#and if i took the chance and it would be late id be home an hour later than anticipated

[bennitastisch]

sometimes taking the train feels like a cruel joke by the universe

[peachesofteal]

Sometimes I think about Dr. Riley sitting in his office, fidgeting with a pen staring out of the window, waiting for something... someone. There's a storm coming.

I still think about Dr Riley.

I think about him having a very inappropriate relationship with his patient, Clover. Clover who got her nickname because her special ops team thought she was sooo lucky… until she wasn’t. Until she made a mistake, miscalculated, and got two of her teammates killed. Clover, who had to look Captain Garrick in the eyes as he told her to take indefinite leave until she got her head on straight.

Clover can’t think or eat or sleep without hear the high pitch whine of a drone in her ear. Public places make her skin crawl. She can hardly function. Manages to feed herself and slink down to her building’s gym in the middle of the night, when no one else is there. She runs herself ragged, to the point of exhaustion, and only then can she manage sleep.

The train is late.

The tardiness makes everyone on the platform uneasy. They shift and grimace, fingers fidgeting, eyes roaming.

It’s grey down here. Grey up there, too. A city blanketed in rain, thick cottony fog obscuring streets and buildings, rolling through day, washing it into night without giving the sun it’s singular chance.

It’s grey everywhere. Grey in your bones, in your head. Grey cotton stuffed between your ears to stop the bleeding.

You try to let the anxieties of the delay drift past you, like a warm breeze, but it feels like a winter’s wind instead. Icy. Vicious. Cutting to the bone.

You’re a dog at the end of a chain. Ready. Waiting for the signal. Captain’s orders.

Relax. You’re at home. Waiting for the call. Going to finish therapy, so you can finally get out of here.

The yellow line of the boundary lays straight in front of you. You count the cracks in the concrete and wonder what would happen if you took a step off the edge.

Just one.

A single step.

Would these people try to save you? Would they scream and run? Would they watch you die, body exploded into bits by a train that couldn’t stop? How long would it take you ID you? Who would they call?

It’s not that you want to die. You’re more… curious about it now. Morbidly so. Wondering when it will happen, if death is following you around, waiting to collect his due.

You steady with a long breath, attention focused on the wall across the tracks, counting each tile. Your eyes are still sharp, as sharp as ever, and you focus in on each one individually, judging the distance, imagining a scope in your line of sight, smooth trigger under your finger.

There’s a collective sigh across the platform when the train squeaks to a halt, and you intentionally board last, watching the backs and profiles of everyone else. Back packs, long jackets, anxious faces are all catalogued and sorted, filtered and stacked into neat little piles.

You tug at a piece of skin around your nail, trying to tear it down to the cuticle. The delay has made you uneasy, nervous. Not at all like you used to be. Not at all like your old self.

This will be it this time, you coach, train car pulling away and rocketing into darkness. You’ll get it this time. It’s almost over.

“Hi, sorry I have an appointment at ten, with…” you check your calendar. “Dr. Riley? I know I’m late…” the woman at the desk smiles. It’s clinical, just like every other time. You don’t think she likes you much, you’re not like her. Not like any of them.

“That’s alright, it’s just this way.” She leads you through a maze of hallways, coming to a stop at one dark, wooden door. “Dr. Riley? Your ten o’clock is here.”

It opens to the biggest man you’ve ever seen, clad in jeans and a black hoodie. Is this… is this the shrink?

He says your name. When you don’t answer, he says it again, a little louder. His Manchester accent is full of grit, a mouth full of rocks, but there’s something warm in it too, something spinning you in a soft cocoon of yarn.

“H-hi.” He extends his hand, a massive palm, dwarfing yours.

“I’m Dr. Riley, come in. Thanks, Laura.” He bids the receptionist goodbye, and clicks the door shut behind her, turning with a motion to the couch. “Take a seat. I was just about to call you.”

“I’m sorry, the train was delayed and-“ He holds up his hand, a motion to stop.

“You made it, that’s what matters.” Your hands shake, and you clutch them in your lap. It’s a side effect, they tell you. It’s supposed to go away, but you’ve stopped counting the days.

He’s not what you expected. Your last doctor in this building was an old man who wore a dress shirt and slacks. Dr. Riley looks like he’s in his forties. He’s built out like a solider, broad shoulders and broad chest filling out his casual clothes, glasses reflecting his focused gaze. There are scars on his face, faded white streaks on his upper lip, cheek and jaw. His nose has been broken and repaired, and there’s a patch of his eyebrow missing, like it’s been burned away. He’s part shadow, part marble, full lips, sandy brown hair, chiseled jaw, ocean eyes.

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re here?” He begins, glancing at the laptop screen.

“I need to pass my psych eval, sir.” You focus on the question, and not the lone drone rattle rolling through your skull.

“There’s no rank in this office.” Oh, duh. “Why do you need to pass an eval?”

“I’m ready to return to my job. Just need to pass this last step.” Sir. You bite the honorific off just in time.

“If you can’t pass a psych eval, I’d say the conclusion is you’re not ready.” Your spine straightens at the authority in his voice. “And you’re not here for an eval.” Wait, what?

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re not here for an evaluation, you’re here for therapy.”

“N-no, sir- ah, Dr. Riley,” his lips tilt, a fraction, and your knees press together involuntarily. “I’ve already had therapy.” He ignores your protest.

“You’ve failed three evaluations in the last two months. You can’t just keep throwing it all the wall, hoping it will stick. You need care.” The room pitches, and you’re trapped on a tilt-a-whirl, locked into a too loud, too bright carnival ride, sirens and screams screeching in the distance.

He says your name again.

“Sorry.” The tablet folds into a laptop, balanced on a broad knee.

“Tell me about them.”

“About…”

“The psych evals. Failing three in such a short time window is a feat.” You blanche. You hate that word, fail. It stings. It’s an affront to you, you who doesn’t fail. You who was the top of her class, first selected, first pick. Your captain depends on you, your team counts on you, to not fail. At anything. Ever.

“I… I struggled with them.” There are photos on the wall, framed medals and degrees. A picture of a German shepherd, and a hanging house plant of some kind, spritely and green, leaves and vines twisting from its perch.

“Let’s start today talking about why you’re struggling with them, then.”

“I don’t know why. If I did, I wouldn’t be here.” You’re peevish, and he raises an eyebrow. “Sorry, I’m just… stressed. My team-“

“is operating in the field without you.”

“Yes.”

“And it’s causing you stress.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why?” What is this?

“Why is it causing you stress? Do you not trust them to operate successfully without you?”

“No… I do.”

“What about your captain? Do you not trust him to lead them?”

“Of course I do.” Your fingers tighten on the chair. “I do. But they’re down a man, and they can’t be down for too long.”

“I’m sure your team cares more about you getting the care need, over rushing back into engagement too soon.”

“I know, but I’m ready.”

“You’re not. And I know your captain, Garrick? He wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your wellbeing.” How does he know cap?

“You know captain Garrick?” Dr. Riley smiles.

“I do. And like I said, he wouldn’t want you passed through if you weren’t ready.” He’s got you pinned, metaphorically. Back against the mat, shoulders immobilized. You can’t crawl your way free, can’t fight or twist out of his grip. “Do you want to talk about why you’re on leave?”

“No! No, I… don’t need to.” You complain. “I’ve had eight counseling sessions in the last two months.”

“They’ve clearly helped.” He drawls, glancing at you over the laptop. The eye contact rakes a shiver down your spine, and you find your feet.

“I don’t want to talk about it again, sir.” You whisper it to the ground, silently begging he won’t make you.

“There’s no rank here.” He reminds, voice soft and understanding. “But I’m your clinician now, and I won’t sign off on you taking another psychological evaluation until I’m confident you’re healthy enough to return to work.”

“Can I ask…” you taper off, but he nods to encourage you. “Can I ask why I’ve suddenly been switched to a new doctor?”

“You failed an eval three times. The practice decided you needed a different approach to care.” There’s a pause, and the laptop shuts. His hands settle across his thighs. “Let’s talk about what they call you.”

“Sir?” His lips press together but deigns to remind you a third time about rank.

“Clover.” Oh.

“Yeah, that’s what my team calls me. Only my mum uses my real name anymore.” You joke, and he smiles in a small way, gaze unreadable, bearing down onto you from above.

“Is there meaning behind it?”

“I used to be considered good luck.”

“Used to be?” You blink. Used to be. Like you used to be someone else.

“I guess… my luck ran out.” He nods thoughtfully.

“Why do you think that?” Because you fucked up? You got your friends killed? Because you got into a jam you couldn’t get out of? Because you were tortured into an unrecognizable piece of human pulp?

“I… I don’t know.”

“You do.” He states matter of fact, leveling you easily. You gape.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” You mutter, looking towards your knees.

“How about mirrors?”

“What?”

“How do you feel about mirrors?” The question sets you aback. It’s never been asked, not in your previous sessions, not by anyone. No one knows about the mirrors in your flat, covered by shirts and sheets and dish towels. Turned away, forced into corners. The bathroom vanity obscured by a long white bedsheet; your reflection hidden at every turn.

“I… I don’t like them.” The honesty on your tongue tastes good, but it burns.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, I don’t like to look at myself, now.” The laptop reopens, and he types in silence for a long moment. The quiet settles around the two of you, ticking of a second hand clicking away in your ear.

“I’m going to give you some homework.” Homework?

“What kind of homework?”

“I want you to look in a mirror.” You draw a sharp breath. “When you’re at home, and you’re alone, I want you to really look at yourself, see yourself, for as long as you can. If it’s only a few seconds, it’s only a few seconds. There’s no time requirement. The only thing you have to do… is look.”

“Dr. Riley…” you laugh nervously, and he meets your eyes with a serious expression.

“Only for a few seconds. Can you do that?” No.

“I can… I can try.” You can do whatever he wants, if it will get him to pass you on the eval. If it will get you out of here.

“Good.” The watch on his wrist glints in the afternoon sun. “I’ll give you my number. Text me when your homework is done.”

“Okay.” That’s it? He stands, and you look away, unable to focus on anything but the edge of the table, brown wood slatted together and worn with age.

“You can run away now.” He murmurs, standing between you and the door. “This was good, Clover. I know it’s not easy. You did well today.” Words catch in your throat, caustic and rough. Still, you try to get them out.

“T-thanks.”

You try to do your homework that night.

You stand in front of the bathroom mirror in your pajamas, one hand on a hem, waiting to pull free and reveal your reflection.

You can do this. You can. Just do it.

The tug never comes.

You stare at the white sheet until your eyes start to cross.

Better luck tomorrow.

You hold steady in your routines. Eating. Walking. Stretching. Strength. You do yoga in the evenings, weights in the mornings. You spend too much time in your building’s gym, mindlessly pounding out miles on the treadmill, headphones blaring at full volume. You do it all robotically.

You’re outside of your body. Out of your mind.

But you could still pull a trigger.

Sometimes, when you can stand it, you take your walks outside, bypassing those who linger on sidewalks, cutting through parks and alleys. Fresh air and sunlight are supposed to help, but you don’t think it does any good. The rot is still there, curled up in your bones, blackened and sticky, festering like an infection. It’s a monster inside your body, a monster you now share your life with, cutting away pieces, long after being freed from the cell.

You eat. You walk. You try to look in the mirror.

With three days before your next session with Dr. Riley, you still haven’t managed to complete your homework. You try, in the hall, in your bedroom, again and again in the bathroom, but it never happens, you can’t quite get yourself to cross the bridge.

Failure.

Dr. Riley is waiting for you in the lobby on the day of your next appointment.

“Hi Clover.” He smiles, and it’s genuine, warm, almost wrapping around your shoulders.

“Hi, Dr. Riley.”

“How was your week?” You lag him, letting him guide you to the office, where the yellow lights are dim and darkened, casting shadow across the brown couch where you take your seat.

“It was fine.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, really. I’ve been at the gym a lot, trying to keep myself in shape for when I go back.”

“Exercise is good as long as you’re not overdoing it. Do you do anything else?”

“Um, I take walks outside.” His leg shifts, ankle on knee, and then his hand folds over his thigh. Something akin to interest brightens in your heart but is desperately snuffed out. He’s your therapist. “I walk in the park a lot.”

“Oh yeah? Which?”

“The one off of eighth.”

“I walk there too, nice park. Lots of trails.” You try to imagine him in joggers, taking a stroll. “I’m going to guess; you didn’t do your homework?” Heat unfurls across your face.

“I tried, but…”

“That’s okay. I thought we could try today, if you feel up to it.” Here? Now? Your eyes go wide. You look around.

“I don’t see a mirror.”

“There’s one on wheels down the hall, the occupational therapists use it all the time. Can I bring it in?” Your stomach twists up, nausea tossing your lunch from side to side.

“I uh… I don’t know.”

“You can do it. I know you can.” You hedge, unsure. Can you? Will you?

You can try.

“Okay.”

“Alright, close your eyes. I’ll be right back.” The door opens and shuts, and then opens again, wheels rolling close. You clench your eyes closed so tight it nearly hurts.

Warm fingers grab yours.

“It’s over here.” He murmurs, leading your blind steps away from the couch, coming to a stop… somewhere. “Whenever you’re ready.” You can’t feel him anymore, but you know he’s there, at your back. There’s a faint ruffle of air through your hair, against your neck. “Take a deep breath.”

You focus on the pace of your lungs, the expansion, the give and take of your ribcage.

“I can’t.” You whisper. You’re floating in space, unable to pull the trigger.

A kind hand on your shoulder brings you back.

“You can do it. Try.” The encouragement, the belief is a vine in your heart. Alive and green, it sows roots as deep as it can manage, clinging to fibrous flesh and hollowing you out. It catches on valves and ventricles, spiraling forward in a complicated web like an anchor.

You see him first, in the mirror. Stare straight back at him, falling into his gaze, vibrating in his hold like a child’s wind-up toy.

“Not me. You.” He says gently, and when you can, you bear it.

You almost gasp. It’s been two months since you’ve seen your own face, your complexion, your nose and your eyes and your chin. You’re long healed, bones set perfectly, everything right as rain. You look normal. You look fine. It’s the most shocking thing, to see yourself looking healthy, pieced back together, nearly whole. Your lower lip trembles with effort to hold yourself at bay, to keep yourself from breaking apart, drifting back towards the moon.

“That’s it. Great job, Clover.” His hand still rests on your shoulder, but you shake with a violence now, a torrent of emotion, threatening to cut you off at the knees. “It’s okay.” He whispers.

When you can’t stand it any longer, you close your eyes.

“How did you know?” You’re resettled on the couch, hands tucked under your thighs.

“Know what?”

“That I hadn’t looked in a mirror… since…”

“I know a thing or two, about coming back different. I know how it feels when you don’t want to see yourself.” You glance at the medals on the wall, primly tacked to a plush pillow, encased in glass, and wonder.

“Did you work with captain Garrick?”

“We were in a task force together, before I retired early to do this.” He smiles, easy and light, but there’s something guarded in it, something sharp, shark’s teeth aiming for docile flesh. It purrs, and makes you want to pull back more layers. Gives you something else to focus on, something else to fall into, but it’s gone before you can really study him.

“Oh.” It’s all you can say as he types something on the laptop, and then puts it away.

“That’s all for today. I’ll see you next week then?”

[write-tama]

"to live with the milkman."

╰┈➤ francis mosses (the milkman) x doorman!reader

sypnosis ; reader is worried because francis hasnt been seen in a week. they decide to pay francis' apartment a little visit..

containing! ; lois stilinksy, working as doorman, gender neutral pronouns, use of y/n, francis being a little sick and out of uniform, francis and reader eat mac n cheese tg :3

authors note ; this is lowkey a slowburn-- i didnt mean to write so much D: i started writing yesterday morning and just finished this morning LOL but ya its very just wholesome and soft ^^

4.12.24 | 2.7k words

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

As a doorman, you realize a pattern of people would often come and go through the apartment. You know who goes to work in the morning and who comes home in the afternoon, and you know what days they typically go out and days where they don’t.

So, I'm not totally creepy when I say I've noticed a shift in Francis’ schedule, right? He’s not one to typically go out unless he has work in the morning— which is usually Tuesday through Friday, but lately, I haven’t seen him all week.

Nothing but the worst truly went through my mind. He could’ve been eaten by a doppel, or worse, was mistaken for a doppel and was exterminated on sight! These anxious feelings went through my head as I nervously clicked my pen. I glanced at today’s list again, as if magically waiting for his name and picture to show up on the piece of paper.

click, click, click.

Through the office window, I heard the subtle steps of heels clicking against the worn tiles. Sighing, I sat up straight and folded my hands in front of desk, forcing my anxious thoughts to the back of my head in order to continue doing my job. I looked up to meet the gaze of thick magenta bangs with eyes barely visible I sort of wonder how she even navigates through her surroundings.

“Good afternoon.” She greeted, her thick lips curling into a polite smile. I nod as I took her ID and entry request through the letter box, scanning through the documents for any misspellings or misinformation. As I carefully examined the print, I notice Lois’ lips pursing into a curious point.

“You looked troubled, sweetheart.” She noted. “Is everything alright? Besides work-stress that is.”

I sighed a little, placing her card down before looking through today’s list. I checked off Lois’ picture before turning to my request checklist. “Yeah, I just.. I don’t know. Have you heard from Francis recently?” I asked, not even masking the worried tone in my voice. Lois hummed a little, as if thinking about the last time she has even seen the man.

“The last time I saw him, he looked extremely tired. Like more tired than usual. I think he was just coming home from work? He was coughing and sniffling a lot.” She recalled. “Poor boy.. He must’ve been sick for a while.” Lois shook her head. With her words I felt like a pressure had been released from my chest. Oh, good, so there is a chance he’s alive, I thought to myself. I slid back her ID and smiled.

“Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry, I just get worried knowing that a neighbor could’ve been killed by a doppel or any force of nature of that matter.” I lightly chuckled. Lois smiled, taking her ID before looking at me.

“You should talk to him. I’m sure he could use the company right now.” Lois suggested, but through that grin I could see that teasing smile.

I sighed a little, a little grin starting to form on my face. “C’mon, Lois, that would be way too embarrassing!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms in my chair. Lois lightly giggled, raising a white glove to stiffle her laughs.

“Oh, it won’t hurt, honestly! You never know what could happen~” she said, all singy-songy. I rolled my eyes before pressing the unlock button.

“Yeah, yeah. The door’s right there.” I sarcastically replied, a big grin on my face.

“Just think about it!” She called out as she walked through the door. I shook my head in amusement, listening to the door click behind her. I locked the door and returned to my previous slouched position.

Maybe I should pay him a visit.

My shift ended around late evening. I packed my bag and slid on my cardigan before locking the door behind me and hiding the key in a place only the next doorman would be able to find it. As I walked towards the exit of the building, I thought about what Lois had said earlier about paying him a visit. I never even really attempted to go past the lobby area of the apartment building. I had no purpose to anyway. And plus, it would’ve been a lengthy process to even request a visitor’s pass due to the security. I looked over to the doorman’s office, realizing that as of now, no one is on duty. Would it be morally wrong to go against the rules of the literal job I worked in?

Maybe.

But maybe my curiosity and anxiety could take over just for this one moment.

I walked back to the doorman’s office and unlocked the door. I placed the key back in its original hiding place before entering. I made sure to lock the door behind me before taking a look around the room again. Behind the doorman’s seat, there’s a door that leads to the stairway of the apartment complex. Its main purpose was to serve as a fire escape just in case of an emergency. Eagerly and swiftly, I gently pushed the door open, making sure to not make much noise. Once I walked out, I was met with the smell of old concrete and a spiral of stairs. I sighed to myself, remembering that Francis does in fact live on the third floor.

The stairs felt endless as my shoes clicked on the hard concrete. Fortunately, I only had to take a break only two times. I was finally at the end of the stairs, my legs tired from the endless climbly. I pushed the door open and was greeted with a typical carpeted hallway with blinding yellow-white lights that nearly burned my eyes. I sighed before trailing through the doors, looking at each number plate in order to locate the right room.

“Room 02, room 02..” I hummed to myself, just like how I would while scanning through files. After turning a corner, I was finally able to locate Francis’ room. I raised my fist to knock at the door, but the soft, soothing sounds of piano muffled through the wood. I stopped in my tracks, feeling as if my knock would disturb the perfect flow of the keys as I’m sure its song filled the apartment with grace. I waited for the keys’ song to slow to an end, the melody slowly fading out of the air and a sigh following its silence. I couldn’t help but smile, and sure this gave me enough proof that Francis was in fact still alive, but.. Something about his skills on the piano made me even more intrigued by the man.

I gently knocked with my knuckles, but making sure I was firm enough for the knocks to even be heard. From inside, I heard a chair scrape against wooden floorboard before footsteps steadily approaching me. A couple locks were undone before the squeak of the door filled my ears. I looked up and there Francis was— his eyebags were relatively darker and he was still in sleep attire with a baggy set of pajama pants and a fitting white tee.

“Oh— uh, (y/n)—” he said a little shocked to see me. I smiled a little, tilting my head at him.

“You shouldn’t have opened your door so fast. I could’ve been a doppel, y’know?” I advised. I heard him suck air through his teeth as he realized his rookie mistake.

“Mmm.. I’m sorry..” He mumbled, making me raise an eyebrow.

“You don’t have to apologize to me.” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “I’ve been worried about you since I haven’t seen you in a while. I just.. Wanted to check if you were okay.”

Francis raised his eyebrows in surprise. It made me wonder if anyone else but me paid him a visit due to his absence. We lingered in silence for a minute. he stared down at me as I stared up at him.

“..May I be invited in?” I requested, breaking the silence. Francis blinked his eyes a little, as if he had been lost in thought previously.

“Mmm.. ID and entry request, please?” Francis teased, smiling a little. I scoffed, immediately catching on to his wittiness.

“Ha ha, very funny, Mr. Mosses.” I sarcastically replied, rolling my eyes. His grin grew wider, clearly amused by reaction. He stepped aside from the door, allowing me to enter. I walked in, bag still clutched to my side as I took a look around the apartment.

It was humble but quaint space. The ceiling lights were off and frankly looked like they were never used, however, his lamps illuminated a soft warm orange on his furniture. He had a small box TV and dull red couch with a small round coffee table planted in the middle. Huddled in a corner was his old piano he must've been playing earlier. Francis closed the door behind me, making sure to lock it as well. “Sorry, it’s a bit of a mess.” He apologized, quickly rushing to his couch where clothes scattered over the armrests. He went down a small hallway I assumed to be where his bathroom and bedroom was. I took off my shoes and placed my bag on the table that sat next to the door before sitting myself on the couch.

I sighed a little, almost drowning into the soft pillows. It almost made me question why he would be struggling with sleep if he has a couch as comfortable as this. I could see a bit of his kitchen from sitting on his couch. It was a decent size with counters on one side and the appliances on the other. It seemed like he had something on the stove cooking as well.

Francis walked in shortly after and took his seat on other end of the couch, keeping a distance between the two of us. I brought my knees to my chest while hugging his couch pillows. I looked at him for a bit, trying to figure out myself as to why he hasn’t been out recently. Not only was his dark circles were more apparent, his hair was a little longer and messier. He looked paler than usual as well. Francis turned to me, a curious look on his face.

“Is it apparent..?” Francis asked. I furrowed my eyebrows, a little confused on what he meant.

“Hm?” I hummed in response.

“That I’m coming down with something.” He chuckled slightly. I shrugged a little, leaning back on the couch cushions.

“I mean.. Your hair is messier.” I smiled, admiring the frizz on the top of his head. Francis quickly glanced up before running his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not that messy..” He sighed.

“Well, I wouldn’t know. You always got that milkman hat on the top of your head.” I laughed. I glanced over to the kitchen again, realizing that steam was coming through the glass lid. “I think you might want to get that.” I suggested, nodding my head towards the stove. He hummed a little before getting off of the couch and heading towards the kitchen. I watched as he reached the top of the cabinets, stretching up with ease. I couldn’t help but stare at his broad shoulders to his slim waist defined by his white shirt.

“Hey, I made mac n’ cheese if you’d like a bowl.” He offered, his voice immediately cutting through my daze.

“Oh— uh, yeah of course. I was about to get dinner after I got off my shift but here I am.” I chuckled. He nodded before grabbing another platter to make my own plate. I sat patiently on the couch before noticing the remote on the coffee table. “Hey, can I turn on the TV?” I asked.

“Hm?” Francis hummed from the kitchen. “Mmm.. Sure. I don’t mind.” He shrugged before turning back to his task.

Something about this felt so.. Safe.. And homely. I felt comfortable, despite me never even being in Francis’ apartment before. It felt familiar, and I couldn’t lie to myself and say that this is the most peace I’ve felt since the news of doppelgangers came out. I picked up the TV remote and flicked it on, browsing through the channels before find a movie we could idly have in the background.

Francis came out of the kitchen, holding two bowls with forks in each. This time, he took his seat much closer to me before placing my bowl on the coffee table. “Thank you.” I politely nodded. I took the bowl and started to eat. Honestly, to my surprise, the food was actually pretty good for a man who worked day and night. I was enjoying the comfortable silence between the two of us as we enjoyed our dinner together— something I barely saw myself seeing tonight.

“Hey.. (y/n)?” Francis mumbled quietly.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I replied, taking another scoop of the creamy mac n’ cheese to shove in my mouth.

“Why did you.. Come here?”

Something about that question made my heart skip a little. Why did I come here? I mean— I came here to make sure he was okay. That’s my job as doorman. To make sure all of the neighbors are safe and alive. But even when I heard him through the door, clearly shown to me that he is still breathing, I stuck around anyway.

Why did I come here?

“Well— I uh..” I trailed off a little, sort of lost to where I should even begin. “I was just worried about you. That is my job, no?” I said, clearing my throat. I kept my eyes on the screen, a little embarrassed to even face him.

“Mmm.. I don’t entirely believe that.” He hummed. “You could’ve called.”

Oh, fuck, yeah no— he’s right.

Ugh, Lois!

You set me up!

“That’s true..” I chuckled. “I guess you caught me.”

“Mmm..” He mumbled. He placed his now empty dinner on the table before folding his hands in his lap. “So..?”

I took a deep breath, feeling my heart beat fast inside my chest and a warmth creeping up my whole body. I placed my bowl onto the coffee table as well, and finally mustered the courage to look at him in his eyes.

“Francis..” I mumbled. He leaned in a little closer, as if he wanted to lean into my words and trusted them to embrace him.

“I.. I just.. I think I like you..” I trailed out. My head felt cloudy as a tingling sensation danced all over my skin, feeling like a little kid during recess confessing to her elementary school crush. “I've liked you.. Ever since we met. I never really said anything because I felt like you weren't necessarily interested in a relationship.. But Lois and Rafttellyn would always point out how you would look at me and I just—!”

A strong hand placed firmly on my cheek— so cold against my blushing face— pulled me in to meet those soft lips of his. I was completely silenced and wide eyed, but I knew what he was telling me. Everything in those pink lips told me that everything was going to be okay, and he liked me just as much..

I fluttered my eyes closed, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling myself closer to his chest. The TV buzzed in front of us, sputtering incoherent actors cracking jokes and delivering their lines. Our finished bowls of dinner were scattered on the table, but it was easy to tell the food was delicious for no piece of macaroni was left unnoticed. I pressed harder against his lips, letting the thought of breathing slip my mind.

If this is what it's like to live with him—

To spend our evenings chatting

Eating dinner on his couch

Watching TV while enjoying each other's presence

Then maybe I could get used to this.

'*•.¸♡ ♡¸.•*'

tagging ; @crybabies-heart @shypizzaperson @your-local-oc-maker @spearsillustration @mochi46106 @seraphlin @glxyaaandromeda (some ppl i tagged either bc they followed me on my old acc and just some ppl who interacted with my past content and just thought they would be interested in this fic :3

thank you so much for reading and reposts and likes are always so, so appreciated <3

[kimberly-spirits13]

Please Don't Leave (Fear Gas)

Jason Todd x vigilante reader

Synopsis: After returning from a mission to take down an organization similar to the one that trained you to be a powerful assassin when you were little, all you want to do is shower. Life is peaceful waiting for Jason to come hime until you get a call from Stephanie saying that Jason was blasted with fear gas.

Warnings: Mentions of needles, IV's, trauma, death, PTSD, that kind of stuff

FYI: Reader was raised in a Red Room type place and has powerful magic but it's not a super important part of the story, it's just mentioned

Word Count: 2488

It was late at night, and you were winding down to shower and go to sleep. Tonight, was your night off after being away on a short mission for the League. You were tired and sore all over, and all you wanted to do was freshen up and wait for your boyfriend to come home so that you could sleep. Jason was meant to be home in around 20 minutes, and you were waiting for him to come back. Steam from the shower filled the room and you stepped into the shower and closed the door behind you. The lather of your shampoo in your hair made a bubbling feeling on your scalp and the smell of your shampoo created a calming feeling around you. Ease washed down your spine as you turned washed the shampoo from your face and started conditioning your hair when your phone suddenly lit up. You wiped your eyes and got the conditioner out of the way so that you wouldn’t get it in your eyes. The caller ID read “Steph” and a feeling of dread creating a gaping pit in your stomach.  

            “Hey Steph.” You answered, “What’s wrong?”

            “Are you in the shower, not on patrol?” She asked, “Never mind, just, Jason got hurt bad and we need you at the Manor ASAP.”

            “Okay I’m coming, uh-“ A sense of urgency got you moving faster than you’d want to be at this hour, “what happened, what’s wrong?”

            “Scarecrow bust gone wrong. He created a new toxin that is more intense than usual. It makes you relive physical feelings with phantom pain.” “We’re five minutes ETA from the cave. Jason keeps calling out for you and it’s the only way to lower his heart rate before he has a heart attack. He’s reliving the night in the warehouse Y/N.”

            “Okay, okay I’m coming” You got choked up talking to her.

            Realizing that your sense of dread was right, you put Steph on the speaker and started washing the rest of your conditioner as fast as possible. There was no time for drying your hair and you got into clothes as fast as possible as Stephanie explained what was going on. You started running towards your door and grabbed the emergency duffle bag that you kept in the closet in case something like this happened. Sprinting towards the front door in a cold sweat, you locked it and realized that your lights were still on.

            “Lumine off (lights off)!” You snapped a finger towards your lights and the apartment went dark.

            You held onto your bag and took a breath, closing your eyes and thinking about Wayne Manor, “suscipe me huc (take me here).” 

            It was quiet all the sudden, with a breeze filling the room around you and a bright light dropping you on your feet. When you opened your eyes again, you were in the living room of the manor where you suspected someone would be.

            “Ms. Y/N!” Alfred stood with a quick bewilderment, clearly expecting you to use the front door and not the living room as an entrance, “Master Todd is in the cave. I shall lead the way.”

            You and Alfred started for the cave, your bag still in hand and anxiety becoming more and more intense. Alfred pressed a button into the clock and an elevator was revealed. Starting into the elevator first, you pressed the button for the cave before Alfred had a chance to.

            “Sorry about the scare Alfred.” You said suddenly realizing that you had startled the sweet man.

            “Oh no worries. I’ve plenty a fright with this gaggle of vigilantes.” He said this with a smile in his voice, trying to make you feel less intense. 

            You gave him a smile before returning to a worried, slightly stoic expression. When the bell chimed and the elevator door opened, you ran towards the med bay where you saw Dick and Bruce hauling Jason to the table. Jason’s eyes were rolling back into his head, and he was coming in and out of consciousness. You ran over and helped support his body weight so that you could be close to him. Jason was screaming something about the Joker. He was flinching and convulsing like he was being hit repeatedly. As Dick and Bruce hauled him closer to you, trying not to get punched.

            “We got him here as fast as we could, he got a direct hit jumping to stop Scarecrow from releasing the gas into the water supply.” Dick explained as you held onto Jason and Bruce barked out orders to everyone around.

            “Okay, alright, Jason, look at me babe Jay!” you set him down on the table and held him up by his sides, “Jay I’m here, you’re okay, you’re alright. Hey, hey! Calm down, you can do it love. Breathe for me, you’re okay I promise.”

            Jason held his head up and looked at you with bloodshot eyes. His pupils were blown out and he was shaking with cold sweat. 

            “Y/N/N?” He muttered out quietly in sobs, “I need you; I need you. Help me.”

            “I’m right here Jay, lay down. Breathe for me Jay.” You started pushing him back lightly so that Dick could hook him to an IV and get antidote going.

            Dick came up behind you and got the shot ready for Jason when Jason’s eyes went wider than you thought possible, and he started pulling you towards him and screaming like he was being set alight.

            “Y/N, no!” Jason shrieked and started throwing punches towards Dick like he was fighting for his life, “Get away from her Joker!” 

            Dick ducked behind you and away from Jason’s sight, realizing that Jason was hallucinating again. The poking of the IV and Jason being pushed backwards caused him to grab onto you and start screaming hysterically. A look of absolute terror filled his face, and he started calling for you again screaming for help. 

            “No please! Y/N where are you?” Jason started flailing around and you called for Dick to get a sedative since he couldn’t handle being laid down.

            “Jay, honey I’m right here, right here. Joker isn’t here, you’re okay. I’m okay.” You grabbed his cheeks with your hands and pulled his face towards you. To relax him as much as possible ran your thumb over his cheek and pushed the hair in his face out of the way. Jason held your arm as gently as he could, even in as much stress as he was in, and looked at you like you were a lifeline. 

            Dick came over and injected a sedative into Jason’s arm while you were keeping him distracted. Jason shot his eyes over to where he felt a pinch on his arm and started gasping for air like he was dying. It was like he was reliving his death all over again. His eyes shot back to you, and he started crying harder.

            “Please don’t leave me. I’m going to die, please stay with me.” He cried to you.

            “It’s okay Jason, I’m not leaving, I’m right here, you’re okay. Close your eyes and breathe for me Jay.” You ran your fingers through his hair as his labored breathing became less and less abrasive. 

            “Don’t leave me.” Jason’s eyes dropped shut one last time and he went limp on the table. It was quiet in the cave again.

            You didn’t let go of Jason’s face and tears welled in your eyes before you blinked them away and sniffled. Dick was still standing next to Jason monitoring his pulse which was now evening out as much as it could. 

            “Y/N, I’m sorry this happened I-“ Bruce came over to you and laid a hand on your shoulder. His mask was off, and you could tell that he had cried at one point. He was upset seeing Jason reliving everything that he had been through, just as the rest of you were.

            “It’s okay Bruce, it’s not your fault.” You sighed heavily, realizing that your hair was still dripping from your shower, “Where’s Scarecrow now?” 

            “You’re not going after him.” Bruce said, “GCPD has him under tight supervision in Arkham.”

            “He should be in Black Gate and not some mental asylum. He knows what he’s doing.” You said, “And you know his gasses don’t affect me anymore B.” 

            “I know that but-“ You cut Bruce off before he could finish.

            “Besides I promised Jason, I wouldn’t leave him, and I hold fast to my promises.” 

            Bruce nodded, “Tim, Damian, and Cass made sure he didn’t get away. Damian reportedly put Crain in a temporary coma.” 

            “Maybe Crain won’t wake up.” You muttered under your breath as you took Jason’s hands in yours. 

            Tim came inside the cave along with the rest of the heroes. “How’s he doing?” 

            “His vitals have stabilized, we narrowly avoided him going into cardiac arrest.” Dick reported, “we should clean his wounds and get him out of his uniform.” 

            “Antidote hasn’t fully kicked in yet, we need to wait before he’s not under the influence of toxins anymore.” You said, “removing the IV will trigger another attack.” 

            “Someone needs to watch him too. Incase his vitals flip, or he wakes up.” Tim said, “Who takes first shift?” 

            “I’ve got shifts.” You said, “Go hit the hay.”

            “Y/N, you can’t stay here alone.” Dick said, “Someone can stay with you.”

            “That’s fine, but either way, I’m not leaving.” You spoke. 

            “You have to sleep at some point, eat, use the bathroom.” Dick was trying to convince you to get to sleep. He knew that your mission was arduous and had to have taken a toll on you. The League had called you on a mission to help locate and dismantle a group of assassins, like the ones you were trained with as a child, using magic to increase the abilities and reach of the organization. You were the most familiar with the group’s tactics, and the most powerful member in the league to deal with this, so naturally, you were sent. The mission took a mental toll of you because of the similarity it had to your childhood, and you needed the rest to recuperate. 

            “Dick it’s okay. We don’t need two people going manic over nightmares tonight and if I need something; I can literally wave my fingers to make it happen.” You waved your fingers around, creating a blue hued light around them to prove a point.

            Not wanting to continue to argue, Dick subsided and went to hit the showers with everyone else before coming back downstairs to keep you company. He had brought you a blanket and another little pillow, knowing that you wouldn’t get up and leave Jason. 

            A few hours later Jason was dressed into something more comfortable that wasn’t his suit and his wounds were disinfected and stitched where they needed. You had fallen asleep and woken up a few times while keeping watch. A day had passed since Jason’s run in now and you were exhausted. One of the times that you had woken up, you realized that Jason was stirring. You looked at him, watching for signs that he was waking or going back to sleep. Looking at the time, you saw that it was 2:46 AM. The blue light from the Bat Computer lit up the cave gently.

            “Y/N?” Jason called out quietly while moving himself to where he thought you were.

            “Hey Jason.” You said quietly, “I’m right here love.”

            “Did I die?” He asked, searching for an answer in your face.

            “No Jay, you didn’t. You’re right here, you’re okay Jay.” You said, tears starting to well in your eyes again.

            “Don’t cry Y/N.” He lifted his arm and whipped under your eyes, “You know, I didn’t want to see you again like this doll.”

            You let out a small laugh through your nose, smiling a little, “you scared me so much Jay.”

            “I’m sorry Y/N, I never try to. I’m so sorry Y/N/N.” He looked sad very suddenly as he was still watching your every move.

            “It’s okay, it’s not your fault. You were just doing your job.” You gave him a knowing look, “At least I was back in town.” 

            “I missed you.” Jason worked his hand up your arm and sat up to kiss you before groaning in pain.

            “I missed you too, now lay down before you bust your stitches.” You helped him lay back down before nestling your head into your crossed arms on the side of the bed.

            “You know that does not look comfortable at all babe.” He said, starting to coax you onto the Med Bay bed he was laying on, “It’s also cold in here. Are you cold? I’m cold.” 

            “If this is your way of telling me you want me to sleep with you in that cot, you could have just said.” You stood up and helped Jason scoot over a bit.

            The quiet hum of the Bat Cave was the only thing that filled the room, along with the soft beeping of the heart monitor. Jason’s breathing was steady, and you thought he was asleep until he started talking again.

            “Were you here the entire time?” He asked, glancing towards you.

            “I told you I wouldn’t leave you.” You said, “I don’t break my promises with you.”

            “Y/N, you know you didn’t have to.” Jason looked guilty, like he committed a crime in keeping you with him.

            “No, no, I needed to stay with you Jay. I couldn’t leave you alone the way you were. I didn’t want you to wake up alone in this place.” You explained, grabbing onto his hand. 

            “I would have found you.” He said softly.

            “That’s the problem. You would have hurt yourself while going looking.” You smirked some, laughing to yourself slightly. 

            “I can’t argue with that.” 

            “How was your mission?” He asked rubbing circles in your palm.

            “It was… a lot.” You sighed, “That was not horrible to relive again at all.”

            There was sarcasm in your voice to hide your hurt when you spoke about the mission. 

            “I know the training you’ve gone through, intense enough that the fear gas doesn’t work on you.” Jason said, “you’ve seen enough that nothing scares you much anymore.”

            “Well, you dear, scared the ever-living life out of me.” You poked his side.

            “I’m sorry.” Jason was endearing and serious now.

            “Jason it’s okay.” You looked at him with intensity, “You did what you had to do. I’m proud of you, not upset with you.” “I love you, Jay.”

            “I love you Y/N.” he said with a softness. 

            Silence drifted over the two of you, and eventually, you were confident enough to fall asleep when Jason had finally drifted asleep. In the morning, you’d worry about sorting out affairs and making sure Jason was alright so that you could go get a good shower after your mission. 

[makethatelevenrings]

It’s White and Gold // D. Grayson x f!reader

Requested: yes!

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: You would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend for the very first time and you needed something formal to wear. Well, fuck.

Part of assassin!verse but can be read alone

“Well, I think the only reasonable solution here is that I go ask Ivy if she can concoct something that will keep me housebound for a week and we have to cancel the date,” you announced from the other side of the curtain. Stephanie booed as Cassandra tossed a shoe at your feet. You emerged from the thick rayon fabric and sent a half-hearted glare at the three women seated in front of you. You spun in a slow circle, your arms extended at your side to show off the dress Cass had picked out. Barbara glanced up from her phone and scrunched her nose up.

“Nah. Too much sequins. That would be so uncomfortable to eat in,” she declared. You dropped your arms to your sides and grimaced. She was right. The little plastic circles dug into your skin and it would be a bitch and a half to move around in.

“Fuck it. I’m staying home,” you declared.

“Who taught her that word?” Damian sighed as he emerged from the racks. “Right. Todd. I don’t know why I even bothered to ask. May I just say, those sequins are awful.”

“Thank you, tiny Tan France,” Stephanie said. “We get it. It’s a bad dress.”

“Sorry, Steph.” You knew she wasn’t taking the criticism to heart even if she had picked the dress. It was just the first time you would be going on a real date with Dick to some high-end Bludhaven restaurant as both a PR opportunity and as a mission. Rumor had it that a certain politician would be present with one of the largest cartel leaders and Dick needed a chance to bug their dinner and gather intel. 

Which meant that you would be stepping out in public as Dick Grayson’s girlfriend.

Dick Grayson, the son of the Prince of Gotham. The Heartthrob of Bludhaven.

The man who fell asleep into his oatmeal this morning.

“Is it too late for me to fake my death, change my name, and fall off the face of the earth?”

“Been there, done that,” Damian hummed. “Father can’t possibly do even more of that paperwork. It nearly took him out the first time.”

Cass nodded. “No, no. This could work. He ate the last oreos. Go ahead. Fake your death.”

“No one is faking anyone’s death,” Barbara cut in. “Let’s just try a different store.”

You groaned. “This is the fourth store we’ve tried and we have three hours until reservations. I might as well just go in sweats and call it a night.”

Stepping back into the dressing room, you ignored the bickering outside from your entourage and instead focused on stripping off the dress and putting it back on the hanger. It wasn’t your fault you didn’t have any formal wear. You were never assigned jobs where you needed to get dressed up. Your role was always to hide in the shadows, not to be seen. This was the exact opposite of what your training required and it was starting to grate on your nerves. How could you do this?

As if he could sense your frustration, your phone rang from the pile of your belongings tucked on the bench in the dressing room. You picked it up and glanced at the caller ID, a small smile crossing your lips as you swiped your thumb across the screen and answered.

“Hi, Buttercup,” Dick greeted. Warmth suffused through your veins at his soft greeting and you ducked your head as heat rose to your face. Fucking hell, you had at least seventeen confirmed kills under your belt and Richard Grayson made you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Hey,” you replied. “Are you cool with me wearing a bathrobe and slippers to dinner tonight?”

He laughed and you wished desperately that he was here in this tiny dressing room with you. You wanted to feel his hands enclose around your waist, stroke along your skin, and kiss your temple. You wanted to feel the safety he offered. You had four Batlings sitting on the other side of the flimsy curtain and you had years of training, but you never felt as safe as you did when Dick was near.

“Babe, you could wear one of my old shirts and those cute little shorts you wear and I wouldn’t care. I take it shopping isn’t going well?”

“I didn’t realize Damian religiously watches Queer Eye and Drag Race because you would think I’ve committed the most egregious fashion sins with the options I picked.”

He laughed again and then sighed. “I figured it wasn’t going well since you weren’t home yet. Stop stressing yourself out, baby, I can hear you thinking over the phone. Anything you wear is going to look amazing, okay? Just wear whatever makes you comfortable.”

“But the media…”

“Fuck the paparazzi. Fuck them all. Your comfort is more important than a stupid magazine cover.”

You gave up fighting the grin that spread across your face and shook your head. Holding the phone with one hand, you tugged your pants on with the other. “Okay. We’ll try one more store and if I can’t find anything, I’ll come home and figure it out.”

“Good. I miss you, Buttercup.”

“Miss you too, Westley.”

You hung up so you could pull your shirt over your head (it was actually Dick’s shirt that you had stolen but he wasn’t going to argue) and gathered up your wallet and keys. You emerged from the dressing room to join the others and your little gaggle of Batlings led you to another shop at the mall.

“Wait,” you called once your eyes caught on a mannequin in the window of some store. Steph nearly collided with you when you stopped in the middle of walking. The blonde examined the outfit and a crooked grin spread across her face.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” she cooed. “Let’s go try it on.”

Dick kept himself entertained as he waited for you by playing fetch with Haley. Cass and Steph had practically shoved you into the apartment with a bag clutched in your hand, waved at Dick, and disappeared as you darted towards the bedroom before he could say anything. He was glad he already changed into his tux because the clock was inching closer to your reservation time.

The bedroom door creaked with its aged hinges but it was enough to catch his attention. Dick raised his head and promptly lost all ability to breathe, think, and speak. You offered him a shy smile and ran your hands over the soft fabric that clung to your body. A thick strap rested over one shoulder, leaving your neck and arms exposed, and pulled taut across your chest. You had forgone a dress, but the jumpsuit was still formal enough for the restaurant you were attending.

And it was Nightwing blue.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice quiet with apprehension. Dick sucked in a big gulp of air and he dropped the ball in his hand, sending Haley scrabbling across the wood in pursuit. He rose and crossed the room to stand before you. His hands rose to hover over your hips as his eyes raked over every inch of your body.

“Beautiful,” he whispered. His hands finally came down to settle on your waist and then drifted down to cup the back of your thighs, pulling you into his chest. You laughed at his desperation and eagerness.

“Is that a knife strapped to your thigh?” he murmured against your lips. You fixed the lapels of his suit and smoothed them down, a mischievous smile taking hold of your face.

“Ready to go to work, Mr. Grayson?” you teased.

“I owe Steph my life,” he groaned.

Tag List: @someoneimsure​ @perpetual-fangirl900​ @visagebrise​ @cursedandromedablack​ @alexxavicry​ @the-wayward-daughter​ @raging-trash-of-mind​ @bunny-kawa​ @khaylin27​

[beiasluv]

hey!! i was thinking maybe a neteyam x y/n where he keeps finding her in compromising situations with aonung or another guy? obviously just misunderstandings but id like to see him jealous, yk maybe sad (not saying anything to her, moping, etc) until he kind of explotes…😁up to you, thanks x

jealous neteyam

a/n: YASS, feel free to cancel me because I love jealous trope. anyways, guys, communication is the key to relationships but this is just for entertainment purposes / enjoy🤍

masterlist

of all the times that neteyam sees you, it always has to be the worst time possible.

falling on top of ao’nung? checked. patching his face up? checked. him stabling you by your waist? checked. the list just goes on and on

“oh my goodness, i- i am so sorry, let me help you,” you fell upon the teal metkayina, face landing on his chest.

“um- sorry,” he pushed himself off the ground reaching for your waist by his hands.

of course, he didn’t think anything of it, until it started reoccurring many times

what about the time when you were straddling a metkayina boy on his lap? isn’t that obvious?

how about when you swam off into the ocean with him? he felt his heart shattered into a million pieces right at the beach.

if that’s not enough, what about the time when he heard your heavenly voices with another guy in the marui. he knew what those voices were about, he wasn’t born yesterday

unfortunately to you, neteyam started acting differently

he seemed to distance himself…? it’s weird how he doesn’t sit next to you while eating anymore…or, or what about him not cuddling before bedtime?

it broke your heart, what have you done wrong? so you took matters in your hand

“nete, love, you okay?” your soft hand reached for his chin.

“yes, i am fine, i am going to bed, night,” and without a look towards your direction, the lights flickered off.

he stopped hugging you, hell, he even stopped kissing you

but he’ll never miss a chance to show his dominance while other people are around. will definitely snake an arm around your waist.

that’s the only time you’ve ever felt his warmth in many months

the only time he’ll talk to you is when there’s other guy around

“excuse us, we have something planned today, let’s go, y/n,” he grabbed your hand and left the confused metkayina alone.

of course, there wasn’t a word spilled during the walk back to your marui. he didn’t even took an effort to look you in the eyes, don’t even expect a word from his mouth.

at the marui is all the same, he left you alone, in your shared bed, consumed by your thoughts

and this pain just need another thorn to make it worst

“pl- please, y/n, stop,” a new voice rung though his twitching ears

“hold still, it will hurt a little,” a familiar tune hit his ears.

“plea- please, make it quick”

you yearn for his touch everyday, and as if faith wasn’t on your sad, he distanced himself day by day

his eyes doesn’t sparkle like it used to, his touch doesn’t spark against your skin like it used to.

he always come home late with those darkened under eyes. did he stayed with his brother to escape the pain with you?

you see every time he sighed to himself while taking to you. is he bored of you?

how can he leave you? after all the things you’ve been through together? of course, he would leave you, right…?

he stopped holding your hand, stopped holding your waist, no more intertwining tails.

what about the vows you’ve made? did they mattered after all?

you tired your best to fill this love everyday, but it’s draining you to fill it by yourself

“love you, neteyam, stay safe,” you kissed his cheek as he pulled away quickly.

“love you too,” he said quietly.

“say it like you mean it”

“what?”

“say it like you really mean it, i know you don’t love me anymore,” you fought back the tears in your eyes.

“how do you know i don’t love you?!”

“because you’ve been acting like one big prick!” a year fell down your cheek. “i don’t even know if you want me anymore, you wanted to unmate me, right?” you’ve met with a silence in his face, and your heart dropped a thousand miles.

“so i am right, huh?” “you wanted to unmate me?”

“NO, NOT NOW, NOT EVER I WANTED THAT, YOU ARE THE WRONG IN THIS!”

“THEN WHAT HAVE I DONE TO MAKE YOU HEARTLESS LIKE THIS? this is not the man I’ve mated with under eywa that night!”

“DO NOT THINK I AM STUPID, I SAW YOU WITH AO’NUNG AND OTHER GUYS, THE WAY YOU GUYS ARE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER, THE GAMES YOU GUYS ARE PLAYING BEHIND MY BACK!”

“wh- what are you talking about?” a whimper escaped your lips.

“do not act innocent, you are cheating on my behind my back!” he cried and gripped his arm so tight that it formed a bruise on his arms.

“i have never! i would never do something like that”

“then why do i keep seeing you on top of him, on him, and your voices while you are doing the deed with him?”

“what deed?” you whimpered, his hands punching the wall, sending a tremble down your spine. “yo- you must have misunderstood the situation”

“oh, have i?”

“i fell on top of him, and i offered to patch up his wounds for him,” you realized how stupid you guys were.

“what?”

“you thought i was having sex with him? how dare you, i don’t even think his teal skins are as beautiful as yours,” you held him in your embrace.

“w- what? i am such a prick,” he punched himself in the face.

“no, no, no, stop, please,” his hands find their comfort in yours

“i am so stupid! i am the worst mate you could ever ask for!”

“you are the only mate i ever have”

“please, please, please…forgive me…”

and the rest was history 🥺

neteyam is the sweetest thing you can ever have but don’t ever make him misunderstand things again, because is he sad SAD

love ya’ll take care of yourselves 🤍 go touch some grass 😳

@rosaryos / @bumblinbumblvee / @nyotamalfoy / @fangirl-2610 / @astablacksword / @lokisblueskin

[ladykailitha]

Royal Pain Part 3

Hello! I was going to post this yesterday but I thought I would be busier for WIP Wednesday which only two people participated in (sad author noises). And then I was waffling about putting up a meta about Steve’s parents (I ended up just saving it in my ‘bit of everything’ file). And then I realized it was super late and should put this up before I forget again.

This next part is for @weirdandabsurd42  who mentioned being excited to see Wayne and was thusly added (because I almost forgot to put him there, oops!), thereby creating one of my favorite lines I’ve ever written so...thanks! 

Part 1 Part 2

***

Steve closed up his shop with a spring in his step and a grumpy Robin following behind.

“I can’t believe you are dragging me to a metal concert,” she groused as she locked the door behind her.

“You don’t have to come,” Steve said with a grin. “You can stay home on a Saturday, all by yourself with a pint of ice cream and the latest rom-com.”

Robin glared at him. “You know that I have to come with you so you don’t throw yourself at Eddie.”

Steve rolled his eyes as they walked to his car. “I’m not going to throw myself at him.”

Robin clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh that’s right I forgot! You already have!”

Steve glared at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” she asked, sliding into the car. “So what do you call offering to do his back tattoo?”

Steve already in the car, hit his head on his steering wheel. “Fucccckkkk.” He hit it over and over. “Why did I do that? Why did he agree? What am I going to do?”

Robin rubbed his back. “I think this is good thing for you. If you do well on his wings then you can start doing large pieces again. And if not, then you know it’s not something you can do and you’ll never do another one ever again.”

Steve sighed and wrapped his arms around the steering wheel. “I just wanted him to like me.”

“As person, as friend or as a boyfriend?” Robin asked seriously.

“All of the above?” Steve said raising his head to look at her. “Apparently the first one has been met. I’d take the second one, but I would love the last one more than anything.”

“Well this weekend will be a great opportunity to test the waters and see how he feels. Because even if he wants to be friends now, there’s still a chance he might want something more in the future. Just don’t bank on it.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.” He took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay.” He turned the key and pulled out of their parking lot.

“This would be a good time to get a couple of apprentices of your own,” she said after a few miles of silence. “You’re going to be spending a lot of hours on Eddie’s tattoo and you’re going to need someone to pick up the slack.”

Steve let out a shuddering sigh. “I know. I’ll start putting out feelers in the community and see what’s out there.”

Robin nodded. “We’ll put up filers at the local colleges and universities as well as putting it up on our website. I’ll talk to Will and see what he can come up with for both.”

“I know he’ll turn it down but offer him the usual rates for that sort of thing,” Steve agreed.

Robin laughed. “Fingers crossed he’ll accept this time.”

*

Eddie walked into his apartment and flopped face first into his couch. It had been such a whirlwind day. He wasn’t even sure he could function. That really was the downside to having a full time gig. Having all this free time.

Because yeah, Eddie and the rest of Corroded Coffin practiced nearly every day, and they were always coming up with new music, it just wasn’t the same as full time job. He didn’t have to do anything but show up and perform two nights a week. He could phone it in if he wanted.

Not that he would. Just...that he could. Which meant on days when his head was spiraling he could stew for days and never leave this couch.

He rolled over and pulled out his phone and dialed that familiar number.

“Munson residence!” came the gruff familiar voice.

“When are you going to at least get a caller ID, old man!” Eddie crowed.

“Shut it, boy,” Wayne growled. “I have one and it works just fine, the greeting is polite. Something I thought I raised you better in.”

Eddie giggled. “You love me.”

“Lord help me, but I do,” Wayne agreed. “You calling to talk or to listen?”

It was something that they had established long before Eddie left Hawkins to live on his own in the big city. Long before before Eddie took three years to graduate. Long before Al Munson abandoned his son on his baby brother’s door step for one last job. A job that would land him in prison. They had this code. Well, not really a code.

Just this thing between them. When Eddie had a rough day, he would call Wayne. But depending on the swirling of emotions going through his head, sometimes he just need to hear Wayne talk about his day. Gossip about his neighbors. Let the words flow over him until he felt at ease enough to go to sleep.

Other nights, though. The really bad ones. The ones where Eddie needed advice, he would talk. Sometimes Eddie would figure it out on his own, other times he would need Wayne to give him advice. This was one of those nights.

“Talk,” Eddie breathed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Wha’cha got, Ed?” Wayne asked gently.

And Eddie just let it all spill out. The tattoos, Steve, the band, feeling like they had stagnated.

“That’s a lot on your plate, boy,” Wayne said. “I can see why you wanted to share.”

Eddie let out a shuddering sigh. “I don’t know what to do about...well any of it to be honest.”

Wayne hummed. “When was the last time you went out and did something fun? Something for just yourself? And don’t say get a tattoo because that’s part of the tangled mess right now.”

Eddie blinked. When was the last time he had gone out for drinks, saw a movie, or even listened to music other than his own? “I’m not sure.”

“Well there you go,” Wayne said. “Creativity isn’t endless, boy. It’s a well and you’re going through a drought because you aren’t taking in any influences other then that feedback loop you’re on.”

“Oh.”

“It doesn’t have to be with your friends or even that boy you’ve got your eye on,” Wayne explained. “Just go out and have fun for yourself, ya hear?”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, already feeling lighter. “Thanks, Uncle Wayne.”

“Rest well, okay?” Wayne murmured.

“You too.”

*

Jeff shook his head and rolled his eyes as he watched Eddie play with his rings, his knee bouncing up and down.

“Chill!” Gareth growled. “For fuck’s sake. We are professionals, we’ve done this twice a week for years. What’s got your panties in a twist this time?”

Jeff wagged his eyebrows. “This time pretty boy Steve Harrington is going to be in the crowd. With a girl no less.”

“She’s gay,” Eddie bit out. “A literal flaming lesbian. I just have to pass the best friend test with her. And considering she wanted me to get his number, I’m pretty sure I don’t have to work that hard.”

“I noticed you didn’t deny that you’re nervous about Pretty Boy being in the audience tonight,” Brian teased.

Eddie threw up his hands in the air and leapt to his feet. “All right, yeah. I’m nervous. Even when I did have boyfriends that would show up, I knew they liked the music. But I have no idea if Steve is just being nice or if he’s actually interested in hearing us play.”

Jeff cocked his head. “Yeah, I can see how you might be worried he won’t like it. But if he doesn’t, isn’t better you know that now, before your feelings get in too deep?”

Eddie’s lip quivered. “Yes. I mean, of course. But it still makes me feel like crawling out of my skin, okay?”

“Okay,” Gareth said. “So do what you do best and throw yourself into the music. Let it wash over you. You are a consummate performer. So kick ass.”

Eddie nodded and the nod slowly turned into a head bang with him playing air guitar. By the time the knock came to let them know it was time, Eddie was ready to go out there and rock.

*

Steve hadn’t been to The Nightmare Holes before. It hadn’t even been on his radar at all. That was so weird, especially since it was almost literally doors down from Robin and his favorite club.

Well that was until they were dropped off in front of a large concrete building that didn’t look like a bar from the outside at any stretch of the imagination. In fact the only thing that stuck out at all was a neon sign with a large arrow pointing to a set of stairs leading down proclaiming this to be The Nightmare Holes.

When they got into the bar, Steve realized that they were going to stick out like a sore thumb. With Steve looking prep and Robin looking punk, they were going to be murdered before Eddie even got on stage.

They were saved by a goddess if you believed Robin later. This pretty woman in a tank top and tight leather pants with four inch heeled boots came up to them.

“Hey!” she greeted warmly. “You must be Stevie, right?”

Steve nodded. “I’m afraid you’re one up on me. You know me, but I don’t know you.”

She smiled much to Robin’s chagrin. “I’m Miranda, girlfriend of the rhythm guitarist, Jeff Lawrence. He was worried that Eddie might have forgotten to tell you that wearing your usual clothes might make you stand out.” She waved her hands at them. Both Robin and Steve blushed. “You aren’t too bad actually. I was think you would be much worse the way Jeff was going on.”

“He only saw us at work,” Robin explained once she picked her jaw up off the ground. “He might have assumed that we wear that on the regular.”

Miranda nodded. “You can do this one of two ways. Stay dressed as you are as big middle finger to conformity no matter who’s conforming to what or you come with me and I can tweak your looks enough that you don’t stand out as much.”

Steve looked down at his clothes and tilted his head. “I think I’m going to give conformity the middle finger, thanks. I’ve been bucking what people think a tattoo artist should look like for years. I’m not going to change that for one little concert.”

Miranda nodded appreciatively. “Good on you. How about you, princess? You gonna give conformity the middle finger, too?”

Robin looked down at her clothes and blushed. “I think most metalheads would say a punk is being a step too far.”

Miranda laughed. “You’re probably right. Let’s go see if I can metal you up a bit.”

The two ladies came back a few minutes later. Robin still had her chunky jewelry and smudged makeup. But her billowy plaid pants were replaced by tight black jeans and instead of her vest, she wore a black jacket. Her hair had been tamed to a more relaxed style.

Steve grinned at her. “Looking good, Robs!”

Robin blushed. “I made a new friend.”

Miranda laughed. “Thanks for that.” She looked around and then leaned forward conspiratorially. “Just a little secret between us new besties.”

Steve and Robin shared a glance, but both nodded.

“I don’t like metal music, either,” she whispered and winked. She turned around so she faced the stage. “But I’m here because my Jeffie does. So if you don’t like the music, because hey, you might not, don’t sweat it. They put on a good show and we’re here for them.” She jutted her chin up at the stage just as the house lights went down and the stage lights went up.

Standing the spotlight was Eddie. He wore a slashed up band shirt, tight jeans, and his leather jacket. A jacket Steve was about to learn wasn’t going to feature long. About twenty minutes into the show, the jacket was gone and Steve could see a peek of the new tattoo through the slits in the shirt.

He licked his lips slowly. Ooh...that was tantalizing. And then Eddie threw caution and his shirt to the wind and everyone saw Eddie’s new tattoo.

Robin turned to Steve wide-eyed. “Holy shit, it blends seamlessly into the rest of the tattoos, like it was there first.”

Miranda peered around Robin to look at Steve, too. “Yeah, man. You did a hell of a job. You should be proud of that.”

Steve was. No doubt. But he was prouder of the fact that Eddie wanted everyone to see it. It melted his heart and settled at the base of his spine, like he had drank a cup of hot chocolate all at once.

And that was when Steve realized he would do anything for Eddie. Even if that meant just being friends.

***

My new favorite line? * “Lord help me, but I do,” Wayne agreed. “You calling to talk or to listen?” * It’s just so...Wayne, you know?

Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11 Part 12  Part 13 Part 14  Part 15  Part 16 Part 17  Part 18 Part 19  Part 20  Part 21 Part 22  Part 23  Part 24  Part 25 Part 26  Part 27  Part 28  Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @renaissan-vvitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @bookworm0690 @aizawa-emma  @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @archermightbegay @hallucinatedjosten 

[ifimdreaming]

Any chance you could write some fluff about taking care of Matthew Knies after his concussion?

blurb!

you're supposed to be resting

matthew knies x reader || fluff

summary: basically eaxctly was was requested, and matthew is very stubborn

author's note: im so sorry this took so long! ive been super busy lately

word count: 1k

-

you didn't even have to open the front door before you could hear the sound of the tv playing, you knew matthew was watching the leafs play. Having supposed to be essentially on bed rest after his concussion, it infuriated you to know he wasn't taking it completely seriously.

You told him you werent coming over until later so you knew he wasnt expecting you, but you couldnt stand knowing he was home alone, probably not taking care of himself like he should be

You open the door and see matt click the tv off immediately. He looks over at you with a knowing look and you shake your head back at him. After closing the door behind you, you kick your shoes off and head to the kitchen to put away the food you bought for the weekend. 

“Hi baby, you're here early…” matthew says finally 

“What are you doing?” you ask, seeing as he is sitting on the couch with no tv on

“Im…uh” he starts, “don't lie.” you say, breaking him

“Fine, I turned the game on. But I swear I was only going to watch for a minute. It was killing me.” 

You roll your eyes and head over to sit beside him on the couch. You knew it killed him not to be able to play tonight, let alone attend the game. But he was under strict rules not to watch any screens or devices, as to not worsen his concussion. 

“I know matty” you say as you sit right next to your boyfriend, cuddling into his side and lifting your legs to rest bent on his lap. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you tighter and resting his hand on your butt

“How about i distract you” you suggest, knowing it would eat him alive anyway, just listening to the game and not being able to watch

“Hm. i like that idea” he says, leaning his head back against the couch and closing his eyes tightly. You could tell the brightness of the room was irritating him

“Hey! how bout we go upstairs and cuddle, yeah?” you knew if you suggested he lay down in a dark room without you he would not be very happy about that. He hated this recovery period, so honestly the most effective method in helping him recover was treating him like a little kid and making things sound like the best idea ever. 

“Id love that” he says, lifting you up with him bridal style as he stands up from the couch and starts heading towards the stairs. 

“Wait! Pit stop!” you say pointing towards the kitchen and he turns on his heels

“On it” he says, obeying your demands as he carries you towards the kitchen

“Freezer please!” you say and he heads towards the freezer door. You open it and pull out an ice pack for his head. Matthew rolls his eyes, knowing you were slightly tricking him into getting the ice for himself

“Ok lets go bud.” you say sharply as you pat his chest, not giving him any time to complain 

you place the ice pack at the back of matts neck, holding it there as you head upstairs. When you reach the bedroom you swiftly turn the light off as you pass by the door, making sure the room is perfect in aiding matthews injury.

“I know what you're doing you know” matt says as he places you down on the bed

“What? Coming over to cuddle with you?” 

“Mm more like coming over to take care of me?” he says, mocking your voice and making you crack a smile. He sits beside you in the dark room as you lie in his bed, and wait for him to join you

“Well you were literally doing everything you shouldn't be doing when i walked in sooo…”

“I've been lying down all day long!” he says exasperatedly, knowing you're right 

“Well I'm here now. and I want to cuddle. So we're gonna lie down some more mkay?” you say sassily as you reach in front of you, trying to find him in the dark. You find his chest and pull him towards you by his shirt, urging him to give in to you

Matthew took this as an opportunity to place a kiss on your lips, catching you off guard. After a moment, you lean into the kiss and matthew scoots closer to you, closing the space that was between you both

Matthew passionately grabs you by the waist as he leans over your body, kissing down your neck, making his way to your chest

You pull his face up to yours and he fights to bring it down again

“Matty!” you whine and he continues kissing you cheeks after leaving bruises on your neck

“You're supposed to be resting.” you say with a laugh and he sits up on his elbows, hovering over you, and you can just tell there is a smirk on his face. 

He places a gentle kiss on your lips, ignoring your previous statement. 

“This is not resting” you say as you press your pointer finger to his lips and you can feel his smirk grow against your finger. You're trying really hard not to sound like a babysitter, but are still trying to look out for him

“Ok fine” he sighs out as he collapses beside you. With his body off of yours, you take this as an opportunity to reach down to the end of the bed and find the ice pack that was left there, swiftly placing it behind his head.

Without a word he turns his head to look at you with squinted eyes. Even in the dark, you can just see the annoyance plastered all over his face. You hold in a laugh as you adjust his pillow, continuing to care for your injured boyfriend. 

He helps you adjust the sheets as you both get undr the covers. Regardless of his feigned annoyance, you knew matthew did appreciate you and what you were doing for him. 

“Ok ok ok” Matthew says, stopping you as you are still adjusting his ice pack. he pulls you in beside him and you immediately place a hand under his shirt, moving your hand up and down his chest. Something you always did to comfort him.

 He begins placing kisses to the top of your head as you cuddle in beside him, relaxing completely under his touch

-

-

[the1975attheirverybest]

need this matty specifically to rail me to within an inch of my life in that bathtub behind him (minus the socks around it lmaooo) (also no i did not send this ask, you’re wrong)

if it were you who’d sent this ask id check in and ask if you’re okay. But I suppose you are cuz who wouldn’t wanna be railed in a bathtub by this guy?

it’s a shame it’s not you, though….cuz I’ve got some thoughts. They’re unhinged and unrealistic. Do not try this at home kids cuz I suspect it would be cold. But anyways….

Matty heard the sound of her heels as she walked into the bathroom and looked up at the mirror, smiling as her reflection appeared behind him. “You’re not ready yet?” She chastised. “We’re going to be late, you know.”

Matty looked down at himself, then back at her, “what do you mean I’m not ready? I am. Don’t l look good?” He ran a hand through his hair, scrutinizing the grey streak at the front of his hair. “oh, that’s what you’re wearing?” he grinned, “is it not enough?” He glanced at the counter full of products and accessories and then smiled, putting on her leather bracelet, and then her sunglasses “okay, NOW, I’m ready.”

she giggled as he struck a dramatic pose, but she had to admit, he looked way too attractive for this to be a joke. “Hold on, you’re missing one thing.” She grabbed one of the rings off the counter and slid it over his pinkie finger. “There. Now, you’re perfect.” Matty pushed the sunglasses down when he noticed the way that her gaze had lingered on the leather cuff.

An idea occurred to him. A vision, really. He rushed to light the candles that had remained around the bathtub from last night’s elaborate aftercare session, using the cigarette lighter in his pockets. He handed her the sunglasses back before heading for his open suitcase. “Matty, what’re you- we’re already late- people are expecting us!”

“people are boring.” He said, one hand behind his back, hiding what he’d brought back in, his other hand grabbed her by the waist. “Close your eyes and kiss me, yeah?”

***

her knees hit against the porcelain tub as another ruined orgasm evaded her, shaking her body from head to toe. “Please, Matty, please, my love - need-“ she felt suddenly cold when he pulled away from her naked body. he’d driven her crazy, cupping her breasts, kissing in between them, twisting and squeezing her nipples as he pleased, he’d sucked and bitten on her neck, sure to leave a mark that will be difficult to cover up tomorrow. Getting her wet and pushing his clothed center against her throbbing exposed cunt had brought him a smile. “wrists.” He stated simply, and waited for her to offer them willingly for him to tie up above her head. “you wet enough?” A hint of trouble in his question. “sooo wet, pleaseee”

he still slipped his finger inside her to check, taking the chance to tease her a bit. Once certain that it was comfortable, he pulled out the remote controlled bullet vibrator — a purchase made specifically for travel adventures. It’s compact, small, easy to hide, and lends itself nicely to controlling from a distance— slipping it inside of her. “ohh- fuck!” She knew what was coming, and it was torture. He’d clicked it on, taking a moment to enjoy her writhing and moaning against the bathtub before going about his business. “Don’t you dare cum without my say so. You got that?” He announced, casually.

“yeah- yesss.”

her moaning and desperate crying filled the bathroom as he went through her makeup and jewelry items in search of some inspiration. Every now and then, he would remember to click the remote, adjusting the speed or rhythm and hearing her suffer for him. He almost took pity on her when he heard her assure him, without prompting, “I- I- I didn’t cum, I promise. Just- fuck…really really want to.”

he meandered leisurely towards the bathtub and look down, the flickering flames of teacup candles giving him an idea. “you wanna cum?”

“so- so- so much. Please, honey. Please matty….”

as she spoke, matty lifted the candle over her body, tilting it slightly. she shrieked in hot, white pain as the melted wax dripped over her skin. Her back lifting in the air, a feeble attempt to escape her confines. Matty gave her a moment to adjust before repeating the name process again with another candle. as he splattered different colors of wax all over her breasts and stomach, she couldn’t help but clench around the vibrator inside her and, moan, with pain and with pleasure. her gut wrenching cries had turned to small sniffles when he ran out of wax. He sprinkled some of her make up glitter all over her burning skin and pulled out his phone for some photos as she shook and held in her orgasms, dutifully. the flashing phone camera had alerted him to her tear stained cheeks, making him smile. “alright. You’ve had enough, darling.” Gently, he crouched down, reaching over and slipping the toy out of her. she whined pathetically. in response, Matty lined up the shower head with her cunt and turned on the water. He used his empty hand to expose her clit focusing the water stream directly on it. “cum for me, my darling. Let go. Let me have you.”

[q-gorgeous]

Bleeding Colors

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 2175

Soulmate Au where after your soulmate dies, you can only see in black and white. As in you see normal colors until they die and then only in black and white for the rest of your life, so you only ever know if you had a soulmate once it's too late. Except Character A’s (up to you who you want it to be) soulmate is Danny. While Danny is in Phantom form, character A’s vision is in black and white, but returns to normal color when Danny is Fenton. Character A is going crazy trying to find their soulmate who keeps dying and getting resurrected. @ghostboidanny

heres an old work of mine that also helped inspire this new fic :D its a fic with the same concept. its titled Colors and so i thought id give this one a similar name jhugyf

soulmate au boogaloo 

Dash walked back to the locker room with the rest of the guys after football practice was over. Coach was extra hard on them today and Dash could smell it. 

He made his way to his locker and grabbed his body wash and shampoo and his bag with his regular clothes and a towel. It was one of those days where he absolutely needed a shower immediately after practice. There was no way he was going home smelling like this. 

He found an empty shower stall and set his stuff down, pulling the curtain closed. He undressed and turned the water on. He was squeezing some shampoo into his hands when something started happening. 

The color started bleeding out of everything. At first he thought it was the lighting, the lights went out, maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. But the color faded from every single thing in the room. In his panic, he slipped on the wet floor and dropped his bottle of shampoo. 

“Haha.” He heard Keith laugh at him from another shower stall. “You know what they say, Dash. Don’t drop the soap.”

He could hear the guys laugh at him from their shower stalls. His curtain got pulled back and Kwan was standing there.

“You know what that means in our locker room.” Kwan looked at him with a serious expression on his face. “Time for the torture of a tickle fight.” He waggled his fingers in the air at Dash. After a moment, Kwan’s brows furrowed as he looked at him.

“Dash, are you okay?”

Dash made eye contact with Kwan and took a few deep breaths.

“The color drained out of my vision. It’s all gone. Everything is in black and white now.”

The laughter of the guys around him stopped and everyone was silent.

“Shit, man.” Keith said quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

Everyone gave Dash their condolences and went back to their showers quietly. Kwan still stood by his open curtain. 

“Will you be okay?” He asked.

Dash nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think I ever got the chance to meet them. At least I’m not losing someone that I already knew. That would make it-”

Dash was startled into silence when he saw the color start to seep back into everything. He stared around him as everything went back to the way it had always been. 

“It’s back. They didn’t die.” 

Kwan sighed in relief and the other guys cheered.

Pulling the curtain closed again, Kwan walked away. Dash went back to his shower. He picked up the shampoo bottle off the ground and clicked the cap shut. 

What happened? Was his soulmate sick? How did they die and come back to life?

Dash considered himself lucky. It would have sucked if he went his whole life without meeting his soulmate. He’s glad they’re okay. They still had a chance. 

-----

Dash didn’t know what was going on. He felt like he was losing his goddamn mind. 

It had been two months since the first time his soulmate died. And it had happened everyday since then. Often more than once a day! What the hell was going on?

At first he had asked around school. You haven’t died recently, have you? You haven’t been having a lot of near death experiences, right? But the more it kept happening, the more he realized that his soulmate wasn’t anyone that he knew. He didn’t know anyone that would have these serious health conditions that would cause them to be dying every single day. 

That was how he got this idea.

He looked at where Fenton, Manson, and Foley sat on the other side of the cafeteria, eating their lunches. They knew people he didn’t. Maybe they would know something. 

He walked over towards their table and stopped behind where Manson and Foley sat. Fenton looked up at him and Dash waited until the other two turned around to face him.

“What do you want, Dash?” Manson snapped, glaring up at him. 

Dash swallowed. He’d never admit how much she actually intimidated him. He just had to push forward and get the information he was looking for. 

“You guys seem like you’re into some freaky shit. Do you know any kids who keep getting raised from the dead?”

Fenton looked like Dash had grown a second head. Manson and Foley stared at him with similar expressions. 

“No, Dash. We don’t know any zombies.” Manson said.

“Haha. I’m being serious. Are there any kids doing weird occult things, kids with health issues whose heart keeps stopping, are there any kids from Casper High who are in the hospital right now?”

“Why?” Fenton asked. 

Dash pressed his lips together. Did he want to tell them that he was trying to figure out who his soulmate was? Did he want to give them that information?

He didn’t debate on it for long before he caved. 

“I’m actually trying to find my soulmate.” He said honestly. “Everyday a couple times a day my vision goes black and white before it goes back to normal again. I don’t know if my soulmate has some serious health problems or if they’re into some really weird shit, but I want to try and find them before they inevitably end up croaking.”

The trio was silent for a few seconds before Foley bursted out laughing.

Dash flushed. “What? Wouldn’t you want to try to find your soulmate if it looked like they were going to die soon?”

“Shut up, Tucker!” Manson hissed at him. She turned to face him again. “Sorry, Dash but we don’t know anyone like that.” 

Dash looked from Foley to Manson and then to Fenton. For some reason Fenton had turned as red as a tomato. 

“Are you guys sure?” Dash asked.

Fenton nodded meekly. “Like Sam said, we don’t know any zombies.” He squeaked out. 

Dash’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “Thanks anyways.” 

He started walking away from them. He could hear hushed whispers behind him but he didn’t pay them any mind. 

Maybe his soulmate wasn’t even in Amity Park. If neither the geeks nor him and his friends knew a person like this from Casper High, maybe they just weren’t here. 

It dawned on him that with how things seemed to be going with his soulmate's health, it was likely they’d never get to meet. Dash resigned himself to the fact that he’d probably be seeing in black and white for the rest of his life very soon. 

——-

Dash was starting to notice something. 

It seemed like every time his soulmate was having health issues, dying or whatever was happening, was correlated to when Fenton would leave their classroom. Somehow. 

It couldn’t be Fenton. Fenton was as healthy as he could be. Sure, he could be healthier or more in shape, but he wasn’t sick or anything. No, something else was going on.

Maybe Fenton was secretly beating up his soulmate. Beating them to the point that they almost died. But how did they always come back to life? It didn’t make sense. None of it made any sense.

But that was why Dash decided to follow Danny the next time he went to the bathroom. That would be his chance to see what was happening out here when his soulmate was always dying. 

Danny ran out the door and Dash stood up and started following after him without so much of a thought to Lancer.

“Mr. Baxter, where are you going?” He asked.

“I, uh, also have to use the bathroom.”

Dash ran out before Lancer could protest and looked for Danny. 

He saw him turn a corner down the hallway and Dash started running. He couldn’t let Danny out of his sight. He needed to know what the boy was doing every time he left the classroom. He needed to know if it was related to his soulmate or not. 

Dash turned the corner that Danny went around just in time to see him go into a janitor’s closet. Why was he going in there? Did he and Sam meet to make out in there? Gross. Wait, if this was related to the whole soulmate thing it couldn’t be Sam. She was also healthy and didn’t look very close to dying all the time. 

Dash reached the door and pulled it open just in time to hear Danny yell. 

“Going ghost!” 

Dash’s eyes opened wide as he stared at Danny. A white ring appeared around his waist and split into two. They traveled up and around him, disappearing as they went over his head and feet and there in front of Dash stood Phantom.

Danny Phantom. 

As those rings had traveled along Danny’s body, the color faded from his view once more. Everything faded to black and white. Then Danny turned around and met Dash’s eyes, his own opening wide.

They were a bright, electric green. It was the only color left in the bleak, monotone world that had been replaced when Danny transformed. 

Tucker’s laughter from the day he asked them if they knew anyone who was being raised from the dead replayed in his head. All he could do was stare. 

“You? It’s you?”

“Dash-”

The building rumbled around them and Dash could hear someone scream from somewhere in the school. Danny’s face hardened. 

“I have to go. We can talk later.”

Dash watched as he flew away, phasing through the ceiling and out of sight. 

Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom. He was his soulmate. 

-----

Dash laid in his bed in his room later that night. Danny had never come back to class that day. Dash couldn’t help but feel like he was avoiding him.

He couldn’t blame him. If he was some nerd that found out the guy that bullied him at school everyday for years was his soulmate, he’d be pretty upset about it too. Danny probably thought that the world was playing some kind of cruel prank on him. 

The colors in his vision had come and gone all day since Danny transformed. He must’ve been off fighting ghosts. Right now Dash was surrounded by the bleak grayness of his room. Danny must’ve been transformed right now. What was he doing? Was he fighting ghosts? 

Dash was staring up at the ceiling when suddenly Phantom’s head was poking through the wall above his face.

“Ahh!” Dash shouted. He sat up suddenly as he tried to back away but he only accomplished knocking his and Danny’s foreheads together. 

“Ow!” Danny shouted. He phased the rest of the way through the wall as he held one of his hands to his face. He floated upside down in the air as he rubbed his forehead. 

“Sorry!” Dash said, rubbing his own forehead. That hurt. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be right there so suddenly.” 

“Yeah I guess that’s my fault.” Danny turned himself right side up and sat cross legged in the air. “I probably should’ve sent you a text before just showing up.”

They sat and stared at each other. Danny said they would talk later, and now it was later, but what were they even going to talk about?

“So you’re my soulmate, huh?” Danny said.

Dash fidgeted on his bed. “Yeah, I guess so.”

They sat in silence again. It made Dash twitchy and uncomfortable. He didn’t know what they were supposed to talk about.

“What now?” He blurted out. Danny gave him a quizzical look. 

“It’s not like we have to suddenly be together just because we’re soulmates.” Danny said. “We can at least start with being nice to each other and see where it takes us.”

“Oh.” Dash nodded. That sounded manageable. “Okay.”

“Unless you want to be together?” Danny gave him a sly grin.

“What?” Dash squeaked out.

“Sam and Tucker told me that you’re like, Phantom’s biggest fan even though you never got the chance to see me in my ghost form before.”

How did they know that? He thought he was pretty chill about Phantom!

Danny waved off whatever expression Dash was making at him. “Relax, I’m just teasing you. Haha.” He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Anyways, if we’re gonna just start with being nice to each other, we could go to my house and play some video games?” 

“Sure!” Dash stood up. “I’ll whip your ass at them though.”

“You better not, I won’t back down from a challenge.”

Now eye level with Danny, Dash stared at his eyes. They were still that electric green. 

“What?” Danny asked.

“Your eyes.” Dash said in wonder. “They’re green. They’re the only color I can see right now.” 

“Oh. That’s neat. They do say that eyes are the windows to the soul.”

“Yeah, the window to your soul telling me you’re not actually dead.” 

Danny threw his head back and barked out a laugh. “Ha! That was a good one. Now come on, if you beat me at Mario Kart I’ll let you stay for dinner. My mom’s making homemade mashed potatoes tonight.” 

“You’re on.”

[callsign-bunnie]

Hi, will you still make abo soap x ghost?

Where a drunk someone starts to get close to soap and ghost had to intervene.

ABO has such a special place in my heart, because I just... it's so fascinating and I could talk about it for hours.

--

Their relationship was fairly new. Maybe that worried Soap. He'd picked up on Ghost's hesitancies in courting Soap, but... he was trying not to dwell on them. Despite the false confidence he projected to everyone else, he was fairly insecure.

He was afraid he wouldn't be exciting enough for the alpha, which was a silly thought, he knew. He didn't even mean sexually, either. Ghost had expressed that he'd gotten used to a violent, never slow lifestyle and that had immediately went to Soap's head, making him nervous he'd never be enough.

Why was he even thinking about this? Well, Soap was watching another omega make attempt after attempt to Ghost. Ghost was turning every single try down but... well, Soap was insecure, what could he say?

Soap tried to push the thoughts out of his head, instead turning to the bar and ordering another drink. He both heralded and cursed his high alcohol tolerance, since his mind couldn't quite decide if he wanted to get drunk or not that night.

"Hey, sweetheart."

Soap's eyes instinctively rolled. Before Ghost, the attention from a random alpha would have had him excited, immediately but... well, one person took up all of his thoughts, lately, it seemed. He didn't want anyone else's attention, he just wanted Ghost's.

Soap did try to be polite. "Sorry, I'm not interested." He told the alpha, glancing to them. They weren't even his type. Smaller, but looked like they tried too hard to be big and scary. No, he didn't have a thing for try-hards.

"Are you sure? I could make you interested." The alpha leaned against the bar, drinking from his own glass.

Soap made a face and again looked at the alpha, able to tell, immediately, that they were drunk. The alpha's scent made him uncomfortable, smelling like honeydew melon, which was actually scent he liked... but this smelled sour. Rotten. He could almost taste the slime of fermentation dripping from it. "I don't think you could." He chuckled.

The alpha paused and then he looked irritated. "You could just give me a chance, you know." He huffed. "God, you omegas are all the same."

Soap took everything in himself not to just strangle the alpha right there. He was on thin ice with Price, as it was, and he doubted getting in a random barfight would lend anything good to his case. He took a breath, deciding to settle on just telling him off. "Listen-"

A presence grew at his back, and he watched the alpha's eyes travel up above Soap's head. "Fuck off." It was a simple order, but the sound of it made Soap's whole body shiver. An arm went around his middle and he smugly grinned at the alpha.

The alpha didn't even try to fight it, just quickly nodded. "Yes sir." Then, he was leaving.

Soap turned to look at Ghost, about to thank him, when he was suddenly being half dragged across the bar. Ghost dropped cash on it, grumbling that he wanted their IDs back.

Soap blinked. "Why?" He asked as the bartender quickly handed them back. It appeared no one wanted to mess with Ghost.

"Because we're going home." Ghost barely glanced at him, shoving their IDs in the pockets of his jeans, black which Soap would admit to thinking fit his ass just a little too well.

"Why?" Soap was slightly disappointed.

Ghost looked at him, his eyes dark. Oh. Soap shivered and then he was grinning when Ghost grabbed his wrist and practically yanked him out of the bar, having no problem following.

[wandas-luvr]

you know just how to be cruel

pairing: leigh shaw x fem!reader

summary: leigh comes over in the middle of the night to ask you a favor.

warnings: 18+ minors dni! soft(ish)dom!leigh (she is still her regular amount of mean), idk probably mommy kink undertones because that's how i live now, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), praise, criminal amounts of teasing, leigh being a rude, condescending bitch but she makes it up to you, leigh being unrightfully possessive (but it's okay bc it's hot), mediocre aftercare bc leigh

-

you look at the clock on your phone as you hear a loud, repetitive knock at your door. you ignore it, deciding no good could come from suspicious knocking at 3:45 am on a thursday, sighing and turning over, getting sucked back into whatever trashy reality tv show was coming on.

then your phone buzzes. once. twice. three times in the span of a minute. before you even get the chance to pick it up to see who it is, you receive a call. you look at the caller id suspiciously: leigh shaw. you click to answer immediately, having heard the news about her husband just recently, wondering if she was calling after missing your condolences call when you were told.

before you could even get a word out you here her voice on the other end of the line. short and clipped, no room to argue or joke with her.

"i'm outside, let me in, it's cold out."

you get up and walk to the door, eyebrows furrowed, wondering why on earth leigh shaw would show up to your door at this hour, especially after what had happened with matt. upon opening you see leigh, clearly upset, but not appearing to be sad. the only thing you can see in her eyes is anger.

"leigh, what are you..?" you cut yourself off, not wanting to upset her more or make her feel unwelcome, "are you okay?"

she scoffs at you, rolling her eyes and walking straight past you into your home.

"don't do that, you know better."

you sigh, clearly, this would not be a very pleasant night.

"you're right, i'm sorry. i'll ask again, but if you get pissed, remember you're the one who told me to say it. what the fuck are you doing here?"

"better. lose the tone next time though, it's not cute on you. i need you to do me a favor."

you chuckle slightly, trying to lighten the mood or at least diffuse the tension the elephant in the room has been creating since she stepped into your apartment.

"awfully big talk for someone who is very rudely asking me for a favor."

"my husband died a month ago, i don't have to ask your permission to be bitter. and last time i checked, you weren't in charge of me."

you knew exactly what she was talking about. before she had met matt, she asked you to experiment with her, leading you through a series of heartbreaks and letdowns until you couldn't face it anymore and left her. throughout the six months the two of you were "together" she took you on a totally of five dates, showing up late to three of them. you had begun to feel like all she used you for was sex, and you simply couldn't bear it anymore. not when you were aching for her to love you the way she told you she did.

you look away, biting your lip, taking a deep breath to collect yourself. you didn't want to set her off, and she clearly wasn't in the right place to hear that she wasn't in charge of you either.

she walks towards you slowly, lifting your chin to encourage you to look up into her eyes, tucking a stray hair behind your ear.

"you know what i'm here for, baby." she smiled, sickeningly sweet, with a condescending scrunch of her eyebrows and nod of her head. "the question is: are you gonna give it to me? hm?"

you freeze, you feel your chest constricting and can hear yourself swallow thickly, as you consider. ethically, you know it's wrong. you know it will only crush you and give leigh the quick distraction shes looking for, nothing more, but you can't help it. everything about her makes you lightheaded and weak in the knees, and you knew she'd take care of you, she always had been so generous.

"leigh...i don't think-"

"shh, baby, that's why it's perfect. you don't need to think with me, remember?" she looks into your eyes, looking for any signs of true unwillingness, before pressing the softest of kisses just behind your ear. you can feel her smile against your skin as your breath hitches, or course she remembered.

"love..?" she trails off, waiting for some sign of a response from you, settling for a simple look into her eyes. "are you gonna let me fuck you? make you feel good just like i used to?"

you bite your lip, nodding, mumbling a quiet "please.."

you watch the grin spread across her face, she knew she had you the moment you opened the door.

"see! i knew you'd remember how much you missed me!" she pushes you back toward your couch, leading you to sit on the arm as she stands between your legs, wrapping you up in a deep, heated kiss. "hmmm, that's my girl."

you almost retort, going to tell her she has no right to call you that, when, as if she could sense it, she tugged on your hair, clearly a preventative warning to watch your mouth.

as a reward for your obedience, you feel her lips start to move downward, drifting to your cheek, then your jaw, down to your neck, clearly leaving bruises in her wake.

she chuckles against your skin, hot breath tickling your neck, when you instinctively tip your head to give her more room. smiling at the way she'd created a pattern of muscle memory in you that would never fade no matter how many years passed.

you feel her hands untangle from your hair and drop to your thighs, before she pulls back to look at you: flushed and breathless before she'd even started with you. she gently rubs her thumbs in place, causing you to squirm towards her, barely stifling an embarrassing whine. you internally cringe as you can see the gears turning in her head, watching her piece together your reactions, before she gasps softly, clearly having figured you out.

"awww, sweetheart, it's been a while hasn't it? no one's touched you in so long, i bet you're just soaked," her hands drift towards your pajamas shorts, her fingers pulling the flimsy material aside to get a pick at your panties. "oh, honey, look at you. you made such a mess for me! oh, i bet you're just aching, aren't you?"

you nod, canting your hips up as you feel her fingertips barely ghosting along the gusset of your panties. she shoots you a look, cowing you immediately, your pleasure had always been on her terms.

she smiles, before clearly growing impatient herself, pulling your panties to the side and lightly running two fingers between your folds. a shiver wracks your body as she gasps at your wetness, playing with it between her fingers cockily. something about her soft smirk would never fail to make you clench around nothing.

you feel her fingers run up your slit as slow as human possible, until they finally reach your clit, your head tipping back and mouth opening the minute her fingers so much as graze it.

"awww," she exclaims through a chuckle, "god, you really were aching for it. that's it, pretty girl, you just shut your eyes and enjoy it. no thinking, just let it feel good, yeah?"

you nod, moaning softly, as her fingers start to circle your clit, just the way she knew you liked. your nails digging into the arm of the sofa underneath you as leigh played you like a fiddle, muttering dirty phrases under her breath endlessly.

"fuck, you look so good. does that feel nice, baby? oh, i bet it does, sweet girl! yeah, you're welcome, honey, i know this is what you needed."

as you pant and moan underneath her leigh decides she's bored of this, wordlessly bending down to her knees in front of you, fingers drifting downward as well to circle your entrance. laughing when she feels how you try to suck her fingers in as you clench around nothing.

"leigh, please, i need you..." you moan out without thinking, desperate to get her to finally fuck you, "i need you so bad, leigh...please? i'll be good."

"hmm, good girl, begging and i haven't even asked you to yet. just fucking perfect for me." she mutters under her breath as she sinks her fingers into you, blowing softly on your clit to watch your hips jump. "there you go, take it for me, baby. you can do it, come on, be a good girl and just take what i give you."

you moan loudly, grip on the sofa tightening as your nails dig into the fabric. legs subconsciously spreading wider for her of their own accord, every movement of your body fine tuned to her liking.

"that's it, baby, tell me how good it feels. i like to hear that i'm doing a good job." she jokes, winking at you when you fake playfully at her before shutting you up with her mouth on your clit.

your eyes squeeze shut, moaning as she sucks your clit into her mouth, alternating with the pace of her fingers sliding in and out of you expertly. she grins against you, knowing she's winding you up in exactly the right way, touching all the right spots and saying all the right things to make you want her that much more.

she speeds up her pace, apparently intent on having you ruin the upholstery on your couch, smirking when she feels the telltale clench of your walls around her fingers.

"shhh, baby, you have to quiet down, okay? we wouldn't want you to wake up the neighbors, right?" she smiles condescendingly before doubling her efforts, intentionally making you louder for her just to watch you flush at the thought and try to quiet back down before repeating the cycle.

within minutes, she has you cumming on her fingers and her tongue, gripping her hair as she insists on cleaning you up just to hear you whine under her as she teases your sensitive clit.

"leigh, i-"

"shhh, baby, she don't have to talk about it. all we need to know is that it made me feel better, and it definitely made you feel better." she grins, pulling you against her and kissing your head softly, allowing you to lay against her as you catch your breath.

[like-sands-of-time]

It's very late middle ages / age of Christianity for me and the fandom (the show but tbh they took the christian/norman influences to the MAX so) to assume women held few roles of power/authority/influence

I mean I don't have a history degree and I don't know a lot but I know boudica was a badass warrior lady who led armies against the Romans only ~500 years before King Arthur could have lived. And if the native people (or the Welsh natives specifically who managed to mostly avoid roman subjugation to my knowledge) were to continue any types of traditions or ways of life id assume it would be that women could be druidesses/priestesses, possibly even warriors and certainly queens.

Anyway morgana being only the king's ward, "powerless" in her own castle/home, and not even allowed a chance at a throne that is her birthright, kind of doesn't make sense?

Like if Uther was trying to be sneaky and marry the half siblings to each other to solve the succession issue I guess that makes sense?? Especially having her spend so much time in the castle. But they make Morgana's swordfighting skills this novel thing, mentioned only really a few times in the whole show, mostly in season one it feels like. If she was raised with a blade as the daughter of a knight she could/should be a knight too, just like Arthur. She could be his official second in command, since her known status is lower than his, but yet higher than sat Leon's because her father was such an important knight.

[eryiss]

[Jet x Freed] Cubicle Capers - Chapter Four

Summary: Jet was meant to do more. He was meant to do something with his degree. He was meant to have a purpose. He'd taken a job at Grimoire Pharmaceuticals to work his way up into a lab position, but found himself stuck in a cubicle. Every day the same. At least he had a new boss coming. Freed Justine. He’d be like the rest, though. Boring, outdated and.. hot as hell?

Notes: Conflict. Forgiveness. Embarrassing pictures. All here right now. Again, this was requested by @jethro-art.

Links: Ao3, Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, Chapter Seven, Epilogue

Chapter Four – The Argument

Jet

There were shit days, and there was the day that Jet was having.

Slowly, over the past few weeks, little things had gone wrong and he'd dealt with it. His coffee machine as home had started giving the beans a weird taste. The supermarkets had decided to change the layout and he had no idea where his usual brand of heavy-duty trash bags had ended up. The new neighbour across the street had decided he'd start making his front lawn look presentable, but had to blast out trance music at top volume to do so. Jet's nerves had already been grated on, even before the shit-show of the morning.

Speedster, his vintage sports car and only transportation, had decided to splutter and smoke and cut out. He tended to the car like a child, taking every precaution to make sure she ran like she was showroom fresh. He'd invested a fair portion of his meagre wages on her, and for no understandable reason, that morning she had died.

That would have been bad enough already. To deal with the fact his pride and joy was dead on the street would be difficult, not to mention the fact all the money he'd spent on her had essentially been flushed down the toilet. But then he had to navigate the streets – littered with trash since the refuge union were rightly, if annoyingly, striking again. Then the bus system, which had been underfunded since before Jet was born. Then the tram system, which as a cost cutting measure had decided to half the carriage amounts and force everyone into overly cramped and revoltingly sweaty quarters not fit for humans. They also were running late, and Jet hadn't known he'd had to contend with any of this crap before his normal leaving time, meaning he was late for work. Very fucking late for work.

He stormed into the building, cursed out the stupid turnstile which took three attempts to identify his ID card, and ran up the flights of stairs because it would be faster than taking the elevator. Sweaty and angry, he threw his bag down under his desk and let his expression harden. He would let himself be angry for a little while before he started; best not let that anger touch his scanning or he'd be pissed off all day.

"Jet," Laki said, head poking into his cubicle. "Freed says he wants to see you when you get in."

Jet ground his teeth together a little. "You think I could have a couple minutes before I go?"

She winced. "I don't think so. He seemed pretty insistent," she screwed up her face. "The phrase 'if he deigns to show his face' was used, so I'd probably go now."

He forced himself to unclench. He had wanted to get a mug of non-burned coffee, and maybe a chance to splash some water on his face, before he did anything professional. He wanted to not be pissed off at the stupid busker and his stupid crowd of watchers who had gotten in his way. He wanted a moment to get his heart rate down. He wanted a better goddamn job that might be worth the stress of a crappy morning.

But duty, and managers called, so he had to do as he was told.

This was Freed, though. In the half a year he'd been working there, Freed had never once been unreasonable. Jet was always punctual, and it was obvious this was a random occurrence. Freed would see reason. With two knocks, Jet walked into Freed's office.

"Hey man, I'm really sorry-"

Freed silenced him from behind his desk, not with a word, but with a raised finger. He motioned for Jet to take the seat opposite him, and Jet did so with a scrunched-up face. Freed seemed different.

The room was different, too. Freed's phone was lit up red on all lines, the pinboard beside his desk which previously had been entirely clear now was filled with spreadsheets and random charts, and a small collection of half drunk and discarded mugs of tea and coffee decorated his desk. Freed had always kept his desk clean and his office minimalist. He was a neat freak, Jet had assumed, and yet his office today looked cluttered and messy.

"I don't know what you think is happening," Freed said, and his voice had an edge to it. "But you cannot do this."

"I wasn't-" Jet tried again, but Freed shot him a look that shut him up.

"I am your boss and as such it is my responsibility to make sure you adhere to the company rules of employment. One of which – the most obvious, I would say – is that an employee must be in the office and working for the hours their contract dictates. Your contract states you should be in the office at eight thirty and leave at five. It's ten o'clock, and you've only just gotten here. That cannot happen. There is a small amount of leeway I can give you. An hour and a half goes far beyond that."

Jet knew that, and it kind of pissed him off that Freed felt the need to explain it in that condescending tone. "Yeah. Obviously, but-"

"I understand that perhaps I blurred the lines of proper conduct between us by our trips to the bar," Freed began, and Jet could see where this was going. Oh fuck no. Freed wasn't actually gonna do this, was he? "But, us having a friendly relationship outside of work does not allow you to disregard the rules of your employ."

"You're kidding me," Jet muttered, leg bouncing.

"If us meeting outside of work is going to give you reason to think you can come and go from work without care for the proper-"

"Are you fucking kidding me!" Jet snapped, and it might have been louder than he expected because Freed sat up a little straighter. Jet didn't care. If Freed was implying this, then fuck Freed. "That's what you thought this was huh? Me, cosying up to the boss so I don't have to come to work on time? That's my evil plan, huh? Make friends with ya then half ass this job."

"One and a half hours late-"

"Happens! Shit like that happens! You don't get to-" Freed didn't get to imply their meetings in the pub, which had been a weekly thing for them both since the first, were anything but two guys having fun. Freed didn't get to imply that Jet was going to the pub with him for malicious reasons. Freed didn't get to paint Jet in that light. But he couldn't say any of that. It all sounded too soppy and emotional. Instead, he stood up and walked to the door. "Fuck this."

"I'm not finished speaking with you Jet," Freed said in a voice that might have intimidated Jet if Jet wasn't sure he was in the right.

"Who cares?"

"We are going to have this-"

"HR's been on our asses about taking all our vacation days since that lawsuit. I'm taking mine. Guess I'm not late after all."

"Jet."

"Whatever you're about to say, I don't give a shit. Don't care about the words of a guy who'd assume the words of me," Jet shrugged. "In fact, take your words and shove them up your tightly wound, hypocritical, shitty at Donkey Kong asshole!"

He left the office, slammed the door, picked up his bag from the cubicle, and got the fuck out of there. If Freed wanted to yell at him tomorrow, so be it. That just gave Jet a full day to think of the ways to make Freed feel as shitty as Jet himself felt.

Fuck Freed Justine. Fuck him.

———

Freed

Exactly twenty-two and a half hours later, Freed had been given more than enough time to realise how terribly he'd handled the situation.

He could give himself excuses. He could say that before Jet had arrived, the CFO had come into Freed's office to discuss a matter, and had decided that because Freed wasn't drowning in paperwork and visibly stressed beyond functioning, he wasn't working hard enough. He could say that this had led to his phone being the go-to for all the questions that no department was specifically meant to answer. He could say that the reality of his office job had started to crush him, and for the first time Freed was considering quitting a job purely because he was struggling to handle it.

None of that mattered, though. Yes, he was a person who had flaws and bad days, but so were his employees. If he hadn't allowed Jet to explain his lateness, then Freed had no right to explain his unfair assumptions. He was wrong, he had deserved Jet's yelling, and the onus was on him to fix things.

As such, Freed had spent the morning waiting at the elevators, looking for Jet. He hoped he'd come in. He would come, wouldn't he? Jet hadn't quit, so he'd come back to work eventually. Right?

His question was eventually answered, when Jet trudged out of the stairwell beside the elevators, and Freed saw him from the corner of his eye. Jet saw him at the same time, and they looked at each other. Jet's posture was rigid and anticipatory, the very personification of someone waiting to close either fight or flight.

"Could I speak with you in my office please, Jet," Freed requested. The shift in Jet's jawline and the slight straightening of his back told Freed that Jet was ready for a fight.

The walk from the elevator to Freed's office was long, and Freed had to wonder how long it must have felt for Jet the day before, swirling with anger and annoyance and, if Freed wasn't deluding himself into thinking Jet saw him as a friend, a sense of betrayal. That made the guilt squirm harder in Freed's stomach. But he was going to make this right; or at least he'd do his best to try.

With the door closed firmly behind them, Freed took his seat behind his desk and gestured for Jet to take his own. Jet's leg was bouncing and his fingers twiddling. Jet was a fidgeter. A ball of energy. It must be hell to work in this office.

"Yesterday," Freed began, and suddenly, looking into Jet's eyes, the professional apology he had planned went out the window. "I behaved like a dick to you. I was unfair and presumptuous and put outward stresses onto you. I was rude, and I'm incredibly sorry."

Jet looked at him. His face portrayed nothing. Freed continued.

"For what it's worth, yesterday won't be removed from your designated vacation days, so you haven't lost any Holliday due to what I did."

"So I've got a full day on record without doing any work." Jet had muttered that. Maybe Freed wasn't meant to hear, but he had.

"No, your figures are entirely as they should be," Freed explained, and a look of panic flashed across Jet's face. Freed belatedly realised what that sounded like – like Freed had fudged the figures in a way that could come back to haunt them – and quickly spoke again. "I got your work done. I realised… fairly soon after you left that I was in the wrong, and that your professional reputation shouldn't be affected," his cheeks flushed a little, and he had no idea why. "I made sure all the scanning was done; you don't need to worry."

Jet looked at him. Stared him down. "What time d'you leave last night?"

"That's not important," Freed dismissed. He hadn't actually left at night. It had been a little after one in the morning. Saying that would be like pointing out a sacrifice he'd made, which wasn't fair. Recompense wasn't something that should end in pity.

"So I ain't in trouble, and I ain't behind on work, and I ain't missing a vacation day. That's all you wanted to tell me?"

"And that I'm sorry. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did, and I promise it won't happen again."

Jet kept staring at him. Freed could only stare back. Jet was clearly expecting something, but Freed had no idea what that was. If Jet needed something to forgive Freed, then Freed would get it for him no questions asked, but he really had no clue what that thing might be. Maybe Jet sensed that, because he spoke again. "You not gonna explain what was stressing you out? That you had your boss breathing down your neck or whatever, and that's why you were being an asshat."

"I've found that an apology followed by an excuse tends to not be worth saying," Freed met Jet's gaze. "I'm sorry, I was wrong, no amendments needed."

And, rather heartbreakingly, Jet looked like he'd been struck. Like such a thing was so unfamiliar in his life that it was worthy of a shocked response. Like he didn't think he deserved it. Like it was so out of the realms of possibility for Freed to treat him like a human being. Like an equal.

Freed really had fucked up. And Jet really hadn't been treated right. It wasn't appropriate for Freed to quietly think that he could treat Jet right. He could make the man feel worthy of all the apologies in the world. He could make Jet smile that sharp toothed smile.

"Oh, right. Thanks."

Before dangerous thoughts could persist, Freed pushed on. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, laminated card. "This is also a gesture of good will, I hope. It tends to make people laugh and, given you like making fun of me when we're drinking, I thought you'd appreciate it."

He placed the card on his desk and let Jet pick it up. He saw the moment apprehension gave way to amusement.

"You look like a jackass," Jet grinned. "What the hell made you do that to yourself?"

"A drunken mistake, I'm afraid." Freed glanced down at his old ID card from about five years ago, with his green hair buzzed short and looking entirely ridiculous. He had a face that served long hair, and certainly not an army style buzzcut. It was a point of consistent ridicule among his friends that he'd done that, made worse by the fact he'd done it days before a job translating for the king of Lichtenstein, his most publicised job. "It's ridiculous, I know. Feel free to circulate it around the office should you feel the need."

"Nah, I'll keep it to myself."

"Really?"

"Not a fucking chance. Gotta make sure this gets around. You okay with me doin' a scan of this and sending out a company wide email, make sure everyone knows."

"Do as you wish," Freed laughed. "But, might I ask, are we good?"

Jet paused. "I think we're good. I'm gonna stew on it a little longer, I think, but I think we're good."

"I'm glad," Freed smiled. "I've taken too much of your time already, so feel free to leave."

"Yep, got work to do," Jet agreed, holding onto the ID card. "See you later Bossman."

"See you later."

Jet saluted to him, and Freed leant back in his chair with a small sigh. The dampening of his nerves hit him suddenly, and he placed his hands on the desk to stop them shaking. It had been far too long since he'd cared like this about something.

Jet had called him Bossman. That was enough for now. That was a promise that they'd get back to where they'd been, even if Jet was still a little raw and likely to make some negative assumptions about Freed for a while. He could understand that. He could live with that. So long as it ended up okay, that was fine.

A little trill came from his PC, and Freed glanced over to it. An email, sent to the entire company list. The little fucker had actually done it. Brat. Freed had to grin. He really did love being in Jet's aura; the chaos was wonderful.

[ask-a-w]

Absent Mind Chapter 1 - Should've Said No

You all voted for me to write Absent Mind so here we go!

Summary: Leon Kennedy goes on a top secret mission which neither his handler Ingrid Hunnigan nor his wife Ada Wong knows about and he returns from said mission with amnesia. (Post-RE6 AU)

AO3 FF.net

Next chapter: Chapter 2 - Don't Wait Up

------

This was not how Leon imagined he would spend his afternoon, hiding in the corner of his office and then pressing a gun into his superior’s back. 

He was looking through the agenda for a meeting scheduled at the end of the week when he heard the mechanism for the hidden entrance to his office begin to activate. 

The blonde only had a few seconds to react and he swiftly padded over to the blind spot off to the side and readied his weapon. Steadying his breathing, he slowed his heart rate and waited for the intruder to make his appearance as the bookshelf rolled to a stop. 

A slightly older, bespectacled man stepped into view and Leon could see strands of grey hairs speckled on the side of his temple. He carried himself confidently and looked a little familiar but Leon couldn’t quite remember where he had seen his face before. The stranger’s eyes were doing a slow sweep across the room from right to left. Taking no chances, Leon released the safety with an audible click and laid the end of his pistol next to the man’s left shoulder blade. “You have one minute to explain yourself.”

The man sighed before slowly raising his arms, “I need your help, Agent Kennedy.”

Leon cocked an eyebrow, “You could have made an appointment or gone through the main door instead of sneaking into my office.”

“I had to be discreet. Do you mind lowering your weapon so we can talk like gentlemen?” 

“And do you mind showing your ID?” Leon retorted. 

“I knew I could count on you,” the man replied proudly before raising his staff card and resting his thumb on his portrait. The border of the card flashed green after a second which signalled he was indeed an employee. Leon managed to catch a glimpse of his name, ‘Reginald Martin’. It still did not ring a bell. 

Satisfied with the man’s identity, the blonde engaged the safety and lowered his gun, returning to his seat. “How can I help, Mr. Martin?” He gestured towards the chair in front of his desk but his colleague opted to remain standing. 

“I need you to go on a mission.”

“First, Ingrid Hunnigan is the field support agent who assigns missions to me. Second, you’re a few months too late. I’ve been grounded from missions since the start of the year.”

Reginald laughed, “I know. I signed off on your request.”

Leon could only stare at the director of the DSO with a dumbstruck expression. So that’s why he had looked so familiar, the director was always present for major meetings and events but mostly kept to himself, allowing his subordinates to speak. He swallowed nervously before finding his words. “I’m sure there are other capable agents who could take on this assignment. I might be rusty.”

“On the contrary, what you’ve demonstrated so far shows that you’re still as sharp as ever.”

“That doesn’t explain why my fellow agents aren’t able to handle this,” Leon said carefully. 

“As I said, I had to be discreet.” Reginald finally took a seat and began to whisper, “I believe I have a leak. You’re the perfect candidate as you have been off the field. No one would be wiser.”

“My peers and my wife would be quite concerned by my sudden disappearance.”

Reginald grew impatient, “That can be easily explained away.” He leaned in closer towards the desk. “I have a short window of time to act, Agent Kennedy, before the leaker catches wind of my plans. Listen carefully…”

——

Leon was in a hurry as he scrambled to gather his gear at home. He wished he could leave Ada a note, but he was under strict orders to keep his mission top secret. No one was to know where he had gone, not even his wife. He was not sure what the mission really entailed anyway, other than he had to go do it ASAP. Reginald had kept things vague during his briefing. 

The blonde would have a lot of explaining to do when he got back from it. All he had time for was to give his cats Cobalt and Ebony each a quick pat goodbye. “See you two in a few days,” he told the felines. “Be good to mommy.” 

When he had everything he thought he would need, Leon headed right out the door, to his director’s car, and soon was being driven off. 

He had left behind two things; his watch and his wedding ring, which Leon would rather not lose in a foreign war zone or a self-destructing lab. Normally he would have brought the watch, but his orders were not to bring any sort of device that could be tracked. 

The watch given to him was a wedding gift by Ada and had GPS capabilities, so she could find him in case something happened. The agent knew leaving it would upset Ada, but the orders were specific. Whatever the assignment was, Leon hoped it was as damn important as his superior made it out to be. He loathed leaving Ada in the dark like this.

——

Returning home after an uneventful day at work, Ada had just stepped out of her heels before she turned towards the nearest shelf with her arms outstretched. A black kitten leapt into her embrace a moment later. It was a daily ritual for Ebony to perch on the shelf and jump onto her owner.

The raven-haired woman gave the kitten an affectionate scratch on the head and set her cat down on the floor. Ebony scampered off and Cobalt then came to her, meowing and rubbing her legs. “It’s good to see you too,” Ada cooed at the ginger feline as she ran her hand down the length of its body. Cobalt responded by arching his back and purring loudly.

Ada stood up and headed to the kitchen, noting that it was still unoccupied. She had spotted her husband’s Cadillac in the garage and surmised he was exercising in their backyard gym. It was something he did after work but he would have been marinating a slab of meat or warming up the oven to save on meal prep time. 

No matter, it probably slipped his mind. She proceeded to wash her hands and make dinner. They would be having some leftover stew for tonight. The pot was bubbling a few minutes later and after setting the heat to simmer, Ada left to take a quick shower. 

Her blood ran cold upon entering the master bedroom. There, lying atop a chest of drawers were Leon’s ring and watch. The ring was not an unfamiliar sight, he always left it behind whenever he was sent on missions. It was the watch that set off alarm bells in her head. No matter where her husband went, he always wore his watch and so did she. That was the promise they made to each other when she gifted the device to him. It wasn’t that she distrusted him, it was a backup plan just in case things went awry. 

After all, both of them had a history of going off the grid. It was not something they would want a repeat of in a marriage.

Ada inhaled a deep breath to steel herself. Immediately, her jittery mind was a picture of serenity.

It is always important to remain calm and collected, even in the most extreme situations.

The mantra that was drilled into her head years ago surfaced once more.

There had to be an explanation for this. For him to leave his car and suddenly be sent on an assignment after months of being in the office, it had to be urgent. The only person who knew Leon’s whereabouts was his trusty operations support agent. Ada fired off a text to Hunnigan.

[txt] Where is he deployed to this time?

——

The end of a workday was one Ingrid always looked forward to. It meant that the office finally became quiet as fellow agents and staff filed out of the building like ants, getting into their cars and scattering into various directions during rush hour. 

She stood and walked over to the window, closing the blinds to cut off the harsh glare of the setting sun. There were still some things she had to tend to and the silence was a much-needed respite from her usually hectic day. When she was not on field support, her inbox and phone continuously rang non-stop, filled with queries from co-workers who needed advice immediately. Paperwork usually took a backseat whenever she needed to guide her colleagues.  

Plus, if she waited an hour, the gridlock would have eased up by then and shortened her commute. Ingrid was halfway through reading a referral form for one of the newest DSO agents when her phone chimed in three melodious tones. She ignored it for a brief moment before registering that the tune was one she set for her personal cellphone. 

Ingrid hoped it wasn’t yet another matchmaking attempt by her mother. She glanced over at the screen and saw she had a message from WONG-KENNEDY, ADA before it faded to black. They seldom texted each other and she doubted Leon’s wife was casually saying hi. 

Coloured curious, she picked up her phone and unlocked it to read the message. A puzzled expression appeared on her face as she flicked her eyes upwards, lost in thought. Did she see Leon today? She couldn’t recall. Either way, she was not certain what Ada could be talking about. 

[txt] I’m not sure what you mean. 

[dragonmuse]

Oh no. You mentioned in an ask the possibility of Charlie meeting Lucius in a universe like 'one winged dove.' Is there any chance that he would ever come across Izzy and Lucius or even Read in 'one winged dove?' I personally consider this one of Izzy's most sane AU's, so I'm interested in how he would even view Charlie. Is he a one-night-threesome or a wounded bird, à la Read? Is the coast just too removed from Charlie's story? Could this actually be a healthy AU for these three? Will you ever tell me when to stop asking you questions, because otherwise I might never stop?

(Ask FOREVER, I love these questions so much! CW on this one, Charlie is dosed with something unspecified at a club that he did not consent to take.)

The phone ringing woke Izzy out of a dead sleep. He fumbled for it, dread growing in him. Lucius had gone out tonight and the clock gave a late hour.

"Hello," he sat upright, reaching for the bedside lamp.

"Hi," Lucius sounded stressed. Izzy turned on the light.

"What's going on?"

"I'm sorry to do this, but can you come get me and this dumb ass twink I just scrapped off the sidewalk? I don't know what he took, but he's flying and if I leave him here, I'm going to think about it for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, yes, shit," Izzy said immediately. "Where are you?"

“The Sweet Shop, you remember where it is?”

“Out on route 15, right?” 

“You’ve got it, horrible garish neon lights.  Nononono, you get back here. Right, I’m the...no, don’t- fine. Sure. Go ahead,” Lucius sighed. “He’s petting my hair. I think someone spiked his drink, I saw him earlier in the night and he was not this out of it.” 

“I can be there in twenty, fast enough or should I see if someone closer can get there?” 

“I can occupy him for that long,” Lucius decided. “And I’d like to just get him to bed. Or couch. Read there tonight?” 

“No, she’s at hers, but yeah if he’s whacked trying to get him up the stairs might be tough.” He pulled on shorts and sweatshirt, called it good on an outfit. His wallet and keys were in a dish by the door, a delicate clay piece that Lucius had bought years ago. Back when neither of them had been sure this was all for good.

But there were bowls for keys now, routines, and the worn away edges of their sharper parts. Fifteen years, no end in sight.  Izzy would do a lot worse  and harder things than wake up in the middle of the night to help Lucius scrape a kid off the ground to maintain that. 

He didn’t speed much, not liking his chances of keeping a civil tongue in his head to a cop at this hour, but there was no one on the roads. Twenty minutes was more like fifteen, especially when he found a parking spot practically in front of the place. It was a searingly bright monstrosity of a club, the light harsh on his night vision. There was a spillover of people outside, people in the height of their youth in beautiful outfits, smoking all manner of things. He could not have looked more out of place if he tried. Good thing he didn’t give a shit. 

“Over here!” Lucius called and Izzy spotted him by the doorway. The kid was draped over him  was a tall drink of water with a fine shower of golden hair and wearing only the faint suggestion of clothing. 

“You all right?” Izzy checked again as he got closer. 

“I’m fine,” Lucius smiled tiredly at him. “Sorry for waking you.” 

Izzy shook his head, “Don’t worry about it. How you feeling, kid?” 

“Mmf,” the boy said into Lucius shoulder. 

“Charlie,” Lucius nudged him a little. “This is my husband, Izzy. Say hello.” 

Charlie turned his head, bright eyes, long lashes and fine, barely there eyebrows. He did not look drinking age. 

“Hellloo, Izzy,” the kid slurred. 

“How old are you?” Izzy demanded. 

“Why?” Charlie attempted to stand up on his own power and wobbled. “If you’re interested, I’m legal.” 

“Classy,” Lucius sighed. “He hit on me too. The ID says 24, but...” 

“Yeah, no fucking way,” Izzy agreed. “But if he’s actually a minor, we can’t just take him home, we’ll get arrested for kidnapping.” 

“Nooo, I am,” Charlie insisted and fumbled into his wallet. There was the west coast ID card in front, but with shaky fingers, Charlie slid out another card. From a very familiar location. Very far away. “See?” 

Izzy took it and examined it. No way to be sure it was legit, but it certainly looked right and the year was far more believable. 

“19,” he told Lucius, putting the ID back in the wallet and returning it to Charlie. “Okay,  kid, did you come out with anyone tonight?” 

“Noooooo private secret stuff, shhhh,” Charlie mumbled. 

Shit. 

“Fine. You want to come home with us?” 

“Yeah,” Charlie gave him a look under heavy-lidded eyes that probably worked on other teenage dirtbags. “I’d like that a lot.” 

“I was going to ask how you found him, but I think I figured it out,” Izzy said dryly. 

“If you say anything about birds of a feather, I’m stealing the car and teaching myself how to drive on the way home,” Lucius glared at him. 

“Nah, you were never this ham-fisted about it. All right, let’s go then.” 

Despite being clearly high as a kite, Charlie managed to make it into the car under his own power, getting into the backseat and not even complaining when Lucius abandoned him there to get in the front passenger seat. 

“It’s dark, huh?” Charlie mumbled as Izzy started the car.  

“It’s late,” Lucius said quietly. “Not long to our place. Try not to throw up.” 

“I’m not sick.” 

“Yet,” Lucius mumbled. “We should put a wastebasket next to the couch.” 

The drive was surprisingly quiet. Charlie kept starting questions, than trailing off. When Izzy looked through the rearview mirror, the kid was mostly just staring at the road like it might contain the mysteries of the world. Lucius started to yawn, his own club clothes (tasteful and more of a suggestion of what might be to come rather than a full on offer) were wrinkled and sweaty.  

“I’ll get him settled on the couch,” Izzy decided when they reached the house. “You can go get ready for bed.” 

“You sure?” Lucius glanced at him. “I’m the one that brought him home.” 

“And he just needs water and sleep, I can get that done. Just help me get him inside.” 

“I don’t need help,” Charlie muttered, but he sounded half-asleep already. Good that would be easier. 

Charlie was too tall for Izzy to shoulder, so they leaned him against Lucius, with Izzy doing a careful spotting to get him up the stairs. The mosaic door still shone prettily even with just the one hallway light coming through. Charlie blinked at it, 

“You live here?” 

“We do,” Lucius confirmed as Izzy got the door opened. 

“It’s nice,” Charlie said vaguely.  

“Thanks.” 

Lucius dropped him onto the couch cushions and shook out his arm. He headed straight for the stairs, already unbuttoning his shirt while Izzy got the blanket out of the chest they used as a coffee table. 

“What’s that for?” Charlie asked, eyebrows flying up. 

“For you,” Izzy explained. 

“You brought me back here to smother me in a blanket?” He asked a little blankly. “Weird kink, but sure.” 

“Not sure,” Izzy said sharply. “Fuck, kid. Just lay down. You’re going to take a nap.” 

“No no, not supposed to spend the night,” but Charlie took the blanket. “Was just gonna blow off some steam then head out.” 

“Did you drink?” 

“Of course I did, one shot to get ready, two at the club,” Charlie shrugged. “Maybe one more after that?” 

“Did you take anything?” 

“Lucy asked me that too.” 

“Call him that to his face and he will throw an entire fit,” Izzy warned him. “Loud and endless. Did you take anything?” 

“No,” Charlie said sullenly. “I don’t take candy from strangers.” 

“Well someone slipped you something because your pupils are blown,” Izzy told him. “So you sleep it off here and we’ll figure out the rest in the morning.” 

“No sex?” Charlie determined with a pout. 

“Life’s a bitch,” Izzy agreed. “You don’t get to fuck the grizzled old man of your dreams. Lay down.” 

The kid didn’t so much lay down as he gently fell over and Izzy wound up shaking the blanket out over him and shoving a pillow under his head. Then he put a glass of water in his immediate eyeline, and a wastebasket next to the bed with a fresh liner. By the time that was done, the kid was knocked out. 

That was the best they’d manage tonight. Uneasy, Izzy left him there and trailed upstairs. Lucius was still in the bathroom, shower running. Izzy considered his options and went in, the steam blowing out. 

“He’s out.” 

“Good,” Lucius sigh carried over the pounding water. “Poor little fucker. 19.” 

“19,” Izzy repeated. “Good thing he washed up on your shore.” 

“Mm, paying it forward,” Lucius turned off the water, drawing the curtain back. Izzy gave him a slow once over, then handed him a towel. “Yeah, not tonight, I think. Be too twitchy.” 

“Mm. Yeah, me too,” Izzy shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy a free show.” 

“Who says it’s free?” Lucius grinned, toweling off his hair. “I might need some sugar.” 

“I’ll make you pancakes in the morning.” 

“Deal.” 

They got into bed not long after, Lucius hand landing on the small of Izzy’s back as soon as they were settled. It was good feeling, a settling one, even with the new worry downstairs. Izzy’s eyes closed heavily. Sleep reclaimed him with a clawing hand. 

He woke up some hours laters, before his usual alarm. He listened carefully, heard the stirring down the stairs. Carefully, he rolled out from under Lucius’ arm and pulled his shorts on again. T-shirt too, even though he usually wouldn’t bother this time of day. 

Walking quietly, he caught their guest looking frantically at his phone which was apparently very dead. 

“I’ve got a charger,” Izzy offered and the kid jumped to his feet. Izzy stayed on the stairs. 

“Where am I?” He demanded. 

“I don’t know what you remember about last night, but you hit on my husband and he realized you’d been drugged,” Izzy said carefully. “We took you home and put you on the couch. No one else touched you and we can call you an Uber if you want to leave now.” 

Charlie looked at him warily. “How do I know that’s true?” 

“You don’t, but the door is unlocked and if you go down to the end of our street and turn right, you’ll get to town. There’s a diner with a hostess that’ll let you make a phone call if you’d rather.” 

“I...” Charlie looked to the door. “Fuck. My head hurts so much. I was drugged?” 

“Yeah, probably. You said you didn’t take anything,” Izzy came down the last few steps. “But you looked high as hell.” 

“Shit,” Charlie shook his head. “Okay, uh....can I use your bathroom? And maybe die of embarrassment in it?” 

“It’s not your fault,” Izzy said firmly. “But yeah, go ahead. It’s upstairs first door on the right. If you want to wash up,  a friend of ours is about your size. She’s got a spare change of clothes under the sink that you can borrow.  I’m going to start breakfast, you want some pancakes?” 

“Coffee?” he asked hopefully. 

“There can be coffee.” 

“Thank you,” Charlie said emphatically, waited for Izzy to go into the kitchen, then must’ve dashed upstairs. 

The pipes came to life, so he’d chosen to shower, for the best for all of them probably.  Izzy concentrated on putting together the batter, the simplicity of a repeated task easier than thinking through the sludge of his under-rested brain. 

“I take it our new friend didn’t cut and run,” Lucius slouched into the kitchen, wrapped an arm around Izzy’s stomach and dropped his forehead onto his shoulder. “Yay.” 

“You found this one,” Izzy reminded him. 

“I know, but can’t I still blame you? It’s contagious, maybe.” 

“Yeah, the worst STD, sudden impulse to not leave people to the mercy of other rancid humans.” 

“Mmfph,” Lucius said into his shoulder. 

They stayed like that while Izzy made the first few pancakes. Any temptation Izzy had to shake Lucius off had died somewhere in the far past. He liked the awkwardness of his affection, the way it was heavy and trusting. Even if it was a pain in the ass to flip pancakes that way. 

They both heard hesitant feet on the stairs and Lucius placed a last kiss on his neck before drawing away to pull down mugs. 

“Charlie,” he called out, “do you want coffee?” 

“More than anything,” came the soft answer and Charlie came warily into the kitchen. Read’s sweatshirt fit him well enough, the loose shorts close enough. They were both old and faded, things she wouldn’t mind parting with if they never made it back. 

“I’ll bet, how do you take it?” 

“Just milk, thanks,” Charlie watched Lucius for a moment. “Okay...yeah I do remember you. You had on that green shirt, open a couple of buttons. And you weren’t dancing.” 

“Don’t bother with it,” Lucius agreed. “That when the memories start to go sideways?” 

“No, we talked, I danced, got another drink...then yeah, then it gets hazy.” 

“Hard to know then, but I’ll call the club, tell them to run back the security tapes. They’ll figure it out and turn the guy in. They don’t want to get a reputation of allowing that.” 

“Why would they listen?” Charlie asked stiffly. 

Lucius turned to regard him with a smirk, “Because I am a gigantic pain in the ass, who knows half the gays in twenty mile radius and the ones I don’t know, I still recognize on sight. This isn’t a big place and I am not afraid of posting very obnoxious tagged messages on social media.” 

“Oh,” Charlie nodded slowly. “Okay. Uh. Thanks then. For everything.” 

“Do you have somewhere we can take you once you’re fed and rehydrated?” Lucius asked, attempting casual and not quite managing it. 

“I have a hotel room. I only came out here for a meet and our flights got staggered because of a ridiculous booking error. I volunteered to take the last one out, figuring I’d get a night on my own. Jokes on me, huh?” He sat down heavily.  

“Sometimes shit happens,” Izzy shrugged. “You didn’t know. Blame the asshole that did it to you.” 

“When’s your flight?” Lucius realized with concern. 

“Late tonight,” Charlie sat his chin on his palm. “Red eye. I was going to just hang at the airport once I checked out. Nap there, probably.” 

“Fun. Well, at least we’re not in a rush then,” Lucius gave him a tight smile and poured the coffee. 

Over breakfast, of which Charlie ate a disturbing amount, Lucius and Izzy teased out that Charlie was a competitive swimmer at a college on the other side of the country. He was an English major and had a friend named Amir. 

That was it. Lucius, normally great at getting people’s life story, was thwarted at every turn. It was friendly enough. Charlie was good at turning questions back on them, or evading with too much information about other things. It was good work, Izzy could appreciate it, but it wasn’t going to fix the issue. 

“Listen,” Izzy interrupted another evasion. “We don’t need to know your life story. We want to make sure you don’t die.” 

“Yeah, pretty much,” Lucius conceded. “I mean I’d like to know you, but we don’t have time for that. What I want to make sure is that we don’t drive you the airport, drop you into the abyss without anything else to guide you. You got anyone to talk to about this stuff? About going out like this?”

“I don’t need-” 

“Is there anyone?” Izzy repeated. 

Charlie hesitated, then admitted, “Amir and I talk about about it sometimes, but he’s got less experience than I do.” 

“Woof, okay,” Lucius glanced at Izzy. “I’ll start, you tag in?” 

“Yeah, go for it.” 

The crash course in safety didn’t take long really, but by the end of it Charlie looked like someone had slapped him. Izzy didn’t wade too far into his own waters, yet even the complications of consent beyond the bare minimum seemed to shake the kid up. 

“My parents think I’m still a virgin,” he admitted. “Never been kissed.” 

“Homophobes?” Lucius guessed. 

“No. My father and stepparent are queer,” Charlie shook his head. “I’m just not there yet.” 

“Story there,” Lucius determined and moved on. “We’ll give you our numbers. You have any questions, any fears, anything, you can reach out.” 

“Why? I mean you guys already did more than enough.” 

“Because no one did it for us and it fucked us up,” Izzy said, dropping his hand onto Lucius’ thigh. “Or fucked me up anyway. This one is good at muddling through.” 

“I had some help,” Lucius contended, lacing their fingers together. “So. Serious shit over. I was going to just sit outside and sketch this morning. Iz?” 

“Go for a walk on the shore.” 

“Walk or patio?” Lucius offered to Charlie. 

“Walk.” 

Charlie had a long stride and he was fast. He darted down the beach, but came back to Izzy when he gauged his pace and slowed to meet it after a while. 

“Have you lived here long?” 

“More than twenty years,” Izzy told him. “Started off back east, but this place settled in me.” 

“Lucius too? You have the same accent.” 

“Yeah, he came around a little later. Found him.” he pointed up the beach a little, “Right about there.” 

“Took him home like a shell?” 

“Something like that,” Izzy agreed. “Got married years later though.” 

“Why the wait?” 

“He was young. Not as young as you, but we both figured he needed some time to figure out if this was it for him. He left his whole life behind. When he rounded on thirty, it seemed like it was going to stick for good, so I asked and here we are.” 

“But he was out last night.” 

“I go out too sometimes,” Izzy shrugged. “Like he was saying, as long as everyone knows, can find a way to be okay with it,  and you talk about it, nearly anything can work. Luc told me upfront that he wanted to have some freedom. I asked if he’d come home after and he said yes and he always has. So. Hard to get worked up about it.” 

“Huh,” Charlie shoved his hands into the hoodie’s front pocket. “And you still talk about it?” 

“Gotta,” he sighed. “No one can mind read as it turns out.” 

“Mind reading would be a nightmare if it was real though,” Charlie grimaced. “Can you just imagine?” 

“Never really thought about it.” 

“Never having privacy in your own head? Some gnarly stuff happens in there.” 

“....you make a good point.” 

They walked for over an hour and when they got back to the house, Lucius had barely moved though his tablet had the full body of sketch on it, already gaining meat in details and the like. 

“My hand is cramping. I’m going to go pick up groceries. Charlie, come with me.You look like you can carry things.” 

“Uh, okay, is it a far drive?” 

“We’re walking.” 

Once they returned from that, Izzy drove Charlie and his now half-charged phone to his hotel. 

“You’re sure you don’t mind taking me to the airport?” Charlie double-checked. 

“We’re headed to dinner that way. On our way,” which was true as of the five minute whispered conversation they’d had while Charlie checked his phone. 

“You’re awesome! Thanks!” 

So Charlie and his carry on spent the afternoon watching tv with Lucius and then wandering into Izzy’s workshop to learn about the power of sanders. He ate the last of the banana bread Izzy had made earlier that week, even after murdering a burger for lunch. 

The airport really wasn’t far and Charlie and Lucius filled the drive arguing about books that Izzy had never read. It was easy enough to slide into the departure lane. Lucius twisted around before Charlie could get out of the car and repeated solemnly, 

“You need us, you text or call. Got it?” 

“I won’t-” 

“What the fuck else are we doing?” Izzy caught Charlie’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “You’re not alone, kid. And it doesn’t have to be life or death. Just whatever.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he said quietly. 

And then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd. 

“Think we’ll ever hear from him again?” Lucius asked, sadly. 

“Dunno,” Izzy sighed. “Probably not.”

But they did. It took a few weeks, but they got tentative texts about nothing at all. Just hellos and joking questions that they both responded to quickly every time. Then they came more often, once or twice a week. Once a phone call to Lucius about an essay, then another to Izzy about changing oil in his car. 

Tiny messages in bottles floating across the country. A bridge spanning thousands of miles. Being built. Tested. Holding. 

The call came late, they were both in bed this time. 

“Charlie?” Lucius answered. 

“I’m not okay,” Charlie's voice broke. “I need some help.” 

He was back in the house in twelve hours. He stayed for a week. He met Read and Anne. Spent mornings in Lucius’ studio, afternoons at the bike shop. He went for walks on the beach and was allowed out with them to Scout’s bar though he only drank soda. 

“If I call my parents and tell them, will you stay with me?” he asked the day before he was meant to go back. Back to a new therapy appointment and a promise to check in weekly.  

“Of course,” Lucius assured him. “Whatever you need.” 

They did. Quiet and present. Watching as the kid’s walls tumbled and crashed. They stayed quiet as a familiar voice crackled over the phone. Another problem, for another day. For now, they were just with him. 

And even years later when Charlie didn’t need much guidance or help anymore, he’d keep coming back for a week in the summer and another in the winter. A home away from home.