#and i took an obscene amount of time getting many many different shots of this

[ap-sadistics]

shes in

[thejujvtsupost]

Collar Crimes Part 1 -> Ease A Heavy Soul

This is honestly just self indulgent, the requests I have left are more long form content and I have a section for that in the guidelines of my pinned, just keep that in mind if you haven’t seen yours come up yet. I gotta be able to feel it out before I give it a shot. Anyway think of this as an opener to a new little series <3

Notes: F!reader, yakuza!Geto, fluffy, reader is a sleepy type of gf & soft girl- think Sanrio/hello kitty aesthetic? heartwarming, no dialogue for this part, mention of violence(blood), Geto is so soft for his girl -> gets filthy in later parts.

The stress of being head of the Yakuza wasn’t foreign to Geto.

What was foreign, was coming back to his penthouse apartment to a girlfriend.

And his penthouse apartment was no longer his, it was your shared home. You were impossible to say no to, and now the place he furnished with top of the line luxuries and various other signs of wealth; was riddled with cutesy soft things.

The leather couch he spent an obscene amount of money on and had custom made for his living area? Covered in the softest pink blankets, fluffy pillows, several large stuffed animals that he thought you might like (you did). The bookshelves that once held “big fancy classics”, now sported knick knacks and some of your own college texts. The remotes had glow in the dark silicone covers on them, there was a new plush area rug… you were everywhere he looked.

His bed had even more of you, from more of your blankets to the scent of your perfume. You had a side of the bed, and a nightstand with its own lamp to match his.

There was even a nightlight plugged in on the far wall, fairy lights were tacked up by the headboard. No, of course you weren’t afraid of the dark, in fact maybe he’s the one afraid. He’s the one that bought a cute nightlight after all.

He bought it after the first time you spent the night at his place and he woke up to you huddled up in his bathroom with the overhead light on. He didn’t bring it up or chastise you, he simply brought you back to bed and cracked the bathroom door so it wasn’t so dark. The next night you slept over there was a bear and stars themed nightlight plugged in. Three more have joined the collection around the apartment since you officially moved in. That shitty apartment of yours had gotten broken into way too many times.

You were everywhere and he wouldn’t deny that you made everything feel okay. When he walked through the door he let through the gentle parts of his heart and gave every single one of them to you.

He loved it.

So yeah, he couldn’t deny you anything. Not when you were so perfect, loving and adorable in every way. And you were doing your very best as a college student, he was so proud of you. You studied so hard to get to where you are now.

(He just spoils you constantly and you’ve never actually asked him for anything.)

Coming home to you is a breath of fresh air.

Tonight was no different. He walked in, took off his shoes and jacket, and found you passed out on the couch- swallowed by your many soft blankets.

Oh his little songbird…

Turning off the tv and extra lights you left on, he was careful when he excavated your body from the pile of softness and picked you up to take you to bed. You didn’t want to let go of him when he tried setting you down though; he missed your hand clutching his shirt in your sleep.

So fucking cute…

Geto pried your fist away slowly and got you settled, then disappeared into the connected bathroom to wash the blood and grime from the day down the drain.

It’s not his blood of course.

You knew what he was, what he did; but he was the sweetest person (to you, you were the exception) you’d ever met. You didn’t ask questions when he came home covered in blood or was stuck ‘working’ all hours into the night. As long as he texted you when he could to give you a heads up it was good enough for you. It was better this way, you didn’t need details and he didn’t want to give them.

To him, that world has no business involving you. It had no business tainting the life you lived with him, safe in the comfort of your home.

Coming out in clean boxers to sleep in, he dropped his dirty clothes in the basket. Thats when you greeted him with a sleepy smile. You were sitting up and waiting for him to come to bed, excited to see him but still so tired.

Your smile was returned easily and he slid into bed, not a second of hesitation passed when he pulled you down close to him and kissed your lips, then head.

You took your rightful place, sleeping on his chest. Having the weight of your body pressed against his and your head over his heart eased his stress away in waves until he was as boneless and relaxed as you.

You were safe, both physically in your home and as a haven for him- the one person who was privy to his very soul.

• <- Index -> Next

Thinking about making a request? Check my bio to see if they’re open! <3

[mxvladdy]

Barbatos- True Form

It’s here! Thx for your patience's I hope it’s worth it :<

Last but not least for this series is: Belphegor  

Of all the demons you’ve met, he unnerves you the most. Not because of his demeanor or temperament. No, no you genuinely like him and his company. There is just something about him that unnerves you sometimes. He is just so hard to place.

You see- how can I explain this. The brothers are easy to understand’ easy to neatly categorize and compartmentalize in your mind as friend or foe. For as ancient as they are you do share some common traits. Family lineage for one. Traceable origins. It’s familiar, it’s comforting.

Hells, even Diavolo has an origins, a genealogy one could trace. A family made of stone flesh and blue blood. (He’d be happy to tell you about it too- if you have a few eons to waste).

But Barbatos? Barbatos had just always been- here...there? From the context clues you’ve picked up from Lucifer and Diavolo he was older than even the great kings of the past. He even helped raise the crown price. He grew in experience and expanded his talents, but never aged. Did he have kin? A bloodline? Hell did he even bleed? His very existence raises the hackles of your self preservation skills. 

If he is older than the old kings is he old then the concept of time itself? Does the idea of time really exist to him at all? 

The odd fight or flight feelings he gives you lessen and disappear over time though. He knows he can be quite uncomfortable to the human psychic and evolutionary survival traits instilled in you after hundreds of thousands of years fighting to the top of the food chain. 

It took you a bit, but one day you finally warm up enough to ask him about- well him. How he works, and what is relation with the idea of time even is. It was shot in the dark question. He is a notoriously private demon. But for you he will open up a little. Besides it’s not like you could do anything with the information anyway. Just promise to never tell Solomon. 

The best he can explain time to a mortal is in an analogy. If time was an object it would best be described as a stream or creek to him. And all the little minnows and guppies trapped in it’s currents were the beings of the three realms. While they are bound by the waters he would be the one standing on the riverbank. 

Most of the time he is happy enough to walk alongside the flow. Other times he enjoys simply dipping his feet in and watch it all pass him by seeing what it all does without his intervention. 

Others he’ll slip in himself and gauge out new deviations and channels of his own. He loves to see what flourishes in his hand crafted areas without intervention.

He does confide in you however. Despite his age and maturity he can still slip up from time to time. He is not infallible after all. Barbatos’s corporeal existence depends heavily on his emotional state and mental fortitude. If he is not careful he has a tendency to just-get swept up. 

One moment he is having a delightful time with you over a fresh pot of tea and the next… You had a lovely funeral. Wait- hmmm no. Honestly, humans can be so gaudy sometimes. He was actually offended on your behalf. The flowers weren’t even freshly cut. 

Ah well. Once he is stable he’ll simply dam this stream and kill the flow before this travesty would happen. Now where was he? Ah yes, do you think this blend goes better with Madame Screams or a human bakery? 

Truthfully Barbatos doesn’t use his abilities all that often. It gets boring real quick. But sometimes he is tempted. Anything to do with you is a struggle to be exact. Most streams involving you he is happy to let slip by. All the ones of you falling for the brothers, or his highness, even the angel. There are even a few of you falling for Solomon. Those he doesn’t wise to see. 

But the streams where you fall for him? The itch to look is overwhelming. Just a peek, a small taste of your favor. What had he done to make you his? Did he have a chance in this timeline? He always loved a good mystery. So he’ll bide his time and wait. 

Now naturally there are some other rules to his existence. Being constantly hyper vigilant of himself can get exhausting and he needs to rest. He doesn’t sleep though, not by human standards anyway. You’ve walked in on him “resting” once or twice. He calls it a stasis period. To you he looks like he’s frozen. Stock still and just standing there in his room. His lanky form flickering in and out of focus. After images appear around him, hundreds of different hims there but not. 

It’s an absorption stage, or so he explains. All the input from the trillion parts of hims scattered about all sharing like a hive mind their encounters and experiences. This is the one time every version of him is in sync and very vulnerable. 

While he can convene with all his scattered parts of him in stasis he still cannot be in the same visible area as them. One of the two would have to yield to the other. The weaker one reabsorbed quite violently. It is a most unpleasant feeling. 

After exerting large amounts of energy and not resting it can take him a bit to recover, and it is very noticeable. He lags hard after such instances, literally. The first time you saw him snapping and rubberbanding around the castle gave you a few more grey hairs then was normal for your age. He’s normally smooth movements were now choppy and stiff. It would have been funny if you weren’t so worried for his well being. The only thing to stop him is Diavolo himself having to throw his weight and power around to get him to rest. He hates being reprimanded. 

Don’t get me wrong though. He loves serving the royal family. The years spent in the Devildom have been an utterly delightful vacation. The menial labor and tasks keeps his mind anchored in the present and mutes all the other voices of him to a manageable static. 

Now when it comes to his form quite frankly even he has forgotten what he originally looks like. He has been in this form for so long he might as well call it his original form. You ask to see it once, beyond curious. If you could see it that was. Was he like Dia? A formless form? A mass of contradicting layers stack one on one on top of each other?

He is hesitant to say the least. He consults with himself on this. Have any of the others come across this yet? If not he promises to look into it for you. He practices with Simone, knowing that aside from Solomon he knows the limits of a human. Once certain he comes to you delighted to share himself with you.

He is so smol small. His form fitting neatly in the palm of your hand. He is warm and pulses like with a faint heartbeat. You can’t really make heads or tails of what his defined form really is though. His tiny form is covered in a glowing haze flicks of distorted images and sounds invade your senses whenever you hold him. But one thing you can sense in some kind of bony nodules and slender legs. Thousands of them all skittering and tickling your flesh, like an obscenely long centipede.

Now that you know of this form he likes to pop up from time to time when he misses you. His favorite spot to appear is in the breast pocket of your uniform. It’s dark and quiet and close to your heart. While he can’t talk in this form, the physical closeness is enough for the both of you. 

Mini Fic

“Be honest with me. Which one of me is your favorite?” You flip over onto your pleasantly full stomach. His tea sandwiches and cakes make you feel sleepy. You stretch out with a grunt of happiness enjoying all the little touches that were distinctly Barbatos. The blanket protecting you from the early morning dew smelt of elderflower and juniper. The fleece material was a personal favorite, soft, warm, and perfect. Even the foods had all been your favorites. He had crafted this all with you in mind. Surely you were the favorite. If he would put this much effort into it.

The demon in question hums from his chair. A steaming cup of tea resting lightly on his bottom lip. A perplexing thought. Each one of you was a delight to his many senses, so similar, yet so different at the same time. Like a reflection in a broken mirror. Each one so stunning and vivacious in a way only a human could be. Yet so few even glanced his way. “Does a parent have a treasured child?” He quips back. 

Your peal of laughter warms him better than any tea. “Ha! You must be an only child then.” You snort. He matches your smile, pleased that you were pleased. 

“Perhaps-” He takes a sip cutting off that train of thought there. He didn’t need to sour a pleasant morning with such melancholy questions. Was he an only child? Surely he at least had a sire. If he had such kin would they have not met by now? He was on every plane of existence that he knew of. Had they missed each other? Slipping past each other like ships in the night.

More likely they would be more like two similar ends of a magnet being forcibly kept away by their molecular structure than merely missed chances. Incapable of existing in the same dimension at the same time.

Ignorant to his inner turmoil you flip back over to your back eyeing the snack tray he refilled. “How much longer now?” He checks his pocket watch then looks out at the carnage below them.

The Battle of Omosu was in full swing. The ancient warriors below oblivious to the strangely dressed human and otherworldly man sitting on top of a neighboring cliffside to observe the preordained outcome. “Any moment- now pay attention.” He chastises you but without any heat. Pocketing his watch he comes to sit beside you on the fleece blanket. You scoot closer, happy to have his naturally warmer body beside you. The heat of which fends off the cold sea breeze. “There, look.” He points to a growing patch of bubbles by one of the enemy ships. 

The water turns turbulent, oily green, and black bubbles foaming on top of the surface. “Wow.” It was all you could manage to whisper. 

Leviathan enters the fray now, called forth by his pact barer. The great serpent emerges like a ghost from the depths. Invisible to the other mortals you watch fascinated as his massive tail wraps around a boat crushing it as easily as if it were a stick. Another capsizes, getting pushed away by his massive shoulder. 

The sailors fall into the choppy water mouths open in silent screams. They would not survive after hitting the water. Levi’s legion waits below, ready to drag them deeper down. Their bodies will be added to the Devildom navy. Something dark and humanoid darts around the remaining boats. From what you remember from class Levi had called forth an umibozu from the nearby depth for this fight. Its bloated grey body jostles the boats knocking more sailors overboard whole. The two of them make fast work of the enemy ships. The human sailors pick off the rest.

“Quite impressive.” Barbatos remarks. “I can see why humans want to make deals all the time. But what a terrible cost, don't you think?” 

“What’s going to happen to the pact holder?” You ask. 

“Depends on whatever Levi feels like. Mostly his holders are trapped in the depths of his realms. Left to the devices of their victims. But each brother is different.” The air around you both grows thick with your sudden fear. You rub subconsciously where your pact mark rested, eyes blank. 

He places a firm hand on your thigh bringing your focus back to him. “Don’t worry. Like I said the choice is up to the demon that holds the pact. I doubt you would be advantageous to the royal navy.” You chuckle weakly, still rubbing at the growing chill climbing up your arm. “Will this be enough for your project?” He removes his hand begrudgingly away from your soft leg. “It is getting late.”

You nod glancing back down to the battle. It was already over-with the great sea beasts and demons in the water, Takeda’s forces didn’t stand a chance. You don’t wait to see Levi’s victory lap. “Yes, thank you for your help.” You accept his help in picking up your books and supplies. “I hope Kinz is happy with this.” You had been having a bit of trouble in your history class with Professor Kinz. Nothing major, you had assured him. But if it continued your ranking within the school would be at risk, and with it your scholarships. 

“Any time.” Barbatos moves an elegant hand to the center of your back escorting you away from the edge. A door slowly emerges from within the mist. He grabs the semi-translucent knob and opens it for you. “I know it will be more than satisfactory.” 

“Ye?” You adjust your pack’s shoulder strap bracing yourself for the weirdness of time travel. “Think you can give me next week's lotto numbers? I’m asking for a friend.” Your teasing pulls a deep rumble from him. It was all in good fun, but truth be told he came to find that not keeping one of his many eyes on you had the most enjoyable outcomes. You little human ramblings and witty comebacks being one of them. You at least weren’t afraid to joke around him. 

“Now, who said I did anything of the sort?” He chuckles. Keeping a firm grip on your forearm he ushers you through the threshold. You clung to him hating the sticky feeling of the space between time. It clung to your skin, thousands of webs grab and pull at your clothes knowing that you were not supposed to be outside of their control. You were envious of the fact that you couldn’t experience it the way Barabatos did. To him, this was nothing more than the feel of a cool shower. The pulls of time merely buffering off of him. Hardly a threat like it was to you. 

He sees you off at the gate to the house bowing deeply as you hop up the front stairs waving at him. You had to hurry lest you be late for dinner. Once you had disappeared through the door he melds into the timestream once more emerging in front of your classroom. A week had passed and your paper was due. He was excited to see what you had gotten and just didn’t feel like waiting this time. He could indulge from time to time. 

The bell rings and your class files out. They pay him no mind. The prince’s butler was nothing to gawk at. He counts heads. His frown deepens when you do not appear from the lecture hall. Kinz leaves the room last, her heels clacking obnoxiously on the marble. “Oh! Good afternoon Barbatos, are my services needed by the prince?” She smiles showing far too many teeth to be considered polite. Their mutual dislike of each other was a poorly kept secret. But she had a talent that Diavolo needed; for the moment. 

He matches her predatory smile. “I was here looking for our esteemed exchange student.” Her smile falters, her hackles raising for a moment before her face goes blank. 

“They didn’t show up today.” She flicks her tail dismissively. “You know how pathetic humans are.” She challenges him, locking eyes with him like the fool she was. 

“Hmm. I do not share this sentiment, but it is unusual to have them miss class.” All airs of pleasantly evaporate from him. The cold fury of his ire permeates the narrow hallway. Kinz flinches, breaking eye contact with him. Her weak attempt at dominance is gone. “A moment if you will-” His voice brittle and laced with malice. “I shall return for you later.” He bows shallowly and blinks out of existents leaving the woman quaking in the hall. 

________________________________________________________________

An insult, a complete violation of the rules set by Diavolo himself. If the celestial council caught wind of such a flagrant disregard for your mental well being- the program would be in jeopardy. Hiding your death had been hard enough. But a room full of demons acting out unsupervised? 

Barbatos struggles to control himself. He could feel his grasp on himself waver with each passing second. His very self unraveling at the seams. Your tears fuel his rage.

Kinz stands over you mocking your relentlessness in front of your peers since the brothers were not present in the class. You had been so excited to test your merit on your own, believing that after getting to know the student body you could handle it. Diavolo approved, figuring his name and the program's initiative was enough to protect you- at least on campus. In theory, it seemed like a good idea, you were well liked among the student body. But that same feeling didn’t bleed over to this particular teacher it seems. A grave error on the councils’ part. 

Barbatos watches along with the rest of the silent class as Kinz burns your paper at the front of the lecture hall, berating you for “showing off” and “abusing your statues for brownie points”. You leave halfway through the start of class. A trail of salty tears and ashes left behind in your wake. 

Such disgustingly uncouth behavior. To a guest of the prince no less. To you. 

He arrives inside Diavolo’s office in a blur, filling the empty air by his prince’s side. The younger demon used to the sudden comings and goings of his most trusted ally didn't even look up from his paperwork. “Something the matter? You are getting a little wispy around the edges.” Diavolo asks signing off on a form. 

Barbatos inhales deeply focusing on his present self. The unneeded action of breathing, the expanding and contracting of his chest cavity was soothing. Not necessary for him, but nice. Yet another odd quirk he had picked up during his time in the Devildom. “Kinz has been putting the program in jeopardy.” He grinds out once he finally locks himself back in. 

“Oh?” Diavolo dips his pen in its ink well. “That is quite unfortunate for her. Do you suggest a council meeting on the matter?” Barbatos bites his cheek. 

“I believe her offense far outweighs just a slap on the wrist. I believe her tenure should be revoked. This isn’t her first strike.” 

Diavolo chuckles resting back in his chair. He gives his full attention to his butler who was bustling around the room, tiding an already spotless room. “I haven’t seen you this bloodthirsty since those scribes in Alexandria poked at you.” 

“I gave them a fair warning. As I have with Kinz.” He bristles. Diavolo waves a hand, willing to listen. “Kinz has taken up public humiliation and verbal abuses since the brothers are not around to interject. You know how she is. This will only accelerate in time if not nipped now.” 

“Is that what you see?” 

“I don’t need to to know.” 

Diavolo sighs deeply, weighing the pros and cons of losing such an asset. He already knew his verdict, as did Barbatos. Even without his powers, they both knew either one of them would bend for you. “Fine.” He returns to his desk of papers. “I will let you do as you please. Just don’t tangle things up too much.” 

“Thank you, my lord.” 

In a way, it was a pity. Kinz is- well- was one of the Devildom’s more esteemed historians. Her place amongst the upper echelon had been a commendable feat. She certainly lasted longer than the archivist and scribes that had come before her. 

 Barbatos stares in disgust at his once stark white gloves. But better soil a pair of gloves or two then touch her wretched corpse with his bare hands. Ugh. Was that some viscera on his wingtips? The cruor of it turns purple as it oxidizes in the open air. Perhaps he had gone a bit overboard. Though to him, it was merited. She had been a pain in his ass for years. Plus the past thirty or so versions of her had put up a bit of a fight. Once even he had walked in on a reflection of him taking her down for some other transgressions. He rolls his shoulders as a phantom twitch shoots up his spin. Merging consciousness was unbearable. Yet, as he went about his duties “cleaning” he realized he would handle as many as needed to see you safe. Fascinating. 

At first, he had debated with himself on at least keeping a few versions of Kinz around. While he universally hated her, there were a few less volatile Kinz floating around. If only to steal her work for the prince and his goals. But even without her, her discoveries and advancements would be found by others. He had even found a diamond in the rough, a potential successor. Given time to grow and which paths they take they could benefit Diavolo greatly. Even more than her. A gamble he was happy to take. With that discovery, Kinz’s faith was sealed. She was set to be only a figment of a memory left in his mind. The rest of the universe will never remember her.

 ______________________________________________________________

You stare bewildered at the aged bronze plaque on the door. Something about it didn’t sit well with you. But damned if you could place it. It had something to do with the name. Des Moines...Moines? Who in the hells was that? You glance at your schedule like it was your first day of school instead of your 150th. 

Room 325- Demonic history: Professor Des Moines Riel.

This can’t be right. Where was Kinz? You grab at your head crying out at the sudden violent throbbing that erupted between your eyes. The queasiness it caused was beyond description. It was enough to send you to your knees. Indecipherable images layer themselves in your mind, folding and stacking on top of each other. The mounting pressure scares you and then-

Nothing.

Bliss and clarity. Like sucking in a breath of fresh air after a near death experience. What were you thinking about again? How did you end up on the floor? Shaking yourself from your stupor you stumble back to your feet. The school hallway was too stuffy for some reason. You needed to walk away, especially from this door. Just looking at it made your stomach clench. Yes, you needed some fresh air. That’s all. 

“Is something wrong?” Patent leather shoes appear beside you matching your hurried gate effortlessly. You shake your head, not trusting yourself to open your mouth lest you start feeling ill again. Barbatos stops you with a gentle hand on your waist. He scrutinizes you, teal eyes roving over every inch of you. Shucking a glove he places a warm palm on your forehead. “You are clammy.” 

“I’m fine.” You lie through your locked jaw. “Just got dizzy for a second.” He looks alarmed. “Don’t worry about it- probably just one of those mysteries of the school.” 

“I’m not worried about it, but you on the other hand.” He looks up from your flushed face to the hallway you had vacated in such a hurry. The history wing. Could you? Impossible. “Is there an issue inside the department?” Had he missed something? 

“What? Oh, no really! Everything is great! I think.” You lean into his hand now resting idly on your cheek. It felt so good compared to your cold skin. “I just- I could have sworn. Is Riel new?” You rub at the bridge of your nose. A knot was growing between your eyes now. “Where is Kin-Kinel? You draw a blank. A name was on the tip of your tongue. You glance up at Barbatos. His hand on your cheek becoming stiff. “What?”

“Nothing my dear.” He recovers smoothly. The hand on your cheek slides down to your shoulder. “Perhaps you should sit out of this class for today? You sound like you're overworking yourself. I’ll make a note of it to Diavolo and Lucifer so it won’t be counted against you.” 

“I- don’t think that’s wise,” You argue meekly. “I have a paper to work on for this class-”

Barbatos ignores your weak plea. Drawing you close to his side he steers you down to the lower floor. “Nonsense. Why don’t we spend some time together? I can help you with that paper later as a trade.”

Hmm. That wasn’t a bad idea. If any demon could get you out of class and help you make it up it would be him. Maybe a little break would be good for you. Though you can’t remember why you needed it in the first place. 

[evolutionsvoid]

Before I had even started this trip, I already had the worry of getting lost. Driving for hours on end through places I had never even heard of, it seemed inevitable. Despite that, I had no other choice but to go. What life I had here was gone, and staying would only have me stewing in the rotten memories and people that plagued me. Though this opportunity was a weak one, it was my only shot out of here. So I packed up my meager things and drove off into the unknown. Best to take my chances out there, then remain in this prison a minute longer. My anxiety born from this journey drove me to prepare for every possible scenario. The biggest worry was getting lost on the way there, but with a mountain of maps, a GPS and a folder of addresses, numbers and contacts, I figured I would be safe. After all, once you get into the barren countryside of flat fields and endless dirt, all you had to do was pick a road in the right direction and drive. I needed to go west, so that was what I did. I drove on for hours, but it felt like I had hardly moved. What a strange feeling it was, to travel hundreds of miles and see absolutely nothing. This trip was supposed to be a transformation, a needed change for me to finally regain control of my life. Yet, I felt no joy or wonder. I guess I was expecting to encounter breathtaking landmarks and travel through strange new places, evidence that the world was bigger than my ignorant little hometown. Instead, I drove through a flattened world of grass, corn, dirt and the occasional pathetic tree. Not exactly the scenery that inspires awe. This repetitive land was probably the reason why things turned out this way, as it was impossible to get a bearing when everything looked the same. Hours had passed since I turned onto that empty road, and yet I failed to notice that things were not right. I ignored the fact that I hadn't seen a single street sign the entire time, or that there were no forks or splits to be found. To be fair, it was long into the night, so most of the blank landscape was smothered by the darkness. I just held onto the idea that I was almost to the next town, if you could all any of these places that. What little civilization I had seen was a sad collection of wore down store fronts, crumbling bars and ancient gas stations. They sat in clumps along these forgotten roads, sharing much with the greasy roadkill that was spattered on the asphalt. Pathetic as these places were, I still yearned for them as I drove down that endless road. Surely one had to be nearby, I just needed to go a few more miles. I followed this delusion for quite some time, pretending that the lack of signs or markers wasn't something to be concerned about. Eventually, I just had to give up. With the clock on my dash showing some obscenely late time, I knew I needed to pull over to collect my thoughts. Looking over my supplies, I found my GPS worthless and the maps just as useless. With no service or any indicators that could help me pinpoint my position, these intricate foldouts might has well have been blank. It was then that I realized that I wasn't lost, as it felt like it was something far worse. When one is stranded in a place they don't know, one of the biggest issues is the overwhelming amount of options. Be it the woods or some unknown city, you are faced with many directions and choices, but you have no clue where any of them lead. Do I go north or south? Do I take the parkway or the back roads? Which exit on the roundabout gets me going the right way? With all this, it is obvious why clueless people wind up going in circles. That was what I considered being "lost" was. This, was something quite different. I didn't have a ludicrous amount of options, rather, I only had two. Go forward or back. The problem was that both choices felt wrong. The path forward had no hope or potential, no signs that suggested anything was to be found up ahead. That choice led to an unknown future, but it seemed more enticing than turning back. Though I didn't know what lay ahead, I did know what was behind me: absolutely nothing. Turning around would mean driving a countless amount of hours until found out where civilization had stopped, but I had no clue where or when that was. I would just be retracing my steps through a known wasteland, losing both time and gas. In the end, the unknown path ahead seemed more comforting. Surely I was bound to run into something eventually, even if it was a rusty road sign or some hermit's shack. Though my mind was made up, I chose not to continue just yet. I was drained of all energy, and I knew it was a poor choice to drive in such condition. It was the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, so what harm was there to grabbing a quick nap? Perhaps sleeping until the sun returned was a good choice. Daylight could reveal clues about my whereabouts, ones that were currently blotted out by the dark. A rested mind would also work way better, and it would probably solve this problem in a second. So I made sure my car was properly off the road before I turned it off. I locked the doors and leaned my seat back as far as I could. It wasn't long after I closed my eyes that my exhausted body finally received some reprieve.   I awoke awkwardly, as if some unremembered dream or nightmare had snapped me from my slumber. It was still night, though I didn't know how much time had passed. I looked at my phone, but my groggy mind couldn't interpret the numbers it showed. I tried to stretch my limbs in the cramped space, but it gave very little relief. My drowsy state made me think that I had only dozed off for a few minutes, as I sure didn't feel any better. Perhaps this cluttered, stuffy car wasn't the best place to get some beauty rest. I figured I would try to go back to sleep, as my options at the moment seemed just as bad as before. As I wriggled around in an attempt to get comfortable, my eyes looked out into the night and saw it. It was funny how strange it seemed at that moment, though I knew fully well what it was. The slow flash of a yellow light, a sight I was quite familiar with, but my tired brain struggled to understand it. I leaned forward for a better look, but it didn't help in the slightest. With my car turned off, the world was pitch black, save for the errant star and that pulsing light. It sat way off in the distance, but there was no mistaking what it was. It took me a second to understand that this was a good sign. A human construct like this suggested civilization, and also a cross road. Perhaps up ahead was where I could find some identifying signs or directions to a nearby town. With sluggish joy, I went to turn on my car and pursue this miracle, but then the thought struck me from out of the blue. How come I didn't see this before? Sure, I was tired and disoriented at the time, but a bright yellow light blinking in a dark void seemed impossible to ignore. I had sat in this spot for a good while before I had decided to get some rest, so how come I didn't see it then? As I struggled to properly answer this question, I looked to the light and noticed something odd. Looking at it now, after a few minutes of gathering myself, it seemed to be bigger. It flashed brighter and larger than before, but perhaps it was just my imagination. I sat there for a moment and soon confirmed that this was no illusion. The light seemed to be getting closer to me. I looked to my dashboard, thinking I had accidentally put the car in neutral and I was slowly rolling forward. The little arrow pointed firmly on the P, so that couldn't be the answer. When I looked back up, the light was nearly blinding. It also seemed to bob and sway about, as if blown about by a weak breeze. The realization that it was the one moving froze me in my seat. I had no clue what it was or what was happening, so panic took over and short-circuited my body. A turned into a statue in the front seat and only stared with wide, terrified eyes. I did nothing but watch as the light bobbed closer, until it was at last upon me. At first I believed it to be heading right towards me, but in those few horrified moments, I saw it walking upon the very road I had traveled. It strolled down the middle, treading upon the cracked asphalt and faded lines. When the light came perpendicular to the front of me car, I at last could see what it was. I recognized the three colored traffic light that hung over every nearly every road, but the rest of it refused to be understood. I saw a metallic skeleton, built of rebar and steel. It bent and twisted into a bizarre lattice, creating limbs and body from an iron spider's web.  It walked upon four legs, and the blinding light hung from a long, arching neck. Something black and wet hung in clumps from its body, creating a sticky cloak over its wiry bones. As I sat frozen in terror, the metallic beast strolled down the road. It walked with slow tired steps, its blinking head hung low. Though it was clearly no creature of flesh, it made me thinking of an exhausted horse, weary from a long day's work. It didn't approach my car, it just kept walking by. It was only when it was passing my driver window that it paused. It stopped in its march and slowly turned its pulsing head towards my vehicle. I could not tell if it was looking at the car or me, but I clearly caught its attention. It gazed at me with a single yellow eye. Above and below sat the green and red, but they remained dark and cracked, like eyes that had long gone blind. It made no move, it just sat there for a moment to watch. After a few seconds, it sadly lifted its legs and continued on its march. The bobbing light continued down that endless road, the blinking growing weaker as it went deeper into the night. I sat there until that yellow light grew small in my mirror, becoming just another star in the darkened sky. I didn't know what to do, or even think about it. Though it showed no aggression, I dared not turn around and pursue it. Instead, I simply turned the car on and pulled back onto the road. I gave up on any thought or reasoning, my mind refused to accept what I had seen. I just got into that dusty old lane and began to drive onwards... -------------------------------------------- “Caution” A design I came up with a way back, which fittingly enough was around the time I went on my roadtrip. I think it came to be through a mashup of traffic signs and weird art sculptures.

[echoghost1]

Beta Timeline update!

Okay, as promised here is chapter 2 of The Beta Timeline using the DannyMay 2021 Prompt Nature!

I did not mean for this to take so long but life, you know?

Story Summary: Clockwork saw Danny's future unravel long before the boy was even born. Clockwork saw a multitude of ways to avoid such a terrible future.

This is one of them.

Story Word Count: 1893

Chapter Summary: A little dirt never hurt.

Chapter word count: 1146

You can read it on AO3 or down below the cut!

Danny sat back on his heels, the cool dirt caked his bare feet even more as he admired his handiwork.

Alicia had given him the easy task of weeding out the old strawberry patch. Easy, in that it was really just one repetitive task, but it sure was a lot harder than she made it sound. Not only were some of the weeds deep-rooted, but he also had to learn the difference between the plant he was trying to salvage and the invaders.

But that wasn't what he was doing today. He had finished the weeding last week. Now it was time to harvest the fruits of his labor. He chuckled at the pun.

No, two puns! In one sentence? That has to be a personal best.

Then he saw what he had been looking for, a bright spot of red between the foliage. Carefully he leaned over to delicately bending back the leaf that covered his prize. After a quick inspection to see that it was ripe and untouched by hungry bugs he plucked the berry with a little twist.

It rolled around in the palm of his hand and he was surprised at how small it was. He was used to the ones you'd find at the grocery store, but compared to the little berry he had now, those were monstrous.

Curious if it would taste any different, Danny easily removed the stem and popped the little berry in his mouth. Despite its diminutive size, the strawberry was amazingly flavorful.

With renewed vigor, Danny hunted for the sweet elusive berries. If all homegrown food was this good, no wonder Sam had a greenhouse.

The thought made Danny pause.

He hadn't meant to think of her.

He took a breath and remembered that his therapist had warned him this would happen. Or not warned, as much as encouraged it.

Happy thoughts were good.

He had to be good. He promised.

Danny smiled and figured if Sam was here then Tucker should be too. Even if he'd hate to be stuck somewhere with no cell service. Heck, he probably say that Danny had ‘gone native’ since he was literally foraging in the forest barefoot and in overalls.

Whatever, imaginary Tucker.

It's not his fault that overalls were the most efficient clothes. Besides, he used to wear jeans all the time, this was just more jeans with the added benefit of shirts being optional. Today was too hot for a shirt anyway.

No, that was a lie.

It was just too much effort this morning. Wearing overalls was the only reason he got dressed anymore. It was just easier if he didn’t have to think about it.

Besides, there wasn't anything wrong with overalls.

Wait, that sounded familiar.

"You got a problem with jumpsuits?" His mother's voice echoed in his mind.

Oh crud, this was just the outdoors version of his parent’s signature jumpsuits, wasn't it?

Whatever.

Danny went back to his task of picking strawberries.

================================================

He had completely lost track of time as he filled the basket. He hadn’t even noticed how low the sun was until he heard Alicia calling for him from the other side of the yard.

He stood up and brushed the stray grass and pine needles off of his knees before picking up the basket and heading back to the house.

“Well, that’s quite the crop you got there,” Alicia praised as she looked over his basket.

It didn’t look that full to him, but these were small berries so maybe it was a lot.

“How many did you eat?”

“Only a couple,” he admitted but then crumpled under her continued stare, “of handfuls.” he finished.

She just laughed and pulled him into a one-armed side hug, “So are they Fenton Approved?”

He nodded because they were really good. The best strawberries he ever had, good.

“Now just wait until we make jam and pie filling out of ‘em?”

“Do you think there’s enough for that?” he was pretty sure you need an obscene amount of fruit to make juice so that had to be true for the other stuff too, didn’t it?

“This isn’t the only wild strawberry patch in Arkansas.” She ruffled his hair and then gently pushed him towards the house, “Now go set those in the kitchen and get washed up. I got to get a few things to get in town and I could use the extra set of arms to hold things.”

He did as he was told but they both knew she just making excuses. She could go to the store on her own just as she had for the last ten years.

It was the leaving Danny alone thing that was the issue. Or maybe she just wanted to make sure he actually saw other people besides her, his therapist, and the receptionist at the therapist’s office.

Both of those seemed more likely than her needing help with shopping.

Neither of those things needed to be addressed.

He was…better. Not fine, not by a long shot, but definitely better than he was when he got there.

He was actually talking to his therapist now instead of just brooding and being suspicious that it was just Spectra in a really good disguise that wasn’t triggering his ghost sense for whatever reason. He was very glad that she was an actual therapist.

He still felt bad that he had to make his aunt drive so far just to see her though. There wasn’t a lot in the teeny tiny town of Spitoon and ‘good head doctors’, were one of the many things there were lacking. The town only had one doctor and he just kind of did everything unless you needed something serious, then he’d happily send you to an actual hospital.

Danny finished washing up and gave himself a quick once over in the cracked bathroom mirror. His cheeks were a little redder than they were this morning but it didn’t look too bad. He really should have put on sunscreen.

“Danny, we gotta go!” Alicia called from the front and Danny hurriedly ran a hand through his hair to get it more or less back to its usual level of disheveled before heading out and jumping in the truck.

She successfully started the truck on the second try but then gave him a look.

“What?” he double-checked and he had buckled his seat belt, so he wasn’t quite sure what that face was for.

“You forgot your shoes.”

He looked down and yup, he totally forgot. He’d gotten so used to just walking around barefoot in her yard that it completely slipped his mind.

He unbuckled his belt and slipped out of the truck and back into the house to grab the first pair of shoes he could reach before running back.

Once he was in the truck again, they were off.

[devendrasbeard]

My Body Is My Weapon, So I Keep It Loaded

Prompt: Belly Bulge / Cum Inflation Relationships: Geralt/Eskel Rating: E Content warnings: Belly bulge, Explicit sexual content, Anal Sex, Crack!fic (kinda), but with a happy ending Summary: On his way to Kaer Morhen for winter, Eskel gets cursed by some faes, making his cock too big for any partner to handle.He turns to Geralt for aid, and Geralt is more than willing to lend him a helping hand (and more!)

Also on ao3!

Geralt was on his knees, his lips stretched thin around Eskel's enormous cock. He knew (and experienced himself more than once) that Eskel was well endowed, but this time it was just ridiculously too much. He barely took the head in his mouth and the tip was already bumping against the back of his throat. He looked up at Eskel with shock and amusement, eyes already watering.

Eskel tangled his fists in the bedsheets, using all his willpower to not buck his hips forward and choke Geralt even more. But he was already so desperate to get at least some friction around his cock, after all these long weeks of forced celibacy.

Geralt didn't want to believe him at first, when Eskel had arrived in Kaer Morhen frowning, slightly panicked and with a visibly big bulge in his breeches. "Geralt, you're not gonna believe it, but I need your help."

And so Eskel told him about that one time a few weeks ago, when he had tried to take a shortcut through a deep forest, instead of staying on the Path. He stumbled onto a fae sanctuary and before he could retreat, they've "attacked" him.

"They've put a weird spell on me and, well... My cock's now twice as big as usual," he sighed with a frown.

Geralt couldn't help but burst out laughing. "I don't see how this is a problem."

"You're laughing, but I couldn't get laid in over two months now," Eskel said weakly, shoulders slumping. "I've been in three different brothels on my way here and it all ended up the same - as soon as I undressed, the girls would just give me back my coin and straight up leave. 'No way in hell I'm gonna let you stick that monstrosity in me,' one of them even said."

Geralt threw his head back, muffling his chuckles with a fist. He wiped tears of mirth from the corner of his eye. "I'm so sorry this has happened to you, but at the same time it's the most hilarious thing I've ever heard." 

"Geralt," Eskel let out an exasperated huff. "I need you to help me, I have no idea if the spell will wear off by itself. And also, please don't tell Vesemir."

"I am so fucking gonna tell Vesemir," Geralt grinned. "But first of all," he licked his lips, scooting closer to Eskel, "let me take a look at what were dealing with here."

Eskel undid his laces with an embarrassed huff, looking away from Geralt's face. Geralt slid his pants down and gasped. Eskel's cock was resting against his thigh and it was much bigger soft than Geralt's dick has ever been when hard.

"Fuck me," Geralt whispered with a hint of awe in his voice.

"Please don't tease me like that," Eskel whimpered, his cock already stirring under Geralt's hot gaze. "I'm hanging by a thread here, I'm damn sure I would stick it in a tree hollow by now, if it weren't so cold outside."

"No, I'm serious," Geralt replied, voice husky, gaze fixed between Eskel's thighs. "Will be a challenge for sure, but I'm so willing to try."

Geralt released Eskel's cock from his mouth with a loud pop. His lips were already red and swollen, and he wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes. "You're gonna fucking destroy me."

Eskel propped himself on his elbows and looked at Geralt with half-lidded eyes. His expression was pure lust, his fists still tangled in the bedsheets, but he exhaled deeply and forced himself to talk. "You really don't have to do this for me..." He huffed and swallowed thickly. "I will... manage somehow."

Geralt didn't say anything in response. Instead, he stood up and nonchalantly slid his breeches down, freed himself of his shirt and then got on all fours on the bed. He looked at Eskel over his shoulder, taking in the astonished expression on the other Witcher's face. "I want to do this for you. And I also want to see how it feels to be utterly ruined by you," he accentuated his statement by perking his butt up. "But if you want to fuck me, you have to work for it."

Eskel worked him open patiently and steadily, pouring the oils generously over Geralt's hole and his fingers. Geralt took him in eagerly, and he had already three fingers deep inside him. Geralt's heated moans and huffs send shivers down his spine and Eskel stirred with arousal and lust, hoping for his wait to be over soon.

"Can you fit another finger in?" Geralt's voice was dark and hoarse. He stared at Eskel from behind his shoulder, looking already wrecked - skin damp with sweat, eyes half-lidded, his hair a mess. "Open me up good," he stretched that last word out, making it sound so much like a needy growl that sent sparks of lust straight to Eskel's cock.

"Geralt..." Eskel started weakly, his mind going dark with arousal, all of his thoughts focused on the promise of sheathing his cock in Geralt's welcoming heat.

He took his heavy cock in hand and lined it up with Geralt's ass. Geralt shot him a half-angry look from behind his shoulder. "No way I'm gonna let you ram into me like this. I'm gonna ride you."

Eskel laid on his back and propped his head on the many pillows, watching Geralt intently from under his heavy lids. Geralt lined himself with Eskel's cock and started sliding down, excruciatingly slowly. Eskel's hands darted forward to grab on Geralt's hips, the tension almost impossible to bear. Geralt grabbed his wrists firmly and pressed them into the mattress. "Don't you fucking move," he coarsed, his jaw clenched and brows furrowed. "I need to concentrate."

Eskel watched mesmerized as Geralt slid down his shaft, inch by inch, exhaling deeply with every little twitch of his hips. By the time he bottomed out, Geralt was panting heavily, his forehead adorned with beads of sweat, eyes darkened with lust. He hesitantly released Eskel's wrists from his grip.

Geralt has never felt so full in his life, the stretch almost unbearable, stinging pain blurring his vision and causing his breath to hitch. No amount of preparation could make him prepared for this. He felt as if all of his insides have made space for Eskel to fill him out completely. "If you move, I'll die," he whispered, more to himself.

Eskel looked at him, eyes widened, the golden brown of his eyes swallowed by his blown pupils. He reached out with one hand and placed it just above Geralt's hardened cock, completely disregarding the way it was leaking precome onto his stomach. Geralt's abs, usually rock hard and firm, were now unnaturally bulged, his belly round and sticking out. Eskel shuddered with excitement and pure desire - when he pressed his hand more firmly to Geralt's stomach, he could feel his own cock twitch inside of him.

Geralt looked down at him, equally mesmerized and only a little bit worried. He's also noticed the bulged belly and the way he could feel Eskel both directly under his skin and deep on the inside. "Are we doing this?" he asked quietly.

Eskel nodded, licking his lips and placing another hand on Geralt's stomach. "I want to feel it move inside you," he whispered hoarsely. He then looked Geralt in the eyes and added, "At your own pace, I'll leave you in charge."

Geralt swallowed thickly and propped himself on Eskel's chest, the slight change of his angle already causing him to tremble. They both groaned at the new sensation. Having braced himself, Geralt started moving.

He moved so terribly slowly, still trying to get used to the enormous stretch and the feeling of being so incredibly full. Eskel's eyes were constantly fixed at his stomach, and he watched Geralt's belly round up and then turn flat again while he moved up and down. He pressed his hands down more firmly to not only observe, but also to feel how full Geralt was.

With every move of his hips, Geralt moaned and whined and Eskel moaned with him. The sensations were driving him crazy, even though Geralt didn't speed up at all, stretching his every move out to impossible lengths. Eskel looked up at his Witcher's furrowed brow, his forehead wet with sweat, lips twitching with every move, eyes fixed on Eskel's medallion. Geralt was somewhere else entirely, his body moving up and down along Eskel's shaft, but his mind and soul have reached a totally different plane.

Eskel reached out with his hands and skimmed them over the damp skin of Geralt's hips. He so wanted to grab him tightly, to pull him up and then ram back into him; he wanted to be fast, filthy and aggressive, but he didn't want to hurt Geralt nor break off the reverent feeling Geralt was clearly now experiencing.

Then Geralt closed his eyes shut, guiding Eskel's hands to grab his hips, Geralt's own hands resting on his round belly. "Do it," he whispered with a broken moan. "Ruin me, Eskel."

Eskel hesitated just for a few seconds, then sat straight up, pulling Geralt into a heated kiss - the first kiss since they've started - and moved his hips. The sound that left Geralt's lips was definitely not human, he growled like a wild animal, something feral and primal coming deep from within. He grabbed Eskel's hair firmly, pulling at it to expose Eskel's neck. He bit down to muffle the obscene sounds he was making with every move of Eskel's hips, and that send Eskel over the edge.

Eskel bucked his hips up a few last times, making Geralt's stomach bulge unnaturally, his thrusts frantic and unforgiving, every brush of his cock against Geralt's prostate making him leak streaks of precome. Eskel grabbed Geralt's thighs firmly, his fingers digging painfully into Geralt's flesh and he came - the sensation making him see white and shudder with every spurt of spend leaving his cock.

Geralt whined and wailed, his teeth still biting at the crook of Eskel's neck and he trembled under Eskel's touch, finally finding his own release. He kept quivering through the aftershocks, still holding one hand on his stomach, feeling Eskel's cock turn soft inside him, but still stretching him to the fullest.

He moved up very slowly, freeing Eskel's dick from the tight heat, and toppled onto the bed, panting heavily and unable to speak. He felt wrung out and awkwardly empty, but at the same time extremely satisfied. 

After a moment, he turned to Eskel, wrapping an arm around his waist. "Do you think we need to tell Vesemir right away?" he asked hesitantly. "Maybe the spell will be lifted after I... dry you out?"

"You're fucking insane," Eskel replied, still unable to move nor open his eyes. "We can try lifting the curse this way, though," he smiled weakly.

"Oh, I think it's definitely more a blessing than a curse." Geralt chuckled, hugging him closer. He would surely not be able to walk straight for a week, but he was more than ready to try again soon.

-----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

[leejeongz]

Cravity confessing to their crush

😳nobody asked, nobody probably even cares, but here’s a lil something something for the most underrated boys on the entire planet hehe STAN CRAVITY😳

serim:

serim hosted the best parties, ever since your final years of school you’d always looked forward to his parties and his parties alone. you usually hated parties, all that loud music and obscene outfits, not to mention the copious amounts of alcohol involved and stupid games. but his were different, the music was always lowkey and chill, there was never too many people there, enough to stray away from a “social gathering” but not too many. drinking alcohol was always optional, there was never any pressure to drink or join in on the games. usually you and serim sat out, he hated the games too, they’re “outdated and cringe” according to him, which you had to agree with.

you had received his invite last weekend and you hoped nothing had changed. serim had helped you pick out an outfit that evening, you struggled picking between two choices so you called him and he let you know which he thought you’d look best in. upon arrival, he made sure to make a sarcastic comment about your “fantastic fashion sense” and a real compliment to follow. you walked into the party, you were always the first to arrive anywhere so the lack of people didn’t shock you. “sit down” serim said to you pointing to his new sofa, bold of him to put that out for a party, you thought. “want a drink? a mocktail perhaps?” he asked. you didn’t really have a choice, he was stood there with two strawberry coloured drinks in his hands, ready to hand one over. you asked if you should wait until everyone else arrived, but that’s when he let you know of his sneaky little plan. “it’s been so long since it was just us, i wanted to chill with you alone but i thought you would have thought it was weird if i asked you just to come over. i knew you wouldn’t think it was weird to ask you to a party, so here we are”. you didn’t noticed, during his explaining his arm had found its way over your shoulders. “i’ve been busy too, would have done this sooner, but ya know, idol and all” he joking bragged. your cheeks were going a bright shade of red, you knew it and you couldn’t hide it.

you spent most of the night in that comfortable position, your cheeks were no longer red and you started to feel at home with his arm draped over you. he’d put on a film, it was one of his favourites and had to keep checking that you were watching it. everytime he sensed you were smiling, he cheered a little on the inside, he’d made you happy and that made him happy. he got a little carried away at one point though, kissing your temple in response to your smile at the film. the smile didn’t disappear after the kiss, your eyes didn’t leave the screen, honestly you didn’t know how to act so you were trying to play it cool. meanwhile, serim was spluttering some nonsense by the side of you “i was too engrossed and it was funny and you looked cute and it was too much for me and” his verbal diarrhoea never failed to make you laugh for real. your laugh shut him up too. “what i’m trying to say is, y/n, that i really like you and i’d love for you to be mine so i can kiss you like that more”

allen:

you weren’t sick, you just weren’t feeling yourself. you had been really down recently, with no real reason to explain your lethargic behaviour, apart from homework but what’s new there. you didn’t even have the energy to text anyone, and if you did you only texted your crush, allen. he knew you weren’t doing great just from how you were texting, you never directly told him but he knew. your texts were shorter than usual, you used a lot less emojis and your replies took so much longer than normal. he could tell the effort was there thought, and he knew he was the only person you were texting. at first, he thought he’d done something wrong. he started to become dry too, but you didn’t allow for that and told him that it made you sad when he didn’t talk to you much.

a few days later, he was at your door. you heard him talking to your mother but it was too muffled to understand. you tried hard to figure out what they were saying while you sat slumped over a piece of work you’d been doing for hours. he didn’t tell you he was coming over, maybe he just needs something from your mum, you thought. nope. he knocked at your bedroom door a few seconds later and came in after you said so. your mouth naturally formed a smile, it was the first time you’d properly smiled in weeks. he was so happy to see you smiling. he mirrored the smiled back to you as you sat on the bed and patted the space next to you for him to sit. he revealed a basket from behind him and placed it on your desk, onto of your now irrelevant homework, before taking the seat next to you. his arms immediately wrapped around you and you practically fell into his chest. it was comforting, he smelled nice and his breathing steadied yours. he put his lips on your head, your hair smelt nice, he thought, taking an excessively large and LOUD inhale. you pulled away a shot him a “wtf was that” look. he giggled shyly and told you that he liked the smell of your hair. you shrugged and laughed with him.

“what’s with the basket, little red riding hood?” you asked, not even realising the colour of his hoodie fit perfectly with the name. you laughed a little to yourself, trying to concentrate on his response.

“well i thought i might cheer you up with a few of your favourite things” he said before listing numerous things in the basket. he knew you so well, you thought, you could cry right now. “it’s the least i could do for my favourite person” he whispered shyly. “i hate knowing that your sad” he brushed some hair out of your face and smiled “you’re too pretty to be sad” he paused for a while, he seemed to be debating what to say next. he thought about that one time you got stroppy when he stopped texting as much, using that as his evidence that you felt the same as him. “i really like you, and i know i can make you happy, please will you be mine?” he asked, confidently this time, with your hands now in his and a huge smile on his face.

jungmo:

it was never jungmo’s intention to have a rumour spread about him... or was it???

he realised he had a crush on you a few days after you helped him out with something. you’d been all he thought about since, you were in his dreams, and he loved it. he’s tried sleeping after he woke up just so he could carry on his dreams about you, it never worked and he was always woken up again, but it was worth the try. you felt exactly the same way, you’d liked him for longer, that’s why you helped him out in the first place and it was pretty obvious that you like him at this point, but that was the first time you’d ever felt that spark between you two, that certain electricity.

it didn’t take jungmo long to tell his friends about his crush on you. soon everyone knew, your friends, your parents, even your neighbours fish. you’d heard the rumours, of course you had they were everywhere, but you thought it was just a joke. you tried to avoid jungmo as much as possible, you thought he’d taken advantage of your feelings and so you didn’t want anything to do with him, hoping your liking for him would disappear. it didn’t.

you were heading to the corner shop one afternoon with your friends from class, as you always did on a weekday to stock up on chocolate to get you though the rest of the day. jungmo, who had memorised your day, was stood outside the shop. you thought he’d just be waiting for his friends since this was also his local shop and so you tried to ignore him as much as possible.

“oh y/n, fancy seeing you here” he laughed as if he hadn’t planned this for days. “i think we should talk yeah? what do you say?” he held out his hand, indicating that he was going to take you somewhere else, but you both knew there was nothing around.

your friends were suspicious of his behaviour and so they started to stand up for you. “whatever you have to say you can say it in front of us” was the basic message.

he looked between them for a bit and look at you for confirmation. you nodded and told him to go on. he gulped loudly and started to fidget with the position of his sleeves. “well i just wanted to say that, the rumours are true. i never denied them even though that’s what you thought, i would never” he confessed. you blinked a few times and your friends seemed to be convinced. they left you and him alone, now cheering for this relationship from the shop window. “i actually do like you. like for real. i don’t know how else to convince you, it’s all on you now, y/n, the ball is in your court.”

woobin:

your phone buzzed. you jumped at it rather quickly, despite trying to not seem suspicious in front of your friends. there were 5 of you sat in the practice room, even though you weren’t an idol yourself, you still got on very well with the other 4 and you could all read each other like a book.

“who’s that?” woobin questioned. he pointed at your phone as jungmo hit his arm.

“wow, way to NOT be jealous, woobin” jungmo laughed before going wide eyed, realising he’d pretty much just exposed woobin.

you brushed over the comment, you didn’t want to think too deeply into it and get your hopes up. “it’s just a school friend” you responded to woobin with a smile. “they need a place dance so i said they could come here and practice, i hope you guys don’t mind.” since your friends knew her, well except jungmo and woobin since they didn’t go to school, you thought it would be okay.

when she arrived you all went to say hello and went back to doing your own things. however, you couldn’t help but notice woobin’s wandering eyes falling on your friend and their dancing. you were SO jealous but what could you do. jungmo could tell you were jealous, the short snappy responses really gave it away. in his eyes, the damage had already been done, he’d exposed woobin, why not expose you too, maybe then you’d both stop being blind.

“y/n, can’t woobin just appreciate some good dancing?” he said, bringing everyone’s eyes to you, who was staring at woobin with an angry expression. the room went silent apart from the slight music from your friends headphones. after a few throat clears and awkward exists, it ended up just being you and woobin in the room, this was officially the most humiliating moment of your life.

he looked at you and then back at the ground again, his eyes looking focused on one tiny spec of dust on the floor, he seemed to be concentrating on it so hard but he was actually just trying to form a cohesive sentence in his brain to express his feelings to you.

“i’d never look at anyone else the way i look at you, i know you don’t notice it, but i adore you” you said out loud. he didn’t mean for it to come out, but after you told him you liked him too he was actually pretty grateful that he said it.

wonjin:

it was a big birthday for you and you were getting ready for your meal. you invited over your best friend, wonjin, to get ready with you at your house. your room was a mess, there was barely room for two people to stand without breaking something or stepping on clothes. this was rare for you, but you couldn’t find the outfit you had planned to wear and so the only option was to turn your whole room over, with help from wonjin of course. you finally found it and went into the bathroom to put it on while wonjin put on his freshly ironed shirt. he was excited for you, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

you returned back to your room with the outfit on, a little higgledy-piggledy but nothing that wonjin couldn’t sort for you. you then realised you needed to paint your nails. first attempt: failure. it went all over your fingers as well as your nails, there was no way you could go out like that.

“i can do them for you” wonjin stated, sitting besides you on your bed in front of your desk. you thought the gesture was sweet, but you were too stressed to let anyone touch you right now. “y/n, let me paint your nails” wonjin was practically begging at this point, and you couldn’t deny it was kind of de-stressing you. you handed him the brush and bottle and let him do his thing. “you hands are so pretty, y/n” he complimented you for the nth time that afternoon. he did a pretty good job of your nails, they looked really nice, way better than yours looked before. you thanked him and put them under the light so they would dry quickly.

the whole time he was painting your nails, wonjin was just thinking about what your hands would look like in his. it wasn’t the first time he’d thought about it, certainly wouldn’t be the last either.

your nails had finished drying pretty quickly, almost as quick as wonjin come up with a master plan on how to hold your hand for they first time.

“let’s compare hand sizes” he giggled, holding his hand up. yours pressed against his, his slightly bigger than yours but not much. after laughing about it for a short while, you didn’t even noticed he’d interlocked his hand with yours.

the laughter stopped briefly and he kissed your hand, “that tiny hand of yours compared to mine is ALMOST as cute as i think you are as a whole” he confessed. “happy birthday, angel” he wanted to kiss your lips this time, and so he waited for any sort of sign from you to do so.

you smiled and said thank you in a sweet tone, and that was enough of a sign.

minhee:

minhee was the most handsome boy you knew, the most handsome boy you could ever imagine even. he’d gotten into contact with you recently after accidentally voting for something on your instagram story when he didn’t mean to. the picture was of you, it was edited in a pretty way and you wanted your friends’ opinion of your new style of editing. after apologising, he kept the conversation going, it was unexpected but you didn’t mind, you tried not to let it die out either. you still hadn’t spoken in person though, there were lots of opportunities where you could have, but you were just too nervous and he radiated awkwardness. you were happy just texting, even if you were in the same room. you’d made eye contact a few times, exchanged a few funny looks in response to the other’s message.

you were setting the table for dinner one evening when you received a message from minhee that made you p a n i c.

“why have we never spoken in person?” it read. it only then dawned on you that you’d been talking for the best part of a year and you were still only pretty much online friends. you stopped laying out the cutlery and stood with your phone in your hands, preparing to type.

he waited at his end for a response. he was sat on his couch, his heart was beating faster than ever but he tried to remain chilled on the outside. when you didn’t respond for 5 minutes, typing and clearing thousands of messages, he took it upon himself to be the bold one.

“come over, we can have a sleep over if you want. it will be cute” he wrote. you panicked once again, it was kinda extreme for the first time talking but you agreed anyway. why did you do that, you thought only after you sent it. you hadn’t even asked your parents. somehow you convinced them to let you sleep over, it wasn’t minhee house that you’d mentioned specifically but pft details what are they?!

your dad dropped you off at the end of the street and you walked the short distance to minhee’s house. he was stood waiting for you at the window in a cute pair of pjs. when you got into his house, no one could shut you two up. you talked for hours, laughing about how weird your online friendship was. in a second though, the laughter stopped, his face became serious and he looked you dead in the eyes.

“when i voted on that thing, i wasn’t lying” he said. you wrecked your brain trying to remember what it was but you couldn’t. he went on to explain, gathering you couldn’t remember “you posted a selfie with the options “pretty or not” and i voted pretty of course. i meant it. you’re really pretty, the prettiest person i’ve ever seen maybe” he looked at you, his eyes were full of hope. you couldn’t stop yourself from confessing back, it felt right and there was nothing you wanted more than to be with him. once the seriousness was over, you corrected him on what the voting was actually for, but he didn’t care.

hyeongjun:

the boy you now knew as one of your closest friends was one of the first people to talk to you at your new school. you’ll never forget your first day, he came up to you with a bright smile and said hello. from that moment on you’d had a crush on him, he was a total cutie how could you not. since that day you’d spent a lot of time together. you studied together, you snacked together, sometimes you even napped together. he was perfect and you couldn’t ask for a better friend, you just wish you were more than that. he did too. ever since he laid eyes on you, you were the only person occupying his brain.

after one particularly long day at school, he invited you over to his house to chill for a bit. you were going to say no but then again you didn’t really want to go home to your sister and her new boyfriend doing unspeakable things while your parents were at work. you let out a shy yes and sent you sister a text telling her where you were.

you arrived at the dorms, the others, who you were well acquainted with, said a quick hello before getting back to their prior activities. you looked tired and so hyeongjun’s first suggestion was to nap. you felt bad, just going to his place to sleep, so you refused the offer, instead suggesting you played some video games or watched tv. a concerned hyeongjun decided the latter was probably better right now, he couldn’t force a loss on mario kart at the best of times, nevermind when you were sleepy. you slouched slightly on the couch, hyeongjun doing the same, controller in his hand. he hadn’t even picked a show yet when he felt your head hit his shoulder. he smiled at you and turned the tv off. he watched you for a little while, occasionally pushing your hair behind your ear when needed. he called you beautiful many times, he even at one point kissed your nose.

“i really like you y/n, you’re the sweetest person ever, the best” he whispered to you before making sure no one heard him in the dorm, he couldn’t deal with their teasing about this, anything but this.

you smiled a little bit, laughing almost, but only out of awkwardness. yes you were tired, that’s why you put your head on his shoulder, it didn’t mean you were asleep.

he shot up immediately, very embarrassed. “there’s no need to be like that, hyeongjun, it’s okay, i think you’re the sweetest person too, and i really like you”.

taeyoung:

every year you wished you received a valentine’s card from someone who wasn’t your mum who felt sorry for you. you didn’t make it obvious like some people at your school, you didn’t constantly check your locker, that was just obsessive, you thought. there was one boy at school who everyone fawned over, taeyoung. he was known for being very secretive about his crushes though, he never told anyone anything about his love life. you couldn’t help but fall for him. he did a dance performance once and that was it, whipped. his eyes were cute and his smile even cuter. you’d exchange eye contact in the corridor sometimes, maybe even a small “hi”. in class you’d talk to each other on the odd occasion, the new seating plan now making that more often, but you weren’t particularly close. you didn’t think you were good enough to even be friends with him, but he tried his hardest to make it happen.

valentine’s day rolled around again, friday 14th february, it was your last year in school, your last chance to receive some cliche card or letter or SOMETHING. your day started off pretty normally, you walked to school and arrived at your first lesson, however, your teacher had plans to make your day much much worse. “presentations next tuesday, it will go towards your final grade, work with the people on your table, good luck”. you looked up and your eyes met with the boy who sat opposite you, taeyoung. “sorry, we have a thing next tuesday” you heard the twins (that sat on your table too) announce. that just left you and taeyoung to present. you worked hard together, twins included, in the limited lesson time, but had concluded that you’d have to finish it out of school hours, just the two of you, since their “thing” conveniently spread all over the course of the next week.

you tried not to think about it much during the rest of the day and decided having fun with your friends at lunch was more important, you’d even forgotten the date, it seemed that these presentations had shook the whole school. you went to your locker at the end of the day when a small note came flying out. you knew whose hand writing it was immediately, taeyoung.

“you don’t need to worry about this presentation, y/n. i saw how nervous you looked when miss bitch told us about it, so i’ll do all the talking, it’s okay. we could finish writing it at that coffee shop down the street, a date maybe? then i can tell you about how much i’ve liked you for years hehe”

upon reading the note you texted him a “yes!!!” straight away and headed to the coffee shop with a spring in your step.

seongmin:

your best friend seongmin had asked you to prom, as friends, he made sure you knew you were just going as friends. you had basically made a deal that you would go together, even if either of you had proper dates, because you didn’t want to leave school without being together that whole magical evening.

seongmin showed up at your house wearing a black suit and a red tie, accompanied by his mother who had a huge smile on her face. the pair of you had a very awkward conversation while your parents watched over you two, as you do, before taking a few photos together. you’d be lying if you said his arm around your waist didn’t bring butterflies to your stomach. you were sure one of these days you’d accidentally reveal your crush on him, but you hoped to GOD it wasn’t this evening, you didn’t want to ruin it.

you went into your room to grab your phone and some make up, just incase. seongmin followed.

“can you put me some lip tint on, please?” he asked, glaring at your lips with his sparkling eyes. you couldn’t say no to him. he puckered his lips as you gently brushed the tint over them, you really wanted to kiss him right now. “you know” he was shut up by you continuing to lather his lips in red. he pushed your hand away in a dramatic way, rather expected given it was seongmin. “you know, you look really good tonight” he finished. you thanked him and returned the compliment. he fiddled with the closed lip tint that you threw on the bed next to him while you tried to find your phone. “i promised myself i’d tell you this before prom and i still have time so here goes” you were only half listening to him, still panicked because you couldn’t find your phone. “i really like you, y/n, and i think we should go to prom together... as a couple? if you want to, i don’t know why you wouldn’t but...” he let out a breath to shut himself up as his eyes followed you around your room. you didn’t react at first, only processing what he said about a minute after. you stopped searching and looked over to him sat on your bed. “i’d love to” you practically shouted, running over to hug him. he stood up and hugged you back. you noticed your phone on the bed, right where he was sat, but you didn’t really care at that point anymore, nothing was more important than this moment.

gifs aren’t mine

[dramione4e]

Red and Green

Dramione | Marriage Law AU Raiting: T

So this is my first attempt at writing a Dramione fic. Is a One Shot that you can also find here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831194

~

Draco Malfoy was a lucky man. 

 Seven years ago, he had avoided going to Azkaban; he had been able to clean his family name by donating obscene amounts of money to several charities; he’d gotten a very decent job at the Ministry as a Senior Auror and, as if he deserved it, had a circle of close friends, many of them he could even call family. 

 But, damn, he was going to need something more than sheer luck to get out of this mess free or even alive. 

“I’m not entirely sure this is OK, Weasley,” he half whispered, half shouted while looking at both ways of the empty street with an anxious look on his face while his former enemy and now also Auror partner, worked on removing the wards of the house that belonged to none other than Hermione Granger. 

 “I told you, Malfoy,” said Ron, dragging his words. “She showed me how to enter her house in case of an emergency. Just a few more spells and we’ll be able to get in.”

 The plan that both of them had come up with just an hour ago at the Leaky Cauldron was just to go to her house and talk to her. It made sense at the time but now Draco was sobering up and suddenly it didn’t seem like a good idea so much as breaking and entering.

 “Are you sure she is home?” he insisted. “We’ve been pounding at her door for ages.”

 “Believe me, she’s a heavy sleeper.” 

 That made Draco’s insides cringe a little bit. He didn’t like thinking about how Weasley knew such intimate information. Not like he was jealous or anything, the former Slytherin was just pointing out that he himself didn’t know that.

 He heard a click and the door finally swung open. Ron ushered him inside and followed him into the sitting room. It was very early in the morning so it was still a little dark inside. The place still looked the same as he remembered from the previous time he had been invited over for drinks when the gang was celebrating something he couldn’t ever care about now. 

 His red haired partner went upstairs to look for the witch but came back without her. 

 “She’s not home.”

 Yep. Breaking and entering. Good bye, freedom.

 “I guess we'll just have to sit here and wait for her,” the former Gryffindor announced, plummeting on the couch.

 “Are you mental?” 

 But before he got an answer, the front door was opened and he heard a scream coming from behind him.

“What part of for emergencies was so difficult for you to understand, Ronald?!” Hermione was yelling at both wizards who were now sitting on the couch while she was pacing from right to left in front of them. “Do you have any idea how long it takes me to set up wards like this?!”

 None of them answered. The room was fully lighted now and there was a lingering smell of Pepperup Potion in the air.

 “I could have seriously injured you, you fools!” Hermione kept on lecturing them. Ron had his head down, looking ashamed at the floor but Draco could not look away from the sight in front of him.

 Dear Salazar, what is she wearing? 

 His mental question was rhetorical. Draco was no longer a stranger to Muggle culture, in fact he prided himself on how much he’d learned over the past few years. Hermione had been actually the main source of help as she was now the owner of a company that fussed magic with Muggle technology in a safe and convenient way and said company also provided training and seminars to educate magical beings on how to use appliances, electronics and others.

 Besides attending all of the lectures, he had also expanded his knowledge by asking Hermione for more sources on different Muggle topics and he remembered reading about sports and exercise. Still, one thing was looking at pictures of random strangers in textbooks and a very different thing was to have the Gryffindor princess model the outfit.

 She was wearing high waisted leggings that went from under her belly button to the skin above her ankles, and was it called a sports bra? Whatever it was, it left her flat belly totally exposed and Merlin! he was being hypnotized by the swing of her hips and the drops of sweet that ran down her neck to her chest and disappeared inside her small top. Even though she was mostly covered, that outfit left little to the imagination, in his opinion.

 She’d explained she had gone running very early in the morning, something that perhaps she’d happened to mention she usually did but the two brilliant Aurors, in the state they were, couldn’t have possibly remembered.

 When she finally calmed down and the Pepperup Potion kicked in, the men were able to express their apologies which she begrudgingly accepted.

 “Anyway, why are you here?” her tone was softer, but she had her arms crossed in front of her.

 “Remember when I told you I would keep you informed about the Marriage Law?” Ron asked.

 Ah.

 Malfoy had almost forgotten the reason he was there in the first place.

 Five years after the war was over, the Ministry of Magic came to the realization that the wizarding population in the country had alarmingly decreased. Furthermore, the expected “Baby Boom” didn’t pan out because of a large adoption campaign -founded principally by the only Malfoy heir- to help children who became orphans after the war get a home. 

 Two years ago, the Ministry announced that now witches and wizards of marriageable age had a year and a half to find a suitor or suitress to marry, otherwise the Ministry would assign one based on the results of an old ritual that conjured ‘core matching magic’ and ‘soulmate bonding’ in addition to several compatibility tests that they were all ask to fill -some even under Veritaserum.

 “Why? Did you find out who I was paired with?” She took a seat on the armchair in front of them. “Is it someone bad?”

 “Yes, it’s bad, ‘Mione,” her best friend answered quickly.

 Fucking Weasley. Aren’t we supposed to be friends now?

 Draco had indeed developed a strong friendship with Ron Weasley and subsequently with Harry Potter and Hermione Granger -they were a package deal apparently-. Although the last two he didn’t see that often, with Granger he regularly engaged in pleasant conversations about the recent creations of her company, his most interesting cases as an Auror; also literature, music and films (Muggle and otherwise); their interests and, well, many things. 

 She was a very interesting woman and, in the recent past, he had admitted to himself that they had a lot in common and it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if someday they went out to dinner together, just the two of them, as in a date. Still, he had never thought that they would be a perfect match, according to the experts at the Ministry. The highest one on the list by far. 

 After the initial shock had worn out, he’d felt elated. His co-workers had even patted him on the back as if this was his highest accomplishment. Hermione Granger, The Brightest Witch of Her Age, was his match. His soulmate. He was floating.

 When the high that this information gave him ended, he started questioning if he really deserved it. In his mind, they were perfect for each other. After all opposites attract, right? 

 She was a Gryffindor; he was a Slytherin.

 She was Muggle-born; he was a Pureblood.

 She was a member of The Order of the Phoenix; he was a Death Eater.

 Ugh.

 She was smart, beautiful, kind, honest, generous, brave; he was… 

 Guilt had been eating him all day. Maybe they were not a good match after all. Red and green didn’t go well together, right?

 That’s how he ended drinking with Ron.

 “Well? Who is it?” her apathy had now changed into wariness. 

 “I can’t tell you. All ministry workers signed up a non-disclosure agreement and until the owls are sent to the respective witches and wizards, we can’t say, write, point, mimic, spell-”

 “For fuck’s sake, Ron!” she interrupted and stood up again, her arms akimbo her hips. “Why the hell did you bother coming here if you can’t even tell me?!”

 At this, Weasley smirked, “Luckily for you, ‘Mione, we found a loophole,” he said smugly and pointed to himself and Draco even when it had been the blond Slytherin’s idea at the pub. “If you guess the name of this person, I could nod or shake my head without breaking the contract.”

 That seemed to somewhat relax her.

 “OK, so, I’m guessing is someone we know, must be single, and the age…” she muttered more to herself biting her lip. “And you said it’s bad? Does he work at the ministry?” She looked at the red head for confirmation and he nodded at both questions.

 “Oh, no.”

 Here we come.

 “Is it McLaggen?”

 Weasley shook his head.

 “Is it Smith from finance?” 

 Another head shake.

 “Parry?”

 No.

 “Hodgson?”

 No.

 “Mullins?”

 No.

 “The one that works in the same office as your father?”

 Every name was followed by a head shake and Draco was elated to know he didn’t even make the list.

 “Oh, no,” her eyes opened wide and now Draco was sure he was about to hear his own name. “Is it you?” but she was still looking at Weasley. 

 “Oi!” Weasley countered. “You’d be lucky if that were the case!”

 At this Hermione rolled her eyes and left an exasperated scoff, “I don’t have time for this, I’m gonna be late for work.”

 She dismiss them and disappeared upstairs.

 Malfoy couldn’t fight the smile that crept up his lips.

Draco was waiting outside of Granger, Inc. in Diagon Alley. After he and Ron left her house, he went home and immediately owled the witch to ask if she would be available for lunch. When he got her reply accepting his invitation, he went to bed for a few hours, after all, he’d needed to regain his beauty sleep.

 His head hurt a little and he was sure it wasn’t a hangover. Thoughts about how to best approach the subject swirled in his mind and thoughts about her reaction after she found out tormented him. However, he had come prepared to hear the worst and the best.

 “I’m ready.” The witch had stepped out of her office, bringing him out of his stupor. He noticed she was no longer wearing sportswear. Instead she fashioned a velvet looking set of robes that went from a very dark purple at the bottom to a faded, light lilac at the top. Her hair was pulled back in a low ponytail.

 Apparently leggings were not necessary for him to go into a trance. When the person was Hermione Granger it didn’t matter what she was wearing. That morning she had looked sexy and provocative and now she, only a few hours later, was the picture of elegance and professionalism and he liked both looks the most.

 When he came back to his senses he cleared his throat, “Shall we?” he asked and they walked together towards a close restaurant where they had met in the past with some of their friends.

 After ordering their drinks and meals, the gray eyed man thought he should just rip off the band aid.

 “I wanted to apologize,” he began. “For the incident this morning. Weasley and I shouldn’t have gotten that drunk and acted so stupidly.”

 “Don’t worry about it,” she shrugged. “I was mostly mad at Ron for messing with my wards, I can tell the whole thing was his idea.” At this, the waiter came back with their drinks and put them on the table.

 “So, did you want to talk to me about something or is this just an ‘apology lunch’?” she inquired with a playful tone and then took a sip of her beverage, never taking her eyes off him.

 He was about to answer when he noticed the intentional look she was giving him and her raised eyebrow.

 “You know?” he ventured.

 “I’m not sure if I know,” she corrected. “I thought you just happened to be with Ron when he concocted his stupid plan this morning,” she mused. “But then after I got your owl, I thought that maybe it was you he was referring to.”

 He nodded to answer her implied question and automatically felt the binding lifting from him. Now that she knew, he was free to talk.

 “Why were you in such an urgent state to let me know?” she inquired. 

 “Weasley said you weren’t going to be happy with the news and he thought it was best to warn you as soon as possible,” he explained. “He said you would come up with a way to avoid the match and get a different guy.”

 “I probably could,” she offered and he knew she was so popular and well-connected in the Ministry that even if she couldn’t get herself out of the whole program, it would take no more than an owl asking them to change her match for them to go ahead and do it. “Is that what you want?”

 No. 

 Was this the best case scenario? Of course not. He would have liked to ask her out on proper dates, build up a relationship and eventually take things to a more serious level. He could easily see them becoming more than just boyfriend and girlfriend. So far, he already liked everything about her. He had dived inside her mind several times to know that.

 Not to mention that she got more beautiful by the day, and no, the glimpse of what her body looked like under the robes had nothing to do with it.

 OK, maybe a little. It was a perk.

 Anyways, the witch was waiting for a response. Should he just take the plunge or listen to the Ron Weasley inside his head, telling him he was a bad choice for her?

 “I know it is not ideal,” he answered. “I mean, to start a relationship with what is basically a forced marriage in which we are expected to wait only a year before we start having children. Not even pureblood arrangements work that way.

 “It is not fair for either of us,” at that moment the waiter interrupted him by bringing their plates. 

 Granger had kept quiet so far and just fixed him with a look that conveyed nothing. He’d learned that when she wanted, her face became unreadable, but he was not to be discouraged.

 He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

 “I would hate to not be the one who marries you,” he dared to say and was pleased to see her cheeks become red. “If we were to do this my way, believe me that I would have courted you the right way. I swear I thought about asking you out many times in the last couple of years and now I feel like a complete idiot for not working up the courage to do it.

 “If you do me the honor of letting me be your husband,” he offered. “I vow to never take you for granted. We will take things slow. As slow as you want. I don’t want this marriage law to get in the way of dating you properly.

 “And you have my word that, if at any point you want out, you’ll be free to do it. I wouldn’t stop you,” he promised.

 She blinked a few times before she reached her hand across the table and put it on top of his.

 “I’d like that,” she answered, her honeyed eyes full of sincerity. “To date you, that is. I’ve also entertained the thought of asking you out a few times,” she admitted blushing even redder. “If in order to date we have to get married, then so be it.”

 He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and couldn’t stop the grin on his face. He turned his hand upwards to intertwine their fingers together and then brought her hand to his mouth at the same time he leaned in to plant a kiss on her knuckles. The electrifying feeling of her soft hand was going to be carved in his memory forever.

 “Thank you, Granger,” he murmured. 

 After they finished their lunches he was now walking her back to her office while holding hands. They were met with multiple stares and gasps along Diagon Alley but he didn’t mind one bit and she even made it seem as if she was oblivious to that.

 “So we’re dating now,” she stated, looking up to meet his eyes. 

 “Yes.” He found that just thinking about it made his face feel warm, but not intending to hide it, he looked back at her with what he hoped was a sincere smile. 

 They entered the building that was her business and Draco could see several heads turning to look at them.

 “Can we talk for a minute in your office?” he asked her and she agreed.

 Once the door was closed and locked he got close to her and took both her hands in his.

 “I know it seems like we are not given much of a choice about this, but,” he said feeling his hands getting sweaty with nerves. “In the off chance that you don’t realize along the way, that you are way out of my league and decide to leave me, I want to ask you the right way so we’ll be able to remember this moment forever.”

 Draco pulled out a small box from inside his robes and opened it in front of her. He heard her curse a ‘holy shit’ under her breath at the sight of the red and green tear-shaped tourmaline ring. Turns out that red and green did go well together. 

 He locked his eyes with hers and she gave him a small nervous smile, “Everything I know about you I already like and it would make me the happiest wizard if you let me learn more. I want to discuss not only academia and the news but also learn about your dreams and fears; I yearn to know how you take your tea in the morning and if you have a preferred side of the bed at night. I long for the happy moments, the new adventures, the memories we will create together and even the fights and arguments. I promise I will try my best to make you happy for as long as you have me.” He got down on one knee. 

 “Hermione Jean Granger,” he intoned. “Will you marry me?”

 The witch’s face was soaked with tears but her smile had gotten wider the more she listened to him.

 “Yes,” she croaked, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She extended her hand in front of her. 

 The wizard happily took it and slipped the ring onto her finger. He then stood up and felt Granger’s soft fingers over his own cheeks. 

 He hadn’t realized he had been crying too.

 “So, we’re really dating now,” she echoed her words from before, moving closer to him and resting her hands on his shoulders.

 “Yes,” he smiled and closed the gap between them, his fingers going up and down her back. “But we’re also engaged.”

 “We’re moving so fast,” she whispered a fake protest, her face only inches from his. 

 He hummed in agreement, his eyes were close now. 

 “And yet,” their noses touched, her voice barely audible. “We haven’t even kissed. That’s not fair, is it?”

 He couldn’t resist anymore. He pulled her closer -if that was even possible- and pressed his lips against hers. She was ready for him and quickly returned the kiss.

 Her lips were the softest and her taste was oh so sweet. 

 What started as slow and tender quickly became heated and passionate. It was new and exciting and yet so familiar. Their lips and tongues moved in a dance as old as time and when they finally stopped for air he opened his eyes to find her staring at him with a warm smile and even warmer eyes.

 She never looked so beautiful.

 Draco Malfoy was indeed a lucky man.

[nickelkeep]

No Cheeseburgers in Paradise

Pairing: Dean/Cas Rating: Teen, for some language Word Count: 5.7K Warnings: Sam POV, Canonverse Divergent after S8 Written For: nickel’s storytime On Ao3

Sam hadn't thought of having a place to set down roots in a very long time. Maybe when he had been with Jess, back at Stanford. But that was years ago, and his home had reverted back to pre-Jess, the back seat of the Impala, and motel rooms across the country. So the parting gift from their Grandfather was a strange surprise, to say the least.

At most, Sam had thought that it was just a warehouse in which the Men of Letters kept their magical relics and volumes of lore. He never expected it to be a fully functional base of operations. Bedrooms, Bathrooms, a Kitchen? That was not what Sam thought he would find as he explored the bunker.

Sam didn't expect to find Dean instantly claiming the place as home. In a matter of minutes, his older brother had claimed room eleven and started straightening it out. Dean even went as far hanging up his clothes in the modest closet, on long-forgotten hangers.

Seeing his brother's almost instant attachment to the bunker, Sam couldn't help but find a room, knowing that Dean wouldn't let him live it down if he didn't. He picked a bedroom that was as many spaces away from the bathroom as Dean's but in the opposite direction. If Dean wanted to settle in, Sam could use that to his advantage and make a physical separation from Dean as well.

The distance between rooms didn't stop Dean from mothering over Sam. He rolled his eyes as Dean referred to his new mode as nesting: cleaning and organizing the bunker, turning it into a home for the pair of them. The latest chore Dean had given himself, and one Sam hadn't seen in a long time?

Cooking.

Sam smelled the meal before Dean turned into the Library, two plates in hand. Dean set one in front of Sam, confirming what the younger Winchester had already thought. Dean had taken use of the kitchen and made them each their own burger.

"Uh, thanks, Dean." Sam looked down at the burger Dean had set before him. "Special occasion tonight?"

"Nope. Was just doing that nesting thing. Figured I could clean the kitchen, then I tested the stove, then I remembered we did some shopping. So I cooked." Dean sat at the next table over, observing Sam. "It's nice to have a full-size kitchen."

"I'm sure." Sam nodded, his eyes not leaving the burger on the plate. "You know, I'm not all that hungry."

"That's bullshit, and you know it, Sammy." Dean bit into his burger and smiled. "Man, when's the last time I was able to make something like this?"

"At Madison's place," Sam mumbled under his breath. "Or maybe before you and Bobby met Cas." Sam shot a look at over Dean, who was blissfully unaware of Sam's comments as he devoured his burger. He shook his head and stared back down at the burger on his plate. It had taken Sam years to figure it out, but Dean's burgers - while fucking delicious - were completely and utterly cursed.

While the outcome of eating Dean's food wasn't always adverse, something would always happen.

"Sammy, eat." Dean pointed at the burger. "I've really outdone myself this time."

Sam bit his bottom lip, dreading what was coming, but nodded all the same as he picked up the burger and took a bite. He let out an almost obscene moan as he devoured Dean's burger. His older brother wasn't kidding when he said this was his best yet. Guiltily and nervously, Sam finished off his dinner before looking at Dean. "That was amazing."

"Right? Now just wait until I get the stuff for making pie. I can even make the crust from scratch with the kitchen we have!" A broad smile widened across Dean's face as he leaned back in his seat. "I'm excited!"

"Well, don't get too excited." Sam tossed a paper over to Dean. "We've got a case." Sam rested his hand in his lap and crossed his fingers. The last thing the brothers needed was the world falling apart on them because Dean kept cooking for them while in the bunker.

Dean bit his bottom lip and nodded. "This looks like a Winchester thing."

Sam let out a sigh of relief.

…

On the way back from the case, Sam found himself silently cursing the fact that he and Dean had both eaten Dean's burgers. The case thing had been surprising and more of a case than even Sam had realized. Dean ended up killing Hitler for a second time. On the way back to the Bunker Dean practically called everyone - talking to anyone who would answer. Cas, that vampire guy, Kevin... Clearly, Dean eating his own burger had been a perk.

While nothing had genuinely happened to Sam, he found himself looking twice at shadows and jumping at sudden sharp noises. Not a good thing when your best friend is an angel that liked to blip around.

As the weeks continued, Sam found himself making salads to keep himself from eating more of Dean's Burgers.

Dean came storming into the kitchen. "Dude! Kevin's figured out the tablet. He knows how to close the gates of Hell!" Dean stopped in front of Sam and pointed down at the salad. "Did you try out that salad dressing I left you in the fridge?"

"I'm sorry, what?" Sam looked up at Dean in surprise. "You made salad dressing?" Sam blanched at the realization he had something Dean had prepared.

"Yeah, we were getting low on that vinaigrette that you like, so I tried my hand at making it," Dean smirked. "Must not have done so bad if you couldn't tell the difference."

Sam swallowed and shook his head, trying not to let his nervousness show. "Nope, we're good, Dean. I couldn't tell the difference at all." Sam pushed the salad away. "So, about Kevin?"

"Dude, we can close Hell. I just need to go through three tests or trials concocted by God. Completed, they slam all the gates shut. We just need to find a hellhound for me to kill."

Sam blanched. He ate Dean's food, and now Dean was going to have to kill a hellhound. Sam cringed internally and reached for his laptop, and gestured for Dean to sit down. "Let's find a demon deal, shall we?"

"Hell yeah!" Dean rubbed his hands together and sat across from his brother

...

It was Sam who had stumbled on the string of luck in Shoshone, Idaho, ten years prior. He wasn't sure if that was lucky or unlucky for him and Dean. However, he still chalked up, locating the goldmine of activity to the fact he had eaten Dean's vinaigrette. Which had Sam thinking. What if it wasn't the food that Dean cooked that was cursed?

He knew he was supposed to be researching the Cassity family as Dean drove them. However, he was too busy focusing on and trying to remember all the times Dean had prepared food for him.

Dean's go-to food was burgers. If he could spare the time - like at Bobby's or when they could get a motel room - he would go all out, making them meals. And since they were mostly burgers, Sam's mind automatically associated Dean's burgers with their sudden changes in luck. But looking at the incident that got them on the road - that was salad dressing for fuck's sake - or another recent event where Kevin fell off the boat after eating a burrito Dean had made him. Sam needed to wonder:

Was Dean cursed? How would Dean have gotten cursed? Sam ran his fingers through his hair and tugged. How could he even broach the topic of Dean possibly being cursed?

Watching as Dean tapped his fingers on the steering wheel along to AC/DC's Hell's Bells, Sam vowed to keep his mouth shut until he could prove beyond a doubt that Dean was cursed. He pulled out his notepad and started taking notes.

As they pulled up to the Cassity Ranch, Sam looked over the list he started. He had matched up instances of Dean's cooking with significant events in their life, going back to before he had even left for Stanford. He pinched the bridge of his nose, massaging it in irritation before looking over at his older brother exiting the Impala. Without a doubt, there was a correlation between Dean's cooking, the amount of prep work that his brother put into it, and how big of a swing in luck it caused.

Now all Sam needed to figure out was how Dean got cursed.

Sam hadn't realized that Ellie had put Dean on grill duty. He figured that Dean was lurking, looking for any sign of the hellhound. However, when the patriarch Noah asked Ellie what her new secret to the grilled food was, she mentioned that Dean knew his way around the grill. Sam took a look at the grilled chicken he had started to eat, and almost instantly lost his appetite.

Accepting his fate, Sam took a quick pitstop in his room to write up a quick theory about Dean's curse and folded it up, hiding it in his duffel bag. If something were to happen to him, Dean would eventually go through his bag and find the letter and be able to put two and two together. If he somehow came out of the whole ordeal unscathed, he could pick up from where he left off.

Sam took a deep breath before zipping up his bag. He told Noah and Margie he'd join them on a slightly drunken night hunt. The hellhound distorted the sounds it made as it traversed through the woods, and was able to easily take down Margie, the youngest Cassity.

With Dean finding out that a third Crossroads deal was made, Sam was benched so Dean could undertake the trials. Listening to the remaining Cassitys bicker was a nightmare. And when the oldest slipped her cuffs - Sam was totally blaming that one on Dean - and ran outside, he realized how much trouble Dean was actually in. He shooed the oldest sibling back inside and ran to the barn, chasing after the hellhound that was going after Ellie.

Sam shot at the hellhound, striking it, and was promptly attacked. From there, Sam's luck changed. Much to Dean's annoyance, despite him not knowing the cause why, Sam killed the hellhound and became the brother who would undergo the Trials of God.

...

As the weeks passed, Sam was able to use his attachment to the trials to wave off Dean's food. Not that it kept Dean from fretting over him. It made researching the curse on Dean even harder to figure out. He still hadn't figured out a way to explain to his brother that he was cursed. Would Dean even buy it?

Sam had contemplated going to Cas, but a second look at his list made him realize something. Some of the references Sam had found were pre-Cas: the burgers Dean made at a cookout before him getting accepted at Stanford, the ones Dean made on the drive back to Stanford after the Woman in White, and the ones at Madison's place. There were smaller, less complicated meals, Sam was sure of it, but Dean had made them. If those were done before Cas came into their life, it meant either Cas knew about the curse and didn't care, or that the curse was something that even the angel couldn't fix.

The second trial came and went. Freeing Bobby from Hell had been an ordeal, and Sam had to wonder what Dean had eaten to make it so catastrophic. Adding the event to his list, Sam focused on lifting the curse off of his brother. They were getting closer to the end, and while he had every intention of seeing the trials all the way through, Sam had a feeling they would also be his downfall.

The day before the brothers started the third trial, Sam asked Dean for a burger. He figured that the worst that could happen was that he would die. Sam partially expected it, especially with how rapidly he had deteriorated over the past several months. In the best-case scenario, it would change his luck, and he would live. Just like he had at the Cassity's and before making the trek to Hell for the second trial, he left a letter and his findings for Dean, explaining what he knew of the curse.

As the third trial progressed, Sam realized that the burger wasn't helping him. He wasn't sure if it was slowing down the process so he could complete it, but Sam knew that he wasn't going to make it, and only hoped that Dean would forgive him.

…

Sam didn't remember passing out as he woke up in the Impala. "Dean?"

"Sleeping beauty finally decided to wake up?"

"What happened?" Sam looked out at the road. "The last thing I remember is the church..."

"Long story short? The Trials failed. You've been out cold for two days. That Metatron dick tricked Cas, and the Angels fell." Dean shrugged. "We're meeting Cas back at the bunker and double-checking the wardings. He's kind of a wanted ex-angel."

Sam tilted his head, and a shiver shot through his nerves. "Ex-angel?"

"Metatron stole his grace," Dean growled. "He fucking de-powered Cas and kicked all the angels out of Heaven knowing they'd be after him."

"So, what's the next step? Find a way to get the angels back to Heaven?"

"Yep, and keep Cas safe," Dean commented. "Teach him how to human, show him the ropes, get him tatted up," Sam swore that he saw Dean's Adam's apple bob up in a swallow. "We just keep moving one foot at a time."

"Sounds like a plan." The last part of Sam's sentence was muted by his yawn. "How far out from the bunker are we?"

Dean shrugged. "Hour. An hour and a half. Go back to sleep. We'll start on fixing our mess when we get back."

Sam didn't have to be told twice. He rested his head against the window and promptly passed back out for the rest of the trip.

...

Cas greeted them at the doorway to the bunker, pulling Sam into a quick hug before pulling Dean into a prolonged embrace. Sam smiled at the casual affection between his brother and Cas when a thought triggered in his brain. Sam liked seeing the pair of them happy. And if Cas and Dean made each other happy, that made Sam even happier.

But Cas had never eaten Dean's food before.

If Cas was no longer an angel and was a full-fledged human, he was going to need to eat. If Cas was going to eat, he was going to eat Dean's food. Sam dragged his hand down his face at the realization and made his way to his room to drop off his bag before heading to the Library to keep researching.

Sam had lost track of time when Cas sat down across from him. The former angel sat a burger in front of him and had a burger of his own. "Dean said you should eat, that you haven't eaten approximately forty-eight hours."

"I, uh." Sam looked down at the plate Cas sat in front of him and felt his stomach grumble. He looked back up at Cas and watched as Cas happily and eagerly bit into the sandwich. "I don't think I could keep it down."

"Would you actually know unless you tried?" Cas groaned around another bite of burger. "Dean said he remembered me liking burgers during the confrontation with Famine. He thought that would be a good first meal that he cooked for me."

"How are they?" Sam tried to casually write down the date and time on his growing list of food and luck coincidences.

"I do enjoy them." Cas took the last bite of his burger and smiled, before guiltily looking at Sam's burger, then Sam. "Are you not going to eat that?"

Sam couldn't help but chuckle, remembering times that Dean had stolen Cas' food that he ordered to blend in. He updated the 'burger' on his list to '2 burgers' and pushed his plate to Cas. "If I think I can stomach something later, I will. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that." Cas moaned into another bite of burger, almost as pornographically as the first bite. "This is so good." He stood up from the table and grabbed both plates. "I need to go thank Dean again." Cas blushed and exited the Library.

Sam pulled his list in front of him. Based on the previous encounters, the effect of the food would happen within the next twenty-four hours. He just needed Cas to experience it. Then he could bring up the curse with the ex-angel, and hopefully have a co-conspirator into finding a way to break the curse.

As he leaned back in his seat, Sam's stomach growled. He whimpered, realizing that the burger did smell really good, and pushed himself out of his chair, slinking back to his room to grab something healthy and untouched by Dean.

...

While Sam certainly didn't follow Cas into his bedroom when he went to sleep or into the bathroom, Sam kept the ex-angel in his sight the majority of the time. It quickly passed twenty-four hours, and Dean happily kept feeding Cas, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary

He sat down at the table in the Library after pulling out another book on curses, when Cas silently snuck in and sat down across from him again. "Am I doing something wrong, Sam?"

Sam jumped in his seat, banging his knee against the desk. "Jesus, Cas. Now I know why Dean's always saying he's going to get you a damn bell."

"My apologies," Cas smirked, and Sam couldn't help but smile and roll his eyes in return. "I was curious as to why you've been following me so closely. Is there something inadequate in the way Dean is helping me?"

"Uh, well." Sam rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "I mean, there are always things I could recommend, but that's not why I was watching you. I was watching because I wanted to see how Dean's food affected you."

"It is quite delicious. I'm curious as to why you don't partake? You make salads and eggs and those green drinks that don't look very appealing." Cas tilted his head. "What's going on, Sam?"

"Well, can I answer your question with an ask?"

"I believe you just did." Sam wasn't sure how or when the former angel developed so much sass and fought to keep his jaw from falling. "Go ahead and ask, Sam."

Sam let out a heavy sigh. "Have you noticed anything... weird, since eating Dean's food?"

"Intoxication. Urination. Defecation. They're all weird human necessities." Cas leaned back in his chair. "All of this is new to me, Sam. I'm going to need you to be specific."

"Fine. Have you noticed any big things happening within twenty-four hours of eating Dean's cooking? Good or Bad things?" Sam leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and his chin on his knuckles. "Or anything that seems weird, even for a human?"

"I have not." Cas shook his head in the negative. "Granted, as I said before, I probably would not have noticed, but nothing seems extraordinary if I gather your meaning correctly."

"Damn." Sam pulled out his notepad and wrote down what Cas had told him. "It's good that you haven't, but the fact that you haven't blows my theory out of proportion."

"Your theory?" Cas crossed his ankle over his knee, attempting to get more comfortable in the chair.

"I think Dean's been cursed for a very long time. I need to see Dad's journal and get some more confirmation before I bring this to Dean, but I also want to tell him how to break the spell before I do." Sam rubbed at his forehead. “You probably wouldn't even notice."

"No, I'm pretty sure I would. How is he cursed?" Cas crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Sam.

"Cas, if my research is right, which, it's always right, Dean's been cursed since before I went to Stanford. Wouldn't you have noticed it when you raised him from Hell?" Sam leveled his own stare in response.

Cas shook his head. "I did a thorough check of his body as I repaired it. There as no curse on him."

"Well, what if I told you that anytime someone eats his cooking, something big happens to them. It can be a good thing or bad thing, and it always happens within twenty-four hours." He turned his notepad with his findings and showed it to Cas. "I've been waiting to tell him, but it doesn't seem like it's ever the right time."

"I don't think there is a right time to tell someone they're cursed, Sam."

"I know, Cas!" Sam dragged his hands down his face. "I just wanted to know how to break the curse when I told him that he was cursed so he wouldn't be upset."

"He'll probably be more upset that he knew you willing hid it and didn't share the fact." Cas pointed at some of the findings on the list. "He made burgers before you killed a potential mate. He fed you not once, but twice before you started the trials..." Cas shook his head.

"I just want to know why and how you're immune." Sam rubbed at his temples. "I'm going for a walk. I'll have my phone if you need me, but Cas. Please. You can't tell Dean." Sam turned on his best puppy dog eyes, hoping they'd finally have an effect on Cas. "I'll tell him, I promise. I just... give me a little longer to see if I can figure this out."

Cas' lips turned in discontent. "Forty-eight hours, Sam. I'll give you two days, but then you have to tell him."

"Thank you." Sam let out a small breath of relief, although he wished Cas would have given him more time. He marked his page and slammed the book shut, taking it with him as he practically ran out of the Library and through the War Room before exiting to the outside of the bunker.

Sam walked along the gravel roadway before coming to the main road. He looked both ways and crossed over the pavement, heading to the open field on the other side. After finding a suitable place to sit, Sam cracked the book back open and continued from where he left off reading.

As he read through the pages, a thought nagged at the back of his mind. Cas.

Cas never noticed Dean's curse. He literally grasped Dean's soul, pulled it out of Hell, and rebuilt his body from scratch. If Cas had seen the curse, he would have left it out of the refurbished body. If it was marred on Dean's soul, Cas would have cleansed it. But Cas never detected it.

Cas was also immune to it. For a brief second, Sam thought it was because of Cas' grace, but Cas was depleted. He was human. Dean's cursed cooking affected humans. So even without his Grace, Cas had no reaction. Sam started scanning the book looking for anything about a person being immune to someone else's curse.

Sam found a section about curse loopholes. As he read through it, something became apparent. Cas was not only immune to Dean's curse but possibly the way to break it.

After another hour of reading, Sam stood up and stretched his legs before heading to the bunker. During his readings, he recalled a conversation about soulmates and how Cupids were meant to make sure they found each other. Granted, that conversation ended up with Dean punching a Cupid in the face. Still, Sam remembered something about two souls coming together perfectly.

Sam entered the bunker and headed to the kitchen, finding Dean and Cas sitting across from each other. They were leaning towards each other, talking in a hushed tone, and everything clicked in place for Sam. He ran out of the kitchen and back to the Library, looking for a specific book, Vivlío tis Afrodítis.

He sat down in a chair close to the shelf where he found the book, flipping through the pages until he found the passage about souls being split asunder to find one another. According to the lore, if one half of a soul is plagued, bringing it together with the other would cleanse it. Sam flipped through a few more pages, frowning when he found how to combine the two halves to make the soul whole again.

Cas and Dean would have to admit their feelings for each other.

Sam dropped the book on the ground and rested his face in his hands. His emotionally-constipated brother was going to kill him. Sam had hidden the fact that Dean, or something Dean adjacent, had been cursed for at least fifteen years. And of course, of course, there was a way to break the said curse. True-fucking-love's kiss.

"Sammy?" Dean stood in the doorway of the Library watching over him. "You okay there? You came in the kitchen then stormed out. Now it looks like you were getting into a fight with a book there."

"Sort of?" Sam frowned, realizing it was now or never. At least Cas wouldn't hold it over his head. "Sit down?"

Dean crossed to a chair across from Sam. "What's up?"

For a brief second, Sam considered starting off his sentence with So get this... Instead, he let out a short sigh instead and frowned. "Dean, you're cursed."

"You're funny," Dean responded after a moment. He shook a finger at Sam, smiling. "You almost had me there."

"I'm not kidding, Dean." Sam pushed himself up out of the chair and walked back to where he had set up his research. He grabbed the notepad and turned around and handed it to Dean, who had followed after.

Dean flipped through Sam's notes. "Shouldn't I know if I'm cursed? Like, shouldn't I feel it?" He tapped a spot on the list. "Wait. Since then?" Dean's eyes grew wide. "Oh shit. I might actually be cursed." Dean shoved the file into Sam's hands and ran out of the Library, nearly knocking over an entering Cas.

"You told him?" Cas walked up to Sam and took the notepad and read over it. "How did he handle it?"

"I think he agrees." Sam looked at Cas, who had raised an eyebrow in question. "What? He said 'Oh shit, I might actually be cursed" and nearly ran you over on the way out."

"I thought he'd be more upset." Cas crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the table.

Sam shrugged. "You never know, Cas. the day is still youngish." Dean strode back into the Library with John's journal in hand. "We'll learn soon enough, I think."

"Okay, so about two months before you got your acceptance letter, Dad sent me on a hunt." Dean flipped through the journal, stopping on a page. "He followed me because he didn't trust me to do it on my own. He cuffed me upside the head when it was all done, ‘cause I supposedly scared the shit out of him. The witch got a hit on me." Dean found a page and turned the journal to face Sam. "Dude, Dad wrote down what he thought she said. 'ut ardeat omnia lordum.'"

"'May all your lords glow brightly?'" Sam questioned. "That doesn't sound much like a curse."

"Which would explain why your father didn't think Dean was cursed and didn't treat it like one," Cas interjected, stroking his chin with the tips of his fingers. "Are there any words that could be replaced in that sentence that sound similar?"

Sam crossed over to the shelves and pulled down a book. "Let's look at some Latin, shall we?" He flipped through a few pages before tracing down with his fingers. Sam continued the process several more times before stopping and tapping on a word. "This is a long shot, but... lardum instead of lordum? It would make the sentence..."

"'May all your bacon burn.'" Dean shook his head. "When I make food, it doesn't burn. I'm too good for that." Sam rolled his eyes, glaring at his older brother, who merely shrugged. "I am! But what if it's not me burning the so-called bacon, but the bacon I make causing bad reactions - causing metaphorical burns?"

"That's a fickle curse." Cas quipped.

Dean nodded. "She was a fickle bitch." He set down John's journal and took the list from Cas. "All of these are - for the most part - burns. Sure, Sammy going to Stanford was good for him, but it sucked for me and Dad."

"It actually sucked for me in the long run, cause I met Jess and lost her. And any of the friends I ever made, other than Jess, were actually demons." Sam pointed out.

"And you needed to kill Madison. Shit, you have the run-in with Croatoan on here too. I had made us food before we rolled into town." Dean pushed the list back at Sam. "My food has been cursed to fucking make our lives miserable." Sam watched as a realization crossed Dean's face, and he pointed at Cas. "I've been feeding you non stop since we've been back here."

Sam looked at Cas, who look was looking at him. After getting a curt nod from Cas, Sam spoke up. "I've been keeping an eye on Cas. He's immune."

"I mean, I'd get that if Cas were still an angel. But Cas is human. Right, Cas?" Dean's face remained wide in concern.

"I am very much human, yes. But Sam clearly must have figured something out, as he's told you that you're cursed."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek. While he was sure he had figured it out, he wasn't sure either of the two men with him would follow through. "I think I did, yeah."

"Well, don't leave us hanging, Sammy!" Dean clapped his hands together. "I'd very much like to know my cooking isn't killing people."

"Cas, can I ask you a question?" Sam looked to his side, hoping Cas could help him out without even realizing it.

"Yes, Sam."

"When you were stripped of your grace, did you get a soul to replace it?" Sam watched Dean from the corner of his eye as he looked at Cas.

"Yes." Cas nodded. "I am fully human."

"What's that got to do with anything?" Dean interrupted.

"Cas," Sam continued. "Can you tell anything about your soul, or was that a grace thing only?"

Cas sadly shook his head. "I could if I still had my grace, but as a human? I cannot. Why?"

"Well, need I remind you guys that soulmates are a thing?" Sam walked over to the chair where he'd been sitting with the Vivlío tis Afrodítis, picking it up off the ground. "Soulmates are forced asunder, destined to find each other. If something happens to one half of the soul, if the other half is clean, it can purify any taint."

"HOLD UP." Dean snatched the book out of Sam's hand and started flipping through it. "You're saying..."

Sam cringed at his brother's reaction, even though he expected it. "You and Cas are soulmates, Dean. I'm certain of it. I mean, I've been suffering your pining and longing for several years now. And now that Cas is human and has a soul? You two are meant to be together. I wouldn't be surprised if the cupids came after you in a good way."

"You what?" Dean shot an incredulous look at Sam, before shyly turning to Cas. Dean mumbled something under his breath and looked at the ground.

"For what it's worth, Dean, I have loved you since the moment I touched your soul and rescued you from the depths of hell." Cas stood up straighter, as though he were trying to force himself to be brave.

Dean's head shot up in surprise. "You what?"

"I love you, Dean. As Sam picked up on, it's no secret. As an angel and as a human, it has always been you, Dean."

Sam looked to Dean, realizing that he was intruding on what could be a very emotional scene. He turned to grab his stuff when Dean spoke up. "You sure as hell don't make it easy, do you, Cas?" Sam cringed slightly, risking a small glance at his brother and best friend. Dean had taken a step forward and held Cas' hands in his own. "Sam'll tell you. We were told that love wasn't allowed in this life. It was beaten in our heads, and it was mostly ‘cause our old man was so cut up over losing Mom." Sam nodded to show his agreement with Dean, who continued. "But you? You came in like a comet, Cas. Sparks flying, thunder crashing, lightning striking. The whole kit and caboodle."

"And what does that mean, Dean?" Cas freed one of his hands and cupped Dean's cheek. Sam wanted so desperately to look away, to escape out of the Library. Still, he was entirely entranced by the scene unfolding in front of him.

"It means that I love you too. I was captivated by you in the barn. I knew there was something between us, but it wasn't until..." Dean scoffed. "Let's just say I had to grow up a little to realize how much you mean to me." Dean leaned in and pressed his lips against Cas', and Sam knew that it was time to leave.

Sam set his book down and quietly exited the Library, deciding to set up in his room for the rest of the night.

…

The next morning, Sam woke up to the smell of bacon and eggs, toast, and coffee. The magical blend of aromas forced Sam out of bed and down to the kitchen. There, he found Cas sitting at the table, wearing one of Dean's Zeppelin shirts and a pair of his plaid pajama pants. Dean was at the stove, in similar apparel.

"Morning, Sammy." Dean looked over his shoulder, smiling, and Sam couldn't help but return the contagious smile his brother had flashed. "Join us?"

Looking back and forth between Cas and Dean, Sam agreed. "Using me as a guinea pig?"

Dean winked at Cas. "Don't you know it, Sammy."

[screensirenfic]

Menthol Cigarettes - Chapter 35

I barely slept a wink that night; too busy tossing and turning as I tried to come up with a reason why this had happened. Why he had done this to me.

I mean; it wasn’t like she actually saw him doing anything, and El insisted that he was fully dressed, but still; it was pretty obvious what was going on.

She liked to believe that that girl was in trouble; that somehow, for some reason Billy was hurting her, even after I tried to explain the ‘other’ possibilities that seemed much more likely.

I don’t know if I’d have preferred it; honestly?!

I mean; sometimes Billy acted a total psycho, and I knew that it wasn’t always aimed at me, but was I really gonna talk myself into this instead of just accepting he was cheating?!

So, that was why we were here, marching up to Max’s house, because El honestly believed that girl was in trouble, and I was too much of a paranoid bitch to leave everything to chance.

“It’s going to start pouring soon. We should be at the mall, or watching a movie, or something...” Said Max, for once being the naysayer in the situation.

“You don’t believe me?” Eleven asked; still set on confirming her vision with her own two eyes.

“I believe you saw some super weird stuff; totally!” Max reassured her; unwilling to come across as the skeptic, no matter what the reality was.

“But you said Mike’s senses you in there before, right?” Max asked, trying her best to sound reasonable.

“So maybe it was just like that. Maybe Billy sensed you somehow.”

Maybe she’d like to think that was true, but needless to say, it had Eleven’s hackles up; mine too, although that was for an entirely different reason.

I mean; could he really be that much of a scumbag?!

I thought we’d gotten over this months ago; Billy finally realising that just because he had a reputation as a ladies man, didn’t mean he had to keep it up when he was in a relationship.

Of course; this wasn’t just a simple case of harmless flirting.

This was a full on, hardcore fu-

“His car’s not here.”

Max stated; her and El having managed to trail ahead of all my fretting as we now stood in front of the house.

“Are you sure you both wanna do this?” She asked, to which both nodded resolutely.

Whatever laid in wait inside Billy’s room; I could handle it.

I’d already had to deal with much worse.

——————————————————-

Sometimes I was grateful my upbringing hadn’t been exactly conventional, and this was one of those times…

Some girl’s dads taught them to change a tire, or put up a shelf, but mine had taught me to shoot rifles, throw punches, and in this case; pick locks.

Not to say it was an easy task, especially with two teenagers breathing down your neck like this was an episode of Jeopardy!

“Almost got it…” I said; thankful that my bobby pin hadn’t decided to break on me yet.

A click sounded, and the pin turned.

“There…” I smiled, turning the handle and pushing the door open wide.

“Why do I get the feeling we’re gonna find all kinds of wrong in here?” Max asked, lingering by the doorway whilst I walked straight in, already intimately familiar with the room in question.

I don’t exactly know what we were planning to find in here.

I mean; I’m pretty sure we all had very different explanations of Billy’s weird behaviour; some wilder than others.

El was expecting to find a body, or something; too many late nights spent watching cop shows with dad to have any real grasp on what to expect in an investigation.

Max was…

Well; I’m not entirely sure what Max was looking for. Probably something to prove her brothers innocence; as weird as that sounded when referring to a boy like Billy Hargrove.

And I wanted to find… Well; nothing.

I wanted to find the place exactly how I’d left it in the vain hope that it would put my anxiety to bed, and I could go on living like I had before; with one dedicated, if a little over-possessive boyfriend, who’d never dream of hurting me.

El launched straight into investigator mode, heading over to his closet to sort through hanger after hanger of double denim and cotton shirts, whilst I stuck to the edges of the room; eyes and fingertips skimming over the culmination of my boyfriend’s existence.

It didn’t look like the room of a cheater.

Not with copious amounts of photographs of us together plastered on whatever surface they’d stick to.

Whether it be cute little polaroids of us in the Camaro when the sun hit just right and made us look like movie stars; or dumb photo booth print outs where we’d pull faces that he’d never let see the light of day outside his safe space; he kept them all.

My hand lingered over a particularly memorable one; a polaroid just bordering on decent of the pair of us in bed together, my bare chest barely covered by the sheet as Billy held the camera high in the air, grinning up at it whilst I buried my face in his neck.

I remembered the day he took that photo;

I’d just bought him that camera as a late birthday present, and he was complaining that I could’ve got him something more fun; “fun” being the key word here that usually translated as “obscene” to Billy.

I’d insisted that we could have plenty of “fun” with his polaroid camera, which proceeded in him coercing me into letting him take a couple of “artistic” shots; cuing the start of his little photograph collection that he was so keen on expanding.

After he’d finished, and taken liberties to indulging in a near dizzying amount of birthday sex, he’d reached across to take “one last photo”; this being one he could keep on his wall, despite my insistence otherwise.

I’d been nervous and embarrassed of it back then; not wanting him to get in trouble if his dad happened to find it taped to his mirror of something, but now; I could finally see the beauty in it.

Billy looked so relaxed and carefree; like it was honestly one of the happiest moments in his life, and even with my face half hidden against his skin, I was smiling too; a clear sign that despite my protests, I was loving every minute of-

“Ugh! Gag me with a spoon!”

Max groaned; having stumbled across Billy’s so-called “underwear” drawer in his nightstand, which was actually filled with girlie magazines and “souvenir” pairs of my panties.

“Hey; Lo. This has got your name on it-“

I darted over to her, snatching the labelled envelope from her hand, absolutely adamant that the kid should never be exposed to its contents.

“Trust me. You do not want to see that.” I warned, watching as the kid’s face crinkled in disgust; probably already guessing exactly what Billy would keep in there.

I shoved the envelope back in the drawer, slamming it shut; because who knew what else Billy kept in there, and with that Max took the opportunity to further the parameters of her search to the bathroom, El following behind.

———————————

It was weird being here without Billy, looking at his things with a strange sort of detachment which I couldn’t quite grasp.

Everything in this room held so many memories for me; whether it be the spicy scent of his cologne triggering flashbacks of his arms around me, or the sight of his leather jacket slumped on a chair; my mind racing bak to all the times I’d seen him in it before and felt my heartbeat pick up.

I walked over to it, picking it up and just holding it for a minute, thumbs running over all the bumps and creases in the worn leather, reminding me of the first time he’d asked me to dance; a once bittersweet memory gotten sweeter with time and circumstance.

He’d been such an ass back then.

Still was, if I was being honest; but I’d learnt to love that about him, even when he drove me crazy half the time.

I wondered if he’d known back then?

That beneath all that macho horse crap, and maschoist sadism, that he’d seen the possibilities of what this really could be.

I lifted his jacket to my face, inhaling the scent of cigarette smoke and stale cologne that always seemed to put my mind at ease.

“Lola;  I think you’re gonna want to see this…”

———————————

I walked into Billy’s bathroom, fully expecting my world to come tumbling down at the inevitable evidence of his cheating.

Instead; my heart dropped for another reason;

“Where did you find that?”

My eyes fell upon the red and yellow form of a lifeguard whistle; blood bright against the yellow plastic as it hand from Max’s hand.

“From the trash.” Max replied; picking up the dread in my tone.

“Do you think it could be-“

I opened my mouth to express denial, when Eleven interrupted;

“No. It’s hers.”

[huilian]

Flameo, Batman!

AO3 Characters: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown, Cassandra Cain (Plus minor Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, and Alfred Pennyworth)

Summary :Bruce was kidnapped. Bruce Wayne was kidnapped, which means he can’t save himself because everyone still thinks he is a harmless non-bender. Incidentally, it is also why Dick is here in Gotham, as Nightwing, staking out this warehouse.

A/N: Written for batfamweek 2020, day 1! The prompt was meta AU, but I wanted to play with ATLA AU for so long that I decided ATLA AU was close enough to them having meta powers. There’s also some overprotectiveness here, so, I guess, you can count that? Anyways, enjoy! 

title is, of course, from ATLA

Bruce was kidnapped. Bruce Wayne was kidnapped, which means he can’t save himself because everyone still thinks he is a harmless non-bender. Incidentally, it is also why Dick is here in Gotham, as Nightwing, staking out this warehouse. 

Even Babs, with all her Oracle magic, can only narrow the possible sites to five different locations, and, as Damian is not old enough to do a stakeout alone, Dick came to Gotham to help with the stakeout. When the almighty Oracle can only narrow the possible sites of holding to five locations instead of her usual one-shot hit, you know that these people are at least good at what they do. They even have all their possible holding sites away from large bodies of water, which tells Dick two things about these kidnappers. One: they did enough research and have enough sense of self-preservation to know that the Bats have waterbenders in their ranks, and two: they do not have any waterbenders in their own ranks, or at least not one good enough to offset the advantage they would be giving the Bats by staying close to water. 

“Is it time to burst in yet?” Jason’s voice said from Dick’s comm. “I’m getting tired of waiting.” 

“I thought it was firebenders who are rumored not to have patience, Hood, not waterbenders,” Damian retorts. 

“Hey too, Robin! I’m a waterbender!” Stephanie cries out. Dick really should not have given all of them the same frequency for the comms, because he knows this would happen, but they would eventually figure out which frequency the others use anyways, and this would also happen. Dick decided to just save them, and him, the trouble and gave all of them the same frequency. At least this way he won’t have to switch between frequencies before they all collectively decide on which frequency to use. 

“Tt. My point exactly.” 

Dick sighs. “No, it’s not time to burst in yet. Agent A is going to give the signal, remember? We’re trying the nice way first.” 

Jason scoffs. It is really amazing how he could get that to transfer over the comms. “Why are we still doing the nice way first? When, in your nearly two decades of kidnapping experiences, have the nice way ever worked?” 

Jason does have a point, but Dick is not going to tell him that. The nice way, which is trying to negotiate with the kidnappers, only worked in about never. But the nice way is how the Waynes’ reputation of being a harmless rich family stays intact, and so they are going to always do the nice way first. 

Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you see it, Alfred’s voice crackles through the comm at that particular moment. “They do not accept our, frankly, generous offer. It seems we have to use force after all.” 

“Ha!” Jason cries out. “Told you so, N!” 

“Yeah, yeah, Hood,” Dick says. “Everyone knows what they’re supposed to be doing?” 

There is a smattering of agreements from everyone, which Dick expected. His siblings may bicker and generally cause havoc that Dick would then have to sort out, but they do their job with a professionalism that is really unparalleled, especially when it is someone of their own on the line.

“Alright then. Everyone has to go in at the same time, or this won’t work.  If you have the jackpot, call it out on the comms. If you do not have the jackpot, immediately go and help the person has. Clear on that?” 

Another smattering of agreements. Okay then, Operation-Save-Bruce-From-A-Kidnapping-Attempt Number too many to count is a go. “On my count. One, two, three!” 

Dick hears glass crashing from one of the lines. Why do his family have to be so dramatic? But the best way into Dick’s warehouse from where he’s perching now is through the window, so Dick really doesn’t have much to stand on here. 

Dick jumps from his perch, bends the trace amount of metal on his suit to his toes, protecting them from broken glass, and breaks the glass window. At the same time, he wills the earth underneath his legs to raise up to meet him. People don’t expect Nightwing to be an earthbender because his fighting style is more like those of airbenders, so sometimes Dick doesn’t start bending until the very end of a bust, just to give himself that extra advantage. But these guys know about waterbenders within the Bats’ ranks, which a lot of people don’t know, so Dick is pretty sure they knew already that Nightwing is an earthbender. Might as well use it to his advantage. 

“Mine’s not it,” Jason says through the comms. 

“Not it.” That is Cass

“Not here either.” Steph. 

Dick scans the warehouse he is in. Thirty men, armed and armored. Their armor is not even metal, which goes to show that this group really knows about the Bat’s bending. All of them are aiming to where Dick is right now. 

“I’m it,” Dick says into his comm while changing the shape of the boulder he just ripped from the earth. He bends it so that it would cover him from the thirty guns all firing at him while allowing him to look around for Bruce. 

“You should have said so sooner, Nightwing.” 

“Damnit, Robin, I’m driving. You’re not old enough!” 

“And your driving skills are not up to par, Red, so I will be driving to get us to Nightwing’s location as soon as possible.” 

This is Dick’s life. Trying to shut down a fight between his brothers while he is literally being shot at. “Robin, let Red drive.” 

“Tt.” 

Dick can tell that Damian is not entirely pleased with that order, but thankfully he doesn’t say anything else into the comms, which Dick took as him acquiescing to the order. That allows Dick to actually focus on his job, which is finding Bruce inside this warehouse. 

Even though the men did not wear metal armors, they somehow forget their guns and bullets are still made of metal, which Dick can bend. It’s really lucky that Dick is the one who found where Bruce is being held because none of the others can bend metal. 

From behind his boulder, Dick allows his senses to find all the guns in the room. Then, he jams them. Dick lets the final round of bullets hit his boulder and then listens to the curses that all the men are letting out. It’s really satisfying when the perps realize that their guns are not working anymore.

There he is. Dick spots Bruce handcuffed to a pillar at the very end of the warehouse. If he were being Batman, Bruce could have easily picked the lock for that handcuff. But he is not, and it is Dick’s job to save him. Divested of their guns, these men should not be that much of a challenge. 

Dick goes out of this protective boulder, and smiles. Yeah, these men look terrified with their guns out of commission. This should be fun. 

*

Dick is halfway through fighting the men when he hears a motorcycle coming into the warehouse. Jason, most likely. His place is the closest to Dick’s. 

Gunshots. Jason, confirmed. Dick can’t feel bullets flying through the air, so Jason must be using rubber bullets. That’s nice. Dick is hoping to avoid a conversation with Bruce after this is all over. (He does not have the time to check which bullets Jason is carrying before they have to move. If Bruce knew about that, there would be conversations to be had, and Dick doesn’t want that when he already has to work twice as hard tomorrow because he misses a night in Bludhaven.) 

Jason being there does help, though, because now Dick can almost reach Bruce. It’s really annoying to have to ‘rescue’ someone who is perfectly capable of rescuing themselves but can’t because they are keeping their identity intact. Dick should know, he’s been in both roles. Dick glances up to Bruce, trying to silently tell him to be patient and let Dick come to him, when he is tackled by Jason. Jason, who took the knife that was aiming for Dick. 

“What the hell, Hood? I knew that knife was coming, I could feel it. It’s made of ceramic.” 

“No thanks, N? I’m hurt.” Jason lets go of Dick to stand back up. “Ouch, the knife just went in deeper.” 

“No shit, Hood. Wait, why is everyone on the ground already?” 

There is no one left attacking the two of them when Dick could have sworn that there are at least several perps still standing when Jason tackled him to the ground. Then he sees Bruce, out of the handcuff, striking the last of the men. 

Of course it’s Bruce. Dick should have known that Bruce would not be able to sit still once he saw one of them injured. It’s really sweet of him, but if he keeps doing it, then they might as well just threw the whole ‘secret identity’ thing to the garbage. Everyone is going to know that Bruce Wayne is capable of a really scary hand-to-hand, and then questions will be asked. And it was Bruce who insisted on the secret identity thing in the first place. 

“Are you okay?” Bruce asks.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, old man.” 

“Agent A won’t be happy about the knife wound, Hood,” Dick says. 

“As long as he still heals it, I’m okay with that,” Jason shrugs. Then cries out, because shrugging when you have a knife in your shoulder is really not a good idea. 

Dick sighs. “Okay, you,” he points to Bruce, “are staying here until the police arrive and they can take your statement, which I don’t know why they bother, at this point. I’ll stay here with you until the police arrive, let them see me for a bit, and then leave. You,” Dick turns to Jason, “are hitching a ride with whoever is here next to the Cave, and you are going to let Agent A heals that shoulder. Okay?” 

It is then that Cass and Steph come to the warehouse. They were not stationed near each other, at least not near enough that they could justify coming to Dick’s station together. Worse, each of their stations is further away from this warehouse than Tim and Damian’s station and they still manage to reach this place, together, earlier than Tim and Damian. 

“Why are you here together?” Dick asks Cass and Steph. 

They both shrug, but Steph actually elaborates. “From the sound of it, you two were handling this well enough. So me and Cass decides to just meet up and come here together, to avoid the disaster Robin duo.” Steph stops then, realizing that neither Tim nor Damian is present. “Wait, are we still earlier than the two of them?” 

Dick sighs again. “Batgirl, take Hood to the Cave to get healed by Agent A. Black Bat, please keep an eye on Hood and make sure he actually gets to the Cave.” 

Steph mock-salutes him. “You got it, boss.” Then, she frowns. “Wait, you’re not the boss anymore.” 

“Batgirl, please?” 

“Fine, fine! And you say I don’t do enough for this family.” 

“Literally no one ever says that,” Jason mutters. 

“Just, get him to Agent A. Please, BB?” Dick changes his tactics.

Cass smiles. It is not the smile that Dick wanted to see. That smile promises havoc. Why are his siblings like this again?

“A good time to start learning healing, huh, Batgirl?” Jason taunts. 

“Learn healing yourself, Hood! You’re also a waterbender!” 

“Enough! Come on! Just, go to the Cave and ask Agent A to heal you! It’s literally that simple, Hood. You don’t even have to do it if you had just let me handle that knife.” 

“Is this the repayment I get for saving your life?” 

“You didn’t save my life. I can literally feel that knife coming towards me. I’m an earthbender and that knife is made of ceramic, which is earth.” 

“And yet you didn’t bend it away from you until I have to intercept it.” 

Dick puts his hand to his head. Then, turning to Bruce, he says, “This is your fault. You’re the one who decides to give me siblings.” 

Bruce’s face is deadpan. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Nightwing. How could I, Bruce Wayne, a harmless non-bender, be able to decide who becomes your siblings?”

Steph is the first one to laugh, but Jason and Cass are not far behind. Dick would be the first to admit that Bruce being sarcastic is absolutely hilarious, especially while he is being Brucie Wayne, but it does not help Dick in this situation. Which, come to think of it, is saving Bruce from a situation he could have easily saved himself from. 

Screw it. Dick is washing his hands of this situation. “You know what, Mr. Wayne? Since this holding place has been secured, I’m going to leave you to the capable hands of Batgirl and Black Bat.” Dick smiles sweetly, which he is sure that Bruce knows is fake. “I’ll let them deal with the GCPD for a change. Oh, and I’m sure the Robins are going to be here any minute, and they are also very capable crimefighters. Between the four of them, I’m sure you are in good hands, Mr. Wayne. Good night.” 

Dick can see the panic in Bruce’s eyes. Steph is notorious for trying to get a rise out of Bruce, and with Bruce being in the Brucie Wayne identity, he would have no way of reigning Steph in. Cass would just help, because Cass is sometimes evil that way. Add the two feuding Robins in the mix, and Bruce had just gotten himself a very explosive mix indeed. 

“Wait, Nightwing…” 

“Good night, Mr. Wayne. Hood, if you’re not coming with me right now, I’m going to leave you to ride that motorcycle alone back to the Cave with that knife still in your shoulders.” 

“Jeez, alright ‘Wing, I’m coming.” 

Alfred would find himself with, at the very least, two patients tonight. God knows what Damian and Tim have gotten themselves into. Well, they are Bruce’s problem now. After Jason has been taken care of, Dick is going to ask Alfred to work his amazing healing bending on him, because this mission with his family is really making his headache flare again. 

(At this rate, either Jason or Steph really needs to learn healing, because poor Alfred is always being asked to heal something or another.) 

[srhlsx]

Rewritten & Reposted March 23, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 7 |CHAPTER 8 | Ch. 9

A few days after your encounter with Bokuto at the corner mart, you were on your way home again from practice. A few girls from your team and a few members of the boy’s team were walking off campus, practices having ended around the same time. 

“Absolutely not, that is completely false!” You laughed, looking at Daiki with a shocked expression as he tried to convince you that what he was saying was correct.

“I swear!” He yelled, looking to one of his teammates for reassurance. “Tell her, Shouta! Fukurodani locker rooms literally have attendants manning them.”  

The teammate he was looking to, Naguri Shouta, looked bored with the conversation but nodded nonetheless as he walked next to you. “Haven’t seen it,” He said, shrugging casually, too cool as he always was. “But wouldn’t be surprised by it though, with their bourgeois lifestyle over there.”

“Fancy words will not win this argument,” You tugged a lock of his styled hair teasingly. “Plus, they are not all that over there just because they are an academy.”

Daiki continued to argue his point, insisting that the rumor he heard was true even though he himself couldn’t confirm it either. Shouta just continued to nod along casually, walking next to you to keep a safe distance from Daiki’s erratic motions, making little side digs at his captain under his breath that made you laugh.

“Proof or it’s not real!” You exclaimed as you all continued to walk through the streets, a few people from the group breaking away to their homes as you went.

“How am I supposed to get proof?” Daiki laughed, then his face lit up like he had the greatest idea in the world. “Hey, text Bokuto and ask him!”

You gasped, agreeing that it was in fact the greatest idea in the world, and pulled out your phone to do just that. You didn’t notice the way the other boy standing with you bristled slightly at the mention of Bokuto’s name, but when you looked up you did notice his expression quickly clear from a furrowed brow to his more typical blank expression. You gave him a closed eye smile while he returned with a half smile of his own.

“Can I walk you the rest of the way?” You tore your eyes away from the crosswalk sign to look up at Shouta waiting for you to respond.

“Ah, no no!” You waved him off with a grand smile. “It’s so out of the way for you. I will let you guys know what he says!” 

After crossing the street on your own, you waved at Daiki and Shouta as you turned to leave. The two of them went their own direction, Daiki slinging an arm over Shouta’s shoulders and pulling him close to probably tell some kind of joke as they walked.

The further you walked, the less crowded the city around you became. You let your feet move on auto-pilot down the alley, and through the mostly abandoned park. 

New Message: 5:22PM

Bokuto: Yeah right! I wish! You offering??

To clean up after a bunch of gross high school boys? I’d rather run the hill ten times!

Bokuto: No! Just me! Be my lil helper~

Bokuto: we can get u a cute outfit

Bokuto: like a maid cafe!!!!!!!!!!

Bokuto: BUT WITH MY NAME AND NUMBER

Absolutely not.

You rounded on a house, nothing fancy but obviously well taken care of, and took the steps leading up to the front door two at a time. You knocked out a familiar rhythm and waited patiently as a thundering of small feet met your ears from beyond the door.

Greeted by a pair of grey eyes, weathered with age, you crouched down to meet the height of your little sister, Yua, as she politely pushed past the older woman who opened the door to you. She started spewing off about things she had accomplished that day before you could even get a word out to her.

Further into the house, you could see your little brother packing up his school things into his bag. “Baba helped me with history homework today,” He called out as a form of greeting, walking past the old woman to start your short trek home. “She said she was there when it happened.”

“I said I remembered it happening, I wasn’t there Eiji-kun.” The old woman laughed, handing over your little sister’s bag as your two siblings began their descent down the stairs. 

The older woman’s eyes crinkled as she looked up at you, tired but still happy. You appreciated this woman more than you could ever express.

When things began to go downhill with your mom you’d had to move homes to accommodate for the extensive bills that were coming one after another. Your own grandparents lived in different cities, but when one of your grandmother’s friends who lived in Tokyo heard what was going on she sprung into action like it was a second calling for her, even though you’d only met her a handful of times. 

She was adamant about you calling her family, hence Eiji calling her Baba, and would accept nothing but thank-yous and dinner together once a week in exchange for helping your family when you needed it most. Between the time school got out for your siblings and you being able to leave volleyball practice, they would be safe at her home until you were able to collect them - every day.

“Thank you,” You nodded at your elder. “Tomorrow we have a practice match, so I may be a bit late picking them up.”

The woman waved a hand in front of her face absently, brushing off the extra time you had loaded on her suddenly. “No mind,” She said, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I’ll make sure they have dinner then.”

You gave her hand a tight, but gentle, squeeze and turned to where your siblings had gone. You followed them to the apartment complex just a few houses down. Graffiti littered the lower walls, nothing too obscene but also nothing that was supposed to be there in the first place.

Unlike most apartment buildings, yours did not have any indication of who lived where via buzzer system. All the homes opened up to the outside, marked with floor numbers and unit letters, some were upside down so it could get a little confusing. It wasn’t the most glorious of living arrangements, compared to where your family lived before your mom had gotten sick, but it was home and you would make out of it what you could. 

*

The small, digital clock on your desk let out a soft beep as it shifted over to midnight. You rubbed under your glasses at your eyes, blurring your vision slightly before focusing on the words of the book in front of you again. You had gotten a good amount of work done that night, knowing that tomorrow you’d be home late from your practice match and wouldn’t have nearly as much time to fit in school work after.

New Message: 12:01 AM

Bokuto: You didn’t tell me you had practice match w FA girls tom?

technically today… Slipped my mind! Forgive me!?

Bokuto: w kiss?

shoot your shot!

Bokuto: meet me after!!!! 

Ugh fiiine - twist my arm…

Bokuto: oh hell yeah, gonna walk you home SO hard~

You’re disgusting?? - but curious about how you walk someone home “hard”

Bokuto: involves aggressive chivalry, you’ll see

The following message was an animated sticker of an owl tipping off the top hat he was wearing. You muffled a laugh behind your hand, glancing over your shoulder to make sure your siblings were undisturbed in their bunk beds. Satisfied you hadn’t woken them up, you said your goodnights to Bokuto and locked your phone after making sure you had an alarm set for the morning.

Down the hall, you could hear a set of keys jingle. The door to the apartment opened and shut, if you hadn’t been listening so intently you might not have heard it at all. A deep sigh echoed through the walls and you almost thought about getting up to greet your father as he finally arrived home, but something stopped you. Instead, you silently flipped the switch on your desk lamp and let the darkness flood the room once more.

As you sat motionless at your desk, holding your breath while a shadow passed beneath the door to the bedroom. The figure paused, hesitating a moment - you could imagine your father’s hand hovering at the doorknob, wondering if he should enter to see his children or not. The shadow continued to move, opening the linen closet and rustling around for what you knew were blankets and a spare pillow. 

There’d been many previous nights over the last seven months when you’d woken up to your sister asking for a snack or a drink, and when you’d gone to the kitchen to fetch something for her you’d caught your dad sprawled out on the couch under a makeshift bed of old blankets. At first it made you sad, the thought that your dad couldn’t even sleep in the same bed he once shared with your mother. 

Over the months though, as his work hours grew longer and longer, you started to form a routine of folding up the linens in the morning before your brother and sister could see that their dad was sleeping on the couch.

When the hall light finally turned off, you took that as your opportunity to get up from your desk and finally go to bed. You unclenched your hands, which you hadn’t even realized were in fists tight enough to turn your knuckles white. Since you shared a room with your siblings, you pulled the thin futon out from under their bottom bunk and spread out the blanket you had tucked away within it.

As you pulled your own blankets up to your chin, getting settled into your comfortable nest of warmth, you heard your little sister grumble sleepily. “Neechan?”

“What is it chibi?”

“You haff good dreams ‘kay?”

“You have good dreams too, babygirl.”

*

[psychosistr]

Pride

Summary: Domino and Steelbeak are sent to eliminate a target at a rather colorful event, leading Steelbeak to question his past attitude and learn a few things about a community he never thought he’d be a part of.

Notes: This is the result of having no power at work for eight hours, having typing programs on my phone, and remembering it’s pride month. So, enjoy this one shot of @thefriendlyfour‘s OC Domino and Steelbeak experiencing his first pride festival and learning more about himself x3

Another day, another mission, Dominic thought to himself as he and his partner, Steelbeak, made their way through the streets of Saint Canard.

Today’s assignment was fairly simple: F.O.W.L. High Command had plans involving a local company with rumors circulating around them regarding the possible production of portable thermonuclear generators with the same power output as an entire factory. If the rumors proved to be true, then such powerful devices could do the world a lot of good…or a lot harm, in the wrong hands. (Hence why F.O.W.L. had taken an interest in the company.) While the idea of a portable thermonuclear generator was certainly enticing, High Command was nothing if not thorough in their research & planning and needed more information on the validity of these rumors as well as information regarding the stability of the generators.

That was where the chief officer and his partner came into play- the two had been tasked with tracking down the head of security while he was away from the premises and “relieving him of duty” so that a similar looking agent could go in undercover to gather information and ultimately make any actual plans to breaking in easier when they were ready to make their move. Due to the nature of the lab’s research, it was hardly a surprise that they’d been assigned a security detail comprised primarily of military-grade personnel, with the head of security himself being a retired brigadier general. Needless to say, challenging him head-on in a location where there could be possible cameras- not to mention armed reinforcements- would be a very bad idea, meaning they had to get to him when he was as far away from the company as possible.

Luckily, F.O.W.L.’s sources had it on good authority that he was a regular presence at a certain event that took place downtown every June…

While the deadly duo would typically arrive at their destination in one of the agents’ cars, the streets were currently closed to vehicle traffic, so they’d been dropped off on a rooftop a few blocks from the target’s location via helicopter. After making their way down to the streets and navigating a few back alleys, the fowls found a side street leading them right to the middle of the festivities that had claimed downtown Saint Canard.

“You sure these outfits are gonna cut it, Deedee?” Steelbeak questioned as they prepared to enter the bright and colorful crowd in front of them.

“For the hundredth time, yes.” Dominic replied for what certainly felt like the hundredth time he’d repeated himself. Stepping out onto the sidewalk and revealing himself to the light of day, the loon was dressed in an outfit that was a far cry from what he normally wore. His usual iconic coat and hat had been exchanged for a sweater with large horizontal stripes in three main colors- purple on the bottom, white in the middle, and gray at the top with a black turtleneck collar- and a pair of square purple sunglasses. “Now come on, we’re already behind schedule.”

“I dunno, Dee..” Steelbeak mumbled as he stepped out to join the loon. Like his partner, he had also left his usual suit behind and was now dressed in a pair of vibrantly deep blue colored jeans with a plain black belt, a form-fitting light purple sleeveless muscle shirt, and a faded pink bandana around his neck. “How the heck is this-” He gestured broadly to his outfit with one hand, starting at the white ankle boots on his feet and moving upwards to his usual metallic prosthesis. “-not gonna get any looks?”

His answer was the frustrated rolling of a pair of red eyes and a shake of the loon’s head, his colored glasses briefly being removed to make the action more apparent. “I did what I could with what you had in your wardrobe, though it still would have been better if you’d taken my advice on the shoes-”

“I ain’t wearin’ sandals anywhere ‘cept the pool an’ the beach.” The taller bird rolled his own eyes while repeating his earlier opinion regarding his partner’s insistence on wearing a pair of ocean blue sandals that had been in the back of his walk-in closet. “An’ I still don’t get how walkin’ around dressed like a friggin’ unblended berry smoothie stands out less then my suit.”

“Trust me- I know more about this sort of thing than you do.” Not wanting to waste anymore time debating the matter, Dominic put his sunglasses back on and ventured out towards the colorful crowd of people in front of them. “The more you stand out here, the more you fit in.”

“If you say so, red eyes..” A look of uncertainty made the chief officer’s feelings on the matter clear, but he reluctantly followed his partner into the vibrant and noisy spectacle that was the annual Saint Canard Pride Festival.

Steelbeak’s general discomfort with his current clothes was quickly forgotten as he took in the various outlandish and far more insane outfits of the festival goers around him. The looks that passed over his face when he saw spectacles such as a female tiger walking around in nothing more than a bikini to properly show off how each of her normally orange stripes had been dyed a different color of the rainbow or a peacock with with an obviously fake set of oversized tail feathers alternating in pink, white, and blue were all truly priceless expressions that made Dominic wish he had a camera handy to capture the moments for posterity.

Unlike his partner, Dominic was mostly unfazed by the vibrantly energetic crowd. Although it had certainly been a while since he’d attended one of these events, it was most definitely not his first time going to a pride parade or festival. There were many reasons for him to avoid such gatherings (huge crowds, a general sense of chaos & disorder, and a unsettlingly large number of people who seemed to have trouble remembering things such as personal boundaries after a few drinks, to name a few), but, despite those irritations, there was still something comforting about being surrounded by such a generally cheerful atmosphere full of people who, to at least some capacity, all shared something in common. It definitely brought about a sense of pride and community to everyone in attendance-

“Burn in hell!”

-well, almost everyone…

The cursing followed by a loud crash drew the duo’s attention to the one unplanned yet ever present part of pride festivities that was universally despised by all attendees: Protestors.

The crash had come from one of the booth’s that had been set up along the side of the street selling pins and other small accessories. The short border collie in a frilled red, pink, and white sundress (the poor girl couldn’t have been older than twenty) who had been working at the now overturned table was currently cowering in fear from the intimidatingly tall grey and white goshawk dressed in dark jeans and a green button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows who was giving her an intimidating red-eyed glare while looming over her.

“Geez, what’s his problem?” Steelbeak watched the goshawk shout curses and obscenities at the cowering collie with a mild look of annoyance.

“A religious protestor, apparently.” Dominic replied with a scowl. “They’re usually lurking around these events somewhere, graciously taking time out of their day to make sure we all know how ‘immoral’ and ‘sinful’ we are.” The sarcasm and general feeling of disgust in his voice were nearly tangible.

“Sounds like someone’s got too much free time..” His partner commented with an appropriately matching amount of sarcasm. “..Wait a minute…” Dark eyes narrowed as Steelbeak looked the predatory bird over. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a folded up piece of paper. After opening it up to take a look at the paper’s contents, a pleased and devious smirk found its way to the fowl’s deadly beak. “Oh-ho, Dom, you are gonna love this.”

Curiosity piqued, the loon moved closer to the chief officer so he could see the information as well. “…?” As he read the description and took in the blurry photograph printed on the crumpled paper, Dominic found a similar smirk spreading across his own beak. “My, my, that IS quite the coincidence, isn’t it?”

“Almost feels like we’re doin’ a public service on this one.” The taller bird put the paper back in his pocket before winking at his partner and doing a sweeping gesture with one hand towards the altercation across the street. “After you.”

“What a gentleman.” The darker fowl winked back with a quiet chuckle before weaving his way through the crowd. Along the way, he smoothly swiped a half-full plastic cup from a blue jay’s slack hand without being noticed. “Sir,” He began once he was close enough, earning the goshawk’s less-than-pleased attention. “All that screaming is bad for your throat. You should have a drink- my treat.”

Right on cue the taller bird opened his beak wide, likely to shout something derogatory, but whatever he had been about to say turned into muffled gargling and choking when he suddenly found the cup in Dominic’s hand shoved firmly towards the back of his mouth before he had time to finish drawing in a single breath. The unsuspecting goshawk was so preoccupied trying to cough up the liquid in his windpipe and dislodge the mass of plastic in his mouth that he didn’t even notice the equally large man drawing up behind him until a fist slammed into the back of his neck, sending him crashing to the ground. The attack served the dual purpose of (ironically) dislodging the cup from his beak and knocking the gray bird out cold.

There was a beat of silence from the festival goers around them before the crowd erupted into whistles and cheers. “Woooooh!”, “Nice!”, “Way to go!”, and “This is why we don’t need cops!” were just a few of the words and phrases that accompanied the applause.

“Ha..” Steelbeak grinned as he hefted the unconscious bird’s body up onto his shoulder. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard people cheerin’ just for doin’ our job.”

His voice had been just loud enough that only his partner had heard it over the loud clapping and excited hollering around them, so Dominic matched the tone with a grin of his own and a shrug. “They’d probably be less enthusiastic if they knew more about us.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nobody questioned where the pair of fowls were taking the knocked-out protestor (odds were high that they all wanted him as far away from them as possible and would more than likely play dumb if anyone came looking for him), making their job of bringing him into a back alley for disposal much easier. The noise from the festival goers further aided them- after all, with so much cheering, loud music, and general merry-making going on, no one noticed the sound of a silencer-equipped pistol being fired and the resulting blood splatter would be washed away by the rain later that night.

Taking a few twists and turns to be absolutely sure they weren’t followed, the agents finally spotted a dumpster behind a currently closed restaurant.

An efficient, if unpleasant, place to throw away their man-sized load of garbage.

Dominic, luckily, won the coin toss they’d used to assign tasks for the disposal process, meaning he got to search the body for its wallet, keys, and anything else necessary for their impostor’s charade to be a success while Steelbeak, much to his chagrin, was forced to rifle through the trash bags filling the dumpster and try to find enough nearly-empty ones to hide the remains in.

“Ugh, I’m seriously gonna hurl…” The rooster grumbled for the twelfth time since he’d started, the sound soon followed by a louder one when a bag dripped an unidentified black substance (hopefully just soda) onto his pant leg. “Ack! Well ain’t that just great?!”

Grabbing the last of the former head of security’s personal belongings, Dominic stood with a roll of his eyes. “If you stopped complaining, we’d be done by now.” He could feel the brief glare cast in his general direction, but chose not to acknowledge it as he pulled out his guns. Taking aim at the body on the ground in front of him, he fired out a burst of flames from one pistol, making sure to thoroughly scorch the remains.

“Hmph, easy t’ say when you’ve got the easy part..” Despite his complaints and protests, Steelbeak finished his job and managed to open the bags with minimal retching (though at this point he was likely just playing it up to be annoying). “Alright, short fuse, we’re good t’ go.”

“It’s about time.” The darker bird replied while pointing his other gun at the body, this one firing out freezing rounds of ice that encased the charred carcass in seconds.

There was a lull in the conversation for a while as the duo worked to break apart and hide the evidence of their crime. With Steelbeak’s exceptional strength, breaking apart the frozen-solid corpse was as easy as snapping a popsicle in half, making quick work of the body and handing the pieces off to Dominic so the other man could put them in the appropriately sized trash bags before they were chucked back into the dumpster. It was simple, monotonous work that they were able to do effectively without a word needing to be spoken between them to get the job done.

Comfortable silences were, surprisingly, a common thing for the chief officer and his partner, especially when they were on the clock. They could go back and forth between bantering, arguing, flirting, silence, and everyday chatter in equal measures and had gotten to a point where they were generally comfortable in one another’s presence with or without words…but this was not one of those comfortable or busy types of quiet- this was a “something needs to be said but hasn’t come out yet” type of quiet that generally brought the mood down until the issue was addressed.

By the time they’d finished throwing everything into the dumpster, Steelbeak had a look on his face that Dominic knew all too well: It was the one he wore when he wanted to say something but was doing his mental back-and-forth debate about if it would be “the wrong thing”. The taller bird was normally so cocky, so brimming with self-confidence to an almost insufferable degree, that sometimes it still took the loon by surprise to see him looking so unsure of himself.

Depending on his mood, Dominic could find it either endearing or frustrating. At the moment, though, after doing so much physical labor, he was leaning more towards the latter. Unfortunately, he knew how bad Steelbeak was about admitting what was bothering him, so it would likely fall on him to break the silence and-

“Hey..” Red eyes regarded the lighter bird curiously. So Steelbeak was going to bring it up on his own without any prompting this time? Good. Dominic would count that as some form of progress. “Was I…y’know��” The rooster was avoiding eye contact and moving one of his hands towards the dumpster in indication, an uncomfortable frown on his beak. “Was I…that bad before……?”

Even though he trailed off at the end, Dominic knew perfectly well what he meant. “No.” The answer came without hesitation, a small smile on the loon’s beak as he looked up at his partner’s still uncertain expression. “You were rude, callous, ignorant, insensitive, clueless-”

“Alright, alright, I get it- I was a jerk.” There was a bit of red under the off-white feathers of the other bird’s cheeks, making his attempt at a scowl fall hopelessly flat.

A quiet laugh rumbled in the loon’s chest as he reached up towards the rooster’s face. “You’re still a jerk. But-” A single black feathered fingertip lightly touched the other man’s deadly prosthesis without a shred of fear and began lightly running back & forth along the metal, a wider smile coming over his own dark beak when the tension quickly left his partner’s body and the familiar trilling sound filled the alleyway. “-you’re a tolerable one.”

He might never say it out loud, but Dominic REALLY enjoyed touching Steelbeak’s namesake in such a tender way. The lack of natural keratin didn’t set off the usual discomfort he felt when making physical contact with another person. Plus the reactions it elicited from his partner- that instant relaxation, contentedly happy trilling, and blissful half-lidded smile- were always gratifying to see. He still wasn’t 100% sure how much Steelbeak could ACTUALLY feel from the light touch, but he certainly felt something, even if it was mostly psychological. Ultimately, it was an intimate gesture that both of them found enjoyment in.

Did Dominic play dirty and use it to his advantage sometimes when Steelbeak was in a bad mood, arguing with him too much, or flat-out refusing to talk to him? Yes- a minute or so of the gentle contact was enough to turn the chief officer into putty in his hands and make him far more agreeable and willing to go along with whatever Dominic asked of him.

Did Steelbeak realize it was happening? Definitely- he’d sometimes grumble out a muttered curse at how manipulative the darker bird was but he’d still smile through his cursing and do what his partner wanted.

Did he ever try to stop it? Surprisingly, no- even in the middle of an argument when he noticed those fingers heading towards his beak (sometimes Dominic was subtle about it, sometimes he was direct- either way, Steelbeak noticed the approaching hand eventually) he’d never once tried to move away or avoid the other’s touch, meaning whatever sort of enjoyment he got out of the contact far outweighed his usual pride and dislike of admitting defeat to the point that he’d submit to whatever the loon demanded of him just for a simple touch to his prosthesis.

“Hmmm…ya make a convincin’ argument, Dee.” Steelbeak gave a pleased sigh once Dominic’s fingers finally left his beak. He looked far less stressed than he had a moment ago, that blissful smile still on his face. “But..are ya REALLY sure I wasn’t as bad? I know I wasn’t exactly ‘Mr.Tolerant’ back then.” The tone of his voice made it clear that he wasn’t doubting the validity of Dominic’s earlier claim, he just wanted confirmation now that he wasn’t so worked up over it.

The loon rolled his eyes, but it was with a good-natured, fond smile on his face. “Yes, I’m sure.” Red eyes looked back up into the other’s dark ones, his tone conveying the sincerity and certainty of his words. “You were confused and uncomfortable because you were dealing with something that you weren’t familiar with, but, while you were rude, you weren’t hateful. Most of your problems were because you were in denial, not because you wanted me to ‘burn in hell’ and, take it from me, the ones who haven’t figured themselves out yet are MUCH better than the fire and brimstone zealots.” He gave the tip of the taller fowl’s beak a quick tap before heading back down the alleyway they arrived through, winking up at him with a more alluring smile. “Besides, you get a one-time pass for being more attractive than him.”

Within seconds he heard that particular laugh that he was growing more fond of every day accompanied by quick footsteps that soon drew even with his own. “Good t’ know this mug of mine’s still good for somethin’.”

The pair of fowls shared a smile and a quiet laugh as they made their way back towards the main streets, knowing that was probably the closest thing the taller man would give in terms of a “thank you”.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting to a point where they could be picked up and brought back to HQ by their designated vehicle and driver meant once again navigating their way through the throngs of colorful animals and many booths of the festival, something the deadly duo had to be more careful about given the crowd’s growing numbers as the day progressed and Dominic’s aversion to them. To avoid any accidental contact, the pair of fowls did their best to stick to the sidewalks near the walls of the surrounding buildings or behind the stalls when possible. Thankfully, they’d made it through without incident-

“Hey! You two!”

“!!” Dominic and Steelbeak instantly stiffened at the call clearly directed at them. They both instinctively reached for their hidden guns but didn’t draw them just yet- the streets were too crowded and it wouldn’t be a good idea to cause a scene.

When the pair turned to see their potential enemy, however, they were surprised to see the small border collie that had been the victim of their target’s earlier aggression standing at her now right-side-up table. She waved to them with a bright smile on her face as her tail wagged happily behind her. “Was hopin’ you’d come this way!” Deciding for the moment that the dog wasn’t a threat (and even if she was, they could easily take her hand-to-hand if it came down to it), the fowls relaxed their previously tense stances and walked closer so they wouldn’t have to strain to hear the energetic young girl. “I wanted to thank you for helpin’ me out earlier. That guy was a real pain.”

“Don’t mention it, doll.” Steelbeak told the grateful collie with a quiet chuckle, clearly amused at the idea of being THANKED for such a thing (if she knew what they’d actually done and why they did it, she probably wouldn’t be thanking them).

“We just happened to be in the right place at the right time.” Though he held back any sounds of his own, Dominic was equally amused by the situation. “There’s really no need to thank us.”

“Aw, come on, don’t talk like that- it’d eat me up if I didn’t repay you guys somehow! Here,” She grabbed a display box from the other side of the table and dragged it closer, showing off a wide and colorful array of different pins shaped like waving flags. “I know it’s not much, but take a couple in your colors!”

“Our colors?” The taller bird asked while looking down at the pins in confusion. “Ya mean the ones we like best or..?”

“No, I mean the colors for your pride flags.” The girl at the counter explained with a giggle. “Go ahead and help yourselves!”

Picking up the rainbow striped flag hard-enamel pin with a golden butterfly clutch on the back, Dominic examined it carefully to make sure there wasn’t anything dangerous hidden in or on the unassuming pin (tracking devices, mini explosives, microphones- they had to be careful in their line of work, after all). “These are very well made.” Finding nothing off about the small accessory, he pinned the colorful flag to his chest and contemplated grabbing the one for his other colors-

“Hey, stripes, I’m lost here.” His partner was still looking down at the pins curiously. “I thought the pride flag was supposed t’ be a rainbow? What’s with the rest??”

“You’re joking, right?” The quiet laugh that had started in the loon’s chest died the moment he actually looked at the rooster’s face. He saw no traces of sarcasm or teasing anywhere in Steelbeak’s eyes as he looked down at the colorful flags- only honest confusion and curiosity. “…You’re serious..” Dominic looked at the other bird in disbelief, feeling honestly bewildered by the whole thing. “You can’t REALLY be this clueless, can you?”

Dark eyes rolled slightly before looking back down at the shorter bird. “Hate t’ burst whatever bubble ya got ‘bout me, red eyes, but I didn’t exactly get a full education on this sorta thing with how I grew up.”

Oh..right…

With how clever the chief officer was, it often slipped Dominic’s mind that Steelbeak never received any sort of official education growing up. Everything the other man knew, he’d learned on his own or through experience later in life. Growing up alone on the streets, it stood to reason that he never received any reliable information on the subject, and it was highly unlikely that his initial training and education with F.O.W.L. included a comprehensive high school-level sex-ed course for the fifteen year old rookie.

“……” After deliberating on it all for a moment, Dominic looked back up at Steelbeak with a soft, understanding smile. “Would you like me to teach you?” After receiving a nod from his partner, he started his explanation by tapping the rainbow flag already pinned to his shirt. “The rainbow is the most well-known pride flag- it’s typically known for representing homosexuality. There are a few variants, as well as the lesbian flag for gay women.”

“That’s my flag.” The girl running the stand told them while happily pointing to the multi-striped flag pin that matched her colorful dress. “That’s the original version with all the pinks and reds, but there’s another version now with fewer shades of pink and red and a couple of orange stripes.”

 Moving his fingers down to the rest of the pins in their box, Dominic pointed to the first one in the upper left corner. “This one with the magenta, lavender, and dark blue stripes is for bisexuality- it traditionally means being attracted to both men and women, but many people have expanded that definition over time to include other genders. Other variations have popped up as well, including pansexual-” A black feathered fingertip moved to the brightly colored pink, yellow, and blue striped flag nearby. “-which means attraction to all genders, and polysexual-” The finger moved to a darker pink, green, and blue striped flag. “-which means attraction to many different genders, but not necessarily all of them.”

“Hold it, back up a sec- ‘other genders’?” Steelbeak seemed fully invested in the loon’s explanation, giving him the same look he often used when the darker bird was laying out their strategy for a mission. “What does that mean?”

“Ah, right, we should probably cover that, too.” Dominic said quietly to himself before addressing Steelbeak again. “Aside from male and female, there are a variety of genders and labels in between the two.” He pointed to a pair of flags with light blue, light pink, and white stripes. “Transgender, for instance, is used for people who are assigned one gender at birth, but identify as a different one. Some of these people get surgery if possible to physically match what they view themselves as, but it’s different for each person. There’s also intersex-” He indicated a yellow flag with a purple circle in the middle. “-which is for people physically born as more than one gender, and agender-” His finger moved to a symmetrical flag with black, grey, and white stripes surrounding a single light green one in the middle. “-for people who don’t identify as any gender.” The next pins he pointed to were one that was a light purple, white, and green flag and another right next to it that was yellow, white, purple, and black. “Many of the others fall under the label of genderqueer or non-binary, meaning that they don’t exclusively identify as male or female; one of my ‘coworkers’ up north preferred using gender plural pronouns like ‘they’ and ‘them’.” The loon’s mind wandered for a brief moment- it had been a while since he’d spoken to Wildcard and the others, he hoped they were all doing alright…

“What about this one?” The taller man’s voice brought him out of his thoughts to see him pointing at a pin with pink, white, purple, black, and dark blue stripes.

A small smile reappeared on Dominic’s beak. It seemed Steelbeak was thoroughly absorbed in his lesson and genuinely wanted to learn more. “Oh, that’s gender-fluid- it’s for people whose gender and pronouns change frequently. Some of them also identify as bi- or tri-gender, meaning that they identify as more than one gender, but not everyone who’s bi- or tri-gender identifies as gender-fluid.”

“Wait…” Steelbeak looked back to his partner in surprise. “That’s a real thing?” When his answer was a nod of the loon’s head, he groaned and brought a large hand up to smack himself in the forehead. “Think I need t’ call up one of my ex-partner’s an’ apologize for bein’ such a jerk…”

“I’m guessing you didn’t use their pronouns correctly?” Dominic tried not to laugh at the guilt-ridden frown on the lighter fowl’s face, but it grew harder when an embarrassed flush became visible on his cheeks.

“I thought the guy was gay an’ just liked cross-dressin’ or somethin’! I mean, sure, he told me felt like a girl sometimes, but I didn’t think he MEANT it!” The rooster hid his face behind his hand, clearly trying to avoid the immensely amused look in his partner’s eyes. “Great, now I feel stupid..”

“You are not stupid.” There was a hint of a laugh in the loon’s voice and an amused smile on his face. “You’re just…uneducated.”

Oh, that annoyed glare he received when the other man removed his hand was truly priceless. “Wooooow, you always know just what t’ say, don’t ya?”

“I try.” The laugh that followed Dominic’s words was quiet, but it seemed to be enough to ease the glare in the other’s dark eyes until they were both snickering.

With his mood improved and a smile returned to his gleaming beak, Steelbeak looked back down at the pins and saw a particular color combination that caught his eye. “Hey, this one looks like you.” He looked back down at the darker bird’s sweater for emphasis.

“That’s because it’s my other flag.” Taking the small black, gray, white, and purple striped flag that he’d considered grabbing earlier, Dominic smiled as he pinned it to the other side of his chest. “This is the asexual flag: It’s for people like me who don’t really experience sexual attraction to others.”

Steelbeak gave his partner and the new pin on his chest a curious look. “So, what, they just don’t like sex or somethin’?”

“Not necessarily.” That was a pretty common question that Dominic was more than used to by now. “Being ace isn’t the same as being celibate or disliking sex. It means not being sexually attracted to other people, but it’s a fairly large umbrella that covers a wide variety of people: Some don’t have any interest in sex at all. Others like the way it feels, but don’t really get ‘turned on’ by any specific gender. There’s also demisexual-” He pointed down to a flag with similar colors to the ace flag, but with a white stripe on top, a purple one in the middle, and a gray one on the bottom with a black triangle on the left side of the flag. “-which is for people who can develop sexual attraction for someone they have a very strong emotional connection with.” Spotting a nearby pin with stripes in dark green, light green, white, gray, and black, he tapped the area near it to draw the rooster’s gaze. “Asexuality can also sometimes go hand-in-hand with aromanticism, but the two can also be separate cases. Similar to asexuals with sexual attraction, aromantics don’t typically experience romantic attraction. There’s even a demi version-” His finger moved to a flag that looked identical to the demisexual pin, but with a green stripe instead of a purple one. “-for people who usually only develop romantic attraction after they begin to feel a strong connection with another person.”

“Huh..guess the whole ace thing makes sense with you an’ your ‘quirk’.” Steelbeak was back to looking intrigued by all of this new information. “So, these flags can tell people what you’re not interested in, too?”

“Of course. Pride is about knowing who you are and not being ashamed for things like how you identify yourself or who you are or are not attracted to.” Feeling he had properly covered every pride flag in the box, red eyes looked back up at the lighter fowl inquisitively. “Any questions?”

“Nah, that was pretty thorough, Dee.” Off-white fingers reached down to the box of pins and picked out exactly the one that Dominic knew he would go for. “Least now I get why ya had me walkin’ around dressed like a fruity-cereal mascot.”

Dominic watched the other bird pin the bisexual pride flag to the right side of his chest with an amused smile and a shrug. “I figured it would be accurate.” Preparing to bid the girl behind the table farewell and continue on their way, the loon paused when he saw the lighter fowl reach back down to the box and grab one of the less colorful pins as well. “..Demiromantic? Really?” He asked with genuine curiosity at the other’s choice.

“Yeah. It’s just…I dunno..the way ya described it…it just felt like me, y’know?” Steelbeak looked down at the black, white, green, and gray pin held between his thumb and forefinger. “ ‘Love’ don’t exactly come easy t’ me. I could probably count the number of times a ‘relationship’ actually meant somethin’ t’ me on one hand an’ still have a finger or two left over.” Dark eyes glanced down at the aquatic fowl beside him, the corner of his mouth turned up in the slightest of smirks. “Present company included.”

“Noted.” The wink sent his way made Dominic smirk right back before his expression softened, watching how the previously playful gleam in those dark eyes faded into something else. Something almost…sad..

Looking down at his hands while pinning the demiromantic pride flag to the left side of his chest, Steelbeak kept an unreadable smile on his face but the look in his eyes contradicted his beak. “Started thinkin’ maybe that sorta thing just wasn’t for me..that maybe…I was too messed up for it or somethin’…” As he finished setting the pin in place, the expression on his face changed from its previous state of sad, indifferent neutrality to a small but far more genuine smile. “Knowin’ I’m not the only one like that..that it ain’t just me bein’ too cold……it’s..kinda nice..” He looked back down at Dominic, that same smile still on his face.

If Dominic ever made a list of things about his loud-mouthed, arrogant, cocky partner that made him fall for the over-confident egomaniac, that look would be within the top three. That soft, unguarded, completely open and sincere look in those dark gray eyes combined with that small smile which was so different from his usual smug grins and smirks that it was almost like looking at a completely different person- like he was seeing the man beneath the suave bravado and flashy showmanship. It never lasted long, but Dominic mentally filed away each and every moment he was treated to the sight to make sure he NEVER forgot that look.

“……” With a softer smile on his own dark beak, Dominic reached up to the pin on the left side of the rooster’s chest and carefully straightened it. “It suits you.” Red eyes met dark gray and the smile on both agents’ beaks grew a little more.

Not everything in life needed a label, but sometimes it was nice for a person to know they weren’t alone in how they viewed themselves or others. Having something as simple as a flag to show others a part of who they were could make a world of difference to a person. It showed them that there were others out there going through similar experiences and let them know that their differences were something to be proud of.

For all the issues that he’d had growing up, one positive takeaway that Dominic had from his youth was that he had a decent education and grew up in an environment where he was free to express his own romantic preferences. His mother knew he was gay before he’d ever even heard of the word and wasn’t surprised at all when he came out to her as a preteen. Thinking about it as they thanked the border collie for the free pins and continued their walk towards the extraction point, Dominic supposed he was at least a little lucky in that regard.

Despite how clever and outspoken he was, Steelbeak grew up without access to information that should have been common knowledge to many people and had no one he truly felt safe talking to about things deemed “outside the norm”. While that didn’t excuse his previous behavior towards Dominic (and others, given what he’d said about one of his former partners), it was easy to understand where his ignorance stemmed from. Now, at least, he was at a point where he was willing to learn…and had apparently decided that he was comfortable enough with his partner to admit he didn’t know something and ask for information.

For Steelbeak, Dominic decided, that was remarkable progress compared to how he was when they first started working together. He took a small measure of pride in being both a witness and a major part of what helped foster that growth and looked forward to seeing how his partner would continue to grow over the course of their partnership.

End Notes: This may have been unplanned, but it was fun to write ^.^ Sorry if I missed any flags, I was really just running through a mental check-list and did a  quick double-check when I got home to make sure I got all of the colors correct ^^”

[wishingitwerewolfstar]

bravery and other obscenities

my @wolfstar-secret-santa gift for @smartass-mee, hope you like it!!

Remus was going to be late for class.

Admittedly, so was Sirius, but this was both less rare and less consequential. All a professor had to do was glance at Sirius' smile and his last name on the roster before suddenly their stack of detention slips was mysteriously missing and it was 'Well, I suppose it won't happen again, will it?' even though it had happened before and all involved and observing parties knew it most certainly would happen again.

Remus, on the other hand, would be scrubbing cauldrons until the house elves began to make breakfast the next morning.

All because Sirius had insisted on going the long way, through the left wing, for no reason apparent to Remus.

He wasn't as mad about it as he would have liked to be though.

Honest, he kept trying to be mad, because his education was important, as was his time, and he wanted to care about lecture even if some things (like the odd fullness in his chest and the every movement Sirius' thumb made against the back of Remus' hand) loomed larger in his mind.

It was new, so new, and yet it felt ancient. It felt like Remus had had Sirius’ heart forever, probably because, if he's honest with himself, Sirius had had Remus’ heart forever, long before their fumbled confessions and kisses in the pumpkin patch the month before.

So when Sirius took the long way, Remus followed.

Sirius stepped closer and pressed a kiss to Remus' cheek, lingering and firm and warm.

Remus froze and almost fought the blush off his cheeks before remembering he didn’t have to anymore. He had other options now, like, for example, guiding Sirius’ chin with the ends of his fingers until they were properly kissing, and resting a hand on his waist while he was at it. 

Finally, Remus pulled away because he did have some level of concern for tardiness. He was definitely going to get detention but that didn’t mean he had to miss the whole lecture. Sirius only smiled at him with somewhat labored breathing and shakily pointed up above them.

“Sorry, Moony, there was some mistletoe. Nothing to be done for it.”

Remus nodded with a certain lightness between his lungs as he pretended not to see Sirius slip his wand back into his pocket and hurried them off to class. 

James had brought some of his lights from Diwali back out and arranged them around their room, and Remus had set his grandfather’s menorah out on his dresser, Peter was decorating a tree he very proudly reported he cut down himself (with the help of his wand) from the Forbidden Forest (and subsequently magically shrunk down to a manageable size). It was an impressive bit of magic, if perhaps not an impressive feat of manual labor. Sirius had announced that he was in charge of “the ambiance” when it came to decor, which apparently meant covering absolutely every possible surface in ribbon or garland, no matter how many times James complained of the loose bits of evergreen in his shoes. 

It also, apparently, meant hanging mistletoe directly over Remus’ bed.

“I wish I could help you Moony, but it’s just absolutely necessary for the decor.” Sirius explained as he changed into his pajamas for the night, “If I move it anywhere else, it’ll mess with the energy flow, and it could potentially ruin Christmas. And Hannakuh. And Solstice and all of the above. The spirit of the holiday season rests on the precise placement of this mistletoe. You wouldn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, would you?”

“I don’t suppose I would,” said Remus, trying to be subtle about his disappointment when the brief period between Sirius’ uniform and his pajama shirt came to an end.

“Then it’s settled,” Sirius nodded with an air of self-importance before making a huge show of tripping over what appeared to be thin air and sticking a shaky landing which just so happened to be under the mistletoe.

An innocent face and a few steps later, Sirius got what he wanted, and stepped away some time later thoroughly kissed. 

"Truly unfortunate, to be sure," Sirius said, swaying from side to side a bit as if in a cartoon, "but it's strictly necessary for the good of mankind."

Remus nodded, "Whatever you say, baby."

Then he walked away smiling, with his back to the sounds of Sirius slowly dying where he'd left him.

Wednesday night after Sirius had finished helping Remus with his testosterone shot like usual, they stood in the empty dorm, with an awkward distance between them neither knew how to cross. 

Sirius ran his hands through his hair, a habit he’d picked up from James, “Do you, um, maybe want to go for a walk?”

Remus blinked, “A walk?”

“Yeah.”

Remus racked his brain for the last time someone had asked him to simply go for a walk, not a game of pick up quidditch or a snowball fight or quick few hexes at whatever Slytherins might be lurking around the dungeons. “Have you been spending too much time in dog form?”

“No, I just. You know. Thought it would be nice to go for a walk. Or not, if you don’t want to. We could go to the astronomy tower though. Or anywhere! Or nowhere! It’s all fine with me, honestly,” Sirius’ cheeks were terribly pink and he’d quite suddenly lost the ability to hold eye contact. Oh, Remus realized like the first breath above the surface of the Black Lake, he’s as nervous as I am.

“Pads, it’s fine, let’s go for a walk. We’ll go to the astronomy tower.”

Sirius laughed in a poor attempt to the relieved exhale he let out, “Cool. But we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“Noted. Now are you coming?” Remus held out his hand and Sirius, with a sheepish blush, gratefully took it. 

The astronomy tower was frightfully cold at that time of year, so Remus quickly summoned a blanket and wrapped it around their shoulders once they’d squeezed in next to each other on a windowsill, legs dangling off the side of the tower. Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, and concentrated very hard as he whispered a few different spells, one hand gripping the edge of the blanket and the other his wand. After a few minutes, two mugs of hot chocolate came gently floating up the steps and over towards the windowsill to join them. 

Remus felt a sudden wave of emotions surge up, a mix of affection and the certain amount of attraction Sirius’ natural skill with magic always evoked in Remus.

“Did you know,” Remus took a sip from his mug, far too hot but worth the burned tongue, “that you’re perfect?”

Sirius grinned, “Yes, actually, yes I did.”

Remus rolled his eyes, “Merlin, your ego.”

“One of the most attractive things about me, I’d say.”

“You are deeply mistaken.”

“Oh yeah? What would you say is more attractive?” With a smug smile, Sirius leaned in.

Remus leaned out, but he was smiling too, “I’m not playing this game.”

“I think it would be beneficial for you. Get it off your chest.”

“I’m going to miss you.”

Sirius paused a moment and softly nodded, “When we leave for break tomorrow?”

“Mhm”

Sirius turned his eyes to the Forbidden Forest sprawling out in front of them, and Remus took the opportunity to stare openly at Sirius’s profile, feeling safe and yet terrified, protected and protective. This would be Sirius’ first holiday with the Potters, and it stirred up all sorts of tender emotions in Remus, pride, relief, gentle concern about the undoubted mixed feelings Sirus would have but try to deny, and the overwhelming urge to simply hold him, hidden away in bed and comforted until the week was over, though he knew he couldn’t.

“We’ll only be gone a week.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“But I’ll miss you too.”

One day, Remus thought, that will not feel like a relief. One day, I will trust that without him having to say it. In return, he said, “Why, do you like me or something? How embarrassing for you.”

Sirius laughed and leaned his head on the stone of the window. Remus gently worried after him. Sirius was so external, so loud about the way he felt usually, that these quiet moments were a language Remus was still trying to learn. He couldn’t quite tell if Sirius was okay, and was about to give in and just ask when Sirius whispered, “It’s weird, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Being happy.”

Remus paused a moment and softly nodded, “Yeah, Pads, it is.”

“I think I like it.”

Remus breathed in, and then out, and he thought about being Gryffindor, and therefore brave, and how that sometimes meant loving good things that might leave someday, “I think I like it too.”

They sat in silence for a moment, and Remus, after great internal debate, rested his head on Sirius’ shoulder. Sirius took a deep breath and Remus felt him reach to touch his wand briefly. 

“Oh, huh, look at that,” Sirius whispered in a terribly shaky voice, “Seems we sat under some mistletoe. Funny how we didn’t notice it before.”

“That is funny.”

“Yeah well, I guess it’s pretty easy to get distracted when you’re hanging around with me. I mean, why look at the ceiling when you could be looking at this-”

Remus kissed him. 

When he pulled away, Sirius closed the distance again. Something about this made Remus want to run laps around the castle, but he pulled away again, more softly this time, resting his forehead against Sirius’ as he whispered, “Sirius?”

Sirius had his eyes closed still and pressed his nose against Remus’, “Mhm?”

“Look at me.”

“Gladly.”

Remus nearly felt Sirius’ eyelashes against his face and suddenly Sirius’ eyes, open and trusting, meeting his, offering their full attention, proved to be too much, so Remus lost his train of thought for a moment and had to chase it down again.

When he finally found it, Remus said, “You don’t need an excuse to kiss me.”

Sirius blinked, as if this Remus had said something ridiculous, as if this was a radical concept. “I don’t?”

“You don’t. Not anymore. Not-” Remus hesitated, thinking once again about bravery and other obscenities, “Not ever again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s-” Sirius, for once, seemed to be at a loss for words, and Remus was trying very very hard to keep his newfound confidence afloat until Sirius said, “That’s good.”

“Yeah?”

Sirius tucked his wand back in his pocket and brought his hand up to rest on Remus’ cheek, “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

They stayed there, in each other’s space, with Sirius running his thumb over Remus’ cheekbone, and for perhaps the first time in a month it was not even a little bit awkward. They were on the same page, and it was decidedly quite a pleasant page to be on.

“Hey Remus?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

Remus smiled, already leaning in, “I’d like that.”

[angelicthor]

billion dollar man - part 1

pairing: tony stark x reader

summary:  after mounting bills and debt cause you to look at alternative means of making money, you’re thrown into a whole different kind of life when one of the most famous billionaires on the block offers to be your sugar daddy, of course in exchange for a different from of payment. non-superhero au.

warnings/genre: +18 only, sugarbaby/daddy relationship

masterlist | billion dollar man masterlist 

One more ‘final notice’ bill was all it took. The final straw: the one that broke the camel’s back. You were done. Post-college life was nothing like you anticipated, no amount of degrees was going to change the absolute dryness of the job market and you were beyond finished with working yourself to the bone to pay off your debts and bills and still not have enough money to make it through the month.

You had graduated from law school with expectations of landing your dream job but life had other ideas; you had shining recommendation letters from your professors, you’d passed the Bar exam with flying colours and you’d completed god knows how many internships over the years you were in school in different law firms to gain experience – though the only experience you really did gain was learning how some hot-shot lawyer liked his coffee – and it still wasn’t enough to land you a job at a law firm. Then there was the unfortunate incident with your ex which put you in a more than unfortunate position and did nothing to help your career ambitions. Instead, you were stuck waitressing in the dinner a couple of blocks away from your apartment in Brooklyn; the pay was pitiful, and you mainly relied on tips from some of the rudest customers you’d ever known.

Enough was enough, staring at the blaring red letters printed on the front of the envelope you recalled a rather alcohol-induced conversation with an old college friend you had a couple of weeks ago regarding how she managed to fund her college experience – she was a sugar baby. At the time it seemed a ridiculous idea, I mean people surely didn’t do this did they? But she’d convinced you it was a completely legitimate way of making ends meet and right now you were running out of options.

Later that night you stared at the blaring screen of your laptop that was in dire need of an upgrade, the login screen to the website your friend told you about sat staring at you, daring you to make a move. Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves; you were just signing up – relax, this wasn’t a solid commitment to anything, you’d be fine. After plugging in your details, you were rerouted to a page showcasing potential ‘daddies’, it was basically a dating site and that helped put your mind at ease, you browsed through the profiles and decided that it wasn’t the worst idea, especially when you saw the kind of money they were offering. It wasn’t something you could pass-up, not anymore.

After finishing your profile, you searched for someone who you thought might be compatible, who would agree to your terms. Even though you were more than willing to sleep with whoever you chose - a girl has needs after all and to say it had been a while for you would be an understatement - you didn’t want to be anyone’s lover, no deep emotional attachment was to be involved at all. You were looking for no more than a friends-with-benefits type of relationship, with your benefits mainly being in the form of green bills.  

Most of the profiles, you discovered, had usernames to keep their identities anonymous until they could trust someone enough to reveal themselves. It made sense really, to have the kind of money spare that they were offering, they were probably high profile and this wouldn’t help in the publicity area. Babble Babe would eat these kinds of stories alive, you could almost see the headlines on the notoriously nosey website now; Infamous Millionaires caught buying their dates!

You couldn’t help but wonder if any of the profiles you’d seen had been people you’d heard off on the Upper East Side, the ones that constantly ended up spread across the pages of Babble Babe for their latest exploits.

Over the next week, you messaged multiple profiles to try and strike up conversation with someone to see if you could click, although you weren’t looking for love you sure as hell had to make sure you had some connection to them if you were going to be spending copious amounts of time together – not to mention potentially sleeping together.

One profile you were messaging stood out above all the rest, he wouldn’t tell you his name claiming it to be so high profile you’d instantly recognise him – you had to roll your eyes at this but then considered he could actually be right. His username, iron_man, had you beyond confused at who he could be but that didn’t matter; you both discovered you were after the same thing, he needed someone to show off in public with the appearance of a partner, you needed money and nothing more – neither of you were looking for anything beyond that arrangement. However, ‘iron_man’ made one thing explicitly clear, he was expecting sex to be part of the agreement, something that he promised you’d enjoy. Again, cue eye roll.

You continued messaging him to get a better sense of his character, the messages the only thing you knew about him (apart from the other very obvious basics; he was obscenely rich and lived in New York), you found him to be quite funny, if not a little cocky and big-headed but hey, he had the money, right? He could be whoever the hell he wanted. You could tell he was intelligent and if you were being honest with yourself he was kind of charming - that was until his smug self-assuredness shone through.  

He had requested you send a picture of yourself to make sure he wasn’t being catfished or anything of the sort and you provided him with one, albeit nervously, you were afraid he may reject you after seeing your picture. However, ‘iron_man’ shocked you once more with his bold flirtatious nature: the three dots appearing, letting you know he was typing before his message came through.

    -  Damn baby, can’t wait to see that in person. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at him, you’d adapted to his sense of humour in the days you’d been messaging and to be honest with yourself, you genuinely thought he was funny. This could actually work. When you asked for a picture he refused, saying he couldn’t risk it and that only piqued your curiosity on who it was you were talking to.

Eventually mystery-man asked to meet you, asking if you could make it to Visions – one of New York’s fanciest and most expensive restaurants – at seven that Friday. You had expected him to at least reveal his name to you at this point, how else would you be able to meet him in the restaurant with no picture or no name? Surely, he wasn’t that famous that you’d recognise him by name? The only response you got to your questions was his cryptic response: You’ll know who I am. Trust me, I’ll sort everything out, just be there by seven.

You agreed even though the idea had butterflies erupting in your stomach as your nerves flourished, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in.

What if you met and you didn’t like him? What if he was really a dick and managed to fool you? What if it was too awkward in reality to work? What if, what if, what if.

So many questions rushed through your mind until you’d had enough, silencing the anxiety crashing through you. You’d never know if it was feasible unless you tried, right? And if it didn’t it didn’t, no harm done, but the money being offered was too much, too needed, for you to not try. And so Friday night you dressed up in your best dress, which wasn’t nearly as high-end as everyone else would probably be wearing, this was a lavish place after all and everyone would probably be wearing something that cost more than your apartment was worth.

As you sat on the subway – there was no way you could afford a taxi from your Brooklyn apartment to Manhattan – your heart began to pound, your hands becoming clammy as everything sank in. You were about to meet up with complete stranger you’d found on the internet in hopes he’d provide you with money in exchange for a fake relationship. Sweet Jesus what am I doing?

Reminding yourself of your growing pile of bills at home, the idea of being homeless on the streets of New York far scarier than anything that could possibly go wrong with mystery man, you willed yourself to enter the restaurant, immediately feeling out of place at the pure opulence of the building.

Approaching the maître d, you couldn’t help but feel the unimpressed looks shot your way: you were so out of place and everybody there knew it. Any normal day, you wouldn’t have taken a single dirty look shot your way, but you highly doubted whoever you were meeting would have been impressed by your antics. Besides, if this went well you’d have to put up with New York’s snobbiest regularly – might as well start practising, right?

The tuxedo-clad man arched an eyebrow at your figure and you successfully fought back the roll of your eyes. Before you could open your mouth, he was plucking a menu from the station in front of him: “If you’ll follow me this way, ma’am.”

You trailed after him as he expertly manoeuvred through the tables, leading you to a more secluded part of the restaurant, towards a table in the back where a man sat. An extremely recognisable man. You’d never seen him in person before but that billion-dollar smile had been plastered on enough newspapers and magazine covers for you to know who it was.

Well, I guess he was right.

You did know who he was. Everyone did.

Tony fucking Stark.

a/n: i don’t have a tag list but if you want alerts please follow @angelicthorwrites and turn on notifications

[divine17]

↳ LOVE HER TOO | MASTERLIST

Fandom: Stranger Things

Request: “hey!! could you make steve x fem!reader where robin has a crush on steve’s girlfriend (reader) and robin gets drunk and tells steve this ! tyyy” - Anon

Warnings: Sadness/angst but slightly inspirational if you squint, a minor consuming a loooot of alcohol, minor ripoff of robin’s coming out scene (you decide whether or not that happened already or if this is that), i accidentally used some arctic monkey’s lyrics somewhere in here, that’s probably it

Word Count: 2123

A/N: this is actually kinda angsty/sad because i have no clue at all what direction you wanted this to go in so... i made it sad. because that’s what i do best.

“Your girlfriend...” Robin hiccuped, her gaze falling to the tiled floor. Her knees pressed up against her chest, her arms around them. She knew she should’ve been nervous as she internally prepared to spill her heart out to the brunette boy, but the warm alcohol coursing through her veins prevented that. She knew that she shouldn’t be doing this, that she’d regret it in the morning. Her newfound friendship with Steve would be ruined, most likely. But the liquid courage which she’d consumed (in an absolutely obscene amount) certainly didn’t want to let her hold back.

Robin wasn’t even completely, absolutely, one hundred percent sure how she ended up here, sitting in the kitchen floor of Steve Harrington’s parents house. She was at a party, some girl who works in the food court in the mall had invited her. Then she ditched her, not a word, no “Sorry, I can’t make it,” nothing. So while she was there, Robin decided to drink. Drink until she couldn’t feel the confines of her body anymore, drink until she was having a good time in the stuck-up party, drink until she forgot about the girl completely. Next thing she knew, her Scoops coworker was roping through the crowd to find her, gently taking her wrist and leading her back to his dark red car. She remembered being excited to see him at first, then annoyed that he made her put down her cup. Frustrated when he told her she was in too deep, but excited when he promised her a cheeseburger when she was sober. Delirious, yet relieved, when he told her that she was going to stay the night at his so her parents didn’t see her like this.

Steve took her into his house, silently thankful that his own parents were away for a couple days. Not that they’d care notice, much less care, that he had a drunk girl in the floor, but still. That’s one thing that he’d rather not have to explain. He gave her one of his t-shirts and a pair of boxers and a hair tie, taking her clothes that smelled of that too-familiar scent of vodka and sweat and putting them in the wash. She changed clothes and disappeared, and found her shortly after sitting on the cold tile. So, naturally, he sat down opposite her. Both were silent until she spoke, asking about his girlfriend. Odd.

“Y/N? What about her?”

“You know... Do you remember when I told you about Mrs. Click’s class? At work, the other day? About me being jealous, and... obsessed? it was never because I had a crush on you, Steve. I just want you to know that.”

“Robin, you don’t have to-“

“It was because you had her. You had Y/N. She looked at you, and she still does, like you’re her whole world. Like you’re the only person she sees, the only one she cares about. She only had eyes for you. I was so mad, so upset, that of all people, she was with King Steve, ‘The Hair’ Harrington. I didn’t think she deserved you.”

“Robin, let’s talk about this when you’re sober...” He tried to stop her, to keep her from spilling her guts or saying something she might regret. But the girl just kept on, not even slowing down to listen to him speak. So instead, he listened to her drunken ramblings, morbidly curious. His curiosity would kill him one day, he was sure.

“I was mad because I wanted her to look at me like that. Iike I was the only person she wanted, or would ever want. I wanted her to hold my hand between classes, sneaking kisses in the stairwell before school started.”

“And I just didn’t understand why... Why she loved you like that, why she looked at you like that. All the heart eyes and rosy cheeks when you talked to her. And I really just didn’t get it. You were so messy, you always asked dumb questions and passed notes around in class. You partied hard on the weekends and did stupid stuff. But she stayed home, cleaning up your messes every single time you got into something you shouldn't have. I just didn’t understand why she stuck with you through all that, and then I realized...

“Steve, she does all of that because she loves you. She loves you so much that she was willing to put up with all of your shit just to be with you.”

“I know.” His head dropped, not able to look her in the eye, knowing she was right. He should probably be mad, frustrated, upset that she just confessed her crush for his girlfriend. But he felt everything but those emotions. Steve knew Robin was right. He didn’t deserve her then, not in the slightest. And hell, he wasn’t sure if he deserved Y/N now. She was the best goddamn thing that had ever happened to him. He loved her more than anything or anyone else in the entire world. But he always had that hanging paranoia of whether or not he was good for her, that loud cloud of thunder that rained over him, making him so anxious and drowning in the overthinking it caused, making him wonder if he truly did deserve her.

“If really shocked me, shocked me to my core, Steve. but I like you, I really like you. You’re a good guy now. But I also just really really like Y/N, and every time I look at you, all I can see is her. The memory of her looking at you like that and remembering how much I craved for her to look at me like that.”

Steve found himself stunned. Speechless. Shocked. Surprised. Whatever word you want to use. He was just at a complete loss for words as she spoke, not bothering to look up at the drunk girl. And so he just opened his mouth, letting whatever came out come out. He didn’t care. It’s not like she would remember much of this in the morning anyway, given how much she had drank. How many shots she’d downed, how many cups and bottles. Nights are made for saying things that you can’t say in the day, right? Fuck it.

“King Steve, high school Steve. He didn’t deserve Y/N, not in the slightest, not even a little. I didn’t realize that then. I didn’t realize how serious it was until school ended, the popularity began to fade And King Steve died and she was still by my side. She loves me for me. And a whole year of our lives, our relationship, I treated her like shit, pretty much.”

“Yeah.” Robin agreed. It was blunt, but quite frankly, she didn’t have much of a social filter at the moment. Couldn't bring herself to have one.

“I’m a bad boyfriend. Even when I was with Nancy Wheeler, I was a bad boyfriend. And you know what? I’m glad she broke up with me. Byers is better for her, and I know that, I do... And now, I try to be good to Y/N, learn from the mistakes, but fuck... I just don’t know how. I always manage to fuck it up. Always. It’s a talent, really. But she doesn’t care, she never has. She’s so good to me, Robin. She’s the best girl I’ve ever met. She shows me so much love and cares for me so much, and what do I do for her in return? Nothing, it feels like.”

“You’re a bad boyfriend, yeah. King Steve-era-you didn’t deserve her at all. I think it’s a miracle that she stayed with you through all that. But now? Harrington, you’ve changed. I don’t know what happened from Point A to Point A, but you’re a different person now. I mean, for God’s sake, I’d call you a friend now. You could’ve offered me a hundred dollars back then and I never would’ve called you that, I would’ve laughed.”

The two of them fell silent after that, simply letting the silence overcome them. Robin’s eyes grew heavy, slowly closing on her as she began to doze off. Meanwhile, Steve was invested in his thoughts. His mind raced as he fidgeted with his hands, anxious. Filled with questions from his conversation with the girl opposite him. Did he even really deserve you? Or was Robin right, that he’d changed into a completely different person than he'd been this time last year?

A few moments later, he finally spoke up again. 

“I wonder what Y/N would say if she was listening to this right now.” He laughed lightly “She’d giggle all sweet, she’d pull me close. Probably laugh and joke with you and point out all her flaws to make us feel better.”

She shrugged, coming to. “Maybe.”

“I’m really sorry that I ignored you in Click’s class. And I’m sorry that I was messy and passed notes around and that I made out in the stairwell when we thought no one was looking.”

“It’s okay, Steve. I promise. It’s not like we could’ve been friends anyway. Band geek and the King? Unlikely.”

After a moment, he noticed the girl’s drooping eyelids, her shallow breaths.

“C’mon, you look tired. Had a long night.” He stood from his spot on the floor, holding out his hand to the smaller girl beneath him. She took it and stood with him, following him as he led her to the living room. Steve gestured to the couch, and she laid down on her side, letting her eyes wander over the room. He gave her a blanket, spreading it over her body. She’d be knocked out soon, he was sure.

“If you need anything, I’m upstairs and right down the hall. Second door to the left, alright? Bathroom is just down the hall there.” 

She nodded, pulling the cozy blanket further up her chest, letting her eyes begin to flutter closed. But as he began to walk away, she couldn’t help but call his name. 

“Steve?” She asked. He turned back towards her. “Thank you, for this. You didn’t have to rescue me.”

“That’s what friends do, isn’t it?” He teased, switching the light off, leaving the dim glow of the table lamp. “Goodnight, Robin.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

It wasn’t long before he found himself in bed too, silent in the pitch black darkness. But he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. Something was eating at him. He grew restless as his thoughts grew louder and louder until finally, he turned the lamp beside his bed on, grabbing the phone. The brunette boy quickly dialed your number, not expecting you to pick up. It was late, after all. Just past midnight, last time he looked at the clock. It was certainly well past one in the morning by now.

“Hello?” Your sleepy voice said. He smiled upon hearing you speak. 

“Hey, baby. It’s me.” He said lightly. 

“Steve?” You were happy to hear his voice. He sounded tired, stressed. But that melted away with every second he was on the phone with you, relief washing over him. “Is something wrong? It’s late, you should be asleep.” 

“No, no... I just needed to hear your voice. I was gonna go crazy, I think.” 

“What’s up?” You asked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. You’d fallen asleep on the couch a few hours ago while watching some old rerun on TV and when the phone rang, it woke you, and in your hazy state, you answered. And God, you were glad you did. “Talk to me, baby. I’m here.” 

“Nothing, nothing. It’s just... I don’t know.” He lied. Wasn’t a very good cover, and he was sure you knew it was a lie. You could nearly always tell when he lied. His voice would get shaky and soft and he would play with his hands more than usual. “I’ve been thinking. And I just wanted to tell you how much I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled. “I love you too.” 

“I love you so much, and I know I’m not really a good boyfriend sometimes. And I’m going to work on that. I promise.” The boy said lightly, leaning back against his headboard. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know. But I don’t know why you keep me around anymore.”

His last sentence was punctuated with a soft chuckle, making you blush. His laugh always made you blush, causing you to laugh as well. “Well, it’s been almost a year, right? Little late to toss you out now. Guess I’m stuck with you.”

“No refunds, baby.”

“It’s a good thing I don’t want a refund then, huh?”