against his friends. They share a couple of unheard words before Mattsun closes the gap between them with a lazy tilt of his head, lips just barely touching the others in the faintest of kisses. Before you can claim that a kiss that chaste doesn’t count, Makki moves again, swinging a leg over to straddle Mattsun in a practiced move. You gasp out loud as they meet again, mouths parted and tongue sliding against each other.

Then, it’s a tangle. Mattsun’s fingers are woven into strawberry blonde hair, dragging him closer to catch Makki’s lip in between his teeth. He seems to enjoy the pain; Makki’s hums of approval rumble so deep you can feel it resonate in your chest, filling the space between your ribs with a burning desire. Hands wander, gripping shirts and hips and the back of each other's necks, barely giving them space to pull in a breath. It’s pornographic, the way they grind into each other, rutting like dogs. If it's an act- it’s a good one. Through the thick fabric of his jeans, you swear you can see the outline of Makki’s cock against his thigh, waiting for attention.

You want attention too-- you're dripping for it. You push back into the arm of the couch and clamp your legs together, hoping to smother the want that's built there. Part of you wonders if they’d ever notice if your hand slipped down the front of your pants; they’re so lost in the moment that you think they’ve forgotten you exist.

Just as you debate it, hand on the buckle of your belt, Makki’s head snaps your way knowingly. The dark haired man doesn't stop though; Mattsun's lips immediately latch onto the base of his neck, sucking a hickey on to freckled skin.

“C’mere.” There’s a pitch to Makki's voice as teeth sink in right before his Adam's apple. "C'mere."

There’s no time to hesitate. Makki’s hand clamps around your ankle and tugs, sliding you closer and trapping your legs between the men’s bodies. You barely manage to remain sitting up and you almost immediately regret not falling over. Makki is too close, watching you with a hazed over expression that makes your stomach twist tight.

Somehow, Mattsun is unphased, eyes so heavily lidded that you can barely make out how they flicker to you. At least, you think he’s unaffected, until one of his fingers catches under one of your belt loops. They pull you closer together, folding you until you're angled awkwardly beside them, legs still trapped.

"I-" you start, a pant to your voice. Sometimes you forget how tall they both are, but right now you are very aware; they both tower over you, a hunger in their eyes you barely recognize. "You guys-"

"Dude," Makki's breath tickles against your cheek, "Shut up."

"Yeah." Mattsun agrees into the soft of your neck, sarcastic as always, "Read the room."

The chaos of both of them slowly envelops you. Makki's lips meet yours as Mattsun's teeth nip and all you can do is gasp as every nerve in your body flares. It's overwhelming to be the center of both of their desires, being tugged and pulled back and forth, someone's hands digging into the soft of your stomach, someone else unbuttoning your pants.

When you break away to breathe, Mattsun is there, catching you right where Makki left off. He kisses differently- lazier, slower. His counterpart kissed you so roughly your lips burn where his teeth once were; Mattsun approaches with a feather touch, barely enough to satiate your need for him.

Hands snake across your back and around to your tits, greedily cupping them through your shirt. Somehow, you've migrated, now straddling Mattsun's lap with Makki at your back. Your bra gaps and gives and Makki grumbles in annoyance.

“Issei,” You’ve never heard Makki use his first name before, “Unhook her bra.”

Mattsun finishes the kiss, lingering, savoring, watching with his deep, dreamy eyes.

“Do it yourself.” His voice is practically a sigh. You want to melt into him, sinking into him to slot your mouths together.

"You know, last week Issei over here told me how bad he wants to suck your tits," Makki whispers into the shell of your ear. A warm touch slips under your shirt and your bra suddenly feels loose. You lean back enough to give the blonde enough space to go back to kneading your breasts and this time his long fingers roll your nipple between them, "He's been hard for you for a while now.'

A twitch has started in your legs, trembling tight as the hot feeling inside you screws tighter and tighter. The way your jeans sit gives you nothing to grind against, not even the rock hard cock that's pressed into your thigh. It's thick -- much thicker than you expected.

"I wanna suck them too, obviously," Makki continues, "I wanna put my mouth everywhere."

He pecks your earlobe. "Wanna suck your clit while you struggle to take Issei's cock."

Mattsun hums in approval as he grabs your hips, tugging your hips impossibly closer, "If she can even take it."

That turns your core molten. They want you-- they want you the way you want them. You wish they'd keep talking and blab about all of their dirty whims and wants-

"Yeah," you breathe, "Yeah, I can take it."

Mattsun slips his hand from your legs and ghosts them up to your waistband. The open button of your jeans makes it easy for him to slide in, dipping down under your panties. His fingers are wide, brushing against the cleft of your pussy delicately.

"She isn't shaved." He talks like you aren't there, looking over your shoulder to his friend.

"Oh, I like that," Makki chirps. The ministrations haven't stopped; he's still rolling and squeezing and pinching, watching for what makes you wiggle and gasp. He finds a good motion just as the heel of Mattsun's palm grinds against your clit. Those massive fingers waste no time, forcing their way inside you. The suddenness stretches you tender.

All three sensations combine and suddenly your brain is fuzzy-- your eyes can even stay focused. It's too much, it's not enough; you squirm and you can't tell if you're trying to get away or get more.

"Oh shit," Mattsun chuckles, scissoring his fingers side to side. This time you yelp-- mostly out of surprise -- and that spurs him on further. "There's no way you're fitting me. Fuck, I don't know if you'd fit Hiro."

"You're making me sound shrimpy."

"Shrimpier than me."

"I'm not shrimpy! Dude's like, inches longer than the national average. I've checked."

"You named your cock Dude?"

"Oi, it's a good-"

You cut in, voice flat. You love them both, but the quips just aren't that sexy when you're those horny, "Please stop doing-- that--" Oh, your voice is broken/, "You're killing my orgasm."

"Oh shit, you gonna cum?" Mattsun realizes, grinding back down again. That sparks something in you again, but not quite as bright, but your body cramps at the thought of not chasing it. "You that sensitive?"

"Love an easy girl," Makki chirps.

"I was going to-" You shook a glance between them, both sheepish and grinning- "until you guys opened your mouths."

"Aw, does that mean the threesome is off?" Makki says that as he's lifting your shirt up. You help, letting him strip your top bare.

"No," you admit in a low voice, "I wanna keep going.”

They exchange a look and you swear they are mentally high fiving each other. You wriggle off your pants and they both sudden spring into action, afraid of this moment passing by.

"You should ask Hiro to fuck you first." Mattsun pulls his own shirt off, "Let him stretch you out nice and good for me."

"Nah, fuck Issei first," Makki is quick to say, "I like sloppy seconds."

You don't have to think about it.

"Mattsun."

You're too greedy to wait.

Mattsun dips his thumbs under your panties and gently lowers them as he dips his face into the crook of your neck. There’s a surprising amount of stubble on his face- more than you’ve ever noticed before- tickling the softest softs of you. “These are really cute by the way.”

You clearly weren’t expecting to get dick today; you’re in your full coverage, full butt panties, the ones that hang out in the back of your drawer and digs a bit too much into your hips. “Really?”

He tries to bite back his smile, tongue poked deep in his cheek as he helps you off of the couch and onto the floor. You can’t help but wonder the last time these guys vacuumed as you watch the brunette lay down, urging you on to this lap with gentle hands. You end up on his thighs, just low enough that the lump in his pants is right above you.

"Yeah. They’re like, I dunno, homey. Comfortable. " He runs his hand up your sides. The other man doesn’t join; Makki just scooches the coffee table over with his foot to clear a space for him to watch. His palm is pressing into the noticeable swell on his pants as he watches, eyes flickering between the two of you. Suddenly, your least favorite pair of underwear is your favorite. You can't help but preen and pose, arching your back and cupping a tit coyishly.

"You just gonna sit there and watch?" you tease, even though your heart is racing, “It’s not really a three way without you.”

"Hey, this is free OnlyFans content! I’m gonna enjoy it!” He jerks his chin towards his friend, "Plus, I wanna see your reaction.”

Your eyes roll themselves at that. You turn back to Mattsun, waiting for him to laugh or tease, but he just watches you back, an overly cocky smile smeared across his lips.

“Are we really going to pretend your cock is that big?” You let your fingers trail down his bare chest and hope he can’t feel like them tremble. God, you can see it kick through the denim. It’s getting harder and harder to tease him now that they both know you want this.

“You’re so right,” Mattsun’s voice drips with sarcasm, “I’m tiny.”

He finally pops the top to his jeans and snakes them down. The light blue pattern of his briefs does nothing to conceal the growing sticky stain that's formed on the front. Most of his length is still hidden under the denim, but the bit you can see is….

Fuck, that that cannot be a cock. Maybe a fucking TV remote.

“So fucking small, huh?” You realize you’re making a face when he starts laughing.

“What a shame,” he continues as he frees the rest, “Hot guy with a micro-- you should pity fuck me or something.”

It’s pretty. That’s the fucked up part about it. The head is a soft pink, glazed wet with precum, fading into a surprising tan color. It’s thicker than your wrist, with a single vein down the underside and would be perfect to drag your tongue across. Mattsun gives himself a single, slow pump, pulling a perfect droplet of clear liquid from his slit. With the other hand, he takes your wrist and pulls your touch to his, letting you grip his length. Your thumb and middle finger barely connect.

“Hey, Issei?”

“Yeah?”

Your fingers pulse, testing the firmness. There’s some give-- he’s not even fully hard.

“You were right, this is a pornstar cock.”

Mattsun rolls his eyes and gives you another toothy grin. His legs spread wider, therefore spreading yours too- so far that your labia slips free from the short fabric of your panties. The damp skin feels cold against the air, but the heat of anticipation is making you sweat.

“I told you.” Makki chimes in. You hadn’t realized that he had moved until his voice was rumbling against the fat of your ass. He’s the one who’s spread Mattsun’s legs, crawling in between them on hands and knees to press kisses against your back. “You gonna take it?”

You’re not sure you can. It’s a comical amount of dick, but your pride won’t let you back out. “I’ve taken bigger.”

“Oh yeah?” Your underwear digs further into your skin as Makki tugs it to the side and completely frees your cunt. “‘cause it looks pretty small back here.”

With a squelch, two fingers slip easily into you, reaching and curling deep. A moan hits you like a punch, crumpling you at the waist. Hands on Mattsun’s shoulders, you just brace yourself as Makki eases out and pushes back in, this time a bit slower.

“Are you sure you aren’t a virgin?” He wriggles for effect and your body clenches around him in response.

“Oi, lemme feel.” Mattsun’s hand pushes through the petals of you. Just as you think Makki’s going to pull away to give Mattsun space, the stretch grows more intense; two sets of hands are crammed into you, knuckles brushing against each other, and it makes your vision starred.

“Oh-” Your voice hollows out on you, “My god--”

It’s all you can do to take it, letting them squelch and move and prod asynchronistically. It’s clumsy and strange and honestly a bit weird, but your body seems to disagree; excitement is literally dripping from you, running down your thighs and smearing across their hands, popping and slicking and practically leaking. They’re treating you like a toy, you realize, exploring instead of trying to please you.

Someone's talking. Your brain tries to fight through the fog of pleasure to figure out what's being said, but the pulses and twitches of pleasure running through every muscle in your body are simply louder. Everything inside you is teetering towards the brink in a way you're never felt before. It's not like any other pleasure you've ever felt-- it's internal, it's uncomfortable, it's----

And everything lets go. You're cumming, you think. You realized your eyes have been closed this whole time, too absorbed in what's happening inside you.

"Ohmygodohmygod." It's been your voice this whole time. When you finally come down, you realize the two have gone still, just watching you.

"Damn." Makki whistles low."Do you always squirt?"

Oh, you burn with embarrassment. You tey to close your legs but there's two men in between them. "I've never done that before."

"That's so hot."

“Fuck,” Mattsun is trying to angle your hips with one hand and adjust his cock with the other, angling for your hole, “I’m gonna cum so quick, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

Trepidation turns your stomach. You're wet all the way down your thighs, but Mattsun is a monster-- it's going to ache no matter what.

"Go slow, okay?"

"Aw, you'll take what I give you." Mattsun rolls his eyes with a smile, running his cock head through your folds. His cock slips and misses a couple times, prodding where it shouldn't be.

"You're embarrassing me," Makki whines, "Let me fucking do it."

Two fingers spread your pussy lips open wide. You can't see, but the strawberry blonde must be holding his friend's cock now because it immediately finds where it wants to be; the head catches against your opening and sinks in ever so slightly. You have to will yourself to relax and not fight the intrusion-- even though the stretch is wild//.

"Hey," Makki taps your thigh and you realize you're shaking. The pleasure and the discomfort are different sides to the same coin- both make your toes curl and your breath hitch as Mattsun sinks deeper and deeper.

"You have a pornstar pussy, baby." A finger runs over where your body meets cock and you can feel how taut you're stretched. Your body pulses at that realization and it rips a groan from the man under you. "It's so sexy to see you get ruined like that."

"Oh, it feels so fucking good too," Mattsun gasps. He looks so good like this, with pink cheeks and sweat touched hair. His pretty lips are pressed together with effort, trying to hold himself steady and he carefully gives you more and more.

Fuck, you swear you can feel him in your guts and he's not even halfway in. Your toes are curling from the pressure alone, but you refuse to make any noise about it; you’re not going to stroke his ego anymore. You can handle him putting it in-

"I'm gonna eat your ass-- is that cool?"

Makki doesn't wait for a reply. The sloppy wet prod of his tongue against your skin is the breaking point. It feels strange and wrong in the most delightful ways and your body absolutely betrays you again; your head is absolutely swimming as you bump and grind into both men, taking more cock than you can handle as Makki defiles you-

“Yeah, squeeze tight,” Mattsun is jerking his hips up, driving into you with short strokes, “Holy shit, girl, you’re gonna make me look fucking stupid-- squeeze, that’s it--”

“I'm going to fuck you the second Issei is done with you, I swear to god--”

That sounds good to you. That sounds very good. You hum a little agreement, and Makki just laughs.

Hands are pressing down on your hips and you swat at the brunette in panic-- only to realize it’s not his hands that are rushing you. Makki, as he sucks and slobbers, is urging you down faster and faster, trying to get your hips against his friend’s. You try and obey, letting him greedily force you down, but a sharp twist of a cramp slowly starts to twist inside you.

“Hiro--” Mattsun sucks air through his teeth, eyes screwed tight, “Hiro, youch, she’s full. I’m touching her cervix.”

Your hips feel like they are miles away from Issei’s. Holy shit. Holy shit. It should be illegal to be that long. It hurts, it makes your insides twist--

But, damn, you kind of like it.

You press up on to your knees and sink down again, locking into the gentlest of rhythms. The aching slow movement is enough to make your body spark, electricity thrumming through your core and up your spine. The man under you can only watch, those puppy dog eyes wider and wetter with every stroke. Eventually he starts moving with you, bucking up into your cunt hesitantly.

The two loudest, most annoying men in your life are now silent, too focused on you to do anything else. All three of you just sort of click into a groove, grinding and bucking and loving and squeezing, your body coiling tighter and tighter, every muscle twitching and tense with need-

Somehow, you don’t cum first. Mattsun’s hands are suddenly everywhere, gripping your ass and rolling your nipple under his thumb. He fucks up into you hard and that sharp cramp returns, followed by a familiar pooling, wet warmth right against your deepest parts. You can feel the throb of his cock as he unloads, giving you every fucking drop he can. Issei’s lips are parts with effort, teeth marks imprinted on his lower vermillion. There’s almost a haze to his eyes, caught in his pleasure and still looking for you.

“Oh, shit-” he hisses mindlessly, “Oh, fuck, shit--”

It’s dripping from you and down Makki’s chin.

“You on birth control?” Issei asks weakly, all tension drained from his body.

“It’s a bit late to ask that,” Makki chimes in. The thinner man pushes you forward, shifting your weight onto your hands. Like this, Issei’s softening cock can’t stay in- it slides out with a dribble. Mattsun is now so much closer now, his face nearly nuzzling yours. Your eyes meet his, dark and tired, and you’re struck by the urge to kiss him properly.

You’re then struck by the sudden sensation of being stuffed.

Despite their teasing earlier, Hanamaki is //not// small. He's not inhumanely big like Mattsun, but you're aware of every inch, pressing almost as deep as before. The squelch of cum being displaced from you is loud and disgusting, but all three of you reveal in the sound.

“God, I love a fresh fucked pussy,” he coos. “You’re gaping and messy, baby.”

Where Mattsun moved slow, Makki does not. He's rutting into you hard, pushing you into Mattsun's chest. The man below you kisses your cheek with a laugh, clearly enjoying the faces you're making. You're wet down to your knees, smeared with a mixture of bodily fluids, and it offers no resistance for Makki as he enjoys himself.

It's like you're a toy, being used just for him pleasure, and you're body can't get enough.

“You gonna cum?” Mattsun asks mockingly. He just enjoy the sight, watching your tits hang against his chest. You almost say no, even though you're dangerously close to the edge again. “Ah, don't rush yourself. Hiro can last all night if you need it.”

“Hm, I'm just trying to give you some time to recover before round two,” Oh, you hate that he doesn't even sound phased, “I'm pacing myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Mattsun says.

Makki thrusts even harder, accenting his words. “How else are we supposed to go all night?

1K notes · View notes

goodfish-bowl · 10 months ago

Text

Bunker in White

Danny Phantom x Supernatural Crossover

Masterpost

DP Crossover Angst Week Day 1 - GIW Experimentation

Summary: Sam and Dean take up a job to go investigate a government base that had been attacked by vampires.

Warnings: vague descriptions of blood and gore

Notes: hmmm, I have never written anything for Supernatural before, but I've seen a good portion of it (years ago). Probably takes place earlier in the show.

Word Count: 2044

AO3 Link

Sam and Dean had gotten this particular lead from Bobby, who in turn got it passed onto him from someone else, so it wasn’t a surprise this particular job was a mess.

Apparently, a group of vampire’s had decided a weird, underground, government bunker would be the perfect hideout, resulting in a bloodbath between the government goons and the vamps. It was a large group too, which was a point of concern among the hunter’s who turned down the job. No one really knew who’d won inside between the vampires and the government, but Dean had placed his money on the vampires. He honestly doubted that some government agency with an obsession for the color white had any idea what they were up against, much less the correct tools for the job. Dean got proved wrong when they came across the first dead vampire.

The bunker’s fluorescent lights were harsh against the darkness outside. The entire base still seemed to have power despite not being connected to any sort of power grid or system. It had made it an absolute pain in the ass to find, but at least that meant Sam and Dean didn’t have to wander around in the dark. The harsh lighting and bleached interior revealed a slaughter inside, staining the white walls with both vampire and human blood, leaving very little to imagination. The humans, all agents in once-white suits, looked to have been mauled by the vamps, while the dead vampires had holes blasted through them and were covered in green-tinged burns. Dean kicked one, trying to make sure it was actually dead. Yep, dead vamp, the whole place unfortunately smelled like it too.

Sam had found one of the more physically intact agents with a large bazooka-like weapon next to him at the back of the hallway. Rummaging through the agency's pocket’s Sam tossed the ID card over for Dean to read over, while Sam picked up the weapon.

Dean flipped open the wallet, and huffed when the agent was only referred to by a letter and position. No personal information whatsoever.

“This asshole is apparently ‘Agent B, senior heavy weapon specialist of the Ghost Investigation Ward’, which means shit to me,” Dean complained.

“‘Ghost Investigation Ward’? Is that supposed to be some sort of knockoff hunter’s group? Because points for vampire killing, less points for dying,” Sam added. “Either way, they were messing around with something supernatural, and had weapons that could blast straight through a vampire. Think we could find something here?”

Dean shrugged, “I’m down to take their weapons at the least. New tactics are always appreciated.”

Sam took the bazooka, and Dean picked up any other weapons of interest, from weighted nets, to more guns, storing them in piles to collect and ferry to the car later. The ID got them access to a couple more rooms, including a security camera and file room, which Sam said he was going back to later. The deeper they descended into the base, the more spaced out the bodies were, and the more violently the agents had seemed to fight, like they were protecting something.

“Do you think they actually managed to catch a ghost here?” Sam tossed out.

Dean snorted, “Doubt it. Sure, you can blast a hole through a vamp, but you can’t blast a hole through a ghost. Just trapping one is a pain, let alone moving it to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, Illinois.”

Hydraulic doors hissed as the brothers entered the next level, only to pause from the sudden change in pattern. This one opened up into a laboratory, partitioned off by thick glass walls, rather than the collection of offices and storage the upper floors had been.

Dean’s eyes narrowed at the carnage inside the laboratories.

“What the hell were they taking apart that bleed fucking green?” Dean cursed.

Dean completely ignored the bodies of who he assumed had been the scientists. There were tons of vials of various liquids, most of them being that same saturated, radioactive green. There were also jars, lots of jars, of what he assumed were the bits and pieces of whatever creature bled green.

“Doesn’t look like whatever they were dissecting was dead while they were taking apart,” Sam commented, pointing out the restraints on the bloodied autopsy table.

“Fuck, that’s sick. At least kill whatever you're taking apart first.”

Dean watched as Sam went over to a stack of papers, filing through them quickly with a grimace on his face.

“Well, they seem to believe they caught a ghost, at least. They definitely caught something before the vampires wiped them out. The reports refer to it as Subject P-1.”

“Think it’s still here?” Dean asked.

“Maybe. This report is a few days old, and we know the vampires attacked within that same time frame, so it’s possible that ‘P-1’ is either still here, dead here, or managed to escape in the crossfire,” Sam guessed.

“I suppose we’ll find out. We only got one more level to go.”

Dean left the lab, going down the elevator to the last level. There was nothing there, except for a singular glass cell with what looked like a blast door as its entrance, all shining with some sort of green energy. There seemed to be automated weapons and cameras all pointing at the cell, and Dean considered it a bit extreme. But also down there was the biggest collection of dead vampires they had found so far.

The weapons in the room had obviously activated for whatever reason, considering the number of vampires with holes blown through them compared to the agents, of which there only seemed to be two, who looked more like they had also been caught in the crossfire of the weapons, rather than becoming vampire food like most of the guys upstairs.

“Dean…” Sam shoved him, and pointed to the cell. There was…something inside.

Dean walked over, shoving bodies out of the way with his foot to stand in front of the cell. The green… whatever it was, shone along the glass and hummed with energy, reminding Dean vaguely of an electrified fence. The inside of the cell was a mess but in a different way than outside. It reminded Dean of a few of the cells he had seen monsters hold people in before. It was dirty, and covered in blood, both red and that unknown green. There was no cot, or toilet, or any other sort of accommodation.

The only thing in the cell was a small figure, dressed in nothing but tattered scrubs, and covered in its own blood balled up in the corner, head between its legs. Dean could only make out pale, emancipated legs and feet, and a mess of matted, black hair.

“Is it alive?” Dean asked, tapping on the glass, which surprisingly didn’t zapped him.

Sam had a grimace on his face. “I…think.”

“Hey!” Dean shouted.

No reaction.

Dean pounded more heavily on the glass with his fist, “Hey! Are you alive?”

No reaction.

“Are you P-1?” Sam asked instead.

This got a reaction. The figure picked up their head, placing empty, hollow, and frighteningly blue eyes on Sam. They seemed to be a young boy, face pale and thin, deep bags under his eyes. His eyes were glassy and distant, looking through Sam rather than at him.

“Well, that’s unnerving,” Dean muttered, giving Sam a look before shoving his shoulder. “Tell him to do something else.”

Sam frowned, thinking for a moment before saying anything. “P-1, state your status,” Sam commanded.

The boy, P-1, remained silent.

“I don’t think it talks, Sammy,” Dean snorted.

Sam sputtered indignantly. “What do you want me to do then? We know he’s P-1 now, and that he’s still somehow alive.”

“Well, we know he ain’t human, and that he’s whatever these goons have been picking apart. No clue what he is, but in that state, I doubt he can do much. The lights are one but no one seems to be home, Sammy,” Dean said.

It was a harsh suggestion but, “We could just put him down and be done with it. The vamps are all dead, there’s nothing here except braindead P-1 over there.”

Sam, apparently, very much disagreed with that idea. “He’s a kid, Dean! And he’s been tortured for who knows how long. We’re not putting him down!”

Dean groaned. “Do you want to take him with us or something?!” Dean asked incredulously.

Sam was silent, apparently thinking over the idea like it was a legitimate suggestion.

“No,” Dean immediately denied. “Nope, no way, Sammy. We’re not adopting whatever-the-fuck that kid is. He’s not a dog. We have no idea what he’s capable of, let alone if he’s dangerous!”

“Then we keep an eye on him! You said it yourself, in that state, I doubt he can barely move. We could even put him in Bobby’s panic room if he acts up, but honestly,” Sam glanced over to the boy, “I doubt he would even notice.”

Dean hated the idea. He didn’t want the kid to potentially go ballistic, and there had to be some reason he was locked up in the first place. But he couldn’t think of any other reasons to leave the kid there. If anything, they could figure out what the kid was so that they knew how to defeat anything like him in the future.

“Fine!” Dean relented. “But you’re taking care of him.”

Sam seemed to untense and turned back to the boy. “P-1, move to the door,” he ordered, before more quietly adding, “We’re getting you out of here, kid.”

The boy stood up, swaying on his legs, before approaching the door, standing just outside of it. Dean watched as Sam fidgeted with the door, before eventually having to pull another ID from one of the nearby agents to get the door open. Sam led the kid out, who didn’t have much of a reaction at all. Dean frowned at how small the kid was, now that he could get a better estimate literally standing next to him. He couldn’t be older than 12.

“Okay, we’re leaving. We got some cool things and you’ve adopted a weird kid. We can confirm the vampires all died here too. Anything else we need to grab before we go back?” Dean huffed.

“I’m going to see what I can pull from the record room on the way back. Could you take him back to the car?” Sam asked.

Dean looked at the kid again. Yep. No one home at all. He doubted the kid even knew what was going on. At least he wouldn’t complain about Dean’s music choices.

“Fine, but you take too long and I’m leaving your ass here,” Dean stated. “Come-on, P-1.”

Dean took the elevator back up the entrance, still careful to check around if they had missed anything still-alive, only to have silence. The kid barely made any noise as he moved, Dean decided he didn’t like that after the third time he jumped at the kid standing directly behind him.

“I’m getting you a bell,” he grumbled.

Back at the car, Dean tossed his looted weapons into the trunk, glancing at the kid before rummaging into his and Sam’s duffles for some spare clothes. It looked really suspicious to have a bloodied kid in a medical gown walking around. It would be oversized, but Dean grabbed a flannel, jeans, and a belt. Bobby would probably have something from when he and Sam were that small.

“Hey, kid, P-1, put these on,” Dean held the clothes out to the kid, who didn’t react.

Dean groaned. “Oh come on! This is why Sam’s your caretaker. I don’t know how to dress a kid!”

Dean approached. “Gotta fucking command him like a dog,” he muttered. “P-1, arms up.”

The boy raised his arms, and Dean untied the medical gown letting it fall to the ground. Dean froze, bile building in the back of his throat, fighting the urge to throw up. Images of the jars and vials passed behind his eyes. No wonder the kid was mentally gone, Dean couldn’t see anyone surviving, let alone living long enough to walk out.

God, they needed to get the kid to Bobby.

#goodfish writes #danny phantom #supernatural #superphantom #dp x spn #dp crossover #dpcaw24 #post GIW experimentation #you know what that entails if you've been here a while #yeah Danny is so severely mentally shut down #dunno what happened to everyone else but lets just assume they're dead unless I need someone not dead #just like the actual spn series!#suprising i haven't written a spn crossover yet I actually liked the show for a decent while

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suzukiblu · 4 months ago

Note

I beg you desperately and with all the hope that makes a lump in my throat, may we please get some more Jason going home accidentally. My week is testing me aggressively and I'm tipsily seeking comfort.

I tried to write a bit of new content for this but tbh I did not have the spoons or the focus to manage it, so instead here's the whole current story-so-far all put together and all in order behind the cut here, since even the "chrono" tag for this story is not really all that chronological and I'm, like, eighty-five percent sure that there's gotta be at least a COUPLE excerpts in here that haven't gone up yet. If nothing else, I know there's some little bits and pieces I've added or adjusted in editing, and hopefully it'll be a satisfying read to get all in order and all together for . . . quite possibly the first time, yeah, hah.

Well, it's 16.5k, if nothing else, haha.

Sorry for the day or two's wait on getting back to you with this; hope your week's improved, friend.

Jason fucked up his suppressants somewhere in fucking Barbados, of all places, and by "fucked up" he means "lost in a firefight".

So that was a problem, definitely.

He'd had two days before it was going to be a serious problem, though, and a lot of bad guys to deal with before he could deal with said problem. But it would've been fine, if there hadn't been a local supply chain issue with omega suppressants.

Or it would've been fine if he hadn't been with Roy and Kori at the time. If he hadn't been with two unfairly gorgeous alphas that he'd been relying on to watch his ass for months, who'd both saved his life and carried him out of the shit more than once; who'd both looked at him like he was a real and actual person, still, and had never once been disappointed in the kind of real and actual person that he really and actually was.

Or maybe just if he hadn't known damn well just how fat both their knots were from Dick's goddamn locker room gossip when he'd been a fucking stupid and stupidly impressionable not-dead-yet teenager.

Dick was a goddamn beta, the bastard. He shouldn't have even known how good Tamaranean knot supposedly was! That should not have been a thing!

Jason, unfortunately, had been gifted with an absolute whore with absolutely no shame for a predecessor, and so had spent his accidentally suppressant-free time thinking far, far too much about Dick's goddamn dumbass war stories from his Titans days and exactly how many of them had ended with "and then Kori blew my fucking back out and it was the fucking shit".

The bastard.

So yeah, Jason had gone into a stress heat after two lousy missed doses of suppressants, because of fucking course he had! Of fucking course that was his fucking life!

And of fucking course said stress heat had happened while he was laying low in a bare-bones safehouse with Roy and Kori and a California king and absolutely no other methods of distraction.

Of course it had.

"Do you require assistance, friend?" Kori asks, and Jason probably could answer her verbally, but instead he just very literally climbs her and refuses to get down until she promises to blow his fucking back out. And really, he only actually gets down at all because Roy is standing just slightly out of reach and Jason very, very desperately needs to get his mouth on him.

Just–desperately.

"Oh–both of us?" Roy manages, his face going bright red.

"Both of you at once," Jason growls, and then tackles him to that damn California king. Kori is clearly delighted.

Jason is pretty damn delighted too, once he’s gotten both their knots in him.

Dick had not been exaggerating the locker room talk. If anything, he'd undersold things. Roy was so fucking careful and thorough and Kori was so fucking confident and relentless and Jason was . . . Jason was . . .

Actually Jason might be in love, maybe? It's possible that this is what being in love is. Like, as a thing.

Or whatever.

So Jason had spent a week getting fucked so good that even the pit hadn't had any complaints, and then it'd been back to business as usual for the next couple of months and he hadn't thought about it again outside of his personal time, and maybe once or twice when Roy or Kori had stepped in a little too close or made casual eye contact or just smiled at him like they were actual friends or something, the utter bastards. But otherwise, yeah, no. Business as usual.

And some very vivid and imaginative new sex dreams and stupid romantic daydream fantasies not as usual.

But again: whatever. That crap was Future Jason's problem. Current Jason is busy shoving alllll of that inconvenient emotional shit into a nice helpful repression box and just leaving it there to rot, and that’s just gonna be that.

And no, he isn't reading romance novels again. Shut the fuck up, Roy. It’s Pride and Prejudice, not goddamn bored housewife smut.

Admittedly, the bored housewife smut might've actually been less embarrassing than the romantic yearning, especially when Kori asks him what his new book’s about and Jason already knows that Roy knows it well enough that he'll be able to tell if he bullshits her, but whatever.

Last time he watches that stupid A&E miniseries with the prick, no matter how damn good Colin Firth looks in a wet shirt.

Ugh.

"We need to talk," Roy says while standing in the middle of a kill floor with a trick arrow nocked and a stranger's blood all over his face. Jason wants to kiss him. Or kill him. Or maybe do both of those things at once? Maybe? But like–biohazards. "Like, about our feelings. Specifically the specific feelings that I am specifically having about the two of you and your specific feelings."

"Oh!" Kori says with a bright smile as she lights up with both visible delight and destructive solar radiation. She is also very kiss/kill-able right now, Jason thinks, though the radiation thing could also be an issue. "Well, my specific feelings are that you and I should mate our lovely Jason at his earliest possible convenience and then consummate said mating under the stars. Repeatedly. I have refreshed my knowledge of the appropriate Earth customs, so do you think Lian would rather be the flower-bearer or the ring-girl?"

"I'm going back to Gotham," Jason blurts in panicked self-defense.

"Is that an invitation or an escape route?" Roy asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm going back to Gotham right now," Jason says, which he understands is not an actual answer but is still not going to clarify any more than that. Then he flees the kill floor. He flees the kill floor very, very quickly.

Repression box time.

So yeah, Jason ditches them both in Prague and heads back to Gotham the long way. He doesn't answer when Roy tries calling his burner, though he does text their very small group chat a vague confirmation that he isn't dead again yet a day or three later. Kori immediately sexts him in response, but he's pretty sure that she just still thinks that's how texting works.

Look, he hasn't corrected the misassumption.

Fuck, she is just unfairly attractive all the time, though, isn't she. And even more so when he's desperately trying to avoid her and also his emotions.

Roy also sexts him, and is also unfairly attractive despite being who he is as a person. Then the two of them get distracted sexting each other instead, and Jason just lets himself pretend that they can't see his "read" receipts as he follows along.

So he hadn't been all that subtle about how much of a turn-on it'd been the handful of times that they'd gone at each other during his heat despite both being alphas, okay? Sue him. Who the fuck could've been? Not fucking Dick, that's for fucking sure.

Jason is pretty sure that he will never again see anything as mind-meltingly, panty-soakingly hot as the sight of Roy taking Kori's big fat knot in Jason's own damn heat nest and whining for it in his alpha voice while she so-sweetly told him what a good bitch he was being for her. Just–nope. No. Definitely not.

Jason didn't even know alpha voices could whine like that. Like, he had not been any kind of aware that was an actual thing that an actual alpha voice could actually do.

Also they were both a lot more flexible than he'd ever really let himself think about too much before.

And had a lot more . . . endurance.

So that'd all been very extremely destructive to his sanity, yeah. And his higher thought processes.

And just his . . . everything, pretty much. Pretty much his everything, yeah.

Kori and Roy keep sexting the group chat with annoyingly helpful visual aids until Jason has to stop in a shitty motel just outside of Gotham and fuck himself stupid for a few hours, because they're the literal worst teammates in the literal entire world and he hates them both and also he wants both their stupid fucking knots in him right fucking now and Lian can be the flower-bearer and the ring-girl as far as he's concerned, he doesn't even care.

Bastards.

Jason catches up with the group chat, takes a very, very cold shower, and then drives the rest of the way towards Gotham. He does not check his phone even one more time, because knowing Roy and Kori he'd probably crash his fucking bike if he did.

He doesn't think about any fucking romance novel bullshit either.

It's weird that he misses them already, isn't it? He doesn't usually miss people this quick. At least, not these days. He's gotten too used to being stray for that.

He's been a stray for so fucking long, it feels like, and he just . . .

Fuck, he can't even remember the last time he had real packscent on him. Which, well–yeah, of course he can't. That would imply having a pack, wouldn't it.

He thinks it was Alfred's scent, the last time.

It must've been.

He misses Alfred, too.

Maybe he'll swing by the manor in a few days, once he's settled back into the swing of things in the city and he's shown his face in a few key places and made sure nobody's fucked too much with his territory while he was away. Maybe Alfred's missed him a little himself. Maybe the others won't mind him taking up a little bit of space in their space for an hour or two. Maybe Bruce will . . .

Fuck, is he high or something? What, exactly, does Jason think Bruce is going to do if he sees him, besides say something shitty to him about how he handles his territory or lives his life or just whatever else?

Maybe he'll drag his ass back to Ethiopia again.

Yeah, that'd be a great time. Real fun for the whole family.

Not that they're any kind of family anymore.

Bruce doesn't want them to be. Doesn’t want a blooded killer or Crime Alley trash for one of his pack's omegas. Doesn't want to explain Jason being alive or help him establish a cover identity that they could somehow know each other through or publically claim him or do just . . . anything like that. Red Hood has a comm link that can connect to the Bat pack's devices and conditional access to their intel as long as he hasn't either killed anyone or freaked out on pit rage too recently and nothing else.

He isn't family.

He isn't pack.

Hell, even when Jason had been pack to Bruce, it'd only been the two of them and Alfred and the occasional semi-grudging visit from Dick. Nothing like it is now, with more goddamn Bats than a belfry. Now there's Tim and Cass and Steph and Damian and . . .

Jason knows perfectly well that there isn't a place for him in that pack, much less in the manor. There isn't even a place for him in the cave, unless some absolute asshole decides to count that bullshit memorial.

Maybe he should tell Bruce how much he fucking hates that memorial, one of these days. Not like Bruce would care, but . . . just–maybe he should.

One of these days.

Jason is distracted, he thinks. Or not thinking, maybe?

Or just very fucking stupid, maybe.

There's literally no other reason he would've just driven his bike up the road to goddamn Wayne Manor first thing into Bristol. Which . . . whatever, he's not in Red Hood's gear right now, that's all packed away in his go-bag, but still. He knows better than to pull this kind of shit.

He's not welcome at the manor. He doesn't deserve to be. Not after what he's done. What he's become. What he is.

And even if he ever were welcome, he still wouldn't belong here.

Jason wants so, so fucking badly for that not to be true.

But it is true, of course. It's always been true.

Always was true.

Jason parks his bike outside the front gate and checks the group chat. Roy and Kori are–mostly–done sexting and are talking about flowers, the fucking weirdos. Like they'd even bother having a ceremony if they actually did get mated. Who'd even care?

Not anyone on his side of the goddamn aisle, that's for fucking sure. And what, they're gonna invite Blackfire and Green Arrow?

Yeah, no. Definitely not.

Jason thinks about the absolutely ludicrous idea of texting his opinion on mating ceremony flowers to the chat, but doesn't.

He feels . . . off, kind of. Restless. Nervous. Nauseous.

Like fucking crying his fucking eyes out until he fucking dies.

Again.

He really misses Alfred. It's a little late–late enough that he's definitely missed dinner, but not really late enough to interfere with anyone's patrol schedule. He could just . . . duck in for a bit. Check in. See what the old man's been up to and catch up on the pack gossip like he actually deserves to know any of it.

Maybe Alfred would let him sneak into the cookie jar like he always pretends he isn't gonna.

Jason still remembers every single goddamn cookie recipe Alfred ever let him help him with back in the day, but somehow not a one of them has ever tasted the same as they do when he's sneaking them out of that stupidly fancy old cookie jar or off a cooling rack on one of Alfred's immaculate kitchen counters. Not even close.

Jason really wants one of those cookies right now. And also Alfred. And also . . .

And also he wants to be fifteen and afraid of absolutely nothing, with Bruce's pack bite on his neck and Robin's cape around his shoulders and the certainty of having a place, of being something, being someone, being . . .

Belonging.

Like he thinks he has the fucking right to, or something.

He texts the group chat.

i am the stupidest motherfucker alive or dead, he says.

fuck u zomboy thats my crown n i will fight u 4 it, Roy says.

are you well, loveliest? Kori asks, and thoughtfully includes a shot of her tits, which are as irritatingly resplendent as ever. Especially because her come is currently smeared all over them, but Jason's just gonna have to process that particular image a little bit later, when he's not having a weird emotional crisis in the manor driveway over fucking cookies.

Though he saves the pic to come back to for said "later", obviously. He's having a crisis, yeah, but he's not an idiot.

i want a cookie, he says.

. . . like in a sexy way or in an emotional regression way?? Roy says.

i fucking hate your new therapist

regression it is ok!! well u gotta b in gotham by now right?? go c ur man alfie n ask him 4 the hookup

go to hell and burn there

Roy sends him a dick pic in response, probably so Kori won't wonder why they aren't being as porny as usual and start to emulate them. Jason grudgingly saves it for later too and also fucking hates him.

we can provide you with all the emotional regression cookies you wish, loveliest, Kori says, including a very nice shot of her half-blown knot that makes Jason's traitor of a mouth water. He glazes over briefly and really hopes Babs isn't creeping on the cell phone towers yet tonight. He's almost sure that wasn't actually meant to be a come-on, but . . . we would be most appreciative of the opportunity to satisfy your desires.

Never mind. Definitely a come-on.

. . . almost definitely.

It is Kory.

Jason saves the new pic, obviously, and then sighs to himself.

if you never see me again, it was possibly tim but probably damian who did me in, he types out resignedly. in which case, either fair or fair play

k but what if it was dick tho?? Roy asks.

then i want you to burn down this whole fucking city in my fucking name, Jason says.

it would be our honor, loveliest, Kori says hopefully not too sincerely.

Then again, "burned down by a sexy alien on a vengeance bender" is a lot better of an end than Gotham really deserves at this point. And anyway, Jason's not gonna tell Kori how to live her life.

He puts his burner away and looks up at the manor. The lights are on, obviously. It's getting dark, so why wouldn't they be?

He still really wants that stupid cookie.

Jason sighs again, then gets off his bike. He'll just go up and knock, and if no one's too busy to answer then he'll just . . . go in for a little while. That's all. He has a key, technically, but he's never fucking used it and he's never fucking going to, outside of maybe a possible life or death or global crisis-level emergency.

This isn't his home. Not anymore.

So yeah. He's not gonna use the damn key.

Jason walks up to the door. It smells like Bruce has touched it. Not especially recently–not any more recently than this morning, at least–but still. It smells like Bruce has touched it.

Which it obviously would. It always does. Bruce is the pack alpha, after all. He scents this door all the damn time. It's always smelled like him. This stupid fucking door has smelled like it belongs to Bruce for a lot longer than Jason ever got to.

It smells like Alfred has touched it too. And Dick, and Damian, and Duke, and . . .

Fuck, he can even smell traces of Selina on it.

No trace of himself, though.

He hasn't been in Gotham, Jason reminds himself. He hasn't been in Gotham and he doesn't belong in the manor anyway and this isn't his home anymore. So it shouldn't hurt, that this stupid fucking door doesn't smell like him. It really shouldn't.

It shouldn't, but . . . but he still feels off, kind of, and he just . . . he isn't really . . .

He feels off. Really, really off.

The door is really bothering him. And he really wants a cookie. And . . . and something . . .

Something's wrong. He's forgetting something.

Is he forgetting something?

Jason frowns to himself and pulls out his burner again. Checks the notes app. Checks his calendar. Checks his . . .

Wait.

Jason stares at his apps.

Stares at his cycle tracker, which he hasn't opened all month.

Or all of last month.

Stress heat, he reminds himself abruptly. Stress heats throw off people's cycles all the time. And he's never been all that regular anyway, really, especially since dying and getting dumped in the pit.

Except he's been being an overemotional absolute fucking lunatic for weeks now and he already misses Roy and Kori after three lousy days and he came to the fucking manor without even fucking meaning to and . . .

Fuck.

Jason, very calmly, unlocks the front door with the key he's never once used. Then he bolts into the manor and beelines for the second-nearest bathroom, because Bruce is always over-prepared and that's the one where they always used to keep the pads and tampons and birth control and fucking pregnancy tests.

And still is, apparently.

Jason finds a test. He takes the test.

He sits down to wait for the test.

He doesn't think a single damn thing, because it'd be pointless. He doesn't have all the information. No point in catastrophizing when he doesn't even know anything yet.

So he doesn't think.

The timer on Jason's phone flashes. He looks at the test.

It's positive.

And if it's accurate, then doing the math, "bred" has got to be bleeding into his scent by now. Which Roy and Kori were probably already subconsciously noticing at least a week ago, so no fucking wonder they've been talking about their fucking feelings in the middle of fucking kill floors and saying they want to fucking mate him and won't stop sexting and fussing over him.

Shit.

He's pregnant. He's pregnant and he probably fucking smells pregnant and he's in the fucking manor like this.

He really is the stupidest motherfucker alive or dead.

. . . and he's pregnant.

Jason snaps the test in half and buries it in one of the hidden scent-blocked pockets at the bottom of his go-bag and just . . . thinks. Or tries to think, anyway. He's pregnant, and he was stupid enough to let himself come to the manor like he's actually a part of this pack–like he's a fucking traditionalist or a romantic coming home to present his pack with his pups and nest up with them all safe and protected until he whelps. Like this pack would even want his pups, much less want to put up with him and all his bullshit for that long.

God, he's such an idiot.

He should've fucking known. He should've just gone to the opposite side of the goddamn planet and denned down there and blocked Roy and Kori's numbers and deleted all the Bats' and broken his phone for good measure. He should've paid more attention to taking his birth control on time while he was on the road and not begged Roy and Kori to knot him raw for his heat no matter how good it'd felt. He should've . . . he should've . . .

He should've . . .

Jason paces from one end of the bathroom to the other. He paces back the other way. He thinks about panic-texting Roy and Kori for advice or sneaking out to get an abortion before anyone can find out he's bred or never telling anyone this happened ever or running away to Talia or having a fucking anxiety attack on the fucking bathroom floor.

He thinks, very briefly, about going and presenting the pack with his pups. Like he's an absolute fucking moron or something.

But he thinks about it, and once he's thought about it . . . once he's considered it . . .

Jason twists his hands together. Jason paces the bathroom. Jason grits his teeth.

Jason thinks about presenting the pack with his pups. Presenting the Wayne pack with his pups.

Not the Bat pack.

His hands fist against his sides. His shoulders tighten.

His stomach does nothing except for what it's already doing, which is carry a pup or two or . . . however many. Jason was a single, he semi-reliably knows. Roy was . . . maybe a single? He's pretty sure? And he only sired Lian on Cheshire, at least as far as Cheshire ever admitted to anyone. But Kori and Komand'r and Ryand'r were a litter of three, right? Or Jason thinks they were, anyway.

Probably asking Kori about that right now would be suspicious. Or at the very least give her and Roy the wrong idea about Jason's opinion of them all actually getting mated.

Not that it'd actually be the wrong idea so much as . . .

Fuck, who even knows which one of them actually knocked him up. Maybe both of them did–that happens sometimes, with omegas. Especially when the potential sires are alphas. Technically he thinks it's even possible for female betas, though that's a hell of a lot rarer and really more of a–

Just, Jesus, what in actual hell is Jason gonna do if he ends up whelping a half-alien kid in Gotham? Or if he has to explain to Lian that she's not her daddy's only pup anymore? Or if–

Jason pictures a sweet little redheaded newborn all nestled up to his chest, maybe softly glowing and floating or adorably stupid and wickedly clever or just ridiculously tiny and defenseless and all those other things all at once, and feels far, far too many feelings about the idea. His heart fucking hurts with how many feelings he feels about that fucking idea, in fact.

Alright. Ruled out sneaking out to get an abortion, apparently.

Dammit.

Jason can't actually be a real mom, though. He can't protect a pup with his lifestyle, much less properly raise one. Catherine at least tried even in the worst of her addiction, but that doesn’t mean she was in any place to actually do all that good a job, and Sheila was just an absolute piece of shit as both a dam and a person, and those are his only examples so far as "mothering" behavior goes because he is just not emotionally prepared to ever count Selina–and not even because of her actually being an alpha and therefore more the "fathering" type or all the times he tried to get her arrested back in the day. So just–just how would he ever know how to be a mom for some poor stupid kid who'd probably be just as much of a mouthy, difficult brat as he'd always been? How would he know how to be a mom for a kid genetically crazy enough to jack the fucking Batmobile's tires? How?!

Maybe . . . maybe Roy would want them, though, or . . . or something. He wants Lian even though she's Cheshire's, after all. And like, Jason is also a fucking murderer, yeah, but he’s at least never done it for the fucking money. And who knows, maybe Kori would want them herself, if they were hers. Like–that might be a thing, for all he knows. She’s got worse people than him in her immediate nuclear family, for fuck’s sake. She might not care about the pup having a dam like him any more than Roy probably would.

Jason would have to actually ask to know if either of them would actually want a pup that was half him, of course, which just sounds like some fresh fucking hell right there. Just . . . absolute and total hell, yeah.

If they didn’t, though . . . well, he couldn't put the pup up for adoption unless he was absolutely sure they weren't Kori's, given the whole alien superpowers and horrible genetic experiments issue, obviously, but that's what DNA tests are for, right? And even if they were, he could probably–

. . . wait, fuck, does he maybe have, like–alien royalty in his gut right now? Is that an actual concern that he has to actually be concerned about?

Fuuuuuck, it really might be.

Well, that'd be fun to explain to Bruce.

. . . not that Jason is actually going to be explaining any of this to Bruce, of course. Ever. Just–fuck that, fully and completely.

Please let Tamaran as a whole just not care about this pup, like, ever. Just–never. Please.

Please.

They shouldn’t, at least, because why the hell would they? Jason is slightly undead and fully murderous Crime Alley trash with no prospects and no legal identity and no pack that would ever claim him. There isn't a single planet in this or any galaxy that would be happy about hearing one of its princesses knocked up someone like him. Best-case scenario, they just cut the kid out of the line of succession completely and never ever ask them to visit.

Maybe he should just be hoping it's Roy's pup. Or pups. Or whatever.

Still could be Roy and Kori's pups, of course. That's still a disaster that could very easily be happening right now.

Jason tries to imagine raising a pup that knew they were superpowered alien royalty alongside a completely human pup that knew that their sire already had another pup and just . . . does not want to deal with that particular potential parenting minefield. Ever.

Fuck, talk about sibling rivalry. And that without even considering Komand'r being in the family tree. Or him and his whole . . . everything with Tim, basically.

Please, please let the universe at least have the mercy to let this pup be a single, Jason prays. He just seriously can't have any more attempted fratricide or whatever in the not-technically-family. He really can't deal with that. He's hit his lifetime limit. He's done. Finished. All wrapped up. Tapped out.

Or he's currently carrying the second coming of Cain and Abel. Whichever.

Fuck his life.

Jason exhales. Inhales. Tries not to panic or catastrophize or freak the fuck out. Really, really wants an Alfred cookie.

Really wants Alfred. Alfred could fix this. Alfred could make this better. Alfred could–could–

Jason wants Alfred. Jason wants–

Jason exhales.

Inhales.

Jason . . .

Jason catches a scent. Jason . . . follows the scent.

Yes. He follows the scent. The scent is what he wants. The scent will make things better. The scent will . . .

Jason leaves the bathroom. Crosses the foyer. Goes down the hall. Heads into the back of the house, where everything smells like tea and coffee and sweet, sweet things.

And like a very calm and steady and nurturing beta.

A very specific calm and steady and nurturing beta.

Jason walks into the kitchen. There's a couple of other packmates at the table; he ignores them. He loves them, obviously, but they're not who he's here for.

Grandpa is standing at the counter, pouring tea. It smells nice. Soothing. Sweet.

Not as nice as Grandpa's soft and steady pheromones, though.

"Master Jason, what a pleasant surprise," Grandpa says, setting down the tea to smile at him in a way that makes Jason feel very, very warm and very, very overwhelmed. "I didn't even hear you knock. Would you like a cup?"

Jason is vaguely aware that he should say something that counts as an actual response to . . . any of that, he guesses.

He really doesn't care, though. He just drops his go-bag full of Red Hood's gear and all his useless weapons and the snapped-in-half pregnancy test on the kitchen floor and heads straight over to Grandpa and ducks his face down to bury in his neck and breath in his scent. Soft. Steady.

Pack.

"Master Jason, are you–" Grandpa starts, sounding alarmed, and Jason grabs his hand and puts it on his own stomach and just–

Purrs.

Grandpa inhales. Gets Jason's scent too, Jason assumes.

And chokes, very quietly.

"Jason," he says, sounding absolutely wrecked, and Jason purrs again.

"Holy crap," a packmate says disbelievingly. It's–Little Brother. Not Pup Brother or New Brother or Big Brother. Little Brother, who smells like too much coffee and not enough sleep and sounds very surprised about something, and–unsurprisingly–has a laptop set up on the table in front of him.

"Alfred, oh my god, I have literally never heard you say a single one of our names without a ‘Miss’ or a 'Master' or anything attached, is Jason fucking dying?" the other packmate at the table demands worriedly. Loud Sister–not Quiet Sister. Loud Sister smells like less coffee than Little Brother and a rush of nervous energy and also sounds very surprised. Jason wonders why.

Well, it's not really important, he guesses.

"Present," he croons lowly, pressing Grandpa's hand tighter against his stomach, and Grandpa puts his other hand on the back of Jason's neck and squeezes it very, very tight.

It feels nice.

Jason purrs again.

"Ohmygod," Loud Sister chokes.

"Jason," Grandpa says again, his voice all rough and aching as his fingers splay against Jason's stomach just where the pup should be. Or . . . pups? Maybe pups, yeah. More would be better, right? Lots of pups for the pack.

And lots of grandpups for Alpha.

That would be nice, Jason thinks, purring louder.

Jason nuzzles Grandpa's throat and leans down into him. Grandpa swallows. Tightens his grip on the back of Jason's neck. It still feels nice.

Jason thinks . . . it's been a long time, he thinks, since someone held his neck like this.

Too long.

"Okay, so he's definitely feral right now," Little Brother says. "And not in the pit rage way."

"Ohhhhh so very feral right now," Loud Sister agrees. Jason wonders who they're talking about, but isn't really worried about it either way. They're all in the pack den. They're all safe. So if somebody in the pack is feral right now, they can just ride it out here and they'll be fine. So it's fine. "But he came here? Like . . . I'm not being crazy, right, he's presenting his pup to us right now, isn't he? Like–really presenting it to us?"

"Well, to Alfred," Little Brother says. "But uh . . . yeah, I think so."

"Grandpa," Jason says contentedly, squeezing the back of Grandpa's hand again. Grandpa makes a choked noise. "Great-Grandpa."

"Fuck, I think I kinda wanna cry," Loud Sister says.

"Would you like to . . . nest, perhaps? Master Jason?" Grandpa asks carefully, clearing his throat. Jason considers the question. Nest means warm. Safe. Good things for the pup. Or pups?

Whichever.

"Nest," he agrees contentedly, nuzzling Grandpa's throat again. His scent is so nice. Jason's missed it so, so much.

Jason missed Grandpa's scent before he ever even knew it existed, he thinks.

"Then would you prefer your bedroom or the front living room for it? Or . . . somewhere else?" Grandpa asks even more carefully. Jason considers again. The bedroom would be easier to defend. Smaller. Harder for the pack to come visit, though. More out of the way. And if he needed backup, they'd be farther off. The front living room is right up by the foyer, though. Easy for everyone to check in when they come home or before they leave. Lots of room for them all to fit in it, too. He can't really think of a better option for that.

"Living room," Jason decides. Grandpa makes another choked noise.

"Of course, Master Jason," he says, his voice all tight. "Please come with me.”

Jason purrs.

Grandpa takes his hand and takes him to the front living room. Jason knows where it is, obviously, but it's nice being taken anyway. Grandpa wants him to nest. Grandpa wants his pups. He thinks Jason did good and he's pleased with him for doing good.

Good, Jason thinks.

"I'll just be a moment, Master Jason," Grandpa says thickly, then ushers him through the door and leaves him in the living room. Little Brother and Loud Sister linger in the foyer, Little Brother’s laptop tucked under his arm. Jason didn't even notice them following them.

Well, it's helpful that they did.

"Pillows," he tells them matter-of-factly because there aren’t really very many nesting pillows in here, and then starts fussing over the blankets draped over the couch as they both share a brief glance before heading off, hopefully in search of the requested pillows.

The pup definitely needs pillows, Jason knows. And his nest definitely needs pillows, too.

It won’t be big enough, if there aren’t more pillows.

Jason turns the front living room upside down and most of the assorted blankets and pillows that he finds in it smell like pack, so they're good, but a couple smell more like Pup Brother's suitors, so those ones Jason tosses out into the foyer. Pup Brother's suitors are . . . fine, he guesses? But not for his nest.

"What on earth are you doing in there, Todd?" Pup Brother himself asks, eyeing the crumpled blankets on the foyer floor. Quiet Sister is standing beside him and looks excited, leaning forward towards the doorway on her tiptoes. Jason didn't hear them coming, but he wasn't all that worried about listening for anyone either. Also, they're both very quiet when they move anyway.

"Nest," he says. He doesn't think he's being all that subtle here, but Pup Brother didn't get a traditional pack upbringing, he knows. At least, not the kind that allowed for nesting. That's not really how the League works.

He definitely never nested when he was with the League.

". . . nest?" Pup Brother asks, and just a little hinted flash of curiosity crosses the back of his eyes for a moment. Does Pup Brother ever build nests, Jason wonders? He's an omega too. He should learn how, if he hasn't yet.

"Nest," he repeats firmly, then gestures beckoningly with a blanket that smells acceptably of packscent. Nobody specifically stronger than anybody else; just an easy tangle of a whole mess of different packmates all mixed in together. Pup Brother frowns, looking confused.

Nest! Quiet Sister signs delightedly before giving Pup Brother an encouraging push into the living room. She doesn't come in herself, though. Which–Quiet Sister is an alpha, of course, so that makes sense. Jason just wasn't sure if she'd know the etiquette, all things considered.

Well, he isn’t sure if Pup Brother does either, really, but that’s fine. He’s the one who’s supposed to teach Pup Brother that kind of thing anyway.

"Er," Pup Brother says doubtfully, glancing between them. "Do you require . . . assistance, Todd?"

Jason dumps an armful of throw pillows on him, then starts demonstrating how to arrange them on the floor. Pup Brother frowns again, holding the unused pillows in his arms and observing the building process intently. Jason’s pleased by that. Pup Brother should learn this. Pup Brother should learn this, so he's showing Pup Brother this. So he's being good! Very good. A good omega. Yes!

They're both being good.

So that's good.

Jason purrs some more. Quiet Sister flutters her hands happily, still waiting in the doorway. Jason wants to invite her in, but really needs to get the nest more established first.

He'll let her in the nest itself, he already knows. Once it's done, obviously. Quiet Sister probably hasn't really been in a nest before–Pup Brother is the only other omega in the pack, after all, and she doesn't have an omega mate or any omega friends, so when would she have?

. . . unless she's still courting that weird flirty omega from Little Brother's other pack, maybe? The sort-of-alien-sort-of-human one that makes cloud castles and almost drowned with her in a basement that one time or whatever. Whatever his name is.

Or . . . wait, was Little Brother the one courting him?

Hm.

Well, maybe they both were. Jason isn't really sure, come to think.

He'll ask later, he decides, and lays down some more throw pillows. Either way he's still inviting Quiet Sister into his nest once it's done. Quiet Sister deserves all the nests she can get.

Jason hopes she'll like his.

He finishes with the throw pillows and starts looking for more blankets. Grandpa is back in the doorway with a whole stack of them, which is very conveniently timed and therefore very Grandpa.

"I was not aware that Todd could become feral without invoking the pit," Pup Brother says skeptically.

"I suppose maternal instinct has somewhat superseded its effects for the time being," Grandpa replies with a wry, warm smile, looking a bit misty-eyed. Jason purrs at him again, then takes the stack of blankets and starts shaking them out and sorting through them for suitability. They all smell good–all smell like pack.

"‘Maternal instinct’?" Pup Brother repeats blankly.

"That seems to be why Master Jason is here tonight, Master Damian," Grandpa says. "He is presenting us with his pup."

"He–oh!" Pup Brother says, his eyes widening as Quiet Sister beams. "I didn't–realize. Er. Should I be . . . in here?"

Jason teach, Quiet Sister signs. Pup Brother looks flustered. Damian learn.

"Oh," Pup Brother says just a little weakly. "I–er. Yes. Very well."

Jason purrs at him too, then resumes sorting the new blankets. This one smells like New Brother, and this one smells like Big Brother and his mate, and this one . . .

Oh.

Jason . . . pauses. The blanket in his hands is soft and heavy and dark and smells like . . . smells like . . .

It smells like Alpha.

"Is that one . . . acceptable, Master Jason?" Grandpa asks quietly.

Jason rubs his thumbs across his grip on the blanket. Buries his mouth in the edge of it just long enough to taste the pheromones scenting it. Breathes it in.

Yes. It smells like Alpha.

Their alpha.

Jason lays the Alpha-scented blanket over the bottom of his growing nest like a foundation, purring soft and reverent as he tucks all the corners in, and then resumes building from there. Grandpa makes a very quiet choked noise again.

"Delivery," Little Brother says as he and Loud Sister reappear in the doorway with more nesting pillows than Jason actually realized were in the entire pack den. Good, he thinks, crooning approvingly as he nudges Pup Brother to go and fetch them. Good for his mates' pups. Lots of pillows. Lots of warm and soft.

Just–lots.

"Do we know who sired Todd's pup?" Pup Brother asks warily as he ferries back the nesting pillows just a little awkwardly. It’s going to take him a few trips to get them all, but Jason doesn't mind. There's no rush.

"He hasn't said," Grandpa says.

"Surely we should inquire, then," Pup Brother says. "It seems . . . important."

"Damian, you and Bruce are literally the only people in this pack currently living with any kind of a blood relative," Loud Sister tells him wryly. "Except for Jason and the baby now, I guess. And also that is a super-rude kind of question to ask somebody who's in feral drop anyway."

"Well, they could be someone dangerous," Pup Brother grumbles. "Or a civilian, in which case they would need to be retrieved as soon as possible."

"‘Retrieved’?" Little Brother asks with a frown. "What for?”

"They would not be safe outside the manor," Pup Brother says. "The sire of the first pups of our pack's next generation would be a valuable target for our enemies."

". . . okay, good point there," Little Brother mutters as he and Loud Sister both wince. "Uh, Jason? Who'd you spend your last heat with?"

"Mine," Jason replies, contentedly fluffing the new layer of pillows in his nest. It’s much more important than that question.

". . . your what, exactly?" Loud Sister tries.

"Mine," Jason repeats, still more absorbed in the process of nest-building than anything else. They can talk once his nest is done, he figures. If they really have to, he means. "My . . . mmmmm. My sun. And my arsenal."

"Please don't mean a Kryptonian when you say 'sun'," Little Brother mutters under his breath. "Or an assassin when you say 'arsenal'."

"I love them," Jason replies in satisfaction, and lays down another blanket. This one smells like Grandpa. It's so nice.

"Oh wow, Jason just actually admitted an emotional attachment willingly and in cold blood and without triggering the pit," Loud Sister says, her eyes wide. "Yeah, okay, we reaaaaally shouldn't have asked about the sire."

"No, Damian's right," Little Brother says, shaking his head. "This is important. They could be in danger. Or, uh, planning to attack us. Depending. Are your sun and your arsenal civilians, Jason?"

Jason laughs.

That's such a funny question.

"They're gonna burn down Gotham for me," he says dreamily.

"Not the most reassuring answer but noted," Little Brother says. "Are they going to burn it down with, I don't know, specifically heat vision?"

Jason laughs again.

"I'm just gonna call Kon real quick," Little Brother says, pulling out his phone.

"Isn't he an omega?" Loud Sister asks doubtfully.

"Yeah, but Supergirl's an alpha," Little Brother says. "And, relatedly, so is Power Girl."

Jason takes a moment to think about Power Girl. Just, like . . . as a person and everything. And as an experience.

He purrs.

". . . yeah, definitely call Kon," Loud Sister says, half-eyeing him for some reason.

Little Brother calls.

"Hey, Tim," Little Brother's phone hums as Jason's busy demonstrating how to build up the sides of the nest for Pup Brother, who's still watching the process intently. "What's up, dude?"

Oh. It's the cloud castle omega, Jason realizes.

"I forget which one of you's courting him," he muses distractedly as he reinforces the nest a little more. He’s pretty sure he knew, anyway. But maybe not.

"Wait, who's getting courted?" Little Brother's phone asks, sounding puzzled.

"Nothing! No one!" Little Brother sputters as he turns red. So maybe he's the one doing the courting, then? But also Quiet Sister is leaning in towards the phone with a very pleased expression on her face, so maybe not.

"Kon," she says happily.

"Oh, hey there, Batbabe," Little Brother's phone says, sounding pretty pleased too. "Nice to hear from you again."

"Kon," Quiet Sister repeats in a low and carrying alpha-voiced rumble, which may or may not count as an actual response to her, and the phone giggles flirtatiously. Little Brother makes a face.

"Kon, do you know if Power Girl might've heat-partnered Hood recently?" he cuts in quickly. "Or . . . ever, I guess?"

"I don't know, Tim, do you remember how we talked about boundaries and how some people still have them even when they're wearing coordinating superhero costumes?" his phone asks dryly.

"Yes," Little Brother very clearly lies.

"Yeah, well, Power Girl and I definitely have them," his phone says. "Despite the super-hearing and the X-ray vision and how absolutely desperately I want her to throw me down and fucking rail me, which should tell you a lot."

"Jason just showed up at the manor pregnant and feral with literally no warning and when we asked him who the sire was he just called them his 'sun'," Little Brother says.

". . . alright well so much for boundaries, I guess," his phone says. "Lemme text her."

"Thank you," Little Brother says in relief.

"You're just lucky that you're cute and I'm easy," his phone scoffs. "Hmmm. She says 'no, does he need me to?' Lucky bitch."

"Dammit," Little Brother says. “Alright, thanks anyway. I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Such a romantic,” his phone teases. “Speaking of heat-partnering, you bringin’ Cass along next time?”

Quiet Sister rumbles warmly. Little Brother’s phone laughs, then purrs back. Little Brother looks briefly sour.

“Sure, great, thanks,” he says. “Bye, Kon.”

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave,” his phone coos, and Little Brother ends the call with an exasperated expression.

“Why is he like this,” he mutters. “Why don’t I have better taste?”

“Because you are an idiot,” Pup Brother informs him. Little Brother eyes him dubiously.

“Helpful as always, demon brat, thank you,” he says. “Alright, it’s not Power Girl, so small favors. I don’t know how concerned we should be at this point, honestly. It might just be, I don’t know, some random assassin’s kid or something.”

“Ugh, I hope not, a Kryptonian’s pup would’ve been way less of a problem than an assassin’s,” Loud Sister huffs, making a face as she folds her arms.

“. . . explain that logic, please,” Little Brother says.

“Kryptonian babies don’t get superpowers until the sun happens to them, so they wouldn’t accidentally hurt him kicking around in-utero or anything, so we’ve got nine months ‘til shit might get complicated,” Loud Sister replies reasonably. “But assassin babies come with at least one guaranteed murderous relative and probably also-murderous rivals of said relative who are all already grown-ass murderous adults that probably don’t care about stabbing pregnant people.”

“I hate our lives,” Little Brother mutters, putting his face in his hands.

“Assassins will not be a concern,” Grandpa says dismissively, and Jason feels warm and safe. Anyone else, that might just be an assumption. From Grandpa, it’s a promise.

He loves him so much. He loves all of them, obviously, but Grandpa he loves so much. He purrs happily in his direction, and Grandpa's face goes soft for a moment, and then solid as steel.

“You’re safe here, my boy,” he says quietly. and Jason purrs again and stacks up some more nesting pillows. He knows that. Grandpa’s here, so of course he does. The pack’s here. He’s not alone this time, so he’s safe.

And Alpha will be home soon, too.

So yes. He’s safe. His pup is safe.

He wouldn’t have brought them here if they wouldn’t be.

Jason stacks up a few more nesting pillows; drapes another blanket over them and tucks in all the loose corners of it. He’s making sloping walls. He likes those the best. They’re the nicest.

( Mama built her nests with sloping walls. real Mama. not the liar.

he always wanted his nests to be like hers. )

This blanket smells like Loud Sister. A little bit like Quiet Sister too, but mostly like her. It’s nice too. Jason checks the corners of it, then gets more pillows.

“I was unaware this was such an involved process,” Pup Brother says, sounding perplexed.

“Depends on both the omega and the situation, but yeah, kinda tends to be,” Loud Sister says with a shrug, then glances towards the door. “Who’s–”

Brother, Quiet Sister signs, unconcerned. Jason perks reflexively, because there’s only two options left for that sign, and–

Ah. No, he can smell New Brother coming; not Big Brother. Well, that’s alright. Jason doesn’t know New Brother very well yet, but he should be here. Obviously he should. The whole pack should. He’s pupped now, so they’re all just going to have to hurry up and get home to meet them. Her. Him. It?

. . . whatever. Jason doesn’t even understand most of the human genders, much less any Tamaranean ones. The pup can just tell him when they figure it out.

“Hey, what’s everybody doing in–” New Brother starts to ask as he walks into the foyer, and then catches sight of Jason and startles in surprise. “Oh!”

Jason hums in idle acknowledgement at him, but doesn’t look up from the nest. New Brother is a beta; he doesn’t need nesting lessons. Though he could come in, Jason supposes.

To the room, he means. Not the nest. He doesn’t know him well enough for that yet.

. . . maybe later, though. Mm. Yeah–later, maybe.

But Pup Brother and Quiet Sister first.

“Jason came home,” Little Brother says. “Came home pregnant, specifically. He’s presenting his pup to–well, he presented them to Alfred, technically, I think the rest of us were more incidental in that. But he did let Steph and I get him pillows and he’s teaching Damian how to nest. Also he's definitely feral as hell right now, so keep that in mind.”

“Huh,” New Brother says, looking bemused. “I . . . was not under the impression that he would literally ever do any of that. Except maybe for the going feral part, though in that case I would’ve expected more blood and screaming and murder. Uh–no offense.”

“None taken, I’m sure, Master Duke,” Grandpa says dryly.

“I didn’t mean–I just, you know, I didn’t think he really considered the manor home anymore,” New Brother says awkwardly, and Jason . . . Jason feels a little unsettled, and thinks . . . is that . . . right, or . . . ?

“This manor will be a home to Master Jason for as long as it stands,” Grandpa says, simple and certain, and Jason is immediately soothed. Grandpa knows, after all. So if Grandpa says so, it’s true. “To all of you. No matter what.”

Jason loves him so much, he thinks contentedly, and layers a few more pillows.

“We should call Bruce, actually,” Little Brother says. “Do you think we should call Bruce?”

“No,” Grandpa says. “Master Bruce will just rile himself up on the way home if we call him and show up in an alpha snit. Best to just let him arrive as scheduled. He should be on his way by now anyway.”

“I guess, yeah,” Little Brother says, biting his lip. “I don’t know, I just feel like we should call him.”

“We should call Dick,” New Brother says. “Speaking of people who’re gonna get riled about this.”

“Ooo, good point,” Loud Sister says with a wince, tapping her lip. “Where is he tonight again?”

“Master Dick and Miss Barbara are already enroute as well,” Grandpa says, linking his hands neatly in front of himself. “I did call them. Though I will admit that I did not specify the purpose of my call, only that there was vital pack business to be attended to at the manor.”

“Alfred, I’m pretty sure you gave them a heart attack,” Loud Sister says with a wince. “Like you definitely gave them a heart attack.”

“I did not say that it was urgently vital,” Grandpa replies, clearly unconcerned. “Master Jason, are you hungry? Would you like something for the pup?”

Jason pauses consideringly, mulling that over, then nods agreeably. The pup needs fed, yes. The pup definitely needs fed. Especially if there's more than one. They have to grow up strong and healthy. They need taken care of.

“For the pup,” he confirms. And he still wants a cookie, too.

He really wants a cookie.

A cookie would be nice.

“Just a moment, then, Master Jason,” Grandpa says, then heads off towards the kitchen. Jason hums contentedly to himself–because Grandpa–and then goes back to showing Pup Brother how to nest.

“Damian is also fine with this?” New Brother mutters in an aside to Little Brother and Loud Sister. “Like, that’s a thing?”

“Damian is, more pressingly, not deaf,” Pup Brother says dubiously. New Brother looks momentarily embarrassed, then just shrugs.

“Look, you can’t tell me it’s not a valid question,” he says. Pup Brother glowers at him.

“Todd is an omega who trained within the League of Assassins,” he says. “He is the most acceptable candidate to provide me with these teachings.”

“They nest in the League?” Loud Sister asks skeptically.

“No,” Pup Brother says, the corner of his jaw momentarily tightening. “They do not.”

“Oh,” she says, just barely wincing. Jason purrs encouragingly at Pup Brother, then reaches out and tugs him in close enough to rub his wrists along the scent glands in his throat, scenting him with nest safe-nest-safe-nest pack-omega-protect. Pup Brother stands very, very still for it very, very stiffly. Jason purrs again, then nuzzles his hair before taking the rest of the pillows he’s holding from him and working on working them into the nest. Pup Brother stays still one moment longer, then heads back to the pillows left by the door and scoops them up to bring back. Jason purrs approvingly again, and a very faint note of . . . acknowledgment, maybe, enters Pup Brother’s scent.

Pup Brother’s scent very rarely gives off anything but challenge or disdain, if it gives off anything at all. The only ones in the pack with more control over their pheromones are Quiet Sister and Grandpa, Jason thinks. Even Alpha can’t hold himself back as well.

Alpha grew up different, of course, Jason remembers idly, and fluffs up a few of the pillows before placing them.

He turns over the pillows consideringly once or twice, then fluffs them again. After a while Grandpa comes back with a small stack of folded clothes and a tray of little sandwiches and cut-up celery sticks and apple slices with peanut butter to dip them in, and Jason very vaguely remembers being twelve years old and consistently not hungry for maybe the first time he could remember and that one weird, stupid phase where he’d refused to eat anything without cheap store-brand peanut butter being involved and driven Grandpa very politely up the wall, probably, but Grandpa had found about eight million different ways to use the stuff and Alpha hadn’t complained or forced him to eat anything he didn’t want or anything like that.

Psychologically, Jason knows it’d probably been some stupid regression thing or just because he’d never really been in a situation where he’d been able to be actually picky about food before. But at the time . . . at the time, it’d felt like proof that Grandpa and Alpha had really cared. Like, even more than getting taken in off the street to begin with had.

It’d been . . . weird. Weird that that’d made him feel that way.

Weirder than they’d put up with it, though.

So seeing Grandpa bring him peanut butter now is . . .

Jason thinks about crying, but it makes more sense to hug Grandpa and nuzzle into the scent glands in his throat, even with the high stiff collar of his shirt halfway in the way. It doesn’t matter, because Grandpa smells familiar and safe and Grandpa is familiar and safe and he brought him peanut butter like maybe he . . . remembers, maybe, that one weird stupid phase Jason’d had. Like maybe he . . . cares, still.

There’s cookies on the tray too. Jaffa cakes.

Jason hasn’t had a jaffa cake since before he died, he’s pretty sure.

If he has, he knows it couldn’t possibly have compared to Grandpa’s.

Jason purrs into Grandpa’s half-covered scent gland, then takes the tray and sets it up neatly just outside the nest, in easy reach but not in any packmates’ paths. Easy to step around. He picks out the nicest-looking jaffa cake and pushes it on Pup Brother, who looks puzzled but takes it.

“Er,” Pup Brother says, frowning at the jaffa cake in his hand. “I have reached my necessary caloric intake for the day, Todd.”

Jason doesn’t know why that matters, so just watches him expectantly. Pup Brother looks awkward, glancing towards the others. Jason prods insistently at the jaffa cake.

“Master Jason seems to want you to eat as well, Master Damian,” Grandpa supplies helpfully, seeming faintly amused, and Pup Brother looks puzzled again.

“Why?” he asks. “I am not the one with pups to feed.”

“You are a pup to feed, Damian,” Little Brother says wryly. Pup Brother’s expression turns dubious.

“Hardly,” he says. “The fact that I have not yet presented is irrelevant to my capacity to feed myself.”

Jason doesn’t really know what Pup Brother’s going on about, but he needs to eat. He pokes meaningfully at the jaffa cake again, a little concerned. Is Pup Brother not feeling well? Is he sick? He doesn’t smell sick, or like he’s in pain or anything like that either. But he’s still not eating the jaffa cake, and it’s one of Grandpa’s.

“I think if you don’t eat it you’re gonna stress him out,” New Brother says. Pup Brother scowls at him. Maybe he really doesn’t feel good, Jason thinks, and presses the back of his hand to his forehead just in case, frowning at the thought. “See?”

“This is ridiculous,” Pup Brother mutters, but he takes a bite of his jaffa cake and Jason immediately relaxes and starts purring encouragingly at him, twisting his wrist to rub his scent glands along Pup Brother’s hair with the scent of pack-pack-BROTHER-pack. Good. Pup Brother isn’t sick.

Pup Brother . . . blinks, very slowly, and then eats the rest of his jaffa cake. Jason purrs louder and scents him a little more. He’s such a good pup. Jason wants to–

The front door slams open. Everyone jumps, but Jason isn’t worried about it, because at the same time he hears Big Brother’s voice shout, “ALFRED!”

So it’s just Big Brother, and Grandpa will take care of him. It’s fine.

“Master Dick,” Grandpa says, turning towards the front door with a mildly disapproving expression, still holding the clothes he brought with the tray. Jason wonders what they’re for. “Please refrain from shouting in the den.”

“You said it was vital pack business!” Big Brother’s voice protests. Jason can’t see him from here, but isn’t worried about it. Big Brother will come into view soon enough, and then Jason will let him in the living room. Not the nest, but definitely the living room. “You haven’t said that since the last time the Court of Owls was making trouble!”

“I didn’t say it was urgent,” Grandpa says, mildly put out.

“What happened?” Big Brother’s mate asks, and Jason hears the slight squeak of her wheels. They should oil her chair, he thinks absentmindedly. It’s safer if she can move quieter. “And why is everyone in the foyer?”

“Everyone is not in the foyer, actually,” Loud Sister says.

“Bruce and Selina are still on the way, aren’t they?” Big Brother’s mate asks. “My news tracker didn’t ID them as leaving the gala until pretty recently.”

“Yeah,” Little Brother says. “She meant Jason and Damian aren’t out here, though.”

Big Brother and his mate both pause. Jason lays out another blanket.

“. . . ‘out here’?” Big Brother repeats.

“We are in the living room,” Pup Brother says, sounding annoyed. “Obviously.”

“What do you mean ‘we’?” Big Brother asks in confusion, then leans into line of sight to look into the living room past the others. Then he goes very, very still. Jason wonders why, idly, and shakes out another blanket. “. . . Jason. Are you nesting? In the living room?”

Jason huffs, because obviously, and then drops the blanket to go over to the doorway and grab Big Brother’s wrist and yank him into the living room past the others. He’s taking too long.

“Present,” Jason croons anyway, because the important part is that Big Brother is finally here, and he pulls Big Brother’s hand to his stomach.

“Oh,” Big Brother chokes, his eyes widening. Jason just pushes his nose into one of the scent glands in the other’s neck and nuzzles in contentedly. Big Brother smells strong and sure and safe, like always.

“Oh, you got the full intro,” Little Brother observes, sounding a little surprised. “Only Alfred’s gotten that so far.”

“Jason,” Big Brother says, his voice still choked, and then Jason has to suffer through being hugged with Big Brother’s free arm, but it’s fine. Big Brother’s just like that.

Anyway, Jason can keep his nose in his neck for a little longer this way anyway.

“Mmm,” he hums, nuzzling Big Brother again. “Uncle. Don’t spoil ‘em.”

“I’m gonna spoil ‘em so bad, Little Wing,” Big Brother says with a shaky little laugh, squeezing his arm around him tighter. Jason grumbles in annoyance and bites him, but not too hard.

The bruising won’t last that long, he means.

. . . probably.

Big Brother probably is gonna spoil his pup, the dumbass. Jason’s gonna have to make sure he doesn’t go overboard. A little bit of spoiling is probably okay, though. Like–just giving the pup a little bit of it can’t hurt. Jason doesn’t really know if he knows how to spoil a pup himself, so . . . Big Brother’s gonna be useful for that, yeah.

Though he’s still gonna have to make sure the idiot doesn’t go overboard, obviously.

Big Brother squeezes him tighter again. Jason bites him harder, then shoves him off. Big Brother coos happily and Jason rolls his eyes.

Moron.

“Master Jason,” Grandpa says, and holds out the clothes in his arms. Jason realizes they’re probably meant for him, so he takes them. They’re soft. Nice-feeling.

And they smell like . . .

Jason holds the folded stack of them against his chest and breathes in the scent of Alpha, and settles into his own bones.

“We have been unable to ascertain the identity of the sire,” Pup Brother informs Big Brother. “Todd did not provide a clear response when questioned.”

“Oh, yeah, I don’t even know if he’s seeing anyone,” Big Brother says. “Well, does it matter?”

“As Dames pointed out earlier, if they’re either an assassin or an easy target?” Loud Sister says. “Definitely. Like, very, very definitely.”

“. . . point,” Big Brother says, making a face. “What did he say?”

“He called them his sun and his arsenal,” Little Brother says, sounding bothered. “That was all he said. Power Girl said she hasn’t heat-partnered him, thought we probably should ask Supergirl too just in case, since–”

“Tim,” Big Brother cuts him off, staring at him as his mate muffles a low snicker. Little Brother pauses, then blinks at him.

“What?” he says.

"Jason called them his sun," Big Brother repeats, raising an eyebrow. "And his arsenal.”

"Yes?" Little Brother says.

"You know, I remember your friends' names, Timmy," Big Brother says.

"Wh–oh!" Little Brother groans, smacking a hand against the side of his head as Big Brother's mate starts laughing outright. "Starfire and Red Arrow?! Seriously?!"

"In Jay's defense, I might've talked them both up a bit back when he was young and impressionable," Big Brother replies wryly. "Or maybe a lot. So like, good job on bagging them both at once, Little Wing, I'm impressed, never actually pulled that one off myself."

"You and the damn redheads," Big Brother's mate snorts. Which . . . her hair is also red? So Jason's not really sure what that's about. "And how's Wally doing today, honey?"

"I'm sure I don't know, honey," Big Brother lies primly, folding his arms. "So how was their double-team game, Little Wing? Just for totally innocent and unselfish reasons that have nothing to do with either any unsatisfied teenage curiosity or outstanding bets with Vic or my own personal spank bank."

"They want flowers," Jason hums contentedly, finally unfolding the clothes Grandpa’s brought him. They smell so much like Alpha he must’ve slept in them last night.

"Flowers?" Big Brother tilts his head questioningly as Jason kicks off his boots and strips off his own clothes and bare remnants of weapons and armor one-handed, letting it all drop carelessly to the floor. It’s not any more important than Red Hood’s gear, right now.

"And stars," he says, still more contented.

"Stars?" Big Brother wrinkles his nose.

"Yeah," Jason says, stepping into Alpha’s soft sleep pants and pulling on his T-shirt. They fit, which is funny. Alpha used to seem like the biggest thing in the world, even face-to-face with Killer Croc or Clayface or just . . . whoever.

Good, Jason thinks, smoothing the shirt down over his stomach carefully, even though nothing’s even showing yet. Then maybe the pup will think he’s someplace that safe too.

Big Brother blinks at him. Blinks again.

Blinks one more time.

"Oh my god, are they actually mating you?!" he yelps, clapping his hands over his mouth as his eyes widen in delight. "Little Wing! My baby boy! Please let me be your man of honor, I will wear a bridesmaids' dress if I have to, I don't even care.”

Jason is admittedly tempted by the offer, if only for the entertainment factor of watching Big Brother learn to walk in heels. Although even being a male beta Big Brother would still probably look distractingly better in the dress than any of the other bridesmaids, so maybe not . . . ?

Also, really, Big Brother can probably already run in heels, knowing him.

Maybe not stilettos, though.

Hmmmmm.

Jason does like stilettos.

"A bridesmaids' dress?" Big Brother's mate asks wryly, raising an eyebrow.

"Babs, baby, you don't even know what I would do to get Jason to have an actual mating ceremony that I could actually attend," Big Brother says feelingly, waving his hands in the air between them. "Wearing a bridesmaids' dress is the least of it."

. . . Jason plucks at the collar of his borrowed shirt and wonders if Alpha would give him away, if he asked him to. If he'd . . . if he'd like to.

Want to.

If he'd dance with him, at the reception. That's normal, for the pack alpha to dance with the . . . with the bride.

So maybe Alpha would, if Jason asked him to.

Jason bites his lip, considering, and then just . . . goes back to the nest, and back to building it up. It's almost done–it doesn't need much more work. He's mostly just onto finishing touches now, really, and showing Pup Brother how to make sure everything's all comfortable and secure.

"Are nests typically this size?" Pup Brother asks, peering over his shoulder with poorly-concealed curiosity. "It seems somewhat larger than necessary."

"Depends how many people you want in 'em and, like, said people’s feelings about personal space," Big Brother replies with a shrug. "Seen both bigger and smaller, depending. You should see Donna's heat nests, they're amazing. Like, they're basically fortresses and we can literally fit the whole Titans roster in them at once, reserves included. Apparently it's an Amazon thing, they just pile on the sisters like crazy."

"That seems . . . excessive," Pup Brother says with a grimace. "Although quite frankly I cannot imagine wanting to be in a nest with anyone else at all. Certainly not while–compromised."

"I mean, maybe, but you might change your mind about that someday," Loud Sister tells him with a laugh. "I didn't ever think I'd care about nests until the first time an omega I liked invited me into one of theirs to cuddle and then, welllll . . ."

"Or if you ever get mated, you might want to then," Little Brother adds. "Partners that nest together report healthier relationships and deeper communication, and better socialization and emotional support for their pups."

"I do not 'cuddle'," Pup Brother sneers with utmost disdain. "And I in fact have no expectations of ever finding an alpha worthy of either my time or the gift of my womb."

"Isn't Jon an alpha, though?" Big Brother asks curiously, tilting his head with an expression of perfect innocence. "He's like your best friend. And that Colin kid's an alpha too, right? Wouldn't consider giving either of them a little time? Or just following Jason's example and going for broke on both?"

"I–that's–shut up and die, Grayson!" Pup Brother sputters indignantly as everyone else muffles laughter, his face bright red and own expression absolutely mortified. Big Brother grins winningly at him, all sly amusement. Pup Brother glares back darkly. "I will kill you and I will not regret the necessity of it."

"Okay, well, too bad for you but you've conditioned me to find murder threats adorable, so check and mate, pup," Big Brother replies with a wider grin.

"A promise is not a threat," Pup Brother retorts darkly, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Awwwww," Big Brother coos adoringly. Pup Brother hisses at him.

He seems grouchy, so Jason hugs him. Pup Brother bristles. Jason should probably hug him harder, he figures, and does.

“Todd!” Pup Brother sputters. Loud Sister and Little Brother start laughing, and New Brother muffles a snicker. Jason wonders what’s so funny, but it’s more important to hug Pup Brother and scent him with safe-safe-safe. Big Brother and his mate can handle whatever the others are distracted by, he figures. Or Quiet Sister or Grandpa. Or just whoever isn’t busy, he guesses.

He should get Pup Brother another jaffa cake, he decides, and drags him back over to the cookies.

“Todd!” Pup Brother squawks indignantly, attempting to escape his grip. He doesn’t use any nerve strikes, though, so Jason figures he’s not that serious about it and just sits him down on the edge of the nest and pushes another jaffa cake on him. Or two.

. . . maybe three. Three might be better.

“Oh my god, I would kill for my camera right now,” Little Brother says, still laughing. Pup Brother growls at him. Jason nuzzles him, then grooms his hair a little as he fusses him into eating the jaffa cakes.

“Should we call Kori and Roy?” Big Brother’s mate asks. “They can’t possibly know he’s pregnant and not either be here.”

“I mean, you’re assuming Jason didn’t deliberately ditch them, but point,” Big Brother says, his expression turning considering. “Or that he’d have told them he was pregnant. Especially since they’re not mated yet.”

“They’ll mate me when I let ‘em,” Jason huffs, grooming Pup Brother some more and then pushing him down into the nest to tuck him in. Pup Brother doesn’t flail, but he stiffens a little, so Jason scents him some more. safe-safe nest-safe-nest

Pup Brother doesn’t relax, exactly, but warily untenses, at least.

“Todd, this is your nest,” he says with a frown. “Why am I in it?”

“I want you in it,” Jason hums, rubbing his wrists along Pup Brother’s throat with more safe-safe-safe. Pup Brother wrinkles his nose, looking bewildered.

Dumb kid. Why else?

“That is the least convincing possible answer you could have provided me,” Pup Brother accuses. Jason rolls his eyes, then leans down to nuzzle his hair and scruffs the back of his neck lightly. Pup Brother stiffens instead of melting, but it’s Pup Brother, so Jason isn’t surprised by that fact and just nuzzles him again before looking towards Quiet Sister instead. The nest’s good enough now, he thinks.

“You too,” he says, jerking his head towards it. Quiet Sister’s eyes widen in surprise, and then her face splits into a warm, delighted smile.

Thank you, she signs before slipping into the living room and approaching the nest. She stops outside it to bow in a formal, unpracticed request. Jason spares a moment to hate her asshole sire, then reaches up and grabs her to pull her down into it. She lets him, which makes him feel a little better about things, and lets him settle her into the curved side of the nest. She beams at him, reaching up to brush sister-scent along his throat from her wrists, and he stops to nuzzle into them. It’s nice, so obviously he does. And it makes it easier for her to scent him, too.

“Holy shit,” Loud Sister mutters under her breath. Jason doesn’t know why.

He nuzzles into Quiet Sister’s wrists one last time, then turns to scoop Pup Brother into his arms and pull him down onto their sides. He cuddles them together, wrapping himself around him and leaving Quiet Sister space to spoon up behind him. Them. Whichever. Pup Brother makes an indignant noise and Jason hushes him with a humming purr and nuzzles safe-pup good-pup good-good-pup into his hair. Pup Brother makes an outraged noise this time, and Little Brother and Loud Sister both laugh. Pup Brother growls at them and reaches for a knife, and Jason hums another purr into his hair. He lets Pup Brother throw the knife at them, since they don’t need knives in the nest. Not while Grandpa and Big Brother are here, anyway. It’s safe, with both of them here.

. . . and Alpha will be home soon too.

Little Brother and Loud Sister dodge Pup Brother’s knife, still laughing. Jason just buries his face in his hair again and squeezes his arms around him tighter with another purr. Pup Brother hisses, but relaxes. Slightly.

Well, doesn’t go for another knife, anyway.

Same difference.

“This is undignified, Todd,” Pup Brother growls. Jason doesn’t know what he’s talking about, so just ignores it to cuddle him some more, petting more good-pup safe-pup scent onto him. What’s “dignified” matter, anyway? They’re in the pack den. They don’t have to worry about things like that here.

Even if Grandpa always does himself. But that’s just Grandpa, anyway.

“I don’t think he cares, Dami,” Big Brother says, sounding amused. “Can everyone else come into the living room too, Little Wing, or do you want your space?”

“Come in,” Jason hums easily. Obviously they should all come in. Why wouldn’t they?

Grandpa gives a soft hitched sigh, and Big Brother lets out a choked little laugh.

“Cool,” he says. “Yeah, that’s–okay. Yeah. Thanks, Jason.”

“Just get ‘em all in here and quit fuckin’ loitering,” Jason snorts, then nuzzles Pup Brother again, who gives an aggrieved sigh but still doesn’t stab anyone. So that’s fine, Jason figures, and scents good-good-pup into his hair again.

“Absolutely undignified,” Pup Brother mutters sullenly as the rest of the pack slips quiet and careful into the room. New Brother and Loud Sister take the couch. Little Brother tries to follow them, like an idiot, and Jason growls.

“Not there,” he snaps irritably, baring his teeth. Stupid Little Brother.

“Uh,” Little Brother says. “You don’t want, uh, me in here?” His scent flickers with restless self-consciousness, and Jason growls again. Idiot.

He sits up just enough to glower his exasperation at Little Brother, then leans over and snakes out an arm to grab his ankle and yank. Little Brother goes down with a yelp, and Jason drags him over to the side of the nest and pulls him in against it. Not inside it, obviously, but against it. He snatches Little Brother’s laptop off him to make sure he stays, then unfolds it and sets it up on the edge of the nest facing out towards Little Brother. He also glowers at him again, just to make the point.

“There,” he says, still annoyed but mostly satisfied. “Sit. Stay.”

“Um,” Little Brother says. “Right . . . here?”

Jason gives him a withering look, then lays back down between Pup Brother and Quiet Sister and curls up around Pup Brother, who huffs over it. Quiet Sister rumbles softly, then presses up against his back. Jason feels . . . settled, maybe. Quiet Sister won’t let anything happen either. They’re safe here.

All of them.

“Am I flattered that he just set up a workstation for me on the edge of his nest or insulted that he wants me on the floor?” Little Brother wonders. Loud Sister laughs and he flips her off, but settles properly into his seat anyway and adjusts the tilt of his screen. Jason growls again on principle, then spares Big Brother a suspicious glance to make sure he sits where he should. Big Brother lets out a shaky laugh of his own, but sits down cross-legged on the floor on the other side of the nest.

Good, Jason thinks in satisfaction.

Grandpa sits in the armchair by the doorway, unfortunately, but it's Grandpa, so Jason allows it. And Big Brother's mate wheels over and parks her chair behind Big Brother. That's fine, Jason decides, then relaxes almost as fully as he can.

As fully as he can without Alpha around, anyway.

Alpha should hurry up and get here. Jason needs to present his pup to him already.

It's . . . different from the last time he was waiting on Alpha, he thinks vaguely. Then he just–doesn't think about that anymore. But it is different.

Alpha's actually coming this time, so it's different.

Jason tightens his grip on Pup Brother and Quiet Sister tightens her grip on him. He can smell the whole pack's scents–smell the whole pack's packscent–and he feels . . . good about that. He likes that.

He missed them. He shouldn't have stayed gone so long. Though now there's a pup, and maybe even more than one, so he supposes it was worth it.

And either way, he's home now.

Grandpa said.

“ETA on B?” Big Brother asks.

“Eighteen minutes, if they avoided the downtown traffic,” Big Brother’s mate says. Jason hums acknowledgment, then lets himself relax just a little more. More than he even thought he could, really.

It's nice.

It's really nice.

And they're all safe, too.

“Holy crap, is he purring?” New Brother mutters under his breath.

“He is definitely purring,” Loud Sister confirms. “Like a big grumpy motorcycle.”

“Pretty sure I've heard quieter motorcycles,” Big Brother's mate says wryly. “It's pretty cute, though.”

“It is so cute, oh my god,” Big Brother says in despairing delight. “This is bad enough, how are we gonna handle him being like this with an actual baby?”

“I think that's mostly a ‘you’ problem, Dick,” Little Brother says.

“That is definitely a ‘you’ problem,” Loud Sister agrees.

“For sure,” New Brother says.

“Very cute,” Quiet Sister hums, nuzzling the back of Jason’s neck and patting his shoulder. “Baby brother.”

“Thank you, Cass,” Big Brother says with a huff, folding his arms. “This is so adorable I can’t even stand it.”

Jason huffs, rolling his eyes, then just settles in and closes them. It’s safe to. And he has a nest to let his scent seep into and through, and “bred” pheromones to let settle into and fill up the den. He’s early enough along that it’ll probably take a little while, so it’s past time to concentrate on putting those off and scenting the room. The nest’s all made, and Pup Brother and Quiet Sister are in it, and Grandpa’s by the door and Big Brother and Little Brother are just outside the nest, and Loud Sister and New Brother and Big Brother’s mate are all here too, so . . .

So once Alpha’s here, then everything will be perfect.

“He’s purring again,” New Brother mutters. “I literally did not even know he was physically capable of making that sound.”

“Capable of making it to motorcycle-shaming levels, apparently,” Loud Sister says with a laugh. “Damn, Jason.”

Jason doesn’t know what she’s talking about, but he isn’t worried about it. If it’s important, someone will take care of it.

Everyone’s here, so of course someone will.

“Silence, all of you,” Pup Brother grumbles, sounding long-suffering but staying settled secure in Jason’s arms, which is good. Definitely. He should be there right now.

Jason nuzzles him some more, for obvious reasons, and then just concentrates on letting his pheromones spread through the room. His nest already smells like the pack and so does the den, obviously, but it doesn’t smell like pup-is-coming.

It needs to, obviously.

Someone’s purring. It’s not Pup Brother, but Jason’s not sure who else could be.

Well, it doesn’t matter, really.

Some of the others talk about some things, their voices soft and quiet. Jason doesn’t worry about it. It’s just little stuff, like patrol schedules and classes and appointments. Normal little things for a pack to talk about, and easy to settle into the background as white noise while he lets his pheromones fill up the room and makes sure Pup Brother’s eaten.

He eats some of the apple slices and peanut butter, himself. The pup needs to eat too.

It’s the same cheap, shitty store brand that he used to insist on as a pup himself.

“ETA five minutes,” Big Brother’s mate says eventually, looking at her phone. Jason’s not sure what she’s talking about, but isn’t worried about that either. If it’s important, someone will tell him. Or handle it. Or both.

All he has to do right now is wait for Alpha to get here, and then everything will be fine.

Everything will be perfect, actually, once Alpha gets here.

The others talk a little more. Their voices are still soft and quiet, so Jason still doesn’t worry about it. He just stays curled up around Pup Brother and in Quiet Sister’s arms, letting his pheromones fill up the den with bred and home-safe and all the usual things that are usually part of presenting a pup to the pack.

It’s nice. The . . . being here. It’s nice. He missed it here.

He wonders why he missed it so bad. Has it been that long, or . . . ?

He just missed it, he guesses.

But now he’s here, so he doesn’t have to miss it anymore.

Grandpa turns his head towards the door and pushes himself up out of his chair. Jason whines in distress. Is he leaving? Why’s he leaving?

“I’ll just be a moment, my boy,” Grandpa assures him, and Jason settles, a little. If Grandpa says he’ll be just a moment, then he means it.

Grandpa steps out into the foyer again and everyone else goes quiet all at once, and Jason realizes–oh. The front door just opened, didn’t it. He doesn’t hear footsteps, though.

. . . does that mean . . . ?

“Alfred?” Alpha says from the foyer, sounding just barely concerned, and something in Jason vibrates at the sound of his voice. “What’s going on?”

“Is someone purring?” Alpha’s mate asks curiously.

“Master Jason came home, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says.

“. . . he what?” Alpha says, his voice sounding–strange, just a bit. Jason isn’t sure why it does, but feels . . .

“Just–the living room, Master Bruce,” Grandpa says. “You should come and see for yourself.”

Grandpa steps back into view of the doorway, and Jason still feels unsettled and just a little bit uncertain, and isn’t sure if–

Then Alpha steps into view too, Alpha’s mate right behind him, and Jason forgets everything else and purrs.

Alpha’s home. Alpha came this time. Alpha came for him this time.

That’s all he ever wanted him to do.

Alpha stares. He looks around the room just briefly, because it’s Alpha so of course he does–but then he stares.

“Jason?” he says, and Jason purrs louder.

Alpha came.

“He’s, you know–definitely feral-brained right now, obviously,” Little Brother says, gesturing sheepishly. Jason wonders who he’s talking about, idly, but isn’t really worried about it. “Kinda just showed up and let himself in, and then, uh . . . well, he’s, uh, presented to Alfred and Dick so far and was teaching Damian how to nest, so . . .”

“He did?” Alpha’s voice sounds a little–choked, maybe. Jason wonders why.

He’s still over in the doorway, for some reason. Jason wonders why that’s a thing too.

Alpha should know he’s allowed in the room, after all.

“Alpha,” he hums, loosening his grip on Pup Brother just enough to half-reach for Alpha. What’s taking him so long over there, anyway?

It’s dumb.

“Jaylad,” Alpha says tightly, half-taking a step forward and then–stopping, for some reason, just outside the doorway. Gripping one side of it, but not coming through it.

Dumb, Jason thinks, and furrows his brow impatiently.

“Alpha,” he insists, smacking the side of the nest once.

Really, really dumb.

“He accepted clothes with your scent, so . . .” Big Brother trails off.

“And a blanket with it, as well,” Grandpa puts in. “He used it on a foundational layer of the nest.”

“Ah,” Alpha says roughly, tightening his grip on the doorframe.

“Don’t hover, Father, Todd clearly expects your presence,” Pup Brother says in exasperation, which is much more useful. Jason purrs appreciatively and nuzzles him, and Pup Brother sighs in aggravation, but doesn’t try to squirm away or anything.

Good, Jason thinks, and nuzzles him harder.

Pup Brother rolls his eyes and sighs.

Alpha finally steps into the room, which is a start. Jason reaches towards him again with another, deeper purr.

Alpha . . . swallows, visibly, and then comes over to the nest; kneels down outside it beside Big Brother.

Close enough, Jason figures lazily, and catches Alpha’s wrist to drag his hand to his own stomach. He’s not wearing body armor, but it’s fine. It’s Alpha.

It’s . . .

“Present, Dad,” he hums, letting his eyes close again. Alpha makes a very tight noise, and his hand presses in very, very gently against Jason’s stomach.

And the pup, obviously.

“Jaylad,” Alpha says, cracked and hoarse. Jason hums back contentedly, squeezing Alpha’s wrist once.

Good. That’s everybody, then.

Good, yeah.

“Who’s the sire?” Alpha’s mate asks curiously from the doorway, leaning against the frame. She hasn’t come in yet. Jason should probably tell her it’s fine, but he’s a little . . . distracted, maybe. Distracted. Yeah.

Mmm.

“He says either Kori or Roy, so we’re not technically sure, but the suspect list is pretty short,” Big Brother says, and Alpha’s mate laughs.

“Could be both,” she points out teasingly. “Think you could handle double grandkittens, Bruce?”

“More concerned about the risk of having Oliver Queen for an in-law, thanks,” Alpha says dryly, letting out a rough little noise that isn’t quite a laugh and curling his fingers gently against Jason’s stomach. His eyes are kind of shiny, Jason notes when his own half-open again for a moment. It’s . . . weird, a little.

The shiny, he means, though he’s not really sure why.

“Jason might’ve mentioned that they both offered to mate him, so yeah, that is in fact a concern,” Big Brother confirms with a laugh of his own. “But pretty sure Kori and Roy don’t know about the pup yet. Even if he managed to slip ‘em, there’s no way I wouldn’t have heard from either of them by now if they were trying to find him while they knew he was bred.”

Jason huffs, because what does Big Brother mean “managed” to slip them? He could absolutely lose them whenever and wherever he felt like it. And anyway, he texted them earlier. So it’s not like they don’t know where he is.

. . . or didn’t extrapolate where he is, anyway. But whatever, same difference.

“Ah,” Alpha says again, and swallows again too. Jason rolls his head back enough to peer up at him a little closer, not really sure what’s going on with him. Hm.

Well. He’s here. That’s all that really matters, really.

Except . . .

“Alpha?” he says again, not sure if . . . Alpha hasn’t taken his hand off his stomach, but he doesn’t seem–happy, really. Or pleased. Or . . . anything like that. Jason’s not . . . sure, exactly.

Alpha’s hand presses in a little firmer against Jason’s stomach. Not too firm–not too much. But like . . . comfortably firm. If that makes sense, or whatever.

It feels nice, and Jason relaxes a little. Okay. That’s–better, he thinks. Right?

Alpha’s here, so . . . it’s better, yeah.

And it means he’s doing alright. He’s being a good omega. He brought home a good pup to present to the pack–good pups, maybe, if he’s lucky. Alpha will like that, right? If it’s more than one pup?

Any pup would be good, he thinks. Kori and Roy are both good sires. Lian’s great, for one. And Roy and Kori are great too. Just–definitely, yes. They’re gonna be such a good pup.

Even with–him in them, they’ll be a good pup.

He thinks so, anyway. They’ll have . . . better things than he did. They’ll be safer.

Won’t ever end up alone in an alley without a pack or alone on a warehouse floor with no backup coming.

Won’t ever doubt who actually loves them.

Alpha makes a strange, choked noise. Jason doesn’t know why, really. Someone’s purring really loud, but he doesn’t know who it is. Not Pup Brother, and there aren’t any other omegas in the pack, so . . .

Hm. Weird, yeah.

Well, everyone’s here, so he’s not worried about it anyway. He’s being a good omega, and he brought his pup home to present. Grandpa and Big Brother were happy about it, and everybody else is here and settled in and safe. That’s all that matters, really.

As long as Alpha’s happy about the pup too, anyway. And Alpha’s hand is still on his stomach, and Alpha’s still next to the nest, so . . . yeah. That means he is, right?

So it’s good. Yeah.

The purring gets louder. Jason nuzzles Pup Brother’s hair and melts under Alpha’s hand and in Quiet Sister’s arms.

It’s definitely good.

Nice.

“Jason,” Alpha says tightly, and Jason cracks an eye open to look at him again. He doesn’t really remember when he closed them, but it’s not really important or anything.

Alpha has a hand half-over his face, and his head’s ducked down. Jason blinks sleepily, tilting his own head to peer up at him again, but can’t really see his expression. He squeezes the hand he has around Alpha’s wrist; a little bit absent, a little bit like a reflex. He missed Alpha so much.

The purring’s gotten really loud.

“You’re home,” Alpha says.

Jason wonders why Alpha says it like that. Like it’s a surprise or something.

Like he’d ever bring his pup anywhere else.

“Yeah,” he hums anyway, because he is home, and lets himself finally, finally fully relax into the nest. Quiet Sister makes a soft, acknowledging sound and winds her arms tighter around him, and Alpha's hand stays resting on his stomach. Pup Brother grumbles some disparaging things in Arabic, but settles in his arms.

The purring is really loud now, but Jason doesn't mind.

“Selina, please call Harley and Ivy,” Alpha says. “I need a favor tonight.”

“What favor?” Alpha's mate asks curiously, though Jason can already hear the little rustle of her pulling her phone out of her pocket.

“Them answering the Batsignal if anyone hits it,” Alpha says. “Kate's out of town ‘til Friday and Gotham can handle them for one night.”

“I really don't think it can, but alright,” Alpha's mate says, sounding amused.

“Can survive them for one night, at least,” Alpha amends. “And if the Justice League needs anything from me in the next ten to twelve hours, well, that's their problem to solve. I’m not going out tonight.”

Jason, idly, wonders why Alpha’s staying in, but it's nice to hear anyway. If Alpha's gonna be home for that long, well . . .

He can sleep a lot better, if Alpha's gonna be here.

That’s good, because the pup needs him to sleep.

So he tunes out the pack’s quiet voices as they all keep talking, and he sleeps.

Jason wakes up to pale early-morning light in a disoriented snap of sudden adrenaline and clocks: soft surface. Sleeping bodies. Someone on either side of him and other presences close by and a room that smells like–

Fuck, did he drunk-dial the Bat pack?

Fuck.

Even Tim’s asleep on the edge of the nest that Jason is inexplicably in. Like, all curled up and hugging his laptop like a teddy bear, but definitely asleep. And Dick’s on the other side of the thing, and that’s Cass pressed up against his back and–is Damian hugging him? In his sleep? Without a visible knife in hand?!

Jason might’ve fallen into an alternate reality again. Fallen very, very far into an alternate reality.

At least hopefully, anyway, because if this is his reality, he’s gonna have to deal with whatever the fuck happened last night, and whoever even built this nest that smells like the whole damn Wayne pack and slopes like–like Catherine’s always used to, like . . . like his mom’s always . . .

Fuck. This is his nest, isn’t it. This is exactly how he builds the damn things every time he fucks up enough to go feral. And he definitely went feral, because he doesn’t remember a thing about last night after accidentally ending up at the manor like an idiot, except–wait, no, shit, now he is remembering things about last night, and they’re all fucking mortifying.

Fuck.

Jason needs to get out of here. He has no idea why anybody humored him taking over the living room like he thought he–like he actually–

He needs to get out of here, because the moment somebody wakes up and tells him he needs to leave or, worse, pities him enough to not tell him he needs to leave, he’s gonna lose his entire damn mind. If he just–

Cass’s fingers flex against his chest, very briefly, and he nearly panics.

Of fucking course he couldn’t wake up in Cass’s arms unnoticed.

“Jason,” she says quietly, and then Jason is officially fucked, because nobody in this room is gonna sleep through someone actually speaking.

Why the hell couldn’t she at least have signed it? Why the hell couldn’t–

And then he registers that Bruce is in the room.

Everyone else wakes up at the sound of Cass’s voice saying his name at the exact same moment that Jason freezes at recognizing Bruce’s scent.

Bruce’s–Bruce’s . . . sire scent. Not on him, but . . . but still here. Still in the room.

Jason hasn’t been this close to Bruce’s sire scent since–

He’s not going to think about that.

He’s definitely not going to think about that. Not ever. Not for anything. Not–

( he’d scrubbed it off so ANGRILY, that last time; so angry and betrayed and–

he’d regretted that, on the warehouse floor. he wouldn’t have been able to smell it through the scent blockers in Robin’s suit anyway, couldn’t have stripped them off while all tied-up and bleeding out, WOULDN’T have stripped them off with any chance of that fucking bastard clown coming back, but–but–

but he’d regretted– )

Jason isn’t thinking about that.

Bruce sits up along the sloped side of his nest, just outside it. Or–almost outside it. Almost.

Bruce has an arm extended half-into Jason’s nest, which was deliberate, obviously. Bruce never does a damn fucking thing that isn’t deliberate. Not ever.

Not a thing, Jason thinks, remembering everything every single awful bastard in Gotham ever survived and the batarang scar on his own neck.

But Jason can’t even hate the asshole for reaching into his nest uninvited like that; can’t even curse him out or shove him out. He can’t, because–because he’s the one with his fingers hooked into the cuff of Bruce’s rolled-up sleeve with the hand of the arm he has draped over Damian. He’s the one holding onto him.

So it’s not Bruce who was deliberate about this. It was Jason’s own stupid, stupid feral-brained stupid self, who thought–who thinks–

Who always thinks–

Bruce isn’t his pack alpha. Bruce isn’t his sire.

Bruce isn’t his fucking dad.

Bruce’s arm is in his nest, laid down the sloped side of it, and he smells the most like home that anyone’s smelled to him since his mom died in a nest built just like this one.

#jason todd #red hood #batfamily #joyfire #wip: jason goes home #omegaverse #a1rc0n

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