#and it’s not surprising that he’s doing it just to be clear

[enigmaris]

If Lois Lane had a nickle for every time she had to help an overpowered boy from the midwest with the power of journalism, she'd have two nickles. Which isn't a lot but its weird that its happened twice.

Danny watched as Lois pulled out her phone and pulled up a recording app.

“What are you doing?”

“You came to a journalist and are surprised to get an interview?” She asked him, her tone clearly joking. “What you’ve given me here is great kid, but newspaper clippings and copies of federal laws don’t get the public’s attention. I need a story, Phantom’s the story.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

Lois looked at him, less than impressed. Slowly, she turned the screen of her computer until it was visible to both of them. There, in full clarity, was a front-page story from his hometown newspaper. ‘Danny Phantom saves Bus Full of Children!’ and there was a picture of him in his ghost form, his face crystal clear on her screen.

"Phantom’s a ghost. I’m just a dumb kid.” Danny tried again.

Lois pinched the bridge of her nose with her right hand and muttered to herself.

“Why do all you midwestern boys have the same schtick?”

“I’m sorry?” Danny said, unsure if he should be apologizing or not.

“Changing your last name from Fenton to Phantom does not a secret identity make kid. It might work for most civilians, but anyone familiar with the hero game will clock you from a mile away.”

“I’m not Phantom.”

“Sure, kid. But I’m sure you have a way for me to interview him, right? Because I want to talk to him before I do anything else about your town.”

Danny hugged himself and looked down at his knees.

“Is it really that bad?”

“Not the worst I’ve seen. Wonder Woman’s is paper thin. I'm pretty sure most people in DC know who she is outside of the cape and just don’t say anything because she scares them.”

Danny snorted involuntarily at that, looking back up at the woman.

“What’s going on in your town, Phantom? Why come to a journalist and not the Justice League?”

“The Anti-Ecto Acts got passed like a year ago. They state that only being that produces or contains ectoplasm above a certain amount is considered non-sapient and is to be turned over to the government for disposal.” Danny said. “I put the whole thing in there for you to read, but it's long. Amity Park has a lot of ectoplasm in it. It's seeped into the air and water. Normal human people have it in them now. At first, those agents were just firing at me whenever I finished a ghost fight. I could deal with that. Their aim is terrible anyway. But then they figured out that humans can become contaminated with ectoplasm. They decided that meant the entire town was under their jurisdiction. They've decided that means that no one in town counts as human anymore, that we don’t have rights, that they’re doing us a favor by not just exterminating the entire town like the law says.”

Danny leaned forward, putting his hands on the desk in front of Lois Lane. He looked right into her bright eyes and spoke seriously.

“When it was just ghosts under attack, I didn’t think anyone would care. I’ve tried calling the Justice League for help, but they’ve brushed me off. People need to know what’s happening. Anyone can become ecto-contaminated. You just have to be in the right place at the wrong time. It’s not right what’s happening to Amity, Miss Lane. I came to you because if anyone could get the world to listen, to believe, then it's got to be you.”

And Lois Lane smiled. It was a proud, eager smile. The kind of smile Danny had seen on Sam right after she convinced the school to serve a vegan lunch. He barely held back from shivering.

“Well then, Mr. Phantom.” Lois said, before tapping onto the recording app on her phone and starting a recording. “Let’s begin.”

[brawberryz]

You're a fucking weird hacker

Batfam Yan! × Troll Hacker! Reader

《Platonic!》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

You were a fucking pain

For months you had been bothering the batfam with your stupid pranks, they started off as mild as sending viruses to their emails or making up gossip on the internet

But now? Now you were just annoying, you managed to piss off the whole batfam even batman himself

You managed to hack the batcomputer and fill it with viruses, you even managed to hack Barbara which was quite surprising, your skills with technology went beyond what they had anticipated

No matter what they did they simply couldn't find anything about you, it's like you only existed on the net

One thing was clear, you were much smarter than all of them and you used that intelligence to make their lives miserable and annoy them

But the straw that broke the camel's back was when you threatened to show their secret identities to the world, it wasn't an empty threat you sent them evidence and it was clear that you weren't lying

You had the most important family of heroes in the palm of your hand

From that moment on they became more serious with their investigation, they tried to find anything that could tell them something about you or your information

But every time they found a clue it was just a joke yours, you yourself put those "clues" which were links with viruses that would easily render a computer useless or to weird porn pages and when I say they were weird, they were WEIRD

You were always two steps ahead of them, what surprised everyone the most is that you did nothing with that information

You just wanted to scare them and have fun for a while, your jokes continued but they were no longer as constant as before

Until days after the incident an anonymous email arrived, batman hesitated to open it but after confirming that it was not some kind of virus or joke he read it

He was surprised when he saw that it was a huge world document where you detailed with evidence the next plan of riddler

He was surprised at how well detailed and written it was, you had put the date, place, time and even minute of the attack

At the end there was a small message in the email that confirmed that it was clearly you who had sent that

"Take this as a small apology for my bad behavior :3"

A small smile formed on the man's face, maybe you weren't as bad as he thought

And so the days went by, from one day to the next you had changed now you helped them by filtering information about villains and criminals making their plans fail

In that short period of time you made the negative opinion of the batfam that they had of you change

In that time, you became great friends with Barbara and Tim

You and Barbara loved technology and programming, while with Tim you were both nerds with similar tastes

Of course, you communicated with them from anonymous messages but they still managed to get to know you a lot more

But then a small slip occurred, when you sent one of your reports about a future plan of Joker you forgot to use an anonymous email and you sent it from your main account

That's where your problems began, in a few hours the entire batfamily had your information, from your age, face and address

They discovered that you were barely a teenager with apparently too much free time

They also discovered You didn't have parents, you were an orphan teenager who lived in a small apartment and worked on weekends in those geeky or otaku stores.

Clearly you almost fainted when you opened the door to your apartment thinking it was the pizza delivery guy, you were surprised when you found Batman staring at you.

God, he looked even bigger in person.

"What are you doing here!?"

You said surprised walking backwards, you didn't imagine that he would be able to find your address, although you shouldn't be surprised it was Batman having literally doxed you was the calmest thing he could do

"I want to talk to you"

He tried to sound as serious as possible but it was almost impossible, in his mind he could only think about the person who literally made him lose his mind in person looked so fragile and small

"Well I don't want to talk, so get out"

You were already tired of this, you thought that if you helped him in his cases he would leave you alone but it seems that you awakened that protective paternal instinct

When you were about to close the door he held it tightly preventing you from closing it

"Really?"

You looked at him angrily, you couldn't believe he was so stubborn You let out a sigh of defeat and let him in

"Well, what do you want?"

You said as you laid down on your little couch, he just stood there looking at you

"This place is very dangerous"

That made you raise an eyebrow, why did he care about you?

"So?"

"You should move, the crime rates in this area went up too much"

You just frowned at that comment, who did he think he was to tell you where to live

"I don't care, I've lived here all my life I know how to take care of myself, I don't need your protection"

You didn't need a man you barely knew to take care of you, you had been alone since you were 13, you knew very well how to take care of yourself

After that strange interaction with Bruce you started receiving checks in his names, the water bill, the electricity bill and even your apartment were paid

But apparently it wasn't enough with the man's visit if he didn't also come to visit every fucking member of the batfamily

It started with Richard coming at night and opening (breaking) your window and talking to you as if you were some kind of younger sister, it made you uncomfortable the way he thought he knew you in every way besides being too clingy like hugging you for hours or not wanting to let go

Then he arrived Jason, you didn't have that many problems with him, the only thing you couldn't complain about was that at least he respected your personal space

He used to talk to you about books he read or was reading while you pretended to listen but deep down you just wanted him to get the hell out of your house

Tim wasn't as talkative as Jason or Richard, but still his presence just seemed irritating and annoying to you

It seemed like he thought that just because you had the same tastes you were going to be friends, you hated that he didn't respect your personal space and filled you with questions

Damian, how I hated that little demon he only came to your house to bother you and ask you (force you and threaten you) to fix his things, like his Robin gadgets or to improve something

At least he paid you with the food Alfred made and if you were honest it was delicious, it was worth putting up with his orders if that meant being able to try that kind old man's food

With Barbara you only talked by text, although it bothered you how insistent she could be

Cass was very quiet, she used to come to your house at night and enter your room and watch you work, sometimes she went just to rest a while from the patrol or sometimes she just enjoyed your presence but even so you considered it weird or strange

Steph treated you as if she knew you all your life, she forced you to go shopping with her and go to spas together

It's not that you didn't enjoy it, you just hated being surrounded by people with all your being, plus you felt like she didn't even listen to your opinions, you felt like she was just using you like a toy

You did everything possible to stop talking to them, you even thought about moving somewhere else, with the money that Bruce sent you it was going to be more than enough to go to another city far from Gotham

Far from them

But you knew it was going to be useless, they knew everything about you, you knew that they were even capable of putting cameras hidden around your apartment just to keep a closer eye on you

If you tried to talk to Bruce and tell him he wasn't respecting your privacy he would just use the excuse that he just wanted you to be safe

You hated that he had control over you, that they had any kind of control in your life

It was too late to regret, all eyes were on you

And they weren't going to let you escape from them that easily

I'll leave this here before I go to sleep

byeee

[columbojumpscare]

You don't need to fire Wu because this post is about JP and not the cultural failure and proof of our downfall as a society that was JW.

Wu in JP was Guy Doing Genetics 1, he wasn't making weapon animals and he wasn't responsible for their care.

The most impactul villain of JP has always been Hammond, because if it were not for greed, none of the problems would have happened. It's the whole point of the book and movies. The point isn't "science scary and bad" it's "science at the service of capitalistic greed only creates disaster".

He is responsible for the genomes being released before being perfected and understood (this can also be interpreted as why they weren't fully accurate even at the time, a d therefore are possibly feeling very ill or in chronic pain)

He is responsible for how many animals were made despite a clear lack of ressources to house them.

He is responsible for no one being present enough with the animals to even notice that they were Very Much having girl sex and multiplying.

He put more money into the aesthetic of the park than into the enclosures, proper enrichement, and caretakers who aren't just there to drop a cow in for people's amusement.

He made his park's security absolute dogshit to the point where One hacker was very easily left with control over The Entire Park's Fucking Electricity and no one caught on that until the whole fucking thing's system became innaccessible.

He is also responsible for the mess that happened at the second site, where he allowed genetics studies that were dubious legally, which, surprise, left the entire island's native ecosystem destroyed and replaced with artificial mockeries of evolution.

And ultimately here we are not even considering the fact that beyond all the issues with captive care and safety, there is also the problem of those dinosaur-like artificial animals even existing in the first place, with no native habitat and no conservation value, not to mention their ability to possibly Obliterate ecosystems if they escape.

Hammond is a greedy, colonialist, cruel, and short sighted piece of shit, and every issue can be traced back either to him, or a competitor company that's also run by greed. None of Hammond or Biosyn's business should have ever been allowed to extist in the first place. The fact that the movie makes Hammond a more likeable character does not change that and, in my opinion, was a very interesting decision (the characters in the movies are generally far better than those of the book).

There is of course also a lot to say about how Jurassic World essentially buried the plot of JP by being an AU where JP worked just fine, despite the whole point of JP being that there is no way it would be fine because it was made by greed.

The decision to make the geneticist the main villain, and the owner of the park kind of just an incompetent guy who dies halfway into the movie trying to help, is a clear bastardisation of JP's idea, shifting from a system that encourages greed being the cause, to instead a singular corrupt individual. "Well the artificial animal abuse park that's canonically taking funds away from real animal conservation would be just fine if it weren't for This pesky guy who's doing monsters for the military"

This is of course not to mention the detail of both Wu and Masrani being people of color while the two protagonists are white, which is a whole can of worms on its own.

Tldr: Cute post i guess but bad animal care is a central point of the movie's plot. If you truly wanted a JP au where there's no corruption happening, the animals wouldn't exist in the first place.

Jurassic Park except they provide proper enrichment for the animals and they therefor don’t feel the need to hunt slow, small humans.

[psycholuvrgirl]

duplicity! [teaser]

rafe cameron x sweetheart!pogue!oc [baby porter]

summary: baby porter, the pogue princess, asks rafe cameron out on a date after losing a bet. to her surprise, rafe says yes.

warnings: nsfw (very brief smut)! 

a/n: this is just a teaser for this series. this series will follow the plot of obx, so a lot of it is going to seem very familiar, just with a twist because baby will be in it

wc: 2.1k

it was meant to be just one simple task: ask rafe cameron on a date. baby lost a bet with jj and the punishment was simple, but the problem is baby porter is, unlike most pogues, terribly shy.

“guys i don’t think i can do it,” she says, glancing across the boneyard where rafe was standing. he has an arm wrapped around his sister, sarah, laughing with kelce and topper about god knows what.

“you lost, baby, you gotta do it. deal’s a deal,” jj says.

“deal’s a deal,” she breathes out. “okay. i can do this.”

“you can do this,” kie assures.

baby stands from the log she was sat in, crossing the sandy expanse until she was right in the lion’s den of kooks. also unlike most pogues, baby got along with most of the kooks—she wasn’t like other pogues, which meant she wasn’t treated like one. so her presence didn’t seem to unnerve anyone in the group.

“sup, baby,” topper says, throwing back a swig of his beer.

“hi baby,” sarah says with a warm smile, “what’s up?”

“uh, well, actually…” baby straightens her back, clearing her throat and doing the best to sound as confident as she can. “i’m here to talk to rafe.”

“me?” rafe asks, pointing the lip of his bottle to his own chest.

“mhm,” baby says with a nod.

the kooks ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at this, making rafe mutter threats at them as he follows baby away. she shoots the pogues a glance—a final plea to be done with this, but they all just give her encouraging thumbs-ups. so she continues to lead rafe to a more secluded area.

“am i in trouble with the pogue princess?” he teases.

“don’t call me that,” baby says through a whisper.

baby isn’t sure when she earned the nickname “pogue princess” but she didn’t like it, not one bit. it made her feel weird, but for some reason the nickname coming from rafe’s lips didn’t seem to bother her as much as it normally would. but she quietly scolds him all the same.

they both take a seat on a large branch that washed ashore, rafe’s whole body turned towards baby as he awaits whatever it is she dragged him out here for. baby clears her throat, uncrossing her legs just to cross them back over.

“so, rafe…” she says.

he lets out a laugh. “so, baby…” he takes a sip of his beer. “what d’ya need?”

if baby has learned one thing from her pogue friends, it’d be to just “let it rip” in any circumstance that could remotely use that advice. so that’s what she does.

“will you go on a date with me?” she asks, words tumbling out faster than even she can comprehend.

“what?” he asks with another laugh, “i have no idea what you just said, b.”

she clears her throat again, sitting up straighter. “i said…” she looks down at her nails, picking at the pink polish coating them. “will you go on a date with me?”

she braces herself for rafe’s reaction. she expects laughter, for him to holler in her face and say the big “no” as if she just asked him for a million dollars.

“sure.”

her eyes bug out of her head, head snapping up to look at him. “what did you just say?”

“sure,” he repeats.

“y— you wanna go on a date? with me?” she asks. a small smile raises to his lips, the smile turning into a quiet chuckle. he nods, and baby’s eyes only widen further. “seriously?”

“yeah, i mean, you’re cute,” he says, “why not?”

her skin burns at the compliment. “you think i’m cute?”

“why do you sound so surprised? you know you’re cute,” he says.

“no i don’t,” she says.

“well…” rafe scoots closer to her, his cologne invading her senses. “i can assure you…” he kisses her left cheek. “that you, baby…” then her right. “are very cute.” his lips meet hers, just for a moment. the kiss is over almost as soon as it began and baby porter is still left a blubbering mess after it. her mouth opens to speak, then closes, then reopens. no words come out though, making rafe laugh just a little more. “how about tomorrow night? i’ll pick you up at around seven?”

she nods wordlessly and he chuckles.

“i’ll see you then,” he says, standing from the branch. he holds out a hand to her and she takes it, letting him pull her up effortlessly.

“see ya,” she breathes out.

he leans over, pressing a kiss to her cheek before walking away. she stands there stunned for far too long, and when she finally snaps back to reality she scurries back to her friends.

“how’d it go?” john b asks.

“should we start planning the wedding?” jj asks.

“he… he said yes,” baby says.

kiara’s head nearly snaps off from how quickly she turns, pope drops his beer on the sand, john b’s jaw falls slack, and jj spits out the beer in his mouth.

“he what?” pope asks.

“you’re going on a date with rafe cameron?” jj asks. before baby can answer, he howls with laughter. “oh my god, that is priceless!”

but, for some odd reason, baby porter didn’t find this funny—not even a little bit, not even at all.

“what are you even worried about?” jj asks, “it’s rafe fucking cameron. you don’t need to impress the guy, you just need to get this over with.”

a honk from outside pulls baby’s attention away from her friends. “that’s him.”

“we’ll walk you out,” pope says. baby turns to pope with a scrunched face. “what? it’s for safety reasons.”

baby sighs, reluctantly standing and allowing her four friends to follow her out of the chateau. rafe is on his phone, standing next to his car, and looks up at the sound of the front door shutting. he looks over baby’s outfit—a sundress over a bikini, just in case. his eyebrows raise as he looks her over, then his face falls as he notices the pogues behind her.

“have her home by eight,” jj says.

“jay, it’s only seven,” baby says, shooting jj a glare.

“fine. eight thirty,” he says.

“ignore him,” baby says with a small, nervous giggle. rafe laughs with her, but it’s evidently forced for her comfort.

“just, don’t do anything stupid,” kiara says, ever the blunt one in the group. “bring her back in one piece, okay?”

“okay,” rafe says, in hopes that they’d go away. and his wish is granted because they all reluctantly head back inside, tossing looks over their shoulders at baby. she doesn’t seem to notice though. no, not when her focus is on the tall man in front of her.

“hi,” she says.

he smiles. “hi.” he makes his way to her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips that makes her heart flutter.

and the rest of the night goes the same. he brings her onto the druthers for a picnic under the stars, bringing them to the middle of the ocean so they have privacy, the stars and a few candles being the only light they have on the deck of the boat.

“have you ever gone night swimming?” baby asks.

“hasn’t everyone?” rafe asks. both of them are laying next to each other, most of the food packed away by now. they stare up at the stars as the silence of the night engulfs them, only breaking the silence every so often.

“probably,” baby says with a laugh, “i guess that was a silly question.”

“did you want to?” he asks, turning his head to look at her. “did you want to go night swimming?”

she turns to him with a bright smile, nodding rapidly. rafe gets up from his spot, helping baby up. he strips off his shirt as she gets rid of her dress. rafe runs and dives off the end of the boat and baby follows him, diving into the cold ocean. they both resurface, letting out joyous laughs when they see each other. 

despite everything she’s been told about rafe cameron, baby actually finds herself having the best night of her life with him. her heart sinks a little at the thought of everyone’s judgements making it take this long for her to ever get to know the beautiful boy in front of her.

“why are you frowning?” rafe asks.

“oh, am i? i didn’t mean to,” she says. baby swims closer to him and he grabs her, letting her wrap herself around him.

“are you not enjoying the date?” he asks.

“no, i am!” she exclaims, her heart quickening at the thought of him believing this is anything other than perfect. “i’m loving tonight, honest!”

“then what’s wrong?” he asks, tucking a soaked strand of hair behind her ear.

“it’s just… you’re so different than what i expected,” she says, “i wish i had asked you sooner.”

rafe doesn’t bother with words. he was never good with words anyways. instead he presses his lips to hers, their lips moving passionately with one another. heads twisting as baby holds onto rafe just that much tighter. like he might slip away if she doesn’t, like the moment might fade to nothing if she lets him go.

the brush of something against her leg has baby scrambling to climb rafe, ruining their perfect kiss as she yelps.

“what was that! something touched my foot!” she exclaims. rafe breaks into a fit of laughter, but she’s still trying to climb him as if he’s a tree. “it’s not funny, rafe!”

she quickly swims over to the side of the boat, hauling herself up and shivering on the ledge. he follows her up and guides her inside. the air is warmer down below and rafe wraps a towel around baby’s shoulders.

“there you go,” he whispers.

“thank you,” she says with a shy smile.

rafe responds by reconnecting their lips, cupping her cheek with one hand as the other lands on her waist. her arms wrap around his neck, letting her hands move through his hair. when his tongue slips against hers, caressing it sensually, she lets out a whimper that goes straight to rafe’s dick.

he gently nudges her down onto the couch. he hovers above her without detaching their lips. he pulls at the tie of her bikini top, slipping the fabric away. he pulls back and looks down at her with hearts in his eyes.

“wow,” he whispers. baby crosses her arm over her chest, but he gently pries it away to continue admiring her. then, he dives in. his lips wrap around one nipple, his hand massaging the other. he switches after some time, leaving baby to mewl at the sensations he’s causing. 

“kiss me again,” she says, trying to pull him up. he obliges, climbing back up to bring their lips back to their prior rhythmic dance together. his hand slips down her body, falling beneath her bikini bottom and massaging her wet slit. she lets out a quiet whimper as he gathers the wetness on his fingers, then a loud moan when he brings his fingers to her clit.

“you like that?” he asks. she nods her head and he dips back down to kiss her, swallowing every moan that falls from her pretty lips.

he slowly pushes one finger inside of her, then another. leaving her a mess underneath him. she grinds up towards him, chasing her own release.

“rafe, please,” she pleads as he slips his fingers in and out of her.

“please what, baby?” he pants. she’s past using words at this point, too lost in her own pleasure to make her mouth form anything coherent. so she takes matters into her own hands, literally. she drops her hand down to cup him, massaging him through his board shorts. she slips her hand inside, wrapping her tiny hand around his length. they both grind into one another’s hands, chasing their highs. when they both get their release they lay there, content with one another’s company. 

interrupted by the ringing of baby’s phone, they both reluctantly go back to the deck to retrieve the device.

“did he kidnap you? what’s taking so long?” kiara asks.

baby rolls her eyes, “i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“tomorrow?” john b shrieks.

“goodbye guys.”

since that night, rafe and baby have been inseparable. in secret, that is. both went home to report to their friends that the date was just a bust, both knowing that if their friends knew about their successful date that they’d never hear the end of it. so that’s how the relationship went. sneaking out late at night, long weekends spent alone together, calls until the early morning. it worked for them — secret, intimate, and just perfect.

[fushitoru]

chapter 10: the art gallery a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, heir to a dukedom mr. satoru gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

genre/warnings ⸺ enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, eventual smut, suggestive, jealousy, misogyny, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly, all they do is bicker 💀, some historical inaccuracies, mentions of sex work

chapter summary ⸺ duke nanami suprises you with an inquiry, and the panic caused by it leads to an encounter with a very unexpected person (4.7k)

a/n she's a short one but i swear sm happened that im kind of surprised it was so short? mostly beta read (thank u to them as always), and i'll see u down below ~~~~

prev. the embers | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

Gentle Reader,

It seems that the next excursion polite society will be undertaking is at the art gallery, here in London itself. Filled with beautiful and evoking pieces, will it evoke affections and fuel potential matches? After all, it seems that the venue contains many hidden alcoves and hallways for potential confessions and intimate colloquies—so intimate that they are proposals.

One of these proposals this Author cannot help but speculate upon—that of Miss Itadori and Duke Nanami’s. After all, at every ball the fine lady and gentleman seem to be engaged in personal and amiable conversation; it appears clear to everyone in their surroundings that our season’s diamond has captured His Grace’s affections. But, dear reader, is this to amount to a future with wedding bells and blushing babes? Only time will tell; for now, your Author has no promises. After all, it seems that this season is sure to contain many surprises at every turn.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across your bedroom. The scent of lavender lingered in the air, likely from the sachet Nobara had insisted on tucking into your dresser to “keep you from smelling like an old book.” She stood behind you now, deft hands working through your hair with practiced ease, twisting locks into an elegant style fit for the day’s engagements.

“I came across something interesting in my brother’s study last night,” Nobara said conversationally, sliding a pin into place. “A rather compelling critique on the landowning gentry—Reflections on the Inequity of Titles—have you read it?”

Your attention perked at the mention of the text. “Yes,” you said, your brows knitting as you searched your memory. “It argues against inherited privilege and the consolidation of power within a select few, does it not? I recall making notes on it.”

As you spoke, you shifted slightly in your seat, the urge to review your thoughts overtaking you. Almost without thinking, your hand reached toward the hidden compartment in the floorboards—a small, carefully loosened plank where you kept your private writings. Your commonplace diary contained notes on radical philosophies you could never openly share, and even—if you were to be honest with yourself—a few stray reflections on Gojo (before it all went askew) that you had not yet had the courage to confront.

While you rummaged through the possible planks to find the hollow one, Nobara remarked, “There have been whispers of you among the maids, as well.”

You paused, turning to look at her fully as she twiddled with the ends of your comb. “Well, what do they say?”

She paused for a brief moment, as if weighing the effect her words could have on you. However, your closest companion was not one to mince words—especially if they would end up as beneficial for you, no matter how harsh. “That you’ve recovered from Lord Gojo quite well, and that you as a duchess is on the horizon—not as Mrs. Gojo, but Mrs. Nanami.”

Oh. This was not the least bit surprising—even your mama had heard these rumors. Part of you was concerned as to how your mother had gotten ahold of these whispers, given that Sukuna had long forbade her to attend balls with you after her last…episode, but it seemed that your mama had jaundiced channels of retrieving information herself. That, or the Whistledown had reported on it, which you would be ignorant to, for you did not care for gossip lately.

You wave a hand, and soon find the hollow space in your floorboards. “Those rumors may be all just hearsay soon enough, I suppose.” Then, you pull the floorboard where your diary is supposed to reside. “After all, Christ knows my luck with the creatures called men—”

Your fingers brushed against empty space.

Your breath caught.

The floorboard was there. The hollow beneath it remained. But your diary—your most guarded possession—was gone.

A sharp jolt of panic shot through you. You froze, your heartbeat thundering in your ears as your stomach twisted. No, no—perhaps you had misplaced it? You tried to recall, but the memory eluded you, replaced by a rising dread that gripped your chest in an iron vice.

The last you remember of it was packing it so that you could take it to the Gojo manor. Did you use it there? You did. If you recall correctly, you had done so in Nobara’s company, where you were secretly observing Gojo’s show of archery to Yuji on the balcony. After that, it was all a blur.

“Everything alright?” Nobara asked, tugging your hair slightly as she adjusted the style.

You barely heard her, your hands still hovering near the empty space as if willing the book to reappear. You wracked your brain carefully, trying to will in a memory where you had, in fact, succeeded to retrieve it from the Gojo countryside residence. A moment where you had packed it or a recollection of picking it up from the balcony—

Just as your thoughts began to spiral, the door burst open.

“Oi Sister, are you ready yet?” Yuji’s voice rang through the room, cutting through your panic. He leaned against the doorway with a lazy grin, arms crossed over his chest. “You do know we have to pay a visit to the art gallery today, correct?”

You barely had time to compose yourself, forcing a steady breath as you pulled your hand away from the floor. Nobara swatted at Yuji with a hairbrush, scolding him for his lack of manners, but you could hardly focus on their banter.

Your diary was missing.

And someone had taken it.

The art gallery was abuzz with the murmurs of the ton, the usual symphony of rustling silk, polite laughter, and the occasional overzealous exclamation from an admirer who fancied themselves an aesthete. Candles flickered in their sconces, casting a warm, golden light over the oil paintings that lined the walls—portraits of long-dead nobility, pastoral scenes meant to evoke longing for a simpler time, and a few ambitious attempts at allegory that left much to be desired.

As you walked hand in hand with Nanami, the weight of his palm in yours both familiar and grounding, your mind wandered elsewhere—back to the morning, to the jolt of panic that had seized you when you realized your diary was missing.

It had been a frantic affair. Nobara had barely twisted the last pin into your hair when you had rushed to the hidden space beneath the floorboards, expecting to feel the familiar worn leather beneath your fingertips. But it was gone. The shock of it had knocked the breath from your lungs, sent your thoughts scattering into a storm of fragmented memories—where had you last seen it? Had you truly packed it? No, you had taken it with you to the Gojo estate, that much you knew. But had you brought it back? The certainty evaded you, slipping through your grasp like water.

Before you could dwell further, Yuji had appeared in the doorway, cheerfully oblivious to your distress as he urged you to hurry. 

Choso had been more perceptive, his dark eyes lingering on your face as the four of you were ushered into the carriage. "Something wrong?" he had asked, quiet and measured.

You had shaken your head. What were you to say? That your diary—your most personal possession, filled with your thoughts, your observations, your private musings—had vanished into thin air? That the last place you remembered having it was the very home of the man who vexed you most? The thought alone had made your stomach twist. So instead, you had murmured some excuse about being distracted, about having not yet woken fully, and let the conversation drift elsewhere as the carriage rattled down the cobbled streets toward the gallery.

Now, standing in the midst of polite society, surrounded by paintings and candlelight and the low hum of cultured voices, the unease still clung to you.

"It is a fine collection," Nanami remarked beside you, his gaze sweeping over a landscape of rolling hills. "Though I must say, the artist’s depiction of light is rather conventional. There is no true feeling to it, only a replication of what is expected."

You nodded, your agreement automatic. "Indeed. It lacks a certain… depth. The brushwork is delicate, but there is no challenge in it, no provocation of thought."

Nanami hummed in approval. "Precisely."

The conversation continued in this fashion—pleasant, agreeable, effortless. But with each passing moment, a strange disquiet settled over you. Your mind drifted, not toward the paintings, nor to the man at your side, but to something far removed from this genteel setting.

The diary.

You had searched again this morning before leaving, hands trembling as you sifted through your belongings, the panic curling in your stomach like a tightening noose. Yet it was not there. No matter how many times you retraced your steps, no matter how much you willed the memory to sharpen, the last certain recollection you had was of the Gojo estate—of the evening spent watching Satoru’s archery from the balcony, of penning your thoughts in the quiet company of Nobara. And after that? Nothing.

Had you left it behind? Had someone found it?

A fresh wave of unease coursed through you. If it had been discovered, if its contents had been read—

"Are you feeling unwell?"

Nanami’s voice pulled you back to the present. You turned to him, startled, and realized belatedly that you had grown silent. His brow was slightly furrowed, his concern subtle yet unmistakable.

"I—no," you hastily assured him, forcing a small smile. "Merely lost in thought, Your Grace."

His gaze lingered, as if gauging the truth of your words, before he continued, seemingly appeased. "I was saying," he began, as the two of you came to a stop before a grand painting of a woman reading by candlelight, "that I should like to spend my life in such quiet appreciation of art and literature. With a loving wife, of course, who shares the same sensibilities."

The words were spoken casually, but the weight of them struck you like a blow. You stiffened, the meaning settling into place a second too late.

“It is time the Nanami dukedom get its duchess,” he continues, seeming to pay no mind to how you’ve frozen like a deer hunted. He turns to you, looking to you with a twinkle in his eyes, one you could not read. “And I seem to have found a very…capable option.”

“I see,” you force out, swallowing nervously. 

“Indeed.” For a beat too long, Duke Nanami looks at you, but then says, “And I would suppose I’ve done my utmost to show what a dutiful, respectful husband I can be—after all, it is freedom that makes one prosper, not a gilded cage. 

"Furthermore, I have my fancy on someone who fits this description," he continued, his tone carefully measured. "But I am unsure if she would accept my proposal." He glanced at you then, his gaze steady. "Do you think she would?"

The air seemed to thin around you.

It would take a fool to miss what His Grace was implying—hand in hand, after you’ve both been courting each other for a week or so now, it is quite clear he’s using this to test the waters. To gauge your reaction.

The air in the gallery suddenly felt too thick, too heavy, pressing in from all sides. You had been aware, on some distant level, of Nanami’s affections. He had always been steady, always constant, always present. But to hear it spoken so plainly, so deliberately—it sent a sharp, startling panic through you.

Your thoughts scrambled, grasping for something—anything—to say. Did you want this? He was everything a woman could ask for in a husband. Kind. Thoughtful. Intelligent. A man of great integrity. There was nothing about him that should make you hesitate.

And yet, you were hesitating.

"I think…" Your voice was too thin, too unsteady. "I think she would have to ponder upon it. For marriage is no small covenant."

It was a poor deflection, and you knew it the moment the words left your lips. Nanami’s expression remained composed, but there was something in the silence that followed—something in the way his gaze lingered on you, as if seeing past your carefully chosen words.

You needed to leave.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" you blurted out, taking a half-step back. "I—I believe I should like to get some air."

Nanami studied you for a fraction too long before inclining his head. "Of course."

You curtsied hastily, turning away before he could say anything else. The moment you stepped away from him, your breath came out in a shallow, uneven exhale. Marble walls, floors, and ornately framed pieces of art blurred together, dresses and suits melding together in the edges of your vision. 

You didn’t know why this reaction had seized you so violently, only that it had. And you had no answer for it. You stumbled your way, heart pounding as you sought a respite—then, pinpointing an empty hallway. 

As you made your way to the target space, you heard other voices calling out to you—some of them might even be your brothers’. However, you were in no headspace to offer coherence responses, not over the beating of your heart. 

When you finally arrived, you were relieved to find that the hallway was blissfully quiet. Away from the bustling crowd and the low hum of conversation, you finally allowed yourself to exhale, pressing a cool hand to your neck as if that alone could soothe the rapid beat of your pulse.

Nanami’s words still lingered in your mind, coiling around your thoughts like a vice. Do you think she will accept?

Your breath had caught before you could form a proper response. You should have expected it—Nanami was nothing if not deliberate, never speaking without intent—but somehow, the weight of it still unsettled you. It had been a question and yet not a question at all.

A proposal loomed on the horizon.

You turned, gaze sweeping the dimly lit corridor until it landed on a single painting near the end of the hall.

Unlike the grand, gilded masterpieces displayed in the main gallery, this one had been tucked away from the grandeur. It lacked the polish of a commissioned work, the smooth elegance of a court-approved artist. And yet, something about it pulled you in.

Your fingers skimmed over the folds of your gown as you steadied yourself, gaze flicking upward to the painting before you. It was unlike the others in the exhibition—less grand in scale, less ostentatious in its display of wealth or pedigree. There were no poised noblewomen adorned in lace, no battlefields drenched in glory, no sweeping landscapes inviting idle admiration. Instead, it was a quiet tableau: a man standing beneath a twilight sky, arm outstretched toward a woman who stood just beyond his reach. Her posture was composed, her hands clasped before her, the tilt of her chin ever so slightly downward. She was not running, not spurning him—but she was not reaching back either.

Your brow furrowed as you studied it further. It was not a painting that offered easy interpretation. Was it longing? Was it duty? Was it loss? The artist had chosen to render their expressions in subtlety, eschewing exaggerated pathos for something far more ambiguous. The man was reaching—but did he truly expect to grasp her hand? The woman was still—but did she wish to be? The tension between them sat heavy in the air, much like the one that had lingered in your own chest ever since—

Before you could ponder upon the painting for long, however, you heard footsteps. Approaching in the hallway, they echoed softly in quiet chamber—after all, it was only you and the person who was approaching, seeming to need a reprieve of their own as well in the hidden alcove. 

But you didn’t need to see the person to know who he was.

Soft, unhurried, yet a bit shaken. By now, you had grown familiar with the rhythm of his gait—the lazy confidence in his stride, the way his heels struck the floor just a bit too deliberately, as if he never truly moved without purpose, even when he pretended otherwise. Right now, they were a little bit too arrhythmical to truly match the attitude you were far too familiar with at the beginning of the season.

A prickle of awareness traced along your spine, your pulse betraying you with its quickened tempo. But you kept your eyes fixed forward, feigning complete absorption in the painting before you. It was not as if you were eager for company—not after the morning’s ordeal, not after Nanami’s near-proposal, not when your mind was already tangled enough without the added complication of Gojo Satoru.

Yet he did not call your name, nor did he demand your attention. He merely came to stand beside you, hands clasped lazily behind his back, exhaling softly as he, too, observed the artwork.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, with the same easy lilt he always carried, Gojo remarked, “This is quite the departure from the usual fare.”

You nodded, fingers curling slightly against the fabric of your gloves. “Indeed.”

Silence stretched between you once more. He did not press you for further conversation, and for that, you were strangely grateful. It was unlike him, really—so rarely was he subdued, so rarely did he refrain from prodding and teasing and making his presence unbearably known. But here, in this dim-lit corridor, he was simply… standing beside you.

A quiet hum. The faintest shift of weight. You could feel him looking at you now, though you refused to meet his gaze, instead fixing your gaze on the painting, the frame, anything almost desperately to calm your racing heart before you could have an over-the-top ebullition once more, embarrassing yourself in front of him for the nth time this season. 

A brief silence settled, and then—

“Are you enjoying the gallery?”

The question was polite, normal, and unremarkable. You latched onto it like a lifeline.

“It’s a fine collection,” you replied, keeping your voice carefully measured. “Some works are predictable, but others are…” You gestured vaguely toward the piece in front of you. “Surprising.”

Gojo hummed in agreement, stepping closer—not intrusively, but just enough that you could catch the scent of tobacco leaves and something subtly sweet. “That’s one way to put it. Though I have to say, you look like you’re concentrating awfully hard.”

You blinked, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the painting. “It’s a rather curious piece.”

“That it is,” he agreed, hands tucked behind his back as he regarded it. “But, like I said, a bit dreary. The colors are not vibrant, and there is much to be desired in regards to their harmony.”

You almost smiled at that. “Not everything has to be grand and gilded to have meaning.”

“A fair point.”

Another pause.

“You came with your brothers, didn’t you?” he asked.

“I did,” you said, grateful for the change in topic. “They were speaking with some friends when I last saw them. And you?”

“Oh, you know how it is.” He waved a hand. “Came with Geto, ended up being dragged into conversation with half the room.”

You nodded, the corners of your lips tugging upward just slightly. “A best friend’s love, perhaps.”

“Perhaps.”

A comfortable silence fell over the both of you. At the opportunity given to you—of not having to fill the silence courteously with further small talk—you instead set aim on settling your heart. Pressing a hand to your bosom, you took in deep breaths until your frantic pulse became more regular. 

Finally, he spoke again. “It is rather unusual, though.”

You inhaled slowly. “How so?”

He tilted his head, considering. “Most paintings of this sort would either commit fully to tragedy or leave some feeble hope within the composition. But this—” He gestured lightly. “There is no resolution. No grand confession, no dramatic refusal. It simply is.”

You found yourself exhaling, your posture easing ever so slightly. “That is precisely what intrigues me.”

A small smile tugged at his lips. “So we agree.”

You huffed softly. “A rare occurrence, indeed.”

Gojo chuckled at that, shifting his weight as he observed the painting anew. “Still,” he mused, “I do think the artist intends for us to sympathize with the man. See how he reaches? How he refuses to yield to their distance? A weaker man might call it tragic.”

Your brow arched slightly, turning your gaze toward him. “And what would a stronger man call it?”

Gojo hummed. “Hopeful.”

You studied him for a moment. Then, returning your attention to the painting, you shook your head. “I disagree.”

“Of course you do.”

“The woman is not simply distant—she is removed,” you continued, ignoring the teasing—softer than the one you recognize—edge to his voice. “She does not reach back, not because she is afraid or reluctant, but because she cannot. She is bound by something greater than yearning.”

Gojo exhaled sharply through his nose, his expression flickering with amusement. “You think it is duty, then?”

“What else could it be?”

His gaze lingered on the canvas, his smile fading just slightly. “Perhaps love.”

Something in your chest stilled.

Gojo let the words settle, slow and deliberate, before finally turning to face you fully. The candlelight cast his features in soft relief, catching on the silver embroidery of his waistcoat, the pale strands of his hair, the unmistakable glint in his eyes. “I find it rather grim—albeit in a different direction than of yours,” he remarked. “Rather than fear of what she cannot, it is better that love and duty do not coexist, for their amalgam can prove troublesome.”

You parted your lips, but hesitation stilled your tongue. Not because you lacked an answer, but because—for all your certainty earlier—you were no longer so sure.

A moment passed.

Finally, you exhaled, your posture softening by a fraction. “Perhaps,” you said, voice even, “we are simply of different minds.”

Gojo studied you for a beat longer before a slow, knowing smile curled at the corner of his lips. He inclined his head ever so slightly. “As we so often are.”

It was not a challenge. Not a victory.

Merely an understanding.

As you stood there, the conversation settling between you, you found yourself thinking—not just of the painting, not just of duty and love, but of him. Of what he had done for you. Of how, despite everything—despite his arrogance, his sharp tongue, the way he had needled and provoked you, the way he had wounded your pride in ways no one else ever had—he had still stood by you when it truly mattered. When the moment arrived, when the weight of the world bore down on you, he had not hesitated. He had not faltered.

It was no small thing.

Perhaps he was not someone you could court, not someone who fit the shape of the life you had imagined for yourself. Perhaps he was not someone you could love—not in the way you had once thought love should be. But he did not need to be an enemy.

Not anymore.

There were worse things in this world than an unbearable, impossible man who, despite it all, had proven himself in the ways that truly counted.

When Satoru had wandered into the hidden hallway to escape Suguru’s notorious actions, he had not expected to find you. But it seems that the day was full of surprises, for he hadn’t expected your sentiments and posture about him to have changed.

Gojo had expected a sharp tongue, a ready rebuttal, the usual resistance you always met him with. Instead, you spoke with a peculiar softness tonight, your responses thoughtful, your gaze lingering not on him, but on the painting before you. He had not expected you to be so—what was the word?—empathetic. You had a ready answer for everything, a thoughtfulness to your opinions that was neither contrived nor merely spoken to please. And so, he found himself asking more, pressing you for further insights, testing the depth of your knowledge not to challenge, but because he wanted to hear what you had to say. At first, when he had wandered in, you seemed completely distraught but had seemed to ease your way into comfort, even in his presence.

Curious thing, that.

“You truly have an answer for everything,” he murmured at one point, more to himself than to you.

You glanced at him sidelong, the corner of your lips tugging in what might have been amusement. “You say it as though it is a fault.”

He chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “On the contrary, it is rather impressive.”

You inclined her head, not as a show of modesty but of simple acknowledgment. And for a brief moment, Satoru found himself simply… looking at you.

Your hair was finely arranged, swept up with delicate precision, though a few strands framed your face in an artful softness. The candlelight played upon the curve of your cheek, your lashes casting faint shadows upon your skin. Your dress—subtle in its elegance—complimented you in a way that felt effortless, the cut revealing just enough of the delicate arch of your throat, the slope of your shoulders, without ever breaching the realm of impropriety. You had always carried herself well, but there was something about you tonight, something that held his gaze longer than he intended.

He might have lingered longer still, might have remained entranced by the way the flickering light moved across your skin, had you not turned to him suddenly and called his name.

“My lord?”

He blinked, startled out of his reverie. “Hm?”

You studied him for a beat, her expression unreadable, before you simply exhaled and turned your gaze back to the painting. “I meant to thank you,” you said, voice quieter now. “For what you did last time.”

He knew what you referred to at once. The day he had defended you. The accusations that had been hurled at your feet, the venom spat in your direction—he had not tolerated it, would not have suffered it, no matter what might have stood between them.

Satoru felt the tips of his ears warm, though he smirked to deflect from it. “Ah. Well. It was merely a matter of preserving your honor.”

You turned to him fully now, your gaze steady. “You need not have done so.”

Satoru shrugged, though he found himself holding that gaze longer than he should have. “I could not stand to hear such things said of you.”

A quiet pause stretched between you both, and something in your expression shifted. A sort of understanding, perhaps. A recognition of something he could not yet name. He could not tell how long you both stood there like that, neither looking away, nor breaking the quiet that had settled so easily between you.

Then—

“Ah, here you are.”

Gojo turned sharply, his expression cooling the moment he recognized the voice.

Sukuna stood at the entrance of the hallway, his presence an unwelcome disruption to the delicate moment that had just transpired. His gaze flickered between you and Gojo, a slow, dangerous scowl settling over his features. “What the hell—”

You stiffened, immediately stepping away from Gojo, though his gaze remained steady on you. "Sukuna—"

"You’re with him?" he snapped, his tone sharp with outrage. His glare darted toward Satoru, seething. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Not here," you hissed under your breath, already moving toward him. "Let us leave, brother."

Sukuna's jaw tightened, but his glare burned hot as he pointed a warning finger at Satoru. It was almost comical how his figure seemed to be an impenetrable boulder as you—tiny in comparison to his frame—tried to shove him out to salvage whatever grace you could in your exist. “Lord Gojo, you—!”

But it was to no avail, for you had hastily quieted whatever ill reprimand Mister Sukuna Itadori had to throw towards him by shoving a hand over his mouth. Then, you grabbed his arm, practically dragging him away, as you cast one last, hurried glance at Gojo. "Good evening, my lord." And then you were gone, Sukuna stalking beside you, fuming, while Gojo remained behind, watching you disappear into the halls lined with art.

prev. the embers | next. soon!

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n is this....character development??

i hope this appeased anyone who was beginning to worry that miss itadori was a bit too antagonistic ... i have my beta readers to thank otherwise we never would've made it out the trenches

reader after nanami dropped the bomb on her

lowk i dont have much else to say but uhhh streets been saying there's gonna be another forced proximity library scene soon but how would i know what happens lolz

reblog and comment to lmk ur thoughts!

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[plainclothesdisaster]

Danny opens the door to his apartment to find one Jason Todd on his doormat, knuckles raised as if about to knock, tupperware in hand. Surprise surprise.

“Uh,” Jason lowers his hand. Maybe Danny should have let him actually knock- better to keep up appearances, like he couldn’t sense Jason anytime they’re within a three block radius of each other. But he’s tired- so goddamn tired- of this whole charade.

“What’s on the menu today?” He levels Jason with a look.

“Soup. Lentils. It’s, uh, high protein. Very healthy.”

Danny shouldn’t find Jason’s floundering so cute, knowing what he knows. But seeing as he didn’t ask for this (in fact, he explicitly asked for /not/ this), he thinks he’s allowed a little fun.

“Healthy, huh?”

Jason nods, and presents the container for him to take. Instead Danny swings the door wider.

“You might as well come in.”

Jason sits at the modest kitchen table as Danny sets a mug of warmed soup in front of him, then takes his own seat, another mug in hand.

He hasn’t actually been inside Danny’s apartment before, he’d always just left the meals outside his door. Bruce had been coy about sharing details on his top Watchtower engineer, but the breadcrumbs from the case files told enough of the story: Danny was just a kid barely out of college with a large dose of trauma and way too much responsibility. Bruce had also been clear on one thing: Danny didn’t want help.

That just meant Jason would have to get creative with how he helped him.

But now that he’s actually here, face to face with his most recent pet project, he’s not quite sure what to do. Danny just watches him, completely unmoving, except for his eyes that watch as Jason lifts an awkward spoonful of soup.

“So did Bruce put you up to this?”

Jason sputters over his spoon. “Bruce? Don’t know who you’re talking about. I just saw a neighbor in need, and I cook a lot anyway, so-“

“Sure. And you just happen to deliver only on days I’m not scheduled to be off planet? You’re not slick.”

Jason swallows. He sure does know Danny’s schedule and he sure doesn’t have a good excuse. Danny sighs.

“It’s okay. The food’s good. I’m just trying to figure out, well, why?”

“It was um, implied that Batman’s favorite Watchtower tech could use a home cooked meal or two.”

“He never knows when to leave it alone, huh.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Then why you? Unless—ah. He must have made the connection to your whole… situation.”

“My what?”

“Okay. Um. So, you do know you died, right?”

Jason chokes on soup. Again.

“Is that a yes…?”

“Yeah,” he croaks, “Yeah I just— How the hell do you know?”

“Ah. Well. That’s a bit of a long story.”

Danny gives him a strained smile and Jason takes a measured breath, not trying very hard to mask his disappointment. He wants to ask for more- desperately- but he shouldn’t. He’s supposed to be helping Danny, not the other way around.

Then Danny takes a spoonful of soup. He leans back in his chair the moment he tastes it. “Goddammit that’s good.”

Jason flushes with pride before Danny pins him with a look that chills him to his toes. His heart races, and he feels for a moment like he’s a bug under a microscope, and he’s not so sure he hates it.

Yet it’s Danny’s crooked smile that follows that makes his heart race even faster.

“Okay. How much time do you have?”

DPxDC Mechanical Engineer Danny

Danny caught the attention of Batman while studying at Gotham University for his alternative energy projects. He’s hired right out of college to work on the Watchtower.

He shows absolutely no tell of his abilities till there’s a dire situation- Flash’s electric discharge messes with one of his projects in progress and the whole base would have lost air pressure if he hadn’t done a quick fix using telekinesis and ice.

Of course Batman notices.

Batman assumes the worst- he suspects Danny’s a rogue of some kind, someone who has infiltrated the Justice League with an ulterior motive. But he can’t just fire Danny now- he’s the only one who knows how the new Watchtower energy source works. Plus, he’s not letting Danny go anywhere until he’s figured out his true motives.

Cue Batman subtly testing Danny- tossing things at him to trigger inhuman fast reflexes, having him lift too-heavy machinery, setting up convenient opportunities to steal or snoop or otherwise be up to no good. Danny does take advantage but only once, to use a computer terminal with unlocked clearance. He didn’t plant any bugs that Barman could find, and he otherwise kept up his powerless civilian act perfectly.

Still, Batman’s not satisfied. He brings an infrasonic sound emitter to Danny’s lab one day, and that, of all things, is what gets Danny to break.

“I know what you’re doing,” Danny admits with a sigh, finally. “If you’re really that suspicious of me, I can leave, but I kinda like my job so I’d prefer not to. The benefits are insane compared to what’s standard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure. yeah. How about you turn off the freaking noise generator and we can talk?”

“Hm.” Batman obliges, and he takes the stool next to Danny at his gesture.

“Number one, I’m not a meta. Despite all the data and conclusions you’ve probably drawn otherwise. Number two, I’m on your side. I’m here to work on the base, that’s it. I follow your rules to the letter.”

“The-“

“The classified files I looked at? Yeah that was the one exception. You already know what I looked at, I’m sure, but maybe you haven’t figured out why. It goes back to point one- I may not be a meta, but I am something that organization, the GIW, cares about. I looked at your files on them to sus out your relations. Seeing as I don’t particularly love being the victim to twelve degrees of human rights violations if I can avoid it.”

“Hm.” The Ghost Intelligence Ward was one of many government agencies that the Justice League hadn’t worked closely with. But they also hadn’t been flagged for Justice League investigation. Danny’s comments made him doubt that call.

“Any other questions?”

“If you’re not a meta, what are you?”

“I’m an engineer. A pretty decent one. And I’d really, really like it to stay that way.”

Batman considers, and ultimately lets him stay. He likes Danny (everyone likes Danny), and it would be a massive pain in the ass to replace him. He really is a good engineer.

It’s only much later that his faith in Danny is repaid in spades.

Batman finds Danny on the Watchtower command bridge. Alarms are blaring, the station has been knocked out of orbit, out the window there’s shrapnel floating everywhere as a space battle rages around them.

On the station it’s chaos. Technicians run around, shouts from the med bay, sparks from the walls.

Batman and Danny stand at the main controls, watching the battle outside, stoic, unmoving.

Wonder Woman’s harried voice crackles through on coms: “We need backup.”

“There is no more backup.” Batman replies, while looking pointedly at Danny.

“What?”

Batman doesn’t move.

“What.”

“The impact from Darkseid’s initial attack should have sent this station on a terminal trajectory toward the planet.”

“Well. We aren’t currently plummeting to our deaths, so turns out it didn’t do that.”

“You did something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re lying.”

“Maybe Superman nudged us back on course in all the chaos.”

“I’ve been watching the trackers. No one else with the capability has come near the station.”

“Can’t you just be grateful we got lucky?”

Sounds of peril screech over the coms. Danny’s face scrunches.

“Luck had nothing to do with it. As it is now, we are going to lose this fight.”

“Isn’t there anyone else you can call?”

“I’m asking you. You can help, can’t you?”

The glare-off lasts a long moment more before Danny breaks.

“Fuck. Fuckity fuck.” Danny runs his hands through his hair. “Shit. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I’m asking you to save this and countless other worlds from a genocide. I’m also asking you to save my friends.”

Danny looks at him, hard, weary, and with a kind of deep resolve that feels far too ancient to be on the face of a supposed twenty-something.

“Fine. Fine. Okay.” He steps back and transforms. If Batman is surprised when he shakes off his human appearance like an old coat, he doesn’t show it. But what’s undeniable is the being in Danny’s place has the unmistakable presence of power.

“No one else can know.” His voice echoes in a way that’s sonically impossible, both sounding closer and further away than he should be.

He pulls a gear-shaped medallion seemingly out of thin air and puts it over his head in one motion.

“If I get in trouble for this, I’m blaming you.”

He vanishes. Outside, the shape of the battle changes instantly. The stars seem to glow brighter as the arms of the galaxy flash with the colors of the aurora. Then it’s like the void of space itself comes alive. It moves the spaceships back like they’re toys, plucking them from one side of the field to the other. It finds Darkseid at the heart of the chaos and massive arms of nothingness and darkness wrap around him. He’s screaming as it swallows him whole.

His armies scatter. The battle turns. The JL deal with the stragglers, but the air of relief is palpable.

Danny reappears next to Batman, once again donning his grease-stained coveralls. Arms folded.

“Happy?”

It took all of five minutes. Less, probably. Batman tamps down a thousand questions.

“Thank you.”

“I’m gonna need two weeks off minimum.” Danny snaps. “One to deal with the bureaucratic nightmare you’ve just caused me, and another to recover from the headache.”

Batman blanks. “Granted.”

Danny sighs. “And I’m not fixing the station until I’m back. It won’t fall out of the sky as is. Make up whatever excuse you want.”

“Done.” He considers. “I would prefer to tell them the truth. That you saved us.”

Danny glares. “I’m not supposed to save you. I made a pact not to use my power to influence the mortal realm.”

“A pact with who?”

Danny rolls his eyes. “The embodiment of Time. The concept of Justice. Among others.” He smirks at Batman’s confusion.

“And what, exactly, does that make you?”

He stands, framed by the space window, haloed by the stars. “I’ll give you three guesses.”

Batman frowns.

“Look. I like you guys. I like working on your base. I like supporting the work you do. But you can not go factoring me in to any of your plans or contingencies. This was a one time thing.

“So to answer your question again: I’m an engineer.”

[inadaydream99]

When You Sit in Their Lap

A/N - I just had to…

Disclaimer: This does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only.

Bang Chan

Chan is used to being the one offering comfort, whether it’s to you, his members, or anyone who comes to him with a problem. So when you settle into his lap without hesitation, his first reaction is a chuckle that’s full of warmth and affection.

His hands immediately rest on your waist, fingers pressing into your sides as he adjusts you to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You could’ve warned me first, y’know,” he murmurs, but there’s no real complaint in his tone.

Before you can respond, he tightens his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin as he leans ever so slightly to place a gentle kiss.

“Not that I mind.” His touch is gentle but firm, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath you.

If he was working on something, he’ll absentmindedly return to it, one hand still holding you close. But if it’s late at night and the two of you are unwinding, expect him to shift slightly, pulling you even closer into a proper cuddle.

Lee Minho

Minho’s first reaction is a raised brow, his lips twitching ever so slightly in amusement.

“You’re brave,” he remarks, tilting his head slightly as he looks up at you. But despite his teasing, his hands instinctively settle on your hips, holding you in place like he was expecting you to do this all along.

His eyes scan your face, gauging your expression before he smirks.

“Is my lap really that comfortable?” he muses, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your thighs.

He pretends not to care, but the way his hands tighten slightly whenever you shift gives him away. If you try to move away, he won’t stop you outright, but he will let out a soft scoff and pull you right back.

“You sat down first. Stay.”

If he’s feeling particularly playful, he might lean in close and whisper, “If you wanted my attention, there were easier ways to ask, you know.”

Seeing your flustered reaction only makes his smirk turn more devilish, before he moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and gently forces you to maintain his eye contact.

Seo Changbin

The moment you sit on Changbin’s lap, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases, his arms naturally wrapping around you, locking you in place.

His hands settle on your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles against your sides as he leans back slightly, completely content with your weight against him.

“You’re not getting up now,” he adds with a chuckle, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

Changbin isn’t one to shy away from affection, and if you make yourself comfortable, he’ll take it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you more securely, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“You just made a big mistake,” he jokes, “because now I’m never letting you go.”

He might even start rocking the both of you gently, fully enjoying the excuse to hold you close.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin freezes for a brief moment before his lips curl into a slow, mischievous smile. “Oh?” he hums, tilting his head slightly as he stares up at you. His hands find your waist, warm and firm, as he adjusts his posture to accommodate you better.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that soft, teasing tone that makes your heart race. “Sitting here means you’re mine for the next hour at least.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pressing a lingering kiss against your skin and when you squirm you feel his grin against your shoulder, his arms tightening around you to stop you from twisting yourself enough to see his expression.

Hyunjin thrives on physical affection, so he takes full advantage of the moment—playing with your fingers, swaying slightly with you in his arms, or tracing patterns on your thighs.

“Comfy?” he asks, though his tone makes it clear he already knows the answer.

And if you even think about moving? He’ll pout dramatically and whine, “Stay just a little longer,” a satisfied smirk on his face knowing you can’t refuse him.

Han Jisung

Jisung stares at you for a second before gasping dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he’s just been personally attacked.

“You really just—sat down? No warning? No heads-up?” he exclaims, though his laughter betrays him.

Before you can respond, he sighs dramatically and leans into you, arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Guess I have no choice but to accept my fate,” he mutters, nuzzling against your shoulder with a playful pout.

Despite his teasing, you can feel how relaxed he becomes with you in his arms. He’ll absentmindedly play with the hem of your shirt or run his fingers along your back, fully enjoying the warmth of your presence.

If you shift too much, he’ll tighten his hold and whine, “Hey, stop moving, you’re gonna ruin the moment!”

If he’s in a particularly clingy mood, he’ll lay his head against your chest and mumble, “You can’t just sit here and expect me not to fall asleep.” And honestly? He might just do exactly that.

Lee Felix

Felix’s immediate reaction is pure joy—his eyes light up, and a soft giggle escapes his lips as he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist.

“Aww, you wanna cuddle?” he coos, his deep voice laced with warmth.

Holding you close, his hands rub soothing circles on your back. “You’re so warm,” he murmurs, resting his head against your shoulder.

When you let out a little hum in response, he smiles and nuzzles into you even more.

“You’re not allowed to leave now,” he adds, his grip tightening slightly.

Felix lives for moments like these, so he’ll fully embrace the situation—rocking you gently, playing with your fingers, or even humming a soft tune against your skin.

If you try to move, he’ll pout dramatically. “But I’m so comfy,” he whines, giving you those wide, pleading eyes. And let’s be honest—you’re not getting up anytime soon.

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really?” he deadpans, watching as you settle into his lap. But even as he acts indifferent, his hands immediately move to secure you in place, his grip firm on your waist.

“You’re bold,” he remarks, but there’s a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

His fingers lazily trace patterns against your sides, his warmth seeping into you despite his teasing exterior.

If you try to move away, he won’t stop you, but he will tighten his grip just enough to make you hesitate.

“You started this,” he reminds you. “Deal with it.”

Despite his playful sarcasm, you can feel how comfortable he is with you there. Then you feel him lean you both further back and hear him sigh dramatically. “Guess I have to tolerate this now,” he muses, his tone dry but his actions betraying him as he rubs slow circles on your back.

Yang Jeongin

Jeongin stiffens slightly, caught off guard by your sudden closeness. His ears turn pink almost instantly, and he blinks up at you. “Oh. Um. Hi?”

But within seconds, he relaxes, a small, shy smile forming on his lips.

“You’re comfy,” he admits softly, his arms tentatively wrapping around your waist. His grip is gentle at first, but as the warmth between you settles in, he holds you a little tighter, more securely.

He lets out a contented sigh, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “You’re not allowed to move now,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled.

And if you try? He pouts, tightening his grip with a quiet, “Nope. Stay here.”

[howaboutalittleeffort]

To The Rescue

Mommy: Help is on the way!

Alizabeth had sent that text message nearly thirty minutes ago, thirty minutes that seemed eternal for Jamie, who anxiously waited in a locked public bathroom. Thirty minutes of waiting in his current soaked state. Thirty minutes of trying not to remember Alizabeth’s concern that morning about him not being ready for the responsibility of training pants while out on his own. Thirty minutes of the ever-increasing noise from what he could only hope was a small line of others waiting for his exit.

“Excuse me, may I squeeze by?” His stomach dropped when the voice he heard was not that of Alizabeth but of Becca. Who, since the surprised unveiling of his big baby status a few weeks back, had gone from his lifelong best friend to a glorified babysitter, a role she all too often seemed overly eager to fulfill.

“You in there, Jamie? It’s Auntie Becca; mind opening the door?” Becca, not known for her ability to use an inside voice, kept true to her raucous nature even now, alerting the small shop to who she and Jamie both were.

Jamie, wanting to avoid further embarrassment and the disclosure of her personal information, unlocked and opened the door while doing his best to hide behind it.

“Why are you here? Where is Alizabeth?”

“Who?” Becca had taken on a rather annoying habit of not understanding him whenever he failed to use the appropriate honorifics for Alizabeth and herself.

“Mommy, where is she?”

“Honey Bear, she is at work and wouldn’t be able to make it in a reasonable amount of time. You should count your lucky stars that I was home and was able to get here quickly.”

“Quickly, it took you thirty minutes to get here!” Jamie had been much louder than he had meant, but the urge to match Becca’s loud nature was something he had always almost naturally tried to match.

“No sir, you will not raise your voice at me. I had to stop by your Mommy’s house and grab your diaper bag. Of course, if this is going to become a regular thing, maybe I need to keep a fully stocked bag at my place too.” At her current volume, Jamie was sure anyone near the door now realized the large pastel bag she had carried in with her was not some clunky purse but a fully stocked mobile changing station.

“Can you please keep it down? The entire shop is going to know what is happening in here?” His best hope at keeping some dignity for when he did eventually leave this restroom was to get her to quiet down.

“Is that how you ask someone to do something?”

“No, please lower your voice, Auntie Becca?”

“Better! Now let’s get you cleaned up and out of here.” With that, she began pulling out the needed supplies, beginning with his changing mat.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Honey Bear, you’re too big for the changing station, and I’m not going to have you lie directly on the floor.”

“No, I mean, we don’t need any of that; just give me another pair of training pants.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, but your Mommy was pretty clear that you were to be in diapers for the remainder of the day.”

“Please!” Maybe if he at least asked nicely, she would allow it. Alizabeth would surely be more understanding if Becca went along with it.

“I don’t know; I would hate for you to get in trouble with your Mommy.”

“I could change into a diaper before she gets home. She wouldn’t know. Please, Auntie Becca." At this point he was willing to beg for her mercy, even if that mercy was just a slightly less embarrassing undergarment than a full-fledged diaper.

“Did I just hear that you want me to lie for you?

“It’s not a lie; we just wouldn’t tell her everything. At worst it is a small fib.

“Enough, on your back now, eyes on the ceiling!” Realizing he had overstepped in his suggested deception, he lay down, hoping that if he was well-behaved from here on out, Becca would at least not tell Alizabeth about it.

As he lay there, staring at the roof, he realized that a more terrifying aspect of Becca was now present, silence. Throughout their long friendship, Jamie had come to learn that when silence overtook her, it was best to do everything possible to get her mind off what had caused it.

“Umm, what were you up to today?” She remained silent as she slid his pants off and tore off the sides of his trainers.

“I could have just slid those off for you.” Maybe an attempt at assistance would break the silence.

“Mommy lets me put them on myself.” Nothing; Becca’s silence remained undeterred.

“Becca, I’m sorry, I…” Jamie had looked from the ceiling to Becca to make his apology, but he had not expected to be looking straight down her low-hanging collar, getting more than a peek at her floral-design bra.

“Really, first you ask me to lie, and now you’re perving on my chest!”

“No, I was trying to apologize; I didn’t know you were wearing such a revealing shirt.” Jamie, at least, could be relieved she had finally spoken, though her volume seemed to have reached new heights.

“First off, I told you to keep your eyes on the ceiling, and second, only a big baby prone to premature accidents would think this shirt is revealing.”

“I wouldn’t call them premature.”

“Says the big baby whose little thingy is really trying to show off for me now.” Jamie wanted to argue but knew a more prolonged look down her shirt would have proved her words true, so he turned his eyes back to the ceiling.

“Damn it!”

“What? I haven’t done anything else!”

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?” Exasperated, Jamie could only imagine what he could have done now. He just wanted to be done with this interaction.

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news first?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Well, the bag only has your nighttime diapers in it…”

“Great, I can waddle all the way home.”

“… and a onesie for a change of clothes.” A new wave of panic rushed over Jamie.

“What do you mean? I can’t go out there in just a onesie and literally the thickest diapers I have!”

“You may have to, I’m sorry, Honey Bear.”

“Maybe you can rush home or to a nearby store and grab something to wear; I can wait a bit longer here.” As if some unknown force had heard his willingness to wait and determined that he had held up the world long enough, a knock on the door and a polite voice asking if everything was okay ruined any such plan of further waiting.

“Doesn’t sound like that is going to work. Look, you only have to make it to the parking deck.” Becca had quickened her pace, giving little care to the sounds coming from her fluffing the diaper.

“The parking deck is like half a mile from here.”

“Lift up for me. I’m really sorry, but I don’t think there is anything else that can be done.” Becca had the diaper fastened on quicker than he thought possible and was pulling Jamie to a sitting position.

“Maybe you could go grab your car and come back. I’ll stay here.” Becca was already pulling the onesie over his head.

“I really don’t think anyone in the store is going to be okay with you taking even more time up in their bathroom. Can you stand for me so I can get to the snaps?” As Becca began work on the snaps, he glanced at himself in the mirror, taking in the full glory of the beige-colored onesie and the giant teddy bear on the chest area and the clearly oversized diaper peeking out through the leg holes.

He wondered if there was any silver lining to be pulled from this experience. There only seemed to be one, and with that he looked down at Becca on her knees, fidgeting with the snaps, and peered back down at her gaping shirt collar.

“Almost done, just let me see what I can do about it being so obvious.” As Becca did her best to help, Jamie knew that it was all for show; he knew there was no making his situation less obvious. This entire situation was ridiculous. Any other man with a woman on her knees in front of him would be getting serviced in a completely different way; there would be no need to sneak peeks, and no need to imagine her adjusting his diaper and onesie was something for more adult and pleasurable. He barely registered that his thumb had made its way to his mouth; he was so close, the entire situation fading from him, only a growing warmth, a warmth that was surely a prelude to an exploding pleasure, was felt in that moment; he only needed to keep imagining Becca’s prodding as something more seductive.

“Phew, glad we got you in that diaper.” Becca’s declaration pulled him from his daydream.

“Huh?” As the fog cleared from his brain, he realized that the growing warmth had been nothing more than him using his diaper for its intended purpose, and even now that he was aware, he was failing to stop himself from adding to it.

“Idwidntmeanto.”

“Aw, don’t worry about that, but maybe you would prefer your paci?” Jamie, realizing that his thumb was still securely in his mouth, pulled it out and tried to regain his composure, but before he could better explain himself, Becca had shoved a pacifier in his mouth.

“Let’s get out of here.” With that Becca took hold of Jamie’s hand and began leading him out the door, but just as they were stepping through the threshold into the knowing eyes of those who had patiently waited, Becca said without looking at him “Your Mommy is going to give you one sore tushie when she hears about your willingness to fib… and for peeking down my shirt twice.”

[occamstfs]

Keep On Trucking

Jonah thought he'd hate the rental truck he got when he flew back home. But after throwing on a hat he found in the cabin it seems like he's liking the thing more with every passing mile.

Thought we could do with some more sentimental southerner TFs so here we are ! Happy surprise that it coincides with a certain Texan AOTY ;) Sweaty, strong, and sweet, hope you enjoy Jonah's journey to a new home in the country! -Occam

It must be some form of cosmic comedy that Jonah’s only rental option was this wretched gas-guzzling juggernaut. Sitting a good fair few feet above every other car on the road, the truck that’s been foisted onto him simply demands attention. There’s a tight-lipped grimace on his face as the laundry list of insults he’s hurled at people who drive these fragile masculinity-mobiles over the years rush through his mind.

He’d never say them to a driver of course, both from a general fear of confrontation and a healthy fear of large loud men. His insults thrown never escape the glass panes of his Elantra. Nothing more than playful jibes to help work through the fear of sharing the road with drivers who could literally roll over him, and oft seem to want to. Just barking self-soothingly, like a chihuahua at a caged great dane.

His self-consciousness at plowing down the highway is interrupted however as a small car quite similar to the one he drives back at home veers towards him. Thankfully the road is not too crowded as he swerves to avoid the red speed-demon who flips him off before shooting ahead, surging into the distance to escape the sound of Jonah’s horn blaring. 

The nervous young man clutches at his shirt as he feels his pulse in his head. Eventually he sees the red pinpricks of brake lights disappear and his hands stop shaking from the near-collision. Sighing, he tries to steady his breathing and hopes the rest of his nerves will follow suit. Only then does the strangest thought occur to him ‘Thank god I was driving a truck.’

Jonah rubs his smooth jaw and grumbles to himself, “I guess there are some upsides to driving a freakin’ tank, ugh.” As he puts it to words he can’t help but continue thinking on the matter, besides maniacs like that little punk, people are probably way more likely to respect me on the road driving this thing. He wistfully stares at the road ahead lost in thought, though before taking the leap further to the lofty thoughts that people are more likely to respect his masculinity and authority in this beast, he shakes it off and clears his throat.

“Ugh I need a coffee or something.” Squirming in the seat slightly, only then does he notice the continued discomfort from his brush with danger; He’s sweating up a storm. Cranking up the AC as high as it goes he wipes his brow and tries to push sweaty hair out from his face. When a heavy drop falls into his eyes causing him to shout a hearty “fuck!” He pulls over to the side of the road and searches for a headband or something to solve this issue, “God why’s it so hot in here!”

Looking down at his now clearly sweat-stained shirt he groans, no way is he going to show up to his hometown friend’s party looking like such a slob. He briefly considers using the sweaty top to hold back his hair but thinks better of it, giving it a sniff he finds his deodorant has not been nearly as effective as it usually is. Frowning and going straight to the source he smells his pit and immediately cringes away, “Man what is up with me today? It’s like I forgot to put it on.”

Distracted by his strange overheating, the still-present need for a headband, and now wondering what on Earth he’s going to wear to his friend’s, Jonah doesn’t notice how, beyond the bizarrely more powerful scent, he has begun to change. The few thin curls in his armpit have multiplied without his notice, stretching longer and spreading beyond their usually trimmed patch. Each new strand drips with sweat, permeating his new musk as he scrambles about the cabin looking for some bandana or hat.

“Duuuuub-” Jonah’s hand bumps into the brim of a hat which he quickly yanks out from the dark recesses of the rental truck only to tilt his head as finding a tacky camo baseball cap, “eugh-” After rubbing his hand through his sweaty hair once more, he grimaces and throws it on anyway, “sorry to whoever's hat this is-” It’s not like he’s going to be seen in the kitschy backwater cosplay, he just needs to make it to a store or somewhere where he can buy a shirt and hair tie, then he’ll be scot-free.

Checking the time with a gasp he returns to the open road without much thought at all, leaving him totally unaware as his hair begins to creep into the cap. Long dirty blonde curls shorn to almost nothing, shortening into some short masc choppy look that doesn’t even have a name. Far from his mind’s eye the idea of going to a barber for years buries itself and begins spreading tendrils towards other inactive memories, “Been a few weeks Rob- Just give me the usual.” Were he to picture the memory he would surely see a man who is not himself in the mirror.

The mirror? His eyes glance to his rearview and he gasps as he sees it’s suddenly angled way off. His usual anxiety quickly makes itself known in his sweaty chest. Eyes wide and on the road he doesn’t look down to catch as each quivering heartbeat leaves his chest wider, sticking out further as disparate strands of muscle begin to bulge. In the few half-seconds of him checking his other mirrors Jonah’s chest begins packing on quite the impressive pecs. “Musta- er Must’ve bumped it or, something?”

Going to adjust the mirror his usually careful hand forcefully bumps into it, grunting he wonders how. He didn’t even lean forward, which he knows he had to do when he first got in the truck. His arm would have to be almost half a foot longer. Throwing his hazards on he quickly pulls over once more, again neglecting to notice his changed hair in the mirror as he instead gasps in shock as he sees the arm of a behemoth dangling from his shoulder. 

In the minute since throwing on the ratty ball cap his arms have begun to grow. Every twitching movement on the wheel, every extension, even the slightest adjustment of his now less-than delicate fingers has been sending waves of change across forearms to which the idea of muscle definition is anathema. His mouth falls open as he takes notice of biceps that would have easily erupted from the sweat-stained shirt he had on, or rather, any shirt he owns. 

Jonah tries to process the meaty hands at the end of meatier arms, staring at the movement of individual muscle fibers under tight, suddenly tanned skin. He gulps as he sees them twitch with every accidental movement, power he can hardly understand coursing through them. His lip quivers into a grin as the idea occurs to flex them and he raises his arm to do so, exposing his tangle of pit hair and allowing sweat to drip down his chest.

Though just before getting the chance to truly indulge and delight, feeling the cold rivulet racing down his side he looks down to discover the new weight hanging on his chest. His eyes shimmer with wonder as he stares at pecs as sculpted as Michelangelo’s David now bulge from under his neck as it too thickens with another harsh swallow. His voice drops while his rougher hands go to cup his pecs, rubbing the few apparently shaved hairs as they begin their regrowth.

Despite his usual lucidity and rationality, something about seeing the rugged arms and chest of a man twice his size, something about feeling the strain of new biceps moving or seeing his handful of almost invisible chest hairs darkening alongside a congregation of new curls, his mind is awash with instincts that don’t seem his own. He smirks as he looks at his reflection in the now-adjusted mirror, higher in the seat both from his body lengthening as well as from sitting straighter with pride, he scratches at the stubble appearing on his chin and turns back to the road thicker brows furrowed into a cocky sneer, “They’re gonna be all fuckin’ over me at this party.”

Dragging his attention from his bulking body back to the road, Jonah can’t help but continue thinking about what a stud he’s becoming, what a stud he is. So focused on the strength ambient within him, delighting on the sensations coursing through him as he playfully flexes his arms and chest, that he hasn’t chance to notice his thoughts truly changing alongside his form. Suddenly a Texas-shaped bottle opener dangles from the set of keys that look far too beat up for a rental company to hand out. Obviously of course, why would a rental company have his truck?

One hand on the steering wheel, Jonah can no longer resist groping at the growing bulge that strains his pants. While it’s been certainly hard since the first glimpse of his bulging bicep, as his pride grows so does what may as well be the source of his masculinity. With each clumsy rub and grasp of his package as it threatens to break free from his pants, he continues to become the man to match his apparent wheels.

So too does his truck slightly shift to perfectly display the man that now identifies as its owner. The floorboard where a ball cap was hidden is littered with detritus from living in the country. Dirt paints the once spotless chassis of the vehicle and at the same time, hair thickens on his form as pubes inch above their brief containment, connecting with a treasure trail that begs to expand.

His balls throb as his once imperceptible treasure trail indeed races to cover the whole of his stomach before racing up to a chest that yields to its own mouth-watering pattern of fur. Pits still dripping with sweat lengthen and spread tantalizingly close to meeting with his garden of chest hair.

Jonah grunts as his new bulge grows large enough that the constriction is outright painful. Freeing his impressive rod it becomes clear that his accusations of redneck truckers compensating could not be further from the truth, in his case that is. His seat creaks under his weight as he squirms to pull his pants down to his knees, freeing bulkier thighs and a perfect bubble butt as both are similarly painted with haphazard brushes of hair. Inner thighs coated with curls add to the rugged forest around his pre-dripping package while new curls on his ass tickle against his warm, sweat-covered seat.

Halfway to masturbating he bites his lip as he tries to restrain his desires and continue driving, though the pushing down of his rigid rod so easily shifts to tugs and thrusts. His sticky, wanting breaths fertilize the growth of stubble on his face that will never vacate and a mustache sticking to his upper lip that will always be just a tad thicker. Meanwhile his calloused hands continue to tantalize a cock  edging closer to a release that he will not let yet arrive. Moaning from the intense need of his loins he grits his teeth and powers down the road voice deep and clearly accented as he whispers to himself, “Gotta save mah spunk for the party…”

Still with each slow grasp and pull towards release, his form continues to pack on weight and slick with denser forests of hair. So too does his outfit change to match his new life, with each half-thrust into his hand the brim on his hat widens, its cheap camo-green fading as it becomes a Stetson that any man of his stature demands. Slightly dressy pants stain blue and roughen into jeans while his shirt disappears entirely.

Finally, shoes that have given up the ghost long ago to feet that would cause anyone’s eyes to widen begin staining brown and reforming. Long, hairy toes that stick out from the once tennis shoes are corralled into the dark, expensive leather of genuine cowboy boots. The new soles click against the pedals of his truck and his thicker brows continue to furrow as he struggles not to cum at the sound of his beast rumbling down the road.

At long last Jonah comes up on the turn to his friend’s little shindig and he sighs in relief at making it before he spills a load on himself. Turning down a long dirt driveway he narrows his eyes as he feels something amiss, would’ve sworn his friend lived in a suburb or somethin’. But then he blinks and remembers obviously not. His boys’d never wanna share their streets with self-important, pretentious pricks. 

Parking in the grass alongside a handful of other trucks, Jonah grunts as he forces his cock down his jeans, its outline quite the clarion call down his pant leg. Buttoning up and cinching a gaudy belt-buckle, Jonah steps out into the party, grabbing a couple of six packs of Lone Star and waddles over to the gathered crew. Taking a deep breath of the cold dusk air as the sun begins to sink past the horizon, though beneath the smell of the woods there is a clear undercurrent of sweaty bodies and something richer, saliter.

Depositing beers that were once a host’s gift and some seltzers, Jonah turns to be greeted by cheers of burly men that seem to have already paired off. Scratching his stubble as he looks for his own quarry his eyes alight onto one shy looking twink standing to the side. Seems he didn’t get the memo that this isn’t some post-ironic gathering, not even wearing a cowboy hat. 

More than ready for some fun, Jonah grabs a discarded hat on the table and wanders over to the lone man. The twink eyes him with a wry smile as he can’t miss the obviously altered gait, they then widen when he recognizes the man as Jonah, “J- Jonah!?” his mouth drops open and his eyes glaze over as something readjusts, “You’ve really, uhm- filled out?” Though even as he says it the idea of the late-comer looking any different than this seems incorrect. 

Jonah ignores the man, Anton, and deposits the hat on his head, leaning down he whispers in his ear, “Evenin’ Ant. You wanna go have some fun?” Anton’s mouth waters as the larger man stands close enough to wash him in musk before deliberately jabbing him with his thick bulge. He babbles something as the new hat blurs his thoughts a tad though it’s more than clear that the thin man, bored out of his mind, has been looking for excitement that only Jonah could bring all night.

Arm around Anton’s shoulder, Jonah escorts him to the back of the nearby barn, already littered with cans and clearly stained by haphazard bodily fluids. Neither man cares as they begin to use the wall just as seemingly every party-goer before them has. Jonah pushes him against the wall and the pair indulge in each other as if there were nothing else in the world. The hat falls from Ant’s head as he begins to change with or without it. His trimmed pubes rapidly stretch above his hairless waistline, racing to connect with chest hair that isn’t even there yet.

His waxed face scratches against Jonah’s itchy jaw and his mouth waters with hunger and jealousy. Before he can even consciously wish for something similar, his own face is overcome with the burning sensation of pores expanding into stubble that has never been given the chance to seed bursting forth. Soon enough his entire face is overtaken by thick lancing curls of a beard. After not much time at all the pair are worked up enough that making out is not nearly enough.

Even as his suitor puts on weight and muscle mass, Jonah easily hoists him up and finally makes use of his new heavy cock. It’s not clear how long the pair exercise their new forms behind the barn. Ant’s rushed initiation into the world of assless chaps and hairy backs and Jonah’s final steps into the hard-working world of farm living last forever and no time at all. Though by the end both men are thoroughly consumed by their new hairy, muscled selves. 

Their hairy bodies rub against each other as new lives together bloom in their minds. Maintaining a small homestead in the town they grew up in, often traveling into the nearby city to show city-folk that country boys ain’t all bad and making it clear to any small minded townies that they better treat their fellow man with respect or get what’s coming to them.

As they reach what must be the apotheosis of their new forms both men lose control at the same time. Awash in the heightened sensation of their new powerful selves and lost in love for each other stronger than they ever thought they’d achieve, Ant and Jonah stumble out from behind the barn.

Ant walking with a gait that can only mean one thing since they certainly weren’t horseback riding. The pair are jeered at by their fellow country queers and finally enjoy the party. It’s a joyous celebration of the first day of the rest of their lives surrounded by their fellow odd folk. When Jonah’s eyes fall back upon the truck he’s been driving for bout a decade now he can’t help but smile in contentment. She ain’t the prettiest wagon in the west, but she got him here. Surrounded by butches and bears alike Wade sits on a bench and pulls his man onto his lap, “Gonna be a good night Ant.” The pair crack open beers and drink in the new world around them, eager to see what their lives together have in store.

[cherie-doll]

Okay great! Glad I cleared it w/ you first ^^

Could you please write the COD guys reacting to seeing his military crush bite an enemy in the throat, because somehow said enemy snuck up on them and, well, there wasn't much else they could do besides that, except like, die

So of course they chose to bite a guy to death, and he saw all of that

Is it #truelove or #ohmygodwhatwasthatgrossss 😭 /j

yk what's funny, i wrote a draft for this and turns out i never saved it... so here we go again

𖧧 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ᵎ Price had always thought of you as an admirable and exemplary soldier who always completed missions with efficiency. He never questioned how your methos for completing those missions... until now. A cry was about to leave his lips when he saw the enemy sneaking up behind you, until he stood watching in shock as you responded quickly by biting into their neck.

ᵎ Simon could have thought of other... methods that you could have used when taken by surprise. Sure, he's seen unspeakable war crimes but this has got to be one of those top ten moments on his list of things he wishes to NEVER witness ever again. Let's just say the ride back was dead silent.

ᵎ Soap would have such a big, fat crush on you there isn't anything you do that wouldn't look attractive to him. You've done a number of things and he would just kick his feet and giggle to himself. Seeing you sink your teeth into the enemy's throat with agility only made him experience an initial shock before thinking, "wow, they're so resourceful".

ᵎ Kyle could see why you would do something like that but... why? Just why? You have a weapon, he was covering for you and was it really easier to go rabid on someone rather than pull your knife out? He didn't know you had that side to you.

ᵎ Roach is scared. He's running; he fears he might be next if you confuse him for the enemy. He stood aghast for a moment before booking it out of there.

ᵎ Alejandro is lowkey into that. He had been observing you, watching your moves to see how you would perform out in the field. He's heard so much about how quick your reflexes are when it comes to combat but he surely didn't expect this. He likes 'em a little crazy anyways.

ᵎ Rudy made the mistake of assuming you wouldn't react in time. He had pulled out his weapon and aimed at the enemy who was attacking you now, he heard the shot on his end and then paused for a moment. He saw two figures still on the ground, until you got up, blood dripping down your chin and for a moment he assumed the worst; that he had aimed incorrectly and hit you instead. Until he saw the bitemarks on the enemy's neck.

ᵎ Phillip is usually proud of whatever his Shadows do to eliminate the enemy. He doesn't care how they do it so long as the job is done. He's yelling over the comm what a great job you did until he hears... questionable sounds? The sound of choking, ok so he thinks you choked the enemy out until another shadow responds saying you just bit someone and the gurgling sounds was the enemy choking on their own blood. Well...

ᵎ Makarov would sort of just laugh. He's never seen you panic so much in a moment where you don't even know what to do and act on whatever idea comes into your mind first.

ᵎ Keegan was beyond weirded out. When he had told you to learn from Riley he didn't mean for you to also take out the enemy soldiers by ripping their vocal chords out, he had meant it mostly as a joke that even the dog had better skills than you.

ᵎ König does not know how to react, how he should react. He is mainly concerned and hopes this doesn't become a habit. Perhaps he should suggest you visit a doctor? Ah, for your... teeth. Yep, that's exactly why. Not to get a mental checkup too while you're at it.

ᵎ Horangi is off the rails himself, he is no stable man to judge how you take someone out. He did give you the advice to fight with everything and anything. He was only trying to teach the new rookie he had a little crush on how to survive out there. And boy was he amused to see you take that advice.

ᵎ Nikto has killed a man in more ways than he can count. Some too brutal to mention. So, seeing you using your teeth as last resort to nearly bite the enemy's head off was like really falling in love with you. He did absolutely did not care that there was blood on your teeth, spilling down your lips as you tried your best to spit it out.

[narcjsistx]

— 𝐌𝐀𝐌𝐀, 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐀 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐕? ; micheal kaiser

i honestly don't know, it's all quite random!! it could be a spinoff of this one but with the little girl's name i used for this. i felt creative, but it disgusts me this shit </3

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me! ; words: 0.5k

"mama"

"what, baby?"

"is that dada on TV?"

You look up from your magazine, looking towards the flat screen television: the image of your husband, while he is flanked by his faithful teammate Ness, is shown while the program commentator gives a brief introduction of the match just played, but Anneliese is still too young to understand what the man is saying. A small smile appears on your lips as you look at your daughter, so enchanted to see his father on TV

"It's dada. That's why he can't stay with us for these days, he's near Munich" you say stroking her blonde hair, yet another trait she picked up from Kaiser "Do you remember that town we visited a few months ago? He's there" you say, and Anneliese nods "Ness Ness is here too!" the little girl says, as an image of Alexis is projected onto the screen. You nod, amused "Yes, he's with dad. They're playing an important match"

Anneliese knows what her father does for a living, more or less. She knows that he travels often and kicks a ball, and unexpectedly he also gets paid quite handsomely. She remember your work better, but maybe it's just a matter of habit

But actually, it is the first time she has seen Kaiser on television, or rather, the first time dhe has seen him and can remember him; it already happened when she was younger, but she was only a few months old, it's impossible for her to remember it

Kaiser has been out of town for a few days but he should return tomorrow morning, and the television is only broadcasting the replay of the game he played this morning, but which Anneliese didn't see, perhaps that's why she's so surprised. The commentator speaks quickly while the passes between the feet of Micheal and Alexis become faster, and closer and closer towards the net. The crowd cheers for the Bastard Munchen prodigy, while the ball, with a powerful Kaiser Impact, ends up in the net with a sharp hit

Anneliese jumps from the couch, coming to the front of the television as the screen shows Kaiser bowing to the crowd, proudly showing off his tattoo and smirking, the one you've known for practically your whole life. Your little girl's smile, the one you've loved since her first breath 5 years ago, makes you smile almost spontaneously as you hear her clap her hands "Dada, dada scored!"

The shot now shows a reporter inches from your husband, sweaty but tremendously handsome: Micheal runs a hand through his blond hair, while the man clears his throat "Spectacular match today! Excellent result for Bastard Munchen, but no one expected less from the team's number 10"

"Yeah? You have to keep expectations high, whether they're from your fans or your family. But I think everyone knows what my preference is"

"No doubt, after all you often dedicate goals to your daughter or wife. Thoughts on them?"

"What else is there to say, other than that I love them? Every goal is for them, only them"

You smile, placing the magazine now located in your lap. Anneliese opens her mouth in shock, running around the couch "He dedicates it to us, he dedicates it to us! Dada is fantastic, isn't he?"

"He is. He really is"

They are sincere words, because you could never want anything else other than this: your perfection, your husband, your daughter

[idealpisces]

Careful Cleaning

pairing: rafayel x reader

warning: unsafe sex, piv, fingering, creampie, master kink, slight power play?

word count: 2.6k+

NSFW // MDNI // 18+

synopsis: you decide to pay your boyfriend rafayel a surprise visit after not seeing him for a while due to your hectic work schedule. you made a bold purchase buying a risqué maid outfit online. you’re frustrated to say the least and thought it would be fun to try something new.

______________________________________

just knock, you think to yourself in frustration. you’ve been pacing a few feet away from his front door for what seemed like several minutes. finally, you work up the courage to knock lightly on his door. god…can i even really pull this off? you take a couple of deep breaths, and the door swings open.

“oh! hey cutie, i didn’t know you were planning to stop by,” rafayel greets you with a grin and subtle shocked expression. you look him up and down quickly. unsurprisingly, he’s in a formal fit despite just lounging around in his house. he’s wearing a navy blue button-down with his long sleeves rolled up to his elbows and black slim slacks held up by a belt you figured was probably more expensive than your apartment’s rent. your face starts to get hot, and you resist the urge to bite your lip while trying to recall the reason why you came here. you slowly take off your black trench coat to reveal yourself in a semi-sheer black maid mini dress littered with mini bows and white lace all over. your pair of ridiculously high platform black suede pumps is becoming more noticeable as it matches your getup. once you have your coat in your arms, you notice rafayel shift with his eyes widening fast and his mouth slightly agape.

you quickly try to look oblivious and speak softly, “hello, i’m here for a cleaning service scheduled for master rafayel.”

rafayel’s ears rapidly get red, and he’s awfully quiet, which makes you more nervous. his eyes bore into you.

you decide to speak up again, more unsure, “are you master rafayel?” suddenly he clears his throat while looking more serious.

“ah yes. i’ve been wondering when you’d arrive. all the cleaning supplies are in the closet down the hall. if you need me for anything, i’ll just be in the living room working,” he says with almost a touch of aloofness. he turns around to go and do just that.

what the fuck? how is he playing along so well and so quickly? before you let your insecurities fester, you decide to continue and get exactly what you intended to get. you place your coat on the stool beside the counter and make your way to the closet.

you spot a duster, clean washcloths, and a cleaning spray. you grab all the items to execute what you thought would make for an excellent maid performance. making your way back into his line of vision again, you start to use the duster on the counter facing him and bend over the counter a bit as you work. you were almost sure his eyes were boring into you again. you sneakily try to look over noticing a concentrated look but it’s not on you. just his sketchbook.

you frown a bit to yourself but let it dissipate and decide to up the ante by spraying the bottle all over the counter. you start to clean the surface with the rags with one hand and steady yourself against the counter with the other. once a section seems dry enough, you climb on top of the counter, making sure you’re in a kneeling position. you push all of your hair to one side, widen your legs, and reach over to the section yet to be cleaned. you hear what sounds like a pen or pencil hitting the ground but decide against looking toward the noise and suppress a smirk. you continue displaying yourself as someone who’s really concerned with just cleaning and cleaning alone.

you let out a soft sigh as you finish with the counter and climb down to go to one of his window walls. it starts dawning on you how unrealistic it would be for you to be cleaning all of it, but go ahead and try to clean what you can reach. you dust the windows within your limit and spray cleaner all over the surface. you catch the reflection of rafayel still on the couch, but this time he’s laser-focused watching you. he’s not just watching you though. is he palming himself?

not wanting to seem distracted, you continue on as if what you just witnessed didn’t faze you. you reach on your tiptoes to clean at a higher angle, keeping a hand between the window and your body from being completely pressed up against it. you can feel your dress hike up your ass but don’t make the effort to reach down and fix it. you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand and decide to amp this up in hopes of him finally just fucking you instead of watching you.

making sure he’ll have the best view of your body, you get down on your knees to the ground and spray the surface once more. you start to clean and gradually get yourself into an arching position while trying to scrub more forcefully. suddenly, you hear footsteps approaching you and feel a little too anxious to look up at the person wearing the fancy dress shoes a couple of feet away from your head.

“shouldn’t you be using a mop instead?” rafayel asks, furrowing his brows with his hand on his hip, breaking the horribly hot silence at last. you nervously look up at him, and his wicked bulge straining against his pants doesn’t go unnoticed. you respond a little sheepishly, “that’s not as efficient as this.”

rafayel tilts his head, looking a bit more intensely down at you. moments pass, and he crouches down in front of you. you lean back a bit looking startled. “well…you look like you’re struggling a bit. you need a hand?” he asks slyly.

your mind goes blank failing to respond to him, and you attempt to go back to cleaning in the position you were in before. he moves behind you, and without a thought, you’re automatically arching your back once more. he hovers over you with one hand holding your waist while his other hand is over yours, still holding the rag beneath it. he starts to move both his and your hand, scrubbing the floor with more strength. you can’t help but sigh silently at how warm his hands feel on you. his whole presence lights a bigger fire in you.

“now…isn’t this much better?” he whispers in a breathy voice next to your ear. scared your mouth will betray you and moan abnormally, you nod your head. the gap between your bodies disappears all of a sudden, and his hard-on harshly presses into your ass. you inaudibly gasp and bite your lip with your eyes ready to roll back. you needed him now, and you needed him bad. you didn’t think you could keep up with the bit anymore and were ready to give it all up in milliseconds.

“you’re—mmm..you’re distracting me from working master r-rafayel,” you pathetically whine trying to keep up this charade.

“distracting? i thought i was merely assisting you,” rafayel taunts.

“you know…i’ve never had a maid quite as gorgeous as you come to clean for me,” he coos in your ear. removing his hand from yours, his hand glides up the front of your right thigh excruciatingly slowly and lifts your dress in the process. “and i certainly never had one clean so enticingly.” his hand now moving to the back of your thigh and beginning to lightly grope your ass. it takes everything in your power to not whimper as you bite your tongue.

“you wouldn’t mind accepting early payment for your services… right cutie?” he asks with superficial innocence.

you don’t respond and feel his finger grab your black lace thong, lightly brushing against your pussy and stretching it outwards. he lets go and lets your thong snap back onto your obscenely wet folds, make a crude sound.

“mhmmm!” a loud moan finally slips out of you, and he chuckles softly. this time he grabs your panties with two fingers, stretching them so harshly to the side you think you hear a rip. his thumb starts to slide in between your folds, and you wonder to yourself if you can endure any more of the teasing. you couldn’t believe how wet you were just from parading around in this outfit to get him riled up.

“fuck. should my maid really be this wet while cleaning for me?” rafayel starts to slip two of his fingers into you, already starting at a rapid pace. your eyes struggle to stay open, and you move back into his fingers. you hear rafayel let out a moan and grumble, “such a naughty and eager maid for payment.” the hand holding your waist grips onto you more roughly, trying to keep you still. his fingers thrusting in deeper and deeper with more speed making you moan shakily, “m-masterrr mmhm.”

you feel him stop abruptly and are ready to whine when you get cut off by him adding in another finger. your pussy tries to adjust while clenching around his fingers. he eventually starts to pick up the same speed, as before, finger fucking you to the point you swear you’re about to become a puddle. your mouth hangs open as his thumb is circling your clit. this makes you go back to rutting into his hand, clearly struggling to be patient. he stops again, removing himself from your cunt, and you get frustrated again.

rafayel lifts you up off the ground by the waist, and your face meets itself back in front of the middle of the counter. your ass meeting his need against it again while you’re bent over in front of him. you hear a small pop and can deduce it to rafayel, tasting you off his fingers. rafayel moans while speaking with more urgency, “nnnghh…sorry cutie. i don’t think i can hold off any longer. we need to quicken this payment process just a bit more? yeah?” you hear him unbuckling his belt from behind but quickly feel your hands taken and tied behind you. a new wave of excitement washes over you as you hear him unzipping and feel his member against your cunt. “master…mmasterrr pleeeasseeee,” you plead for him to fuck you already, and his hand wraps around your throat, lifting you up enough for him to be next to your ear again.

“you’re not leaving until i hear you screaming master for me. understand?” he asks demandingly. you gulp and nod quickly. he grips on your throat a bit more.

“i need verbal confirmation.”

“y-yes master,” you manage to whimper out.

his hand releases your throat and starts to push your back down. soon after, he grabs at his belt, holding your wrists together. he lines himself up against your entrance but not before teasing you by sliding his tip up and down your folds, then tapping it momentarily against your clit. you bite your lip in anticipation and finally feel his glorious length entering you. he moans, and you gasp simultaneously. in an instant, you feel his entire cock filling your core. he pulls out agonizingly slow and slams back into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. using the belt as an anchor to hold you towards him while his other hand is digging into your waist, he starts thrusting into you roughly.

“nnnghhh.. i need you,” he moans out while somehow pounding into you faster.

“fuuuuck. you’ve no idea nngh!…no idea how crazy you make me.”

you moan back in response. you’re starting to drool as he digs into you deeper and deeper. everything starts to become too overwhelming, and your body’s ready to give out.

“mmm raf slow down i’m gonna—nnghnn—”

you feel the pressure in your lower stomach explode while convulsing around his cock still pounding into you. you’re about to slide off the counter, down into the ground, but rafayel stops you and himself altogether. leaving your cunt, he turns you around and finally kisses you with such force it makes you stumble back into the counter.

he lifts you up with his arms wrapping around your restrained ones, and you instinctively wrap your legs around him. he’s nipping away at your neck and following them up with licks and kisses. your back hits the couch as he sets you down under him making you notice that his eyes are lightless. he caresses your face with his thumb before kissing you again. his teeth tug at your lips for you to open, wasting no time to slip his tongue in. you feel more of his desperation and need. you’re moaning into the kiss just as desperate and wanting him to fill you up with everything he has to offer. you begin to plead in between kisses.

“master—mm——i need——to touch you—mmm——please.”

rafayel inhales sharply as his lips leave you and works to quickly unbuckle the belt fastened around your wrists. he throws it on the ground and quickly wraps his arms around your waist. wasting no time, he plunges himself back into your pussy, making you cry out. this time he stays still and looks a bit wild. he tries to remove the sleeves off your shoulder and then stops. immediately changing his mind, his hands move to the neckline of your little maid dress, and he rips it down the middle until it stops at your waist. your breasts and stomach become exposed to him. wanting to mimic him, you grab at his shirt, ripping it open, letting the buttons fly to who knows where, and quickly remove it from his body. your hands grab his head down for another sloppy kiss.

forcing himself to break away, he burys his face into your neck, then begins to thrust again. this time with more force than speed. he releases one of his arms from underneath you and starts squeezing your breast lightly. it almost feels like he’s going deep enough to plow it into your soul, and you start to whimper uncontrollably. “r-raf…nngh…s’too much…mmm…s’too good.” raf is nuzzling into your neck as you whimper but he lifts himself up slightly, groaning. “i—nghhn—i need you to scream for me cutie. pretty please.” hearing him begging you like this made you clench around him tighter as he was pistoning in and out of you with the most incredible rhythm, which made you dizzy. your hands started to clutch into his hair as he bit onto your shoulder, fucking into you mercilessly. you feel his cock twitching and his cum spilling into you in bursts slowly. as he finishes, you feel yourself about to unravel at your own release. “MMMMASTER…nnnggh….master.. master,” you scream as you come undone underneath him as he’s panting and watching you.

once you finally manage to slow down your breathing, you notice him still staring at you and you giggle. “what?” you question being confused as to why he’s staring so longingly for. he starts peppering kisses all over your face and smiles before nuzzling your nose. “how did i become so lucky being with you?” you start to blush again. “raf…,”you say feeling shy over him being so loving despite pounding the daylights out of you just a few seconds ago. “mmm…,” he nuzzles this time against your chest. he looks up at you with softer eyes, regaining light. “please stay tonight. i miss you.” you reach down to return the peppered kisses onto his face. “i mean how could i not when you pay me so well?” you hear him exhale out his nose in amusement. rafayel smirks while responding, “well in that case i guess i have to have you as my maid and my bodyguard to keep you around at all times. you’d get double the pay.”

[grandline-fics]

Law Single red rose pleaaaase!!! 💕💕

DESCRIPTION: Single Red Rose- When your date goes wrong, they come to your rescue

WARNINGS:  none

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 984

A/N: Part of the Valentines Day Event! There's already so many requests so thank you all so much for the positive response so far. Thank you @obsessivemuch for being the first request and I hope that this is to your liking.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI

————————

The atmosphere in the island was warm and friendly, civilians held no fear of the Heart Pirates at all. From the moment they surfaced the Polar Tang and all through the day as they gathered supplies and stretched their limbs while enjoying the fresh summer air and sun that they’d greatly missed while traveling under water. Taking advantage of the hospitality of the island and its inhabitants, with there still being so much the crew had yet to see and do, they begged Law to stay an extra couple days. Trying to remain firm, Law told them they would only stay on land for the night and in the morning everyone would be allowed the day to explore or shop, using the time as they saw fit but he wouldn’t allow any longer to distract them from their journey. With bellies filled with delicious food and now everyone enjoying drinks, Law felt himself relax in his seat just happy to sit back and talk with the others while still observing his surroundings. 

As he drank slowly his eyes fell onto the table you were sat at. At first he didn’t know why a table with what was obviously a random couple having a date would capture his attention but then he realised what it was. Your body language just radiated tension. Not a shy nervousness that would show in the beginning of a relationship, or a tense anticipation that you were expecting something like a proposal. Your whole body was tense with restrained annoyance. As Law finished his drink he caught you glancing towards the clock on the wall while forcing yourself to give your date a polite nod in response to whatever it was he was saying. You were trying to gauge when you could bail on this date without seeming like the bad guy. From the way your foot idly bounced under the table when the date laughed at his own joke, it was clear you were reaching the end of your patience. Poor you, but it wasn’t his problem.

Law rose and walked to the bar to get a new drink. While he waited for it to be served he couldn't help but have his attention slowly drift back to your shipwreck of a date. From this angle he now had a clear view of your face and now he couldn’t look away, immediately drawn further into observing the interaction you were having with your date. Law watched as you opened your mouth, actually excited for the first time that he’d seen to say something in response only for your date to talk over you. Immediately your bright eyes sharpened and cooled, your jaw tightening and fingers curling into a fist against the table. Honestly, what kind of idiot had you agreed to go out with that couldn’t even pick up on your unhappiness? Were they that self-absorbed? 

His own dark gold eyes watched as your date got up from the table and headed for the restroom, Law didn’t miss the disappointment in your eyes to see he wasn’t going for the exit and smirked. Grabbing his drink he approached your table and came to a stop in front of you. You blinked and for a moment thought your date had unfortunately returned faster than you’d hoped, only to blink in surprise to see who was now in front of you. You’d heard pirates had arrived and you were familiar with this man’s face after having seen it in the papers more than enough times. You wondered if he knew that the photos and posters did not do his attractiveness justice. Deciding this intrusion was a lot more exciting than the torture that was your date you smiled at Law. “Can I help you?”

“Now that’s not fair, that was going to be my line.” Law told you with a small chuckle. “If you’re being held hostage by that guy just say the word.”

“Oh I’ve been warned against this kind of thing.” You hummed playfully. “Offers of help usually come at a price.”

“Can’t I just offer to be nice?”

“Aren't you supposed to be a pirate? Does being nice go against your code?”

“So long as the Marines don’t find out my reputation is safe.” Law explained, his smirk growing as you laughed. Honestly your date fell further and further down in his regard by the second. “So? Need my help?”

“We still haven’t discussed payment.”

“Nothing much, just a walk through the city?”

“Can’t say no to a fair exchange like that. You’ve got yourself a deal.” You conceded, sitting back in your seat. This conversation was the most fun you’d had all evening and you were curious to see what Law would do. You tilted your head when Law set his drink down and took your hand, pulling you to your feet and leading you to the door. “Really? Just walking out is your big idea?”

“I’ve had your date trapped in the restrooms since he left the table. Didn't you wonder what was taking him so long?” Law explained, grinned at your shocked expression. As a precaution he’d had his room ability activated from the second he and the crew entered the bar, just in case any of them needed to make a quick escape. When your date was away he’d shifted the large boxes from the alley outside to block the restroom doors. All Law had really needed was your say-so to continue spending time with him. He dropped his gaze down when you looped your arm through his as you both walked through the busy nighttime streets. “So where to first? You’re the local here, not me.”

“Well the city’s pretty big. I can’t exactly show you everything in one night.” You explained lightly with a smile. 

“Well aren’t you lucky? My crew and I won’t be leaving for a few days.”

——————————————-

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[fairytaleendingss]

Room for One More?

Chapter 11

Summary: James has had time to think during the days he'd been away and through this, has come to a shocking revelation.

CW: Swearing, creepy man being unnerving (nothing inappropriate happens though).

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10

This is a shorter one but I just wanted to get something out. I have more of a solid plan now of what I want to happen next to stay tuned for some more updates soon!

--

You started to feel better over the next few days. Remus checked on you periodically to make sure you were making progress while Sirius hovered awkwardly, not quite sure what he was supposed to do whenever the two of you happened to be in the same vicinity.

You weren't sure what had come over him in the last few days but things between the two of you had been stilted to say the least.

By Wednesday you were back on your feet and back at work, meaning Remus' job was done, however, you desperately hoped that things between the two of you would continue to be civil in the aftermath. Who knows? Maybe you'd even become friends.

James was also getting home from his trip today and you were bubbling with a combination of nerves and excitement. You'd found yourself missing him over the last few days. Everything had been strange, to say the least and James was the person out of all your roommates who you were the most comfortable around by far. He just had this light energy about him that was able to balance everything out around your house and without it, things had just felt off. You couldn't quite place your finger on what it was but James Potter just had a way of putting you at ease.

Although, you couldn't help but feel slightly guilty for wanting him there for your own selfish purposes. You knew things had been particularly rough for him after the revelation at New Years and you knew he needed this time to get away from everything and clear his head.

You pondered this concept as you sat back in your desk chair, pen pressed into your cheek and eyes gazing off to nowhere. When did things become so complicated? you thought to yourself.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Mary sang, sliding across the linoleum office floor on her desk chair. Mary was always pretty but you took note of it today in particular. Her hair was pulled up on top of her head in a tidy bun and she had a burgundy lipstick on, one that was a departure from the usual neutral tones she went for at work.

You raised a brow at her, choosing to pass by her question.

"You look lovely. Got plans tonight?"

Mary bit her lip as she often did when she was excited.

"It's Lily and I's four month anniversary tonight! I know it sounds silly to celebrate it but if I'm being honest, it's kind of a big deal! Today marks the longest official relationship I've been in!"

"Oh my gosh! Mary, that's wonderful!" you chirped. Then you paused. "Hold on, what do you mean 'official relationship'?"

Mary sighed. "Well, technically there was this guy in high school that I talked to for like a year over Snapchat but he lived in America and we never met in person so it doesn't really count."

You rolled your eyes at her fondly. "You had an internet boyfriend?"

She gave you a gentle slap on the shoulder. "What? I was like fourteen!"

"Okay, fine. Whatever. Congratulations anyway," you replied.

"Thanks girl! Now tell me," she scooted forward slightly on her chair, leaning in as if to share a secret. "What's going on with you and Sirius?"

You sighed thickly. "Unfortunately, there's nothing to tell."

"Really?" she looked surprised. "So you still haven't talked about anything that happened on New Years... or you know, before that?"

You shook your head. "Nope. In fact, honestly, we've barely talked at all recently. It's like he's avoiding me or something."

"That's is odd," Mary muttered. "I mean Sirius isn't usually known for being subtle. For some reason I had it in my head that maybe he would've gone all prince charming and come to your aid while you were ill," she chuckled.

"Ha! No, none of that. Every time we were in the same room, he'd just stare at me like I had two heads and then stutter out some excuse to rush away."

Mary let out a genuine laugh at this. "Yeah, actually that does sound like him. He's uh, not really much of a caretaker."

"No. Well, actually, it was... um, Remus who ended up doing most of the caretaking," you muttered bashfully.

Her eyebrows shot up like rockets. "I'm sorry, WHAT? Did I just hear you say Remus, the man that supposedly can't stand you, looked after you while you were unwell this last week?"

You shrugged but you couldn't deny the way your cheeks warmed at the thought. "He was quite wonderful actually."

A playful smirk overtook her. "Yeah, I bet he was. What? Did he like, bring you soup, and stroke your hair until you fell asleep?"

"Shut up," you joked. "You read too many romance novels, you know?"

"Hey! It's not my fault that you're living out the plot of New Girl!"

"You know, it actually kind of is, right?"

She shrugged. "Well, maybe that was the plan all along. I think Remus would definitely be Nick-"

"Anyway," you stated pointedly, before her comparison could get too deep. "You should probably get going. It's after 5 and you don't want to be late for your special date tonight!"

"Oh, shit! You're right," she exclaimed, jumping from her chair and racing to grab her coat.

You chuckled to yourself as you watcher her scramble for her things, calling out a hurried "goodbye" as she headed for the exit.

You took your time packing up that night, both having nowhere to be and also not looking forward to going home. You wondered if maybe Sirius would be out working tonight but you doubted it since James was supposed to have arrived home today and you suspected they'd want to spend some time together.

"Are you heading off now then?"

You abruptly turned on your heel, eyes wide as you noticed Glenn standing closely behind you. You hated when he did that. He was always creeping up on you when you were distracted.

You gave him an awkward smile, hoping he would say a quick goodbye and then leave you be.

He smiled at you broadly, flashing his perfectly pearly white teeth in a way that you could tell usually worked to make girls swoon. It didn't, however, work so well on you.

"Yeah. Just finishing up now."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Ah. Well I see that Mary has made an early exit. Do you need some company walking out?"

You cringed internally. There was something just so artificial about him. Like he was constantly putting on an act, displaying qualities that he thought people liked to see. But you could see right through it and honestly, it left a bad taste in your mouth.

"That's very kind but I'm okay by myself."

He shook his head stubbornly. "Nonsense! What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you go alone in the cold?"

You restrained yourself from rolling your eyes. Clearly it wasn't going to be so easy to shake him off.

"Okay, then," you relented unwittingly. "Lets go."

The walk from your office on the seventh floor down to the front exit was particularly awkward. Glenn hovered at your side, not saying much but just sending you that unnerving smile of his every so often. As you approached the front steps, you were more then relieved to see a familiar figure waiting by the door.

"James! What are you doing here?"

He looked up from his phone, flashing you a genuine grin, one that made your heart feel warm, instead of causing bile to want to rise in your throat the way Glenn's did.

"Hey!"

He approached with rapid footsteps, engulfing you in his warm arms. You relaxed into his hold for a moment, savoring the feeling.

You pulled away at the sound of a throat clearing beside you. Glenn was looking between the two of you with an unreadable expression.

"Oh! Sorry," James corrected himself, only then noticing the other man. "I'm James, Y/n's roommate. Nice to meet you."

He stuck a hand out towards Glenn, which the latter man shook with a reluctant hesitation.

"Glenn Mulciber. We work together."

You didn't like the way the man was looking at James, something akin to jealously flashing across his eyes in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Well, thanks for walking me out, Glenn but James and I'd better be going. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, right. Okay," was all he said before he turned on his heel and stalked away, his demeanor suddenly very cold.

"Well, he's an odd sort of person," James observed as the two of you began the journey home.

"I'm not a fan of his, to tell you the truth," you responded. "He's weird. He kind of creeps me out."

"Hmm," James muttered thoughtfully, although you could tell his mind was elsewhere.

"You don't have to keep coming to pick me up from work, you know? I'm perfectly capable of making it home myself."

James shrugged. "I know, I just like spending time with you."

You felt your heart swim at his words and had to turn your gaze away from him in the hopes that he wouldn't see the embarrassment on your face.

"Well, um... how was your trip?"

"Good. Yeah. It was good."

He was fiddling with the hem of his coat, looking vaguely off into the distance as he spoke to you. Something seemed off about him. You furrowed your eyebrows, wondering what was going on.

"Is everything okay?" you questioned. "You seem nervous or something."

"Um, well," he hesitated for a moment before turning to face you. "Actually, there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

You felt your heart sink into your stomach as a slew of worst case scenarios began to run through your mind. You did your best to keep composed.

"Okay, what's up?"

James released a heavy breath as if he was preparing himself for the words to follow.

"So, while I was away, I had a lot of time to think about things,"

"What kinds of things?"

"Well, you know, just everything that's been going on. When I found out about Lily and Mary back on New Years Eve, I was heartbroken..."

You sighed feeling a rush of sympathy. "Yeah, James about that, I'm really sorry. You shouldn't have had to find out that way, I-"

"No! No, it's okay!" he interrupted. "What I was going to say was actually that I was heartbroken at first. But then the more I thought about it, the more I realised, I've been in love with Lily for so long that I think at some point I just started to like the idea of us together more than I actually liked her, if that makes sense."

You sent him a look of confusion.

"That's not to say I don't like her of course," he rushed to amend. "She's a great friend and obviously she's beautiful and a wonderful person and all that but I think that I just got so comfortable with wanting her that I didn't realise when I didn't really want her anymore..."

You couldn't help but chuckle at the boys rambling. "James, what are you trying to say?"

Then he stopped walking suddenly and you followed suit. He turned to look at you then, his face serious and eyes ablaze with an unfamiliar friction.

"I think what I'm trying to say is... what that night made me realise is that I have feelings for someone else."

In that moment, despite the cold of the street, heat began to swirl around you. You felt energy of an unknown source drawing you together in a magnetic pull as James gazed down at you with a look of yearning clouding his dark eyes. Your heart stuttered in your chest as you looked up at him. Your eyes raked over every inch of his face; his sweet smile, his gorgeous eyes, his stupid curls that he couldn't contain no matter how hard he tried. He was beautiful.

Then, without warning, he leaned in and your lips connected.

It was like the world faded away around you. All the noise of the cars and the crowds and the hustle and bustle of London in the evening, all just melted away. You didn't care that you were standing in the middle of the street, with icy tendrils of wind piercing your skin. You didn't care that you had a rock in your shoe or that your hair was blowing in your face. In that moment, all you cared about was him and the feeling of his soft lips against yours.

It wasn't desperate and passionate the way it had been with Sirius. No, James' kiss was sweeter, gentler, filled with warmth and comfort just like he was.

When you pulled back, James had a playful smirk on his face. He licked his lips, looking down at you affectionately as he used a finger to push his glasses up on his nose.

"So," he muttered. "Will you do out with me, then?"

You rolled your eyes. "Of course I will, you idiot."

He laughed a little and intertwined your fingers with his own.

"Okay good. I just wanted to make sure."

You scoffed as you began to walk once more, hand in hand and smiles painted on your swollen lips.

--

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[criticallyinneedofadar]

The North (2)

Several months had passed since your arrival in the North, and though the first meeting with the lords of Winterfell had been met with skepticism, you had begun to earn their trust. It was a slow process—one built on action rather than words. Time and again, you had proven yourself, flying Cannibal back and forth to Dragonstone with news, provisions, and messages exchanged between Cregan Stark and your mother, Rhaenyra. The cold of the North was no longer a shock, but still, every departure was marked by the same words from Cregan:

"Be careful."

It was not an order, nor a plea, but the weight behind it never lessened. His gray eyes held a concern he never voiced aloud, his hand tightening around his sword belt as he watched you mount your dragon. Each time you flew from Winterfell, you felt the weight of his gaze follow you until you were beyond the horizon.

And each time you returned, it was growing harder for him to maintain the aloof mask of a northern lord.

On this day, you returned just as the sun dipped below the western sky, Cannibal landing in the courtyard with a rumbling growl. The men had grown accustomed to his presence, but they still regarded him warily. Cregan stood waiting at the steps of the Great Hall, arms crossed, his expression schooled into neutrality, though his shoulders betrayed the tension he carried.

"Safe and sound, my lord," you teased as you dismounted. "Did you think I wouldn’t return this time?"

He exhaled through his nose, stepping forward. "One day, you may not," he admitted, voice quieter than usual. "And what then?"

Something in your chest tightened, but before you could reply, he turned briskly. "Come inside. We have much to discuss."

Seated by the fire in the council chamber, Cregan unrolled a letter marked with the sigil of House Targaryen. "Your mother has asked about the strength of the Wall," he said. "She wishes to know if there is a force there that might be turned to her cause."

You leaned forward, studying his face. "And what do you think?"

He was quiet for a long moment. "I think you need to see it for yourself."

Surprise flickered through you. Cregan had been adamant about keeping you within the safety of the North’s strongholds, reluctant to let you near the dangers of the wilds.

"You would take me there?" you asked, watching him carefully.

"I do not want to," he admitted, running a hand through his dark hair. "But I need you to understand why I cannot send my men away to fight in a war when they are sworn to hold the North. If the Wall fails, the realm faces a greater threat than any Targaryen or Hightower could bring."

A chill ran down your spine, not from the cold, but from the solemnity of his words. You had heard whispers of what lay beyond the Wall, but no southerner truly understood the dangers of the far North. If Cregan Stark thought it necessary for you to see it firsthand, then the truth was more grave than any rumor could convey.

+++++

The morning air was crisp and biting as Winterfell stirred with the preparations for departure. Cregan’s men readied their horses, adjusting saddles and securing provisions for the journey ahead. The sky was clear, though the chill in the wind spoke of the deeper cold that awaited them the farther north they traveled.

You stood near Cannibal, running a hand along his dark, ridged scales, feeling the warmth that radiated from his massive form. His amber eyes flickered toward the gathered men with little interest, his tail lazily sweeping across the snow.

Cregan approached, leading a sturdy brown horse by the reins. His expression was unreadable, though there was the faintest glint of expectation in his eyes. Stopping just before you, he extended the reins in your direction. "Here," he said simply.

You eyed the horse, then looked up at him with a skeptical arch of your brow. "For me?"

He exhaled shortly. "Aye. You’ll ride with us to the Wall."

A laugh bubbled up from your throat, amused and disbelieving. "Cregan, I have a dragon." You gestured to Cannibal, whose nostrils flared as if in agreement. "I intend to fly there. Dragons are not made to traverse long distances on the ground like common steeds."

Cregan’s lips pressed together as he considered his words carefully. "The farther north we travel, the colder it will be," he countered. "Not ideal conditions for a dragon. The wind, the ice—it will be different than anything you’ve faced before."

You smirked, stepping closer to him. "There is little in this world that could keep a dragon from what she wants," you murmured, eyes locking with his. “A little cold will not sway me."

Cregan inhaled sharply, his grip tightening slightly on the reins before he shook his head. "It isn’t just the cold," he argued, clearly determined to win this battle. "The farther north we go, the scarcer the prey. There is little food beyond the Wall, and even less in the way of fresh meat. Cannibal will not have enough sustenance."

You hesitated, glancing back at your dragon, who huffed as though already aware that he would be left behind. Cregan had a point, and you knew it. The northern wilds were harsh enough for men—how much more difficult would they be for a beast that needed constant nourishment?

With a sigh, you relented, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Fine. But only on the condition that the people of Winterfell stay clear of Cannibal while I am gone." You smirked again, tilting your head. "I cannot attest for his mood while I’m away—he does not like to be parted from me."

Cregan nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching in something close to amusement. “A wise dragon indeed," he muttered under his breath.

You pretended not to hear him, though warmth curled low in your stomach at the implication. Shaking your head, you took the reins he offered and mounted the horse. The journey north awaited, but something told you the true challenge would not be what lay beyond the Wall—but the man riding beside you.

[sophsbookstore]

Anniversary Picnic

Quinn Hughes x reader ｡･:*˚:✧｡

Word count: 1500

Hockey Masterlist

A/N: sry for the spam y'all, i'm just trying to clear my drafts, hope your enjoying the hockey content tho!

It was a warm, sunny Saturday afternoon in Vancouver, and you were about to celebrate your three-year anniversary with none other than Quinn Hughes. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the last three years—how fast they had gone by, how many incredible memories you’d made, and how much closer you had gotten to Quinn.

You’d spent so many moments laughing, getting lost in conversation, and even tackling the quieter days of just enjoying each other's company. But this year, Quinn had promised something special for your anniversary. And from what he had said about it, you had a feeling it was going to be a memorable one.

Earlier that Morning...

You woke up to the smell of something delicious wafting through the house. You groggily rubbed your eyes and stretched, squinting at the clock. It was barely 9:30 a.m., but it was a Saturday, so you were happy to stay in bed for a little longer.

As you slowly made your way out of the bedroom, you were greeted by the sound of Quinn humming in the kitchen. You smiled to yourself—he had such a soft, carefree vibe in the mornings, and it always put you in a good mood.

When you walked into the kitchen, you saw him standing there in a plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, his hair tousled in that charmingly messy way you adored. He was focused on something at the counter, assembling what looked like sandwiches. His hands moved with purpose, and you couldn’t help but lean against the doorframe, watching him.

“What’s all this?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Quinn turned around, a bright grin spreading across his face when he saw you. “Oh, you’re awake! I was just making something special for our anniversary picnic later.”

Your heart fluttered. You had no idea what kind of picnic he had in mind, but the fact that Quinn—always the quiet, laid-back guy—was putting so much effort into it made you feel extra loved. You walked over to him, leaning in to press a kiss on his cheek as you saw the sandwich ingredients on the counter.

“You’re making us lunch?” you teased, taking in the sight of him cutting some veggies and laying out different types of bread. “You’re a man of many talents.”

Quinn looked at you, a playful twinkle in his eye. “I thought I’d surprise you. I know how much you love a good sandwich, so I thought I’d, you know, go all out for today. Plus…” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a flirty tone. “I like making you smile.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You loved how effortlessly he could melt your defenses with just a look.

“I can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for me,” you said, feeling a sudden warmth spread through you. “But, you know, it’s going to be hard for you to top what you’ve already got going on here.” You gestured to his messy hair and the flour on his cheek.

Quinn’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the compliment. “Oh, I’ll find a way to top this. Don’t you worry.” He grabbed a cupcake tin from the counter. “And I may have made cupcakes for dessert.”

“Cupcakes too?” you gasped, impressed. “I’m really lucky.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He chuckled, giving you a wink. “You’re only getting this once a year.”

“Well, if this is what you do for our anniversary, I can’t wait to see what you come up with for the next one,” you teased, giving him a gentle nudge before walking toward the living room to grab your jacket.

Later That Day...

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Quinn had everything packed up for the picnic: sandwiches neatly wrapped in foil, a picnic blanket, some drinks, and of course, the cupcakes. You’d been instructed to wear something comfy and cute, and so you had settled on a light sundress, perfect for the warm, sunny day.

You stepped outside onto the balcony to find Quinn waiting by the car. His jaw dropped when he saw you in your dress, and he quickly cleared his throat, trying to hide how flustered he was.

“You look… wow.” He shook his head, his voice coming out a little softer than usual. “Absolutely stunning. As always.”

You smiled warmly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

Quinn gave you a playful smirk. “Well, I do try to look presentable for you.”

He opened the car door for you, and you slid into the passenger seat, both of you chatting easily as he drove to the park. Quinn was in his element, carefree and full of excitement. It was clear how much he was looking forward to the day.

Once you arrived at the park, Quinn led you to a secluded spot under a large oak tree, its branches creating a cool, shaded canopy. He laid out the blanket and set up the food, and you couldn’t help but watch him in awe. He seemed so comfortable in this role, as though planning and preparing for this moment was second nature.

“Okay, the sandwiches are all ready, but there’s one thing I want to do first,” Quinn said, turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What’s that?”

He reached into the picnic basket and pulled out a frisbee. “I’ve been practicing. Want to see if I can impress you?”

You laughed. “You’re on. But I should warn you, I’ve got an amazing frisbee game.”

Quinn’s eyes lit up. “Oh, really? We’ll see about that.”

What followed was a playful hour of frisbee tossing and lots of laughs. Quinn, of course, tried to pull off some fancy throws, showing off his skills, but you kept up, even managing to toss a perfect catch right into his hands at one point. He laughed, raising his hands in mock defeat.

“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” he said, clearly impressed. “But I still think you’re no match for my next move.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” you asked, panting slightly from running around, your hair wild in the best way.

With a devilish grin, Quinn suddenly dropped to the ground, leaning back against the blanket. “A nap. I’m too tired to compete with you anymore.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him. “You’re the worst!”

He pulled you down next to him, his arm snaking around your shoulders. “Come on, don’t be mad. I’ll let you win next time.”

You rested your head on his chest, letting out a contented sigh. “Fine, but only because you made me those sandwiches.”

“That’s what I thought,” he teased. He kissed the top of your head and squeezed you closer. “I’m glad you like the food, though. I wasn’t sure about the cupcakes. They might be a little too much.”

You glanced up at him, a smile curling on your lips. “You made cupcakes too? You’re really going all out for this anniversary, huh?”

“Well, it’s been three years, and I wanted to do something special,” he said softly, his fingers tracing gentle patterns on your arm. “I love you, and I want you to feel that in everything I do for you.”

Your heart melted at his words, and you looked up at him with affection. “I already feel that, Quinn. Honestly, this is perfect. You’re perfect.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, the world around you fading as you got lost in the moment. When he pulled back, he smirked, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind your ear. “Well, I try my best.”

You laughed, feeling more in love with him than ever. The day was everything you could have hoped for—playful, full of love, and just the right amount of flirty banter. As you both sat there in the shade, enjoying the sandwiches Quinn had so carefully made, you realized that this simple moment, with him by your side, was all you really needed.

Later...

As the sun began to set and you finished off the last of the cupcakes, Quinn leaned back on his elbows, looking over at you with a soft, almost wistful look in his eyes.

“Three years, huh?” he said quietly. “Feels like it’s flown by.”

You nodded, feeling a warm glow spread through you. “It really has. But I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Quinn turned to face you fully, his expression serious now, though still soft. “Me neither. I’m really lucky to have you, you know that?”

You smiled, brushing your hand against his. “I’m the lucky one, Quinn. I’m so glad I get to spend these years with you.”

He leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your lips. “Me too.”

And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, you both lay on the blanket, the world around you fading into the quiet of the evening. The three years had been amazing, but you both knew this was just the beginning.