#and let me tell you... i was freaking out for a solid fifteen minutes

[little-cereal-draws]

That's her!!! That's my girl!!!! Dr. Blitzmeyer!!!!! She's here!!

Art by Jeff Turley

[devilfic]

❝right place, right time❞

II. of niceties and awkward second meetings.

parts: previously / next plot: bruce makes an offer you actually can refuse... at first.pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, bruce wayne is still a masochist, bruce wayne is ALSO reckless :). words: 3.5k. edited: 2/28/24.

After every surgery—good or not so good—when you’re rinsing off and getting patted on the back for a job well done, you elect to feel hope. And then you hurry to lock yourself in your office and try to catch your breath.

The weight of a life on your hands follows you from room to room, from work to bed, from daydreams to night terrors. Even when it’s good, it rarely ever feels good. Questions bloat your brain: what if there’s something you missed? What if, despite it all, it’s not enough? Is the blood on your hands, then? Is the life yours to save or the patient’s to endure?

There was no solid answer. All you could do was wait for full recovery and try not to let it consume you.

Maybe tonight was a night for Thai. Maybe you’d call up your old roommates and get together at your place. Maybe you could finally tell them about the night Batman broke into your house, and how you stitched up his bullet wound, and then fell asleep 20 feet away because you had to meet Bruce fucking Wayne the very next morning and God help you if you embarrassed your boss by being late. So far, the only person who’d heard about it was the old lady who lived in the apartment below you, and all she’d done is pray for you.

You’d assured her you were fine, but she’d insisted on anointing your doors and windows before you left for work. The “demon of Gotham” she’d called him, herald of vengeance. The fact that you’d saved his life meant that you’d be spared in the reckoning... or whatever little old ladies learned in Sunday school.

Whatever she believed, you had no reason to think you’d be struck by lightning twice. Batman would not be returning to your home any time soon.

The thought almost made you sad.

There was no reason for him to return. Batman probably had a team of doctors waiting to tend to him if his arsenal of weaponry was any indicator of wealth. He wasn’t just any ol’ run of the mill vigilante, that was for certain.

You were just a blip. A freak accident. A glitch in the matrix. The chance that you’d been in the right place at the right time when Batman needed you most was just that: chance. And you were no gambler, but you could bet on your license that that man would never darken your doorstep (or window sill) again.

Maybe you’d stop by the liquor store too on your way home.

You’re rounding the corner when you collide with your boss, frantic as usual.

“Oh! Finally, there you are,” he grips your upper arms like a vice, eyes frenzied as they look you over, “why do you look like that?”

You imagine he’s referencing the dew of sweat on your skin and your scrubs out of whack. “I finished an operation fifteen minutes ago.” You answer, unimpressed. “I was just heading back to my office.”

Your attempt to sidestep him—to free yourself of the shackles that were his hands—proves useless. He spins to keep you in his grip, “You can’t! Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“You have a visitor.”

You frown, “A patient? No one’s on my schedule.”

“I’d like you to make an exception for this one.” His voice drops to a whisper. He readjusts your shirt sleeves as if dressing you up, prettying you for the highest bidder, and that sets you on edge, “Just trust me.”

You almost (almost) flinch away when he pushes you to your office door—now, a looming boulder instead of a gateway to your safe haven. Before you can even ask just who is waiting for you on the other side, your boss is rushing off down the hallway to do God knows what.

As if disarming a bomb, you slowly open the door to peek inside.

It scares the both of you, clearly, if the wide-eyed look he gives you says anything.

It’s like it hasn’t been a week since you’d last seen him. Bruce Wayne is wearing what looks like the same suit he’d worn last time, tie and collar stiff, jacket open underneath his billowy coat. But he looks awkward standing in your modest little office. He looks like he’s not supposed to be here, or at least not without his right hand man and the fanfare to follow.

He keeps his hands in front of him to show you he means no harm, “Your boss said it was okay to wait here for you.”

You’re still bracing yourself against the door, trying to figure out what he could possibly be doing in your office, what he’d possibly be waiting around for you for.

You think about the last time you’d seen him, when you’d grabbed him out of nowhere and his companion (Alfred, was it?) looked like he would have no problem breaking your spine if you dared manhandle him again. Oh God, he wasn’t going to sue, was he?

You swallow, “Uh, right. Can I help you?”

Bruce straightens up. His hands fall to his sides. You search his face to predict his next move but you’re puzzled to find that he’s just as clueless as you.

You didn’t know much about Bruce Wayne, that much had been established. What little you did know was some amorphous figure of nobility, the “prince of Gotham” as the press dubbed him.

Yet, standing before you in your simple little office, Bruce Wayne feels less like nobility and more like a stranger in foreign land. He keeps his hands in front of him and you’re able to make out purple dusting his knuckles. Bruised. Not bloody. Not recently. This piques your interest.

“How long have you been a surgeon?” Is his first question.

You slink into the room and debate on shutting the door, deciding to leave it open a crack; whether it is so you can escape or for him to feel unwelcome, you’re not entirely sure. “Four years. Not including the 12 years of school and residency.”

Bruce perks up just a tad to your bewilderment. “Did you study here in Gotham?”

“I did. I considered Metropolis.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Cheaper tuition.”

“Do you like it here in Gotham?”

“I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Wayne,” your voice comes out clipped—nervous—all the same, “I just got out of a surgery and I didn’t even know you’d be here so I haven’t got the faintest clue what you want-”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce apologizes, “I can come back another time.”

Come back? You assess his face once more, double checking for any sign of where this conversation is going, “Come back for what?”

For the first time since you entered the room, Bruce takes a step forward. A few, actually, ‘til he’s standing only a foot away and his whole deer-in-headlights deal is on full display. “A proposition.” Your head swims with big ideas. You’re thankful you’re still standing still. “I’d like to hire you.”

If Em could see you, she’d be laughing her head off at the look on your face. The emotions you're hit with are akin to blunt force trauma.

Bruce catches onto your distress and begins to explain, glancing away from your eyes to give you room to breathe, “Due to the nature of my job and the... events that transpired last November, I’m careful about my position in the public eye. I’ve decided to have a doctor on call, someone I can rely on in the event that something drastic happens again. It would be more menial work, but you would, of course, be greatly compensated: full benefits, triple your salary here. Nothing is out of the question.”

As the last word melts in the air, he finally locks eyes with you. Less deer-in-headlights now, more spotlight. More "I eagerly await your response".

You couldn’t even fathom the price point: triple your salary? You already made good money here, any more would be excessive. And then there’s the reality of the situation. You would be employed, solely, by Bruce Wayne. At his beck and call—perhaps moved into a nicer place within chauffeur distance of Wayne Tower—the support staff of the upper echelon.

Your mom wouldn’t bug you about moving out of Gotham ever again.

This all felt too good to be true. So good that your intuitive pendulum swung violently in warning. Bruce awaits your reply, wringing his hands before him and those glaring purple knuckles catch your attention again. How a CEO had managed those was a question you hesitated to entertain. Something else was going on here.

You knew Gotham was a corrupt city. It festered with crime in every aspect, that much the Riddler had made clear last Halloween. The late mayor, the DA, the police commissioner... and amongst his targets, Bruce Wayne had survived. Something else was definitely going on here.

“...I serve the public, Mr. Wayne. I reserve my skill for the citizens of Gotham without the... ability to seek better. I’m flattered you would consider me and I would be more than happy to point one of my talented colleagues your way in my stead. But I’m sorry, I can’t accept your offer.”

Bruce’s face falls for just a second. After all, if he were to wear his emotions on his face all the time, you doubted he’d be much of a successful businessman.

You’re thankful that he takes a step out of your personal space and doesn’t fuss, doesn’t try to shove a wad of cash at you, doesn’t throw more offers at you until you concede. “I appreciate your consideration, but that won’t be necessary. I should let you return to your work. Thank you for your time.”

You nod a little dumbly, the weight of what has just transpired starting to settle fully on you. Em would be far too angry at you to laugh, now.

With the grace of his pedigree, Bruce Wayne nods silently to you and leaves.

You notice once the muscles in your shoulders stop shaking that there’s something in your office that wasn’t there before. There, on the loveseat where Bruce Wayne had waited for you, was a business card.

You shakily approach the seat and collapse beside it, reaching out to read what adorns the back of the Wayne Enterprises logo.

Bruce Wayne CEO P: 212-XXX-XXXX

It takes the clatter of ceramic to pull you out of your reverie.

Beside you, Em hovers, “And here I thought you weren’t a fan.”

At the puzzled look you give her, Em jerks her head toward where your eyes had been focusing, mindlessly stirring in the events of the afternoon. At some point, the TV’s channel had changed from Days of our Lives to the Gotham News. They were running a story on a charity event downtown. Bruce Wayne was shaking hands on camera, the tagline “Bruce Wayne makes dazzling appearance alongside controversial mayor”. How fitting.

“‘m not,” you grumble, pushing your lunch around in yellowed Tupperware, “just thinking.”

“About?”

You glance at Em. Too little too late, your boss had clambered into your office shortly after Bruce left, pestering you about the conversation you’d had, disappointed when you’d told him you’d turned down the offer. “Imagine the press we’d get, one of our very own working for the CEO of Wayne Enterprises,” he’d argued, “you’ve got to reconsider.”

You hesitated to tell your tale again, fearful that you’d suffer the same reaction, but Em was not your boss. She would never let the topic rest. And it wasn’t like you signed an NDA, a truth that had only hit you hours after the fact, “I got a job offer today.”

Em’s eyebrows shoot up, “From West Mercy? Arkham?”

The very thought of working in Arkham Asylum had you abandoning your lunch altogether, “God, no. It was more like... on-demand. Concierge. A very rich patient wanted to hire me as their private doctor.”

“Wow... was it one of your patients?”

“No, I’ve never examined him in my life.”

“Him?” You recognized that tone of voice. A slew of questions were on the way if you didn’t elaborate fast enough.

Besides yourself and Em huddled in a corner, the break room was relatively empty. One of the ER nurses was napping, another engrossed in a game of Sudoku on their phone. You doubted they would hear even if you raised your voice above a whisper.

Quietly, because you clam up at the thought of saying his name out loud, you fish out his business card and slide it across the table to her.

It takes her but a moment to process. First a deep inhale, then her hand slaps the table (the Sudoku nurse glances up at you both and then changes his mind), then she’s gripping at your scrubs and shaking you violently in your chair, “Shut the front door! Please tell me you said yes!”

You frown, “No, I didn’t.”

“Why the hell not? I know you don’t keep up with the times in this city, but this guy is loaded!”

“I do keep up with the times. I just don’t give a rat’s ass about Bruce Wayne. A crime punishable by death, apparently.”

“But why in the world would you want to keep working here when you could be... having lunch on a terrace? Discussing lab results over Pinot Grigio? Jetting off to the Bahamas to check his vitals on vacation?”

You snort, “Exactly what I told him: I serve the public. I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Could always do both.”

You tried to imagine it, for Em’s sake. The terrace lunches, the Pinot Grigio. You imagined the nice apartment from before and the esteem that your boss was sure you could bring the hospital.

And you imagined Bruce Wayne, with a limp. With bruised knuckles. Always looking at you with those big eyes that somehow told you everything and nothing at the same time. Like an open book in a dead language. You thought about the night that Wayne Tower caught fire and the world that had been crumbling down in Gotham had started to feel truly broken. Politicians die all the time, but the uber rich? Even you had watched the sky in horror.

And now that same man had asked you—you, of all people—to be there in case there was a next time.

You thought about the Batman. Would you say yes if he asked you the exact same question?

You hadn’t considered both.

You’re unaware that Em is leaving until her chair scoots loudly across the laminate, “Think on it. Seriously. It’s the opportunity of a lifetime.” Her hand brushes your shoulder fleetingly. Then she’s leaving and you’re left to think again.

It was a bit ironic that his next visit took place as you were perusing apartment listings.

You hadn't seen him get inside your home the first time. He’d just been there, as if he’d always been there and you just never noticed. This time, he doesn’t have the urgency to break in. He waits at your window… staring in at you. No knocking. Not even a muffled “Can I come in?”

You don’t know how he expects anyone to invite him inside their home with those kinds of manners. You set your laptop aside and walk over to the curtains, his figure becoming clearer, more menacing as eyes silently follow you. By the time you reach the window, your heart is beating at an unhealthy pace. You had been able to get that adrenaline down before. How did you manage that again?

Batman waits patiently. Your hand presses to the glass, the warmth of it leaving behind a visible print as you push up on the glass, “Don’t tell me,” his head cocks to the side as you begin, “another bullet?”

If he is suffering from a wound like the last, he doesn’t look it. He’s crouched on your fire escape with his cape billowing behind him and the light of your apartment giving off just enough of an ominous glow.

After last time, you’d sneaked some extra supplies back to your place under the paranoia that something might happen again. And, let’s be honest, no one would raise a brow at having everything you need to clean a gunshot wound in this city. You couldn’t say it was entirely just for him, though.

The silence goes on uncomfortably long. You start to wonder if he even heard you, the way he stares you down, unmoving. He resembles a stray caught stealing from a trashcan, seconds from sprinting in the opposite direction to avoid being caught.

Eventually, your heartbeat spikes again. What had he told you last time? To run if someone tried to break in? Maybe he had wanted you to sprint the second you saw a human looming on your fire escape, regardless of their vague bat shape. Was he angry? He kind of always looked angry.

“Have you noticed anyone following you?” His question causes just the briefest alarm.

Living on the not-greatest side of Gotham, you had learned how to keep your head down but your eyes everywhere. If some mugger were looking to jump you as you got out of your car, you’d know. You shake your head, palms beginning to sweat.

Batman assesses you for a bit longer. You can’t tell if he’s reading you for a lie or if his instincts are just telling him otherwise, but eventually, he accepts your answer.

And begins to leave.

“Wait,” you stutter out against your better judgement, when he’s already stood to his full height, one boot positioned on the railing to propel himself below. He looks over his shoulder at you very slowly, “how’s your... side? Wound heal okay?

He looks down to where you’d stitched him, where his armor had been mended. “It’s better.”

You sigh, relieved. “You’ve gotten it looked at, then.”

“Someone looked at it.”

His wording gives you pause. “What about your stitches? Did you get them redone?” He hesitates. “You... did get them redone, right? Better. Preferably by someone who wasn’t worried about you dying on their living room floor.” Your skin prickles when you see his guilty look. “Batman, if you’ve been fighting crime every night for the past week with the same stitches I put in you days ago-”

“I’ve been through worse.”

“So you keep saying.” You really don’t mean to grit your teeth at him, practically stomping your foot because you’d, at the very least, expected him to be a bit smart about a bullet wound.

But, then again, you were talking to a man dressed as a bat.

You crawl out onto the fire escape, chilly and biting and unforgiving as the night may be, and watch Batman turn halfway toward you. You have to resist the urge to brush your hand against his side, an act far too intimate with Kevlar in the way. You look up at him, “Don’t suppose you’d let me take another look at it?”

The first time, sure, he let you because he was close to dying. With a motto of “I’ve been through worse” at his disposal, you doubted he would let you do it again unless the circumstances were dire.

Sure enough, he moves defensively away from you. You take heart in that it seems less like he distrusts you and more like he’s got a bravado issue. Not great, but better. Easier to fix.

You think of the medical supplies in your apartment and wonder if you’ve got what it takes to coax him inside. “I thought that you might not come again. Guy like you fighting crime every night must have people on hand for stuff like this, right? You’re not just any vigilante. Couldn’t be.” His unsettling glare makes the cold seep into you just a little bit more, “You don’t. Do you?”

He doesn’t answer you. His eyes shift from yours to the cityscape. Looking for a way out, maybe.

But if he wanted to leave, he would leave. Why would he hesitate?

“I just want to look. Make sure it’s not infected. No poking or prodding, I promise.”

“It’s not. I had someone look at it.”

“A doctor?”

“...No.”

“Someone who knows what they’re looking at, at least?”

He looks down at you. There’s something there that he’s keeping close to his chest, too much information for a stranger (even one who’s saved his life). You wait to see what his decision will be. “You work at Gotham General.” Batman states, matter-of-factly.

“...I know you were bleeding to death when I told you, but you’ve got to keep up in this city.” You see a hint of a smile on his mouth that is just as easily written off as a scowl. “What about it?”

Again, that look.

Just as you’re certain that you’re about to break through to something, a siren goes off in the distance. Sure enough, when the both of you look to the sky, his emblem is carved out in the clouds, beckoning him down to the streets once more. Your heart sinks. You were so close.

Batman waits a beat, positioning himself on the railing again. His eyes find yours over his shoulder, cape fluttering with the promise of taking flight, “They’re lucky to have you.”

He leaves. It feels even colder when he does.

[catalogercas]

Gray Hair, Don't Care (Unless You're Jamie Tartt)

A03

"Suppose I can call you 'Granddad' now," Roy snorts as Jamie tugs at the offending slivers of gray peaking through whatever version of "essentially brown" or "essentially blonde" Jamie's hair currently is and glares at them in the mirror. Like glaring at them will make them fucking disappear or change color or something.

He looks so upset it's almost comical.

And Roy knows instantly that he's made a critical error in judgment. If there is anything that Jamie is extremely fucking sensitive about, it's his fucking hair.

Which is why he isn't exactly surprised to be physically shoved out of the bathroom with the door slammed in his face.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," he says to the closed door.

Jamie doesn't say anything, but Roy can hear him practically sobbing, which he hopes is more about the gray hair itself than what he said.

He slumps against the other side of the door and texts Keeley. "Jamie's freaking the fuck out about having a few gray hairs. How quickly can you get hair dye that he'll actually use?"

"But he'd look so sexy with gray! He could be a silver fox like Nate." Keeley replies.

"Yeah, I'll tell him he looks like Nate. That won't make him have more of a fucking conniption." Roy replies.

"Yeah, you're right. Heading to the shops. I'll be over in around an hour. Think you can handle your own boyfriend until then?" Keeley replies.

"Considering I fucking called him "Granddad," debatable." Roy replies.

"Oh! Oh no! You didn't! 🤣😭. RIP 🪦⚰️ " Keeley replies. "Good luck! 💕"

Roy sighs and runs his hand down his face before gently knocking on the bathroom door. "You okay in there?"

"Fine," Jamie says, his voice raspy enough that Roy knows he's still crying, and how Roy has ended up with the kind of boyfriend that would have a meltdown about fucking gray hair is a mystery for the fucking ages. Jamie fucking Tartt. Jesus.

"Are you going to come out or let me back in?" Roy asks.

"Eventually, yeah," Jamie murmurs. Before saying, " 'S 'not fair. You're fucking ancient and all your hair's still solid black."

"Want me to dye it gray?" Roy asks. "I fucking will. Chest and all."

That gets some snickering from Jamie at least.

"Jamie, I know you're fucking twenty-six. A few gray hairs isn't changing that. Hell, a whole head of gray hair isn't changing that. I'm still fucking fifteen years older than you and always will be."

"I know that," Jamie mumbles. "I just don't want me hair going gray is all."

"Yeah, I fucking know that. Keeley's getting hair dye for you. She'll be over in a while," Roy says.

"Really?" Jamie asks.

"Yeah. I knew you wouldn't use anything I fucking picked, but I figured you'd trust her judgment," Roy says.

"Sound. Yeah, I do," Jamie says.

He still doesn't come out of the bathroom for another twenty minutes, and Roy hopes he hasn't been in there crying about it the whole fucking time, but, knowing Jamie, he probably has.

Roy's been sitting on the bed waiting for him and immediately gets up to wrap him in a tight hug. "I love you, Jamie, gray hair and all. And, I love you even though you're having a fucking meltdown about your fucking hair."

"Yeah, yeah," Jamie says as he tucks his head against Roy's shoulder. "What's this about you dyeing your chest hair gray in solitary?"

"Solidarity," Roy says.

"Yeah, whatever. You're doing that," Jamie says.

Roy rolls his eyes. "Fuck. Fine. I'll text Keeley to get dye for me too."

"What? Really?" Jamie says. "I didn't think you were serious, mate."

"If it makes you feel better, I'll fucking do it," Roy says.

"I love you," Jamie says, pulling back to look Roy in the eye, his own eyes red rimmed and watery.

Roy moves his hands to cup Jamie's chin before rubbing his thumbs against the drying tear tracks before leaning in to kiss both his eyelids.

He can't believe how much Jamie looks like a kicked puppy over this, of all things, and, he also can't believe that he finds it fucking endearing.

He is absolutely fucking gone on Jamie fucking Tartt, and he's pretty sure this proves, more than anything else already has, that there's absolutely no turning back.

He's crossed the fucking Rubicon, hasn't he?

So when he's in his kitchen later watching Keeley pull a rainbow tie dyed cape around Jamie's neck, he's pulling up a site to look at engraved commitment rings.

[faeprincefelix]

There's just one thing I hope you know, I loved you so

Pairing: Eddie x Non Gendered Reader (if i missed something that feels gendered please let me know)

Word count: 3K

C/W: reader grieving Eddie

A/N: this most follows canon apart from a few timeline changes, until the end which is a solid fuck you to canon. Angst with a happy ending

The day your world had turned upside down had started like any other. An early wake up going to a job you hated, that just about let you afford to rent your own place in Hawkins. You hated having to work weekends. With Eddie still in school the weekends were the only real time you got to spend with him. It was almost the end of your shift, the night starting to settle in,  when you noticed a group of Hawkins High students sneaking looks over at you and whispering. It was easy to tell by the looks of their face nothing good was about to happen when they finally walked up to you at the counter. Placing a single bar of chocolate in front of you. They let you check in out in silence before one of them finally spoke up.

“What’s it like to be best friends with a murderer” he literally laughed in your face. 

“What are you talking about?” confusion evident on your face “do you guys literally have nothing better to do than randomly harass me right now?”

The group exchanged looks. “What hadn’t you heard” another boy asked, smirking “your little freak friend murdered Chrissy Cunningham last night”

More confusion and rage hitting you. “I don’t know what kind of sick joke you guys are playing right now but you now to get the hell out of here”

“Oh it’s not a joke,  the cops found her body in his trailer this morning” you hated how much satisfaction they were getting out of this conversation. Your mind was racing, they were messing with you, they had to be. Why the hell would Chrissy Cunningham have been in Eddie’s trailer and well there was no hesitation on the other half of the joke. Eddie would never, could never. Admittedly you’d seen him struggle with his anger but he’d never channeled it into violence. He would smoke more, drunk until he couldn’t think. But he would never hurt anyone. You were about to warn them to get the hell out of your sight when the bell on the door jingled and your gaze met with the new Hawkin’s chief of police. You swallowed hard. 

“Told you so” you heard the first guy whisper as the group slid out of the store.

You couldn’t tell if your heart was beating really fast or if it felt like it had stopped beating at all. They had taken you to the back room of the store instead of forcing you to come back to the station with them. Asking you question after question about Eddie. None of it felt real. A living nightmare. You could hear yourself answering their questions but it felt like you were watching from afar, looking over the whole scene. There was only one real thought running through your head. You had to find Eddie. You needed to know what had happened. How Chrissy had even ended up in his trailer in the first place. You needed to know he was safe. God, what if he had been collateral damage. You hated that they all assumed without question that he was responsible. What if the real killer had taken him, had him tied up somewhere. No you had to find him, had to help him. 

—

After the police had left, your boss had let you finish for the day. You’d only had half an hour left anyway and it wouldn’t have been good for either of you to make you complete the shift. You wasted no time, jumping into your car and driving to the spot that you and Eddie always came to when something was wrong. You searched around, shouting his name in the dark only to be met with silence. You gave it another fifteen minutes before driving to the next spot. Reefer Rick’s lakehouse. If you couldn’t find him there you weren’t sure where to go next. You found the spare key and let yourself in but once again it was empty. You locked the door again, getting more anxious before you noticed the door to the boathouse was slightly ajar. Your heart leapt in your chest and you half ran there. 

“Eddie” his name a desperate plea from your lips. Once more met only by silence. You searched round, eyes picking up something left discarded on the floor. You moved closer, picking it up. It was the lighter you’d bought him for his eighteenth birthday. He’d been here for sure. You’d waited there for hours for him just in case, eventually falling asleep and waking up freezing in the early hours of the morning. Eddie still hadn’t come back and you knew you’d probably gotten here too late. Despite the small amount of rest you had got you were exhausted. You would go back home, get some rest and search again after.

–

It was late afternoon when you finally woke up.  You tried to think of where else you could look, who else you could talk to whilst you stood in the shower. You knew where you needed to go, if you could even get there. You had to see Wayne, even if he didn’t know where Eddie was, you needed to know he was alright. He’d be worrying as much as you were. The drive over there was weird, police still manning the turning to the trailer park. Wayne was sitting outside on the steps of the trailer when you got there. He looked up at you with a frown. 

“I guess you being here right now means you haven’t seen him either” he half muttered. You shook your head, unable to bring yourself to say the words. You sat down next to him on the steps and took a drag of the cigarette that he offered you “was kinda hoping I wouldn’t see you here- that he was hiding out with you.”

“I’m sorry Wayne” was all you could think to say. “I tried looking for him last night but I think I got there too late - I found this.” You showed Wayne the lighter. 

“He loves that you know- never leaves the house without it” his face dropped and you knew you were both thinking the same thing. He wouldn’t have left it behind unless he had to leave in a rush. 

“I’m going to keep looking- he has to be here somewhere- i’ll find him” you weren’t sure if you were saying it to reassure him or to convince yourself at this point. There was a moment of silence before you spoke again. “Wayne- do you know why he would bring her- why Chrissy would’ve been here.” It seemed unimportant in the scheme of things but you couldn’t stop thinking about it. 

“Sorry- i’m just as in the dark as you” Wayne squeezed your hand softly. He glanced at the expression on your face before lowering his voice to a whisper. “The cupboard was open in his bedroom though- you know which one i mean- had to clear it out before I called the police.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and you hated the relief that flooded over you at the possibility of what Wayne was suggesting “are you saying-  you think she was here to buy from him?” It was hard to imagine Chrissy Cunningham being the type to take an interest in drugs but you prefered this possibility to any of the other situations that had plagued your mind. The idea that Eddie and her could’ve been having an affair tore you up more than you were willing to admit. 

“Thank you” you replied earnestly. 

“No problem” he watched as you stood up. 

“I should get going - i have to be back at work tomorrow so today is the only full day i have to look for him” Wayne just nodded in response. 

You started to walk away when Wayne called your name. “I know how much you care about him- if anyone can find him it’s you.” His words made you tear up, and you had to shake your head to stop them escaping.  Your feelings for Eddie were not something you wanted to think about right now, they weren’t important. You just needed to find him safe, nothing else mattered. 

You spent the entire day searching endlessly for Eddie. None of the band had seen him either and you were getting more concerned by the second. You knew he’d made it out of the trailer okay but where was he now. You’d overheard the whispers too. Knew Jason Carver was trying to track him down and you hated to think about what would happen if Jason found him before you could. 

–-

The earthquake had been a shock to everyone and it had halted your search for Eddie. Not that you had even made an ounce of progress. It was two days later when you heard a loud knock on your door, you rushed to it, hoping you would find him standing there outside, after all nobody else ever came to your house. 

Instead the door opened to Wayne. It took just one look at him for you to know what he was doing here. You slumped to the floor, tears already streaming down your face as Wayne knelt down, his hand rubbing your back gently until you calmed down. 

“How?” you weren’t sure you even wanted to know but not knowing anything at all would be worse.

Wayne helped you up so you could both sit on your couch. “That Henderson kid said they’d gone looking for him too and they were bringing him back when the earthquake happened-” Wayne had to pause, emotion getting the better of his voice “said he’d gone to help someone but the ground was unsteady and he-.” Wayne didn’t need to finish the sentence, you already knew. You were crying again and your heart felt weak, your body numb.

“I’m sorry Wayne” it felt stupid to say it, but what wasn’t stupid to say at this moment. 

“I’m sorry too- if you need anything you just come to me yeah- any time, you just call - i don’t want you going through this alone.” you hated that Wayne was trying to be strong for you. It made you feel guilty, Eddie was his only family and you knew how broken he must also feel about it. 

You looked up at Wayne through your wet lashes “I think I love him Wayne and i never got the chance to say it.” God you felt pathetic, but it was like an extra heartbreak. It made it all feel worse “sorry that’s stupid- I- it doesn’t matter.”

“I don’t think you needed to say it- I think deep down he knew” Wayne gave you a soft smile which made you feel guilty again 

–

After that night your parents had traveled back to town, having moved away shortly after you’d left their house. They’d stayed with you, helped you through the endless crying sessions. You’d helped Wayne plan the funeral, not wanting to leave him alone with it.  It was a small ceremony. Half the town still blaming Eddie for what had happened to Chrissy. That was almost the worst part, that’d you’d never get a chance to prove that Eddie was innocent. That most people still believed he killed her.  It was something you’d have to live with everyday, and you would never stop defending him. Never. That was the one thing you could still do for him. You’d failed him before, you should’ve spent every hour searching for him, not being scared to lose your job. You should’ve just called in sick. You should’ve found him. You would never forgive yourself for letting him down. If you had just been there, you might have been able to save him. 

The funeral was an awful day.  An almost empty room, just a few people. You, Wayne, your parents, his hellfire club and for some reason Steve Harrington and a few of his friends. You wondered why they were there, but figured it could be to support Dustin. Eddie had mentioned that he and Harrington had been close. At least they weren’t like the rest of the town. 

The whole word felt like it was running in slow motion as you watched the empty coffin get lowered to the ground. It felt weird to say something when you knew you were talking to an empty box. You weren’t the type to believe in heaven or the afterlife either but still you found yourself saying his name. “I’m sorry Eddie” you croaked out as you knelt down, sobs threatening to consume you “I don’t know how to do all this without you- i miss you so much already- there’s never gonna be anyone else like you Eddie Munson- never- i promise you- and i’ll help them all see the real you, even if takes me an entire lifetime- okay?” you broke, tears choking you “i love you- i’ll always love you and i’m sorry I was too scared to tell you- i thought- i thought i would have more time- you’re the best thing that ever happened to me Eddie - i’m sorry i failed you” You were crying too hard now and you heard your mother’s voice, her arms around you, helping you up as you cried against her. 

—

It had been a week since the funeral and life still seemed void of any colour. People kept telling you time would make it better but it was hard to believe that with the way you felt right now. You checked the clock. 2am. Sleep was difficult these days, plagued by constant nightmares. Or worse the dreams, the ones where you had made it in time, where you had found him, where you were happy together. What you would give to see that smile of his just one more time. You could feel the tears building again and sat up in your bed. You didn’t want to cry anymore, you didn’t know how you could possibly have any more tears left to cry at this point.  

You reached over to grab the glass of water on your nightstand when you heard a bang at your window. Curious, you swung yourself out of bed and wandered over the window. The glass in your hand shattered to the floor and you stood frozen in shock. A few seconds later and Eddie’s familiar mess of curls was visible at your window, his hand reaching up to knock on your window, a hint for you to open it. You walked towards the window, thoughts spiraling as you unlocked the window and watched him climb inside. 

“This has to be a dream” you mumbled, more to yourself than anything else. You pinched yourself, grimacing at the pain. But it couldn’t be- 

Eddie was smiling at you all goofy “Nah baby- i’m the real deal.” 

“I don’t understand - it’s not - no” you stumbled backwards a little, back of your legs hitting the bed and you let yourself sit back on it, running a hand over your face “fuck- i’m actually going crazy.” You were actually fully hallucinating him now. This was ridiculous and yet you didn’t want it to end, which you figured made you more insane. That you’d rather be here than go back to reality.

Eddie frowned but moved to sit next to you, his hand moving to hold yours. It surprised you that he was warm.  “Look at me” his voice was soft “i’m real- this is real okay- Dustin he-.” No, Eddie didn’t want to lie to you. “I can explain it all.” 

You were still deciding whether or not you had actually lost your mind, but you let Eddie fill you in on everything that happened. He told you about the Upside Down, about Vecna, about the bats. 

“Dustin- he couldn’t have known” he explained “he thought that i was dead- and I guess I was but Vecna he- he brought me back.” Eddie told you how Vecna has used most of the power he had left to bring him back to life. How Vecna hoped to keep him as a weapon once his powers had fully recovered. He admitted that at the start, it had worked, it hadn’t been hard for Vecna to feed on Eddie’s nightmares. There had never been a lot of light in Eddie’s life, there was so much darkness to feed off.

“I would’ve been his soldier too i think - if it- if it wasn’t for you” Eddie looked away from you now, eyes focused on his lap. “Your speech at the funeral- I- I don’t know how- but somehow I heard it and i knew i had to fight him- knew i had to find a way to get back to you- didn’t even know if it was possible but had to try. Tried to find you through the nightmares he was trapping me in- and I - it worked- managed to break his control, got to an exit before he could catch me and I-” He trailed “came straight here- had to see you- had to know if you meant everything you said”

It was all too much to take in. You almost couldn’t believe it, but you knew it was real. Chrissy’s death had always been unexplainable and you knew Hellfire wasn’t a satanic cult. God, at least you hoped you weren’t imaging it all. “I meant it Eddie- every word”

There was a silence and then Eddie was leaning into you, his lips on yours and your hands automatically nestling in his hair. It was in that moment you knew it wasn’t just in your imagination. The kiss was the most realistic thing you’d ever felt in your life. 

“You didn’t fail me” he spoke against your lips once you parted “you’re the only reason I made it out of there- you saved me.” You buried yourself in his chest, tears rolling down your cheeks once again, this time in relief. He held you close like that for what felt like hours. 

“Does anyone else know” you asked quietly. 

Eddie shook his head “had to come straight here- had to see you- I’ll find them all later, i just wanted to be with you.”

You felt bad that you were the only one that knew, that Wayne would still be grieving him, but it would only be a few hours and you weren’t ready to let Eddie to leave yet.

“Hey” he nudged you “i love you too”

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s Half Demon and They Look Awfully Familiar Lessons 18-20

Series Masterlist

T-the season finale… *sniffle* it’s been a wild ride y’all… I’ve never actually written and stuck through with something for so long, so this is a real achievement for me! I really hope you guys have enjoyed this completely weird fluffy/angsty/mildly crackhead adventure! Please enjoy the last part!

All is well, the family is back together, everyone’s fine, the school year is almost over-

Wait, the school year is almost over?

Upon realizing that, everyone settled into a state of mild panic.

MC couldn’t just leave, they were part of the family! An integral part! They were the only thing keeping everyone from murdering each other during family game night!

As for Lucifer’s personal feelings on the matter, things were… tough.

When the exchange program was announced, Lucifer expected it to end like most of Diavolo’s ideas: annoying to clean up, it certainly couldn’t have ended worse than when he and the Crown Prince ended up getting cursed to hold hands for 25 hours straight. What Lucifer didn’t expect was for a child he didn’t even know he had to end up as the human exchange student and for his entire life to be thrown out of whack. That child of his was busy finishing up their final paper of the year.

“Hey, father,” MC looked up from their paper with a cheeky smile. “Do you think that the next exchange student will be as fun as me?”

“I sincerely hope not.” Lucifer sighed, continuing to sift through his paperwork on his desk. “Your kind of ‘excitement’ has completely worn me out.”

“Aw,” MC giggled, then went back to work. “So you don’t want me to stay here then?”

Lucifer stiffened and looked up from his paperwork. “Don’t put words in my mouth, MC.”

“So you do want me to stay. Interesting~” MC said as they began to sweep the eraser shavings off their paper. “Well, if you want me to stay so badly, you could have just asked.”

“P-pardon?” Lucifer blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “You want to stay?”

“Since you’d be so sad without me, I guess I just have to don’t I?” MC stood suddenly and slapped their finished essay on Lucifer’s desk. “The sacrifices I make for this family, I swear!”

We stand with you, MC, sacrifice your sanity for your weird-ass familia.

Anyway, Lucifer was thrilled that MC wanted to stay with him in the Devildom, the problem was… MC’s other parent may not have been too keen to just give up their baby.

You know, the demon child they raised all by themselves, with no help from Lucifer because he didn’t know MC existed…

Someone get MC’s ren on the phone! Stat!

“Alright dear little brothers of mine, listen closely because I’m not repeating this.” Lucifer looked over the living room couches at the other six rulers of hell. Belphie was sprawled out on one of the couches and was drooling all over Beel’s lap, Satan was making a point to look as disinterested as possible and kept sneaking glances at the book he was holding, and Mammon was wrestling Levi dangerously close to where Asmo was filing his nails.

Sighing in defeat, Lucifer continued. If any of his brothers misbehaved he couldn’t say he didn’t warn them. “MC‘s parent will be coming to visit.”

Everyone’s attention snapped to Lucifer. Wonderful.

“They’ll be staying for a few days and will decide if it’s in MC’s best interest to primarily stay in the Devildom from now on.”

Asmodeus slowly raised a hand. “Luciiiiiiferrrr!”

“Asmo, is your question overly personal in nature?”

The Avatar of lust brought a manicured nail to his cheek and daintily tapped it. “Mmm… I don’t think so.”

“Ask.”

“How long were you and MC’s parent dating for? Won’t it be awkward to be around your ex?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face. “It was a one night thing.”

“Really?” Asmo knitted his eyebrows in confusion. “It wasn’t a long drawn out forbidden romance? You must have had some Olympic swimmers down there!”

“Okay!” Lucifer clapped his hands. “Add that to the list of things Asmo is not allowed to say.”

“We have to take something off the list then…” Beel said through handfuls of chips. “The list’s full.”

“Fine,” Lucifer grumbled. “He can say [CENSORED] again.”

“Yippee! [CENSORED] [CENSORED] [CENSORED]”

The group collectively groaned as Asmo continued to spout his profane nonsense.

“What did I just walk in on..?” MC stood in the doorway to the living room, still in their PJs.

“Oh, MC, your parent’s coming over to stay for a few days.” Lucifer quickly explained.

MC’s face morphed from confusion to horror. “What does that have to do with [CENSORED]?!”

This house is a FUCKING NIGHTMARE-

Anyway, after the initial confusion/horror, MC got really excited and rushed off to get ready. Meanwhile, the boys solemnly swore that they would be on their best behaviour!

Everyone needed to convince MC’s parent that everything in the Devildom was perfectly safe and that their little hellspawn was in good responsible hands.

Mammon tried to come up with a plan in case MC wasn’t allowed to stay with them, and let’s just say it involved kidnapping. But like- a chill kind of kidnapping where MC would be totally fine.

This idea was immediately shot down in favour of Beel’s plan B.

Beel would just… eat MC’s parent. No biggie, right?

Lucifer shot that one down the moment he heard it.

The only accepted plan for if MC wasn’t allowed to stay was just letting them go. They’d visit the Devildom. A lot. Many visits would be necessary.

So, the hour of MC’s ren’s arrival had come, and the student council assembled to greet them.

Greet the human. The completely non magical human. Greet them and then let them see the Devildom…

Was this exchange program really that good of an idea..?

MC frantically attempted to do some last minute fixes to their hair as they sat themselves down in their seat in the Assembly Hall. Ugh… stupid hair…

“Why are you so nervous?” Satan asked. “Is our visitor a neat freak basket case?”

“No!” MC huffed. “They’re not! I’m just making myself presentable so they don’t think I’ve gone completely feral down here.”

“Well, feral no, crazy, yes. Have you seen yourself lately?” Belphie snickered.

“SHUT UP BELPHIE.”

“Would you all be quiet?” Lucifer snapped. “You’re all acting like children.”

“I am a child.” MC snapped back. “What’s Belphie’s excuse?”

Belphie’s retort was cut off by the portal opening and a figure leisurely floating to the ground. They had an open parasol in their right hand that seemed to be aiding their gentle descent, and a large container full of what smelled like cookies tucked into their left side. The moment their toes touched the floor, the human gracefully closed their parasol and gave the assembled demons a sparkling smile and a polite bow.

“Thank you for allowing me the honour to visit,” the human’s voice was as soft and sweet as Cotton candy. “It’s a pleasure to officially meet the princes of hell themselves.”

:D yay!

After floating down from the sky like Mary Poppins, MC lost all sense of propriety and ran over to tackle their ren into a hug. It was that kind of thing where you really miss someone but you don’t realize exactly how much until you get to see them again.

Lucifer was, of course, the picture of elegance and “this isn’t awkward at all”-ness.

MC’s parent didn’t even seem to be all that concerned with the fact that their baby daddy was, y'know, LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR. THE MOST POMPOUS FUCKWAD IN THE DEVILDOM.

Please don’t tell him I said that, he’s still mad about the Go Fund Me…

MC was absolutely ecstatic to finally show their parent how much they’ve grown in terms of their demonic powers and all the friends they had made, but MC’s ren was more concerned with how much they had grown in terms of their height.

“You’re just so tall now,” MC’s ren giggled as they fixed their child’s hair. “You’ll get things off of shelves for me, won’t you?”

“Yeah yeah,” MC said, rolling their eyes good naturedly. “Like you can’t reach anything in your kitchen.”

“Okay,” Mammon, Satan, Levi, Belphie, and Beel were lagging behind Lucifer, MC, their parent, and Diavolo. “Change of plans, we ain’t eatin’ ‘em, we’re keepin’ ‘em.”

“We were never going to eat them in the first place, idiot.” Satan sneered. “And what’s with the change of tune? You were ready to wage war on the human world fifteen minutes ago.”

“…cookies happened.” Mammon mumbled. He had only gotten one of the human’s totally amazing offerings before Beel proceeded to eat everything. The cookie was perfect… so delicious…

“I say we keep the human.” Beel put a hand on his stomach. “I want more human world cookies.”

“They’re so cute too…” Asmo cooed. “A solid 10/10, and that’s such a rare ranking coming from the only 20/10 in existence!”

“Asmo, your vanity never ceases to make me want to roll over and-” Belphie’s insult was interrupted by him passing out and letting out a cartoonishly loud snore. It was a good thing Beel was able to quickly catch and throw Belphie over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes.

“Asmo has a point, they’re just so totally moe! Kawaii to the highest degree! That parasol, the homemade cookies, it’s just like something from a slice of life anime!” Levi squee-ed.

“So it’s settled, we treat ‘em nice, then we get ‘em to stay.” Mammon nodded to the rest of his brothers, who for the first time in the Demon King knows how long, his little brothers nodded back in full seriousness. They were actually doing a Mammon plan! Holy shit!

So, the brothers liked MC’s ren, what about Diavolo and Barbatos?

Well, MC’s ren had heard all about Barbatos’ amazing cooking from MC and Barb’s totally outstanding reputation, so the two got along swimmingly.

Dia. Loved. That. Human. They’re cute???? They’re sweet???? They brought COOKIES???! They don’t seem to be afraid of him at all????? Please be the exchange student next year :D

Oh yeah… he made a rule that said they couldn’t summon someone with kids… it would be cruel to rip a parent away from their child…

But apparently not a child away from their parent cough cough

Other than the uncle squad, MC’s ren got to meet the Purgatory Hall gang too!

MC was being just the most adorable tour guide, but that didn’t stop Lucifer from having a miniature heart attack any time a demon even looked at MC’s parent the wrong way. If MC’s ren got attacked or felt threatened in any way shape or form, he could say bye bye to his time with the one person in the HOL that didn’t live to make him pop a forehead vein. The human seemed outwardly unconcerned with any Devildom oddness and was amicably chatting with Diavolo while MC pulled them from place to place.

“And that’s Hell’s Kitchen, they have good sandwiches, and that’s Madame Scream’s, they have really good macarons.” MC helpfully pointed out the places as they passed them.

A much to familiar trio of voices called out from down the street. Father dammit, why were they here..?

“Hello Lucifer, what are you all up too?” Ugh… Simeon…

“From the sight of the rest of your brothers skulking about, it appears like they’re acting as bodyguards.” Solomon…

“MC? Who’s that?”

Oh good grief… that nasally little voice… the chihuahua was near… Now… Lucifer was a respectable demon… respectable demons don’t tease children in front of the parent of their child…

“Hello chihuahua.”

DAMN IT HE COULDN’T HELP HIMSELF!

“I’m not a chihuahua you demon!” Luke yapped.

MC’s parent daintily tilted their head and looked over at MC. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?”

“Right, Luke, this is my ren, ren, this is a chihuahua.” MC grinned cheekily as they gestured between the two. Lucifer suppressed a laugh which resulted in a very ugly snort. It was a good thing the sound was drowned out by Luke’s exclamations of betrayal.

The chorus of “how could you?!”s and “I thought you were over that awful nickname!”s was put to an abrupt halt when the visiting human elegantly offered a handshake to the fuming angel.

“MC spoke very highly of you,” they chirped. “It’s very nice to meet you, Luke.”

Luke blinked a few times, then quickly straightened his posture, adjusted his hat, then shook MC’s ren’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“That’s Simeon.” MC jerked a thumb in Simeon’s direction. “And that’s Solomon.”

“Luke got a whole introduction and we get that? Come on MC, I thought we were friends.” Solomon fake pouted at MC after giving a polite nod to MC’s parent.

“We stopped being friends after one of the potions you had me test out turned me into a-” as quick as lighting, Mammon had shoved his hand into MC’s face.

“A-ah, MC’s rememberin’ stuff wrong, nothin’ potion related happened to ‘em. Right, Solomon???!”

Taking the hint from Mammon, Solomon smiled and nodded. “Nope, nothing related to turning MC into a frog for a few hours.”

“Hm, well I’m quite happy that absolutely nothing frog transformation related happened.” MC’s parent said.

“Yeah, must’ve hit their head on somethin- YEEEOW!” MC had bitten down on Mammon’s hand and slapped it away from them.

“I did not hit my head on anything!”

“Yeah,” Beel nodded. “Nothing’s hit them since the Fangol ball.”

“The what ball?” MC’s ren asked.

“The Fangol ball that hit MC a few months back and broke their glasses.” Five of the brothers slapped their hands to their foreheads.

“Oh my…”

“Eh,” MC patted their ren on the arm. “That’s nothing compared to the giant snake at the retreat.”

“Oh! Do you mind letting me tell that story, MC?”

Lucifer was frantically signalling for Diavolo to stop talking but the crown prince was already beginning his retelling of the events. Luke would chime in with an anecdote from an even worse misadventure the two had gone out on every once and a while. This… this wasn’t going well at all…

MC’s ren was… weirdly chill about the whole thing…

“Oh, it’s so nice that you’re having fun, sweetheart. That reminds me of when I was young and your aunt Clytemnestra and I would go out and have adventures.” “Really? You went on weird adventures too?” “…what kind of adventures could possibly compare to being chased by a giant snake in an underground labyrinth..?”

The side characters ended up needing to abscond for various reasons and all that was left was the brothers, MC, and MC’s parent.

They made it to the HOL without issue, which is when Lucifer remembered that he did not put all the cursed objects out of reach… shit.

“Asmo… Asmo!” “What is it?” “Take MC’s ren out of the house in half an hour, keep them occupied in the living room!” “What? Why?” “I need more time to human-proof the house! Distract them, but no funny business!” “Dear brother, for the first time in a very long time funny business is the second thing on my mind! Wait… no, it’s the third… what have I become..?”

Asmo and Satan, super graciously by the way, led MC and their ren to the living room to distract- I mean entertain them for a bit!

Lucifer and the rest of the gang got to work moving certain things around and closing certain doors- shit where was Cerberus?! Did Lucifer forget to walk him that morning?!

So much to dooooooo…

So maybe bringing a human into Majolish and letting them roam around unsupervised wasn’t the best idea Satan and Asmo had, but it sure as heck was an idea. MC looked through shelves of hairpins and bracelets while their ren disappeared around a corner to look at scarves.

“We’re doing such a great job babysitting!” Asmo clapped his hands. “If MC had just been a normal human I bet they’d last the entire year under our care.”

“Hm, you might be right.” Satan smiled and nodded. “Humans are surprisingly entertaining.”

“Yes… speaking of, where exactly is the human?”

The sudden sound of metal slamming against flesh and the delayed sound of something incredibly heavy hitting the floor jolted Asmo and Satan from their conversation.

“Honestly, some people have no fucking manners!”

It was such a different voice than what Satan and Asmo were used to that the only thing that tipped them off to it being MC’s ren was the fact that MC began to giggle. MC’s ren stepped back into view carrying a metal staff that quickly transformed back to their parasol.

Asmo and Satan rushed over to check if their defenceless little human guest was okay, only to find some lesser demon passed out on the floor with an incredibly nasty bump on the side of their head.

“I’ve heard that humans are apparently quite delicious to demons but I didn’t expect someone to actually try and eat me.”

“I-um…” Satan sputtered, looking from Asmo to MC’s parent. “We’re uh…”

“You alright, ren?” MC called from over by the bracelet shelves.

“Yes, I’m alright.” MC’s ren gave the fourth and fifth born a calming smile. “No harm done, well, except to that poor bastard. I do hope I haven’t killed him… that would be such a nasty thing for the poor sales associates to find.”

Okay so maybe the defenceless human wasn’t so defenceless. That was a good thing… right?

“So where exactly did you manage to get your hands on such a weapon..?” “Ah, I come from a family of witches. This was a college graduation present.”

…doit doit seems legit.

The four made it back home just in time, Lucifer and the others had finished human proofing the house.

Yay!

The house tour went by smoothly, everything was all well and good until Beel and Belphie asked MC’s ren to make more cookies.

Oh god dammit the human said they would.

“Oh Beel, you shouldn’t eat the cookie dough raw… the eggs and raw flour will make you sick!” “Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Besides, it’s best not to interrupt Beel while he’s eating.” “Yeah it might end like the custard incident.” “Custard… incident?” “MC and Mammon ate my custard and I ended up breaking the wall that connected to MC’s room.” “Hunger tantrums, am I right?”

After that it was Mammon and Levi’s turn to babysit. It went about as well as you’d think.

Levi explained some anime plot in an attempt to make it seem like the Devildom was totally safe and that MC and their ren could stay forever no problem, while Mammon desperately suppressed the urge to swipe the cool parasol.

Finally, it was time for the verdict. Would MC be allowed to stay in the Devildom..? Or would they go back to the human world..?

“Lucifer?”

The demon in question looked up from his paperwork and tried to nod in the most casual way possible. MC’d ren was standing in the doorway, Lucifer must have missed their knock. “Yes? Do you need something?”

MC’s ren smiled and nodded. “It’s about MC’s living situation going forward.”

Lucifer stiffened and got up from his desk. “Y-yes… what about it?”

“MC has expressed that they want to stay here full time with frequent visits to the human world.” The softness that their voice had earlier in the day was completely absent as the human stepped forward into the study and closed the door behind them. “I want to know what you think about that.”

“Well,” Lucifer cleared his throat and tried to shake off the stupid sense of nervousness that had wrapped itself around him. A weak little human’s decision should not make him so anxious! “I would like for MC to stay here as well, I think it would be best for them.”

The human raised an eyebrow and twirled their parasol in their hand. “Really now? In your year with them you truly believe you know what’s best for them?”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. I do.”

MC’s ren went quiet for a few seconds before replying. “I see.”

“And that means..?”

“I knew this day would come, but I didn’t think it’d be so soon.” MC’s ren sighed, and for the first time all day, they actually let their exhaustion show. “I raised MC knowing that one day they’d end up in the Devildom. They’ve told me over and over again how much they like it down here…” the human took a deep breath and slowly shook their head. “If this is what they want… then I give my permission for them to stay with you.”

A wave of relief swept over Lucifer as he finally took a breath. “Thank you.”

“Mm… I’m going to have to use my favour though.”

The relief completely vanished as the Avatar of Pride’s blood ran cold. Memories flooded back from the one night the pair had spent together, the human had offered a cursed record to him that he had spent decades trying to find, in exchange, Lucifer let them have one favour. A favour from a demon was like a single pact order, Lucifer had to do literally anything this human wanted.

“Protect MC, even if it costs you your life.” The human’s words were careful and measured as Lucifer felt the order sink in. “You’ll do that for them, right Lucifer?”

Lucifer nodded as life flooded back into his limbs. “I would have done it without the order.”

So, the brother’s plan to make MC’s ren stay forever failed because they were going back to the human world with MC for summer vacation. Listen, it was needed, MC needed to see the sun lest they shrivel like a sad houseplant.

At least Lucifer technically had primary custody of his little heathen! Victory!

MC said their goodbyes to the friends they had made over the year as they prepared to leave for the next two months, it was filled with so many bone-crushing hugs that MC was surprised that their spine didn’t snap.

MC and Luke had lagged behind the much larger group as they made their way to the assembly hall. MC’s ren was dazzling the miniature crowd with stories of just how adorable MC was as a little kid. The half demon rolled their eyes and silently mourned the loss of any cool points they had gained over the year. Their little companion was oddly quiet, MC lightly nudged him and smiled.

“Aren’t you happy to be going home? You’ve been griping about being stuck down here the entire year. Don’t tell me you’re getting sappy, Luke.”

Luke puffed his cheek out and crossed his arms. “Of course I’m happy to be leaving, the Celestial Realm is the best place ever, the Devildom is completely terrible in every way.”

MC smirked and rolled their eyes again. Just let the little guy go on his rant…

“But… I am going to miss you…” Luke mumbled, MC’s eyebrows shot upwards as they turned their head to look at him. “Th-thanks for being my friend down here… MC. You’re… you’re really nice.”

To their absolute horror, MC felt a lump form in their throat. Oh dear Grandfather… the chihuahua was what broke them?! They quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention, then quickly pulled Luke into a hug. The hug was over as fast as it began, but it seemed that Luke didn’t particularly care and was more shocked at the sudden bout of affection.

“If anyone, and I mean anyone asks, I didn’t hug you.” MC murmured, quickly swiping at their eyes.

Luke nodded, a small smile spread across his face. “Got it!”

So the side characters left… *sniffle* everything’s okay… the DDDs work in any of the realms… they could still talk.

Soon, it was time for the final sets of goodbyes…

“Come on, Bean, we’re going to the human world!” MC tried to take the cat from Satan, who didn’t move a muscle.

“If you think you’re taking the cat from here, you’re delusional.” Satan’s smile didn’t leave his face, but the force behind his words was almost enough to make MC back off. Almost…

“My caaaaaat!” MC whined, they ended up getting lightly pushed away by Satan.

“Remember, the summer’s a good time to catch up on anime!” Levi advised. “There’s 24 hours in a day, and an average anime episode is 22 minutes long, you have loads of time!”

“I’ll keep up with my anime only if you promise to listen to the Death Note musical, Levi.” MC giggled and patted Levi on the shoulder.

“Remember MC, take care of your cuticles and your skin.” Asmo took MC’s hand and checked their fingernails. “They were an absolute mess before you got here, so I expect you to keep up your routines this summer!”

“Yeeeeeeeeeeees siiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrr.”

“Bye MC,” Beel handed MC a half opened cup of custard. “I almost ate it, but I didn’t. Make sure you don’t skip any meals this summer.

MC jumped up and gave Beel a quick hug. “Thanks Beel! I’ll be sure to enjoy the custard!”

“Bye, MC. See you next year.” Belphie stood awkwardly stiff, not exactly sure what to do. MC pursed their lips, then quickly wrapped him up in a hug.

“Bye Belphie, I hope all your pillow forts are structurally unsound.”

The avatar of sloth snickered and rested his head on MC’s. “I hope you get really comfortable and are fully ready to go to sleep, then realize you have to pee.”

MC gasped in fake offence and swatted Belphie on the arm.

Mammon put both his hands on MC’s shoulders, his face unusually serious. “Do ya remember what the great Mammon took painstakin’ effort to teach ya?”

“Payday loans are scams, witches are scary, bowline knots are the easiest to undo, don’t wear reflective sunglasses to a poker game aaaaaaaand…” MC grinned mischievously. “Any plan thought up by the Great Mammon should be subject to intense revision.”

“That’s ri- hey!” Mammon laughed and shoved MC towards Lucifer.

MC looked up at Lucifer, the pride demon looked down at them fondly. He reached out and gently ruffled their hair. “I’ll see you next year, MC.”

“Y-yeah…”

Lucifer crouched down slightly to get to their level and gave MC a smile. “I’m very proud of you, you’ve been an immense help this year. Thank you for everything.”

“Thanks for not being a stereotypical supervillain dad, father.” MC smiled softly and fixed their glasses. “Loveyoubye!”

MC turned and rushed to their ren’s side as Lucifer let out a soft chuckle.

“I love you too, MC.”

As Barbatos readied the portal to send the pair to the human world, MC couldn’t wipe the grin off their face. Geez, if this year was a metric mess of fun and insanity… what was the next year going to be like? The half demon’s grin morphed into a bit of a smirk. No way in hell their next year in the Devildom was going to be as insane as their first year.

MC almost giggled as they gave their family one last wave. That wasn’t the time to think about the future, besides, MC knew that it would take two insane chaotic humans to be summoned into the Devildom to even come close to the chaos MC managed to create, both on purpose and by accident.

And what were the odds of that happening?

——————

Authors Note: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA ITS DONE SEASON ONE IS DONE!

I wasn’t able to fit the Anti Lucifer League stuff into this one, I’ll put it in a separate fic later!

I NOW NEED TO WORK ON GETTING THROUGH SEASON 2 IN THE ACTUAL GAME. To get mildly serious for a second, thanks to everyone who has stuck around to listen to me spout my fic-y nonsense, you all are nerds (affectionate) and I love you.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

Love Is Near, but Danger Is Nearer prompt: Aelin hearing Danny talking to someone in the middle of the night 👀

Love Is Near, but Danger Is Nearer | Chapter Ten

CW: language

Masterlist//Moodboard//Send a Prompt//1086 words

Saturday

“You did what?” Lysandra screeched.

“Calm down,” I hissed, then glanced over to Danny, who was sitting on the couch watching cartoons. He was looking over at us in concern. I waved reassuringly, then turned back to Lys.

“Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, I swear to the gods if this doesn’t turn out to be some foul prank—”

“Lys, listen,” I interrupted. “It’s for his safety.”

“You couldn’t have married someone, I dunno, less sketchy? What kind of guy offers to marry a lady he doesn’t even know, just to help out her kid?”

“A nice one?” I winced. “Okay, or maybe a bored one. It doesn’t really matter. There was hardly anyone else!”

“Well, I’m sure you could have found somebody. Hell, I would have married you for fuck’s sake. Do you even trust him around your kid?”

“No,” I said firmly. “I don’t think he would do anything to Danny, but still no. But this isn’t going to be permanent.”

“It doesn’t even need to be temporary,” Lysandra snapped. “Go get divorced. Right now, Aelin.”

I crossed my arms. “Would you stop. What’s done is done. I’m doing this for Danny, and Rowan is entirely in agreement that we’ll get divorced as soon as it’s done.”

“And what are you going to tell him?” Lysandra nodded her head in Danny’s direction.

“I’m going to tell him the truth.”

“The truth?”

“Some of the truth,” I corrected. “That I’m married, and I guess that it won’t last forever. I don’t want him to get attached, you know?”

“Is that really the most of your worries?”

“Lys. I know it was rash—”

“You married the man fifteen minutes after he proposed. He proposed fifteen days after meeting you.”

“It was more than fifteen days,” I said, scoffing. “It was like… almost three weeks.”

Lysandra sighed. “Gods, Aelin.”

“I understand why you’re freaked out, but I don’t want some fucking serial killer coming after my son. I did what I had to do.” Lys nodded slowly. “I’m taking Danny to meet Rowan today,” I added hesitantly.

“Taking him where?”

“A cafe. I was hardly going to have Rowan move in today, was I?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Lysandra muttered.

I shot her a glare. “He’s moving in next week. And he’s not going to be selling his house or bring a shit ton of stuff, since this should all be going away soon. We just need to do enough to make this look realistic.”

“And what happens after? Are you two going to keep dating?”

“Probably,” I admitted. “I liked him to start with, and now he’s doing all this for me. I still don’t know if it will go anywhere, but I’m not going to dump him the second this blows over.”

Lys groaned. “I hate you. Alright, what time do we leave?”

“We?”

“You thought I was letting my baby boy meet that creep with only his brain-damaged mother for company? Hell no.”

I sighed in resignation. “Whatever.”

—

After Rowan shared his idea with me last night, I had thought about it for the rest of dinner, per his request, then accepted once the meal was through.

We had gone to city hall immediately following, and gotten married. It felt surreal.

Next we worked out most of the details concerning what this was going to look like. A lot was left for debate, and Rowan told me not to rush it. And I would still be wearing Sam’s ring. Rowan had been very kind about the whole affair.

Then I had gone home and gone straight to bed. Lys had slept over, as she did sometimes, and I had waited until the morning to inform her.

And so that conversation had happened. Then I went about informing Danny. He was surprised, to say the least, but excited to meet Rowan. I hadn’t mentioned the reason for the impromptu marriage, and Danny didn’t think to ask. After all, he was young. He probably didn’t have a solid timeline in his head of how long it usually took for adults to get married.

After that, we left for the cafe. It was the same one Rowan and I had met up in after the grocery store incident. It made the situation a bit sweeter, I thought.

Rowan wasn’t there yet. We took a seat in a booth. After a minute of debate, Danny was seated beside Lys and I was going to be next to Rowan. We ordered waters and waited.

“Can’t even show up on time to meet his new son,” I barely heard Lysandra mutter. I rolled my eyes.

Rowan finally showed up, only slightly late. His eyes landed on our little mismatched trio and he smiled, no trace of nerves or regret.

“Hello, Aelin. And you must be Danny.”

Seeing that Lys wouldn’t be deigning to stand up, I tugged Rowan down beside me. “Yes, this is Danny. Danny, this is my new husband, Rowan.”

Danny smiled shyly. “Hi, Rowan.”

Rowan winked, and I wondered if that was just a guy thing. “It’s nice to meet such a handsome soul as yourself.”

Lysandra snorted. I cleared my throat. “And this is Lysandra. She wanted to meet you.” She’s skeptical, I mouthed in addition.

Rowan nodded, unfazed. “Hello.”

“Hi,” Lys said, smiling fakely. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I sighed internally.

I wasn’t really sure what to say next, but Rowan quickly picked up on the speaking. He talked mainly to Danny, asking him his favorite movie and color, and other such things. Danny responded cheerfully, and started to get over his introverted tendencies and ask a few questions of his own. That was a good sign.

That was a very good sign.

—

I pulled the covers over my head tighter. And then I wondered if Rowan would be under the same covers less than a week from now. We would have to cross that bridge when we came to it.

I sighed, then smiled. I wasn’t entirely upset by this. This could be fun, actually.

I thought I heard someone speak in the other room, someone with a voice deeper than Danny’s. I jolted up, listening carefully.

I couldn’t make out the whole sentence, but I heard Rowan. It had been Danny then, talking to his imaginary friend. I was going to get confused on which Rowan I was talking about when my husband Rowan moved in.

Relaxed, I lay back down and pulled the blanket up. Then I feel into a fitful sleep.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@courtofjurdan

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sheharahu

@sleeping-and-books

@slytheringalathynius

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[kalee60]

Kalee. Kal. Hi. Hello.

So I recently got a Tiktok because all the kids these days are doing it and my sister keeps sending me videos 🤦🏼‍♀️🙄 I know.

Anyways

There’s apparently this challenge.

Kalee.

It’s a kiss your best friend challenge.

And all I can think is:

Steve and Bucky.

It could be canon verse. It could be an au.

But like imagine. If you haven’t seen the videos it’s super cute but also cringy because like what if it doesn’t go over well, it would be awkwardddd! They basically just film themselves hangout with their best friend and then try to kiss them and see if they’ve secretly been pining too.

Imagine.

Claire - my gorgeous pocket rocket from the Big Apple 🍎

This ask (that you sent eons ago) could not just be answered with a simple - 'omg, yes - I know right - it's the perfect Stucky scenario - someone should write it'... Because well - I guess somehow it turned out that I could write a little something...

I hope you enjoy this, because without your cheerleading, your throwing of pom poms and generally screaming at me in comments and on here - well writing wouldn't be half as much fun.

So for you Claire - enjoy this little story of two boys, a kiss in the making and a TikTok account 😘

~*~*~*~*~

Nerves rode Bucky as he placed his phone down into the perfect position; camera at the ready, not pressing record yet - but waiting for the signal. Steve was doing the exact same with his phone, only from a slightly different angle, setting it up for their parkour trick - something they were going to post to TikTok later. But although Steve was under the impression he was about to perform a flip off Bucky’s shoulders to grab hold of a tree branch then scale the fifteen foot wall beside it - Bucky had other ideas.

He’d seen a new TikTok challenge that week, it was plastered all over the platform and filled his suggested videos, and since the first time he’d watched one, then devoured another fifty straight away, he’d secretly wanted to do it. Wanted to throw all caution to the wind and seize the moment.

Today was that day.

Bucky Barnes was going to kiss Stevie Rogers right on the lips. His best friend since middle school, the boy, now man that he’d secretly loved for over a decade - and although Bucky could have thought of a million different ways to show Steve how he felt - he’d just never had the courage. At least if the video bombed, he could still put it up as a laugh and hopefully Steve would see the joke and it wouldn’t ruin their friendship - hopefully.

So Bucky waited for Steve to finish fiddling with his phone and camera positioning, which was taking him longer than usual to set up, trying to not let the butterflies in his gut take over.

Steve finally looked up, face flushed red like he’d already performed the stunt and Bucky was struck dumb, staring at how beautiful Steve was in the afternoon sunlight. He became lost in the way the shadows from the trees created patterns across Steve’s tightly toned body, the slight wind whispering to Bucky to take his chance, to not mess it up. And Steve stood before him like a golden god, nervously splaying his fingers, cracking his knuckles while staring back at Bucky with an unreadable expression on his face. Was he worried about their trick?

“You okay, Pal?” Bucky asked, his voice faltering with the knowledge he was about to change everything - or nothing.

Steve nodded, eyes wide and bright, darting over Bucky’s face, and Bucky took a moment to bask at being in Steve’s full attention.

“Yep,” Steve popped the ‘p’ and ran a hand through his hair, blonde strands sticking up comically, but Bucky didn’t laugh, he’d never seen someone as breathtaking as Steve did in that moment. 

Steve was Bucky’s true north, a steady and unrelenting force at his side - but it went both ways. They’d been through family deaths, relationship fallouts, fights and everything in between, but the one thing that was always unbroken - was they were in it together. No matter what life threw at them, Steve and Bucky were as solid as rock. Unshakable.

And Bucky was probably about to screw it all up.

They closed in on each other, coming to a standstill until only a foot separated them; Steve’s huge blue eyes darted quickly between Bucky’s; there was something different about the look, intense, and Bucky wondered if his own nerves were obvious and Steve was suddenly unsure about the acrobatic feat they were attempting.

“You still want to do this? Haven’t changed your mind?” Bucky asked to make sure, and was surprised when Steve licked his lips and shook his head emphatically.

���No, I’m sure - more sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”

Bucky smiled, Steve being dramatic about their parkour tricks was not unusual, but the way Steve’s cheek twitched and how his foot tapped on the ground was not normal behaviour. And Bucky couldn’t help but start to worry that his idea to surprise-kiss Steve wasn’t the greatest one, wasn’t something he should be trying, as it seemed Steve was janky - wound up.

“Alright, Stevie. If you’re sure.”

Resolve filled Steve’s features as they both turned on their cameras, and once set up, Steve took an almost hesitant step forward.

Bucky held his breath.

It was the moment of truth. 

They’d practised the trick so many times, had to start toe to toe for it to work, Steve pushing off Bucky to sprint to the wall, running vertically up the side of it, to twist around and jump off Bucky’s shoulders and flip onto the tree branch, shoving off it then using his momentum to run up the rest of the wall. Finally gripping the lip and climbing over it. 

They’d gone over it at least thirty times.

No injuries as of yet.

But this time, just as Steve pressed forward, Bucky yanked him in - at the exact same time as Steve flew forward, completely catching Bucky off guard as he was heading in the wrong direction than expected, he was moving towards Bucky instead of pushing away - and their heads slammed together with a loud thud.

And instead of taking the defeat of the moment graciously, Bucky was in too deep, had waited too long, had it all planned out - and so as Steve rubbed his forehead looking as mortified at what had transpired as Bucky, Bucky once again leant forward. Only to find Steve pitching towards him too, and for the second time in less than three seconds their skulls cracked against the other.

“- holy shit, Barnes. Are you going to let me kiss you or not?”

“- Steve you fucking menace, I’m trying to kiss you!”

The silence was deafening as their words mingled together and wide ocean blue eyes met stormy silt infused grey-blue ones in shock.

“- what did you…?”

“- did you just...?”

Once again talking at the same time, they both trailed off, and the words started to sink into Bucky’s fried brain. Steve was trying to kiss him. Him.

Slack jawed, he could only stare at Steve whose expression mimicked his own, clearly having come to the same realisation about Bucky. He managed to swallow the obscenely thick lump in his throat and with a small tremor in his hand, reached up to place it on Steve’s forehead where a red mark was forming - rubbing the spot gently with his thumb. Steve’s eyes softened and his shoulders relaxed.

With the last tendrils of fear slipping away, Bucky trailed his fingers down the side of Steve’s face before reaching behind his head, gripping the base of Steve’s neck. Then stopped.

Steve’s breathing laboured, coming in sharp and Bucky tightened his grip, loving the way Steve’s eyes fluttered half shut before they opened again, trying not to lose contact with Bucky’s.

Steve was stunning, so responsive and Bucky licked his lips, loving how Steve’s attention snagged on his mouth immediately.

“Can I?” Bucky husked, and Steve nodded jerkily when Bucky’s fingers played with the silky strands of Steve’s hair as he leant in.

The first meeting of their lips lacked the pain of slammed heads and teeth - but it was perfect in every way. Steve’s lips were plush, soft and pliant under Buckys as Bucky took control of the kiss, pressing forward into Steve’s heat. Bucky’s other hand came up to cup Steve’s face tenderly, unable to express how it felt to be kissing his lifelong friend after so many years of yearning for it, Bucky almost at the point where he thought it could never happen. The fact Steve kissed him back - enthusiastically, made his heart thump louder and harder until it was all he could hear in his mind.

After a moment, Bucky pulled away, resting his forehead on Steve’s, mindful of the tender place they’d cracked heads minutes earlier, and couldn’t stop the rasped laugh that escaped.

“You laughing at the way I kiss, Barnes?” Steve sassed with a smile in his voice.

Bucky chuckled, “no, not at all.” He paused a second to gather his thoughts, “I just can’t believe I set this up to kiss you on camera for TikTok, so damn nervous the whole time you’d freak out and punch me - and you were doing the exact same thing.”

Steve grinned and pulled away enough so that he could stare into Bucky’s eyes, the emotion shining from his beautifully clear expression stole the breath from Bucky’s lungs.

“How long?” Steve asked with a whisper. And Bucky wanted to lie, to tell him it wasn’t long, that he’d only just realised if only to stop himself looking too much like a sap.

He didn’t lie.

“The day you punched Deon Franklin when he asked me for a tongue kiss while calling me those terrible names.”

Steve’s stunned look spoke volumes, “Bucky. We were sixteen.”

“And…?” Bucky winced at Steve’s incredulous tone.

Suddenly Steve laughed hysterically, and Bucky started to back up, but before he got too far, Steve grabbed his biceps stopping him in his tracks. “Oh no you dont. You do know why I punched him right?”

“Because he was a dick?”

“Well apart from that.” Steve said wryly and took a deep breath, letting Bucky go. “It’s because he upset you. And I was desperate for your attention - wanted that kiss he so crudely demanded as a joke.”

“What…” Bucky stammered out, “You wanted me back then too?”

Steve smiled indulgently at him. “You didn’t think I stuck around just for your personality did you?”

Bucky roared with laughter, elated at the turn of events and grabbed Steve, slamming their mouths together, and soon the kiss morphed from chaste and exploratory to something meaner, something heavier. Pushing Steve up against the tree, the small noise from Steve’s throat as the bark dug into his skin set something feral off in Bucky and he kissed deeper, shoving his tongue further until both of them struggled for air.

A loud beeping infiltrated Bucky’s hearing and he reluctantly pulled away, adoring the slack jawed and glazed look in Steve’s eyes way too much. Wanting Steve to look up at him with that exact same expression but with a lot less clothing and a lot more privacy in place.

“Want to do the trick still?” Bucky questioned as he walked over and grabbed his phone to stop the alert that he was running out of video. When Steve didn’t answer he looked back over his shoulder and almost dropped his phone.

Steve was leaning limp against the tree, clearly half hard and staring after Bucky like he’d just gifted him the world. When in actual fact, it was Steve who’d done that for him.

Bucky stalked back over, gripping Steve’s chin, kissing him soundly one more time, and Steve immediately went pliant under his touch, oh boy, they were going to have so much fun.

“How about instead, we go back to mine and see what other tricks we can come up with?”

Steve’s breathing came in faster and harder and a broken ‘yes’ worked its way out of his throat, Bucky catching the word in his mouth as he kissed Steve again.

Bucky smirked as he pulled away, helping Steve stand upright.

“But, only on the condition that we tape it.” Steve said in a voice deep and rich, and Bucky was suddenly on the back foot when Steve smiled deliciously at him, eyes full of dirty promises.

Dry mouthed and vibrating from anticipation, Bucky followed Steve to his car, walking in a slight daze at what had transpired in only twenty minutes.

And all Bucky was certain of, was that although his TikTok kiss hadn’t gone to plan - everything else would fall into place.

Just the way it was meant to.

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

One Shot: Ask Questions, Throw Shield Later.

Intro: Steve and Katie have an unwelcome late night visitor…

Warnings: “Language!” Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing:  Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

W/C: 1.9k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

A/N: The first of two (yes, two) special 29th May Birthday One shots. Happy Birthday Tony! Man, I missed writing for these guys in this timeline! This fits into SSB within “I Told You I Said Yes”.

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“Fuck, Steve...” Katie groaned, her head tilting backwards as Steve gave another deep thrust upwards, “right there... Jesus.”

“Good?” Steve panted as his hands grabbed her waist, finger tips digging into the flesh that covered her hipbones.

She nodded, grinding on him faster, his hands pulling her down making sure he hit as deep as he could.

Their soft, intimate sounds filled the room and, wanting to be as close to her as he could get, Steve sat up drawing a gasp from Katie as he did so. His hands moved to her back. One splayed half way up her spine, the other cupped the back of her head. His fingers tangled in her long, silky hair as he pulled her face to his. He kissed her, hard, his tongue dominating hers as he swallowed her moan, one that rumbled in her throat as if it came from the depths of her belly.

They’d already danced this tango once already that night. After a few beers with the team in anticipation of Tony’s birthday (minus Natasha as she was still on something Fury was running), they’d retired and gotten a little frisky some two hours prior. But then Steve had woken, his super sharp hearing alerting himself to some form of ransom noise deep in the floors below them and, well, he couldn’t get back to sleep. So he’d hugged Katie close.

Too close.

As ever he was unable to control his reactions to his girl and had ended up with a boner. Meaning she’d woken with him basically rutting up against her back, feigning innocence when she’d given him a grumble at the fact he’d dragged her from her slumber.

She hadn’t been grumbling for long.

“Stevie... I’m gonna...” Katie’s forehead pressed into his, her mouth open as her lips hovered over his, and he thrust upwards again, his nose brushing hers softly, like the touch of a butterfly.

“Let go. Doll,” he panted, actively fighting his own high, “cum for me.”

Her chest heaved, pert nipples brushing his bare skin and her movements stuttered. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, which cracked into a half grunt, half moan as she felt herself go, her body positively floating from her high.

By the time she came round, Steve had also finished, his broad shoulders rising and falling as he gathered his breath. Katie collapsed forward with a soft chuckle, her forehead pressing into his collar bone as he fell backwards, taking her with him.

They lay still for a moment, the only sounds being their heavy breathing and the soft rustle of sheets as Steve pulled the bedding up around them. The smooth cotton brushing over her sensitive skin made Katie shudder a little. Steve smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, his large hands running up and down her spine.

“Am I forgiven for waking you up?” He asked and she shrugged, not even bothering to try and find the strength to sit up. “It’s three AM. I’ll think about it.”

Steve chuckled and she sat up slightly, leaning down to give him a slow kiss.

“Love you.” she pulled back a little, her eyes shining in the dim light, and Steve smiled.

“Love you too.”

Fifteen minutes later they were both settled down and on the verge of sleep once more when a loud crashing in the apartment made them both sit bolt upright.

“What the...” Steve was out of bed in a flash, wrenching the door to their room open.

Katie was seconds behind him, stopping only to grab Steve’s shirt from the chair at the vanity. As she shrugged it on, she ran into the hallway and heard a familiar metallic whoosh. There was the squealing of metal on metal and Katie flicked on the light just in time to see a flash of blue, red and white as Steve’s shield flew back to his hand. He looked over to Katie as she stepped towards him, her mouth falling.

“Is that...” she glanced down at what looked like a version of one of Tony’s suits. It lay motionless on the floor in two pieces, Steve’s shield having severed it at the waist. The failing electrics sparked as the various boards and cogs died, before it fell silent.

Steve nudged it with his foot. It didn’t move. He turned to Katie, a frown on his handsome face.

“Did he tell you he was making them autonomous?”

“That’s nothing new, JARVIS has always been able to control them remotely.” Katie shook her head as she crouched down, her hand gently touching the helmet. She tried to move the face plate but it didn’t open. Rapping her knuckles on the skull, she was met with a solid sound, not the usual hollow echo.  “JARVIS?”

There was no reply.

“Why isn’t he answering?” Steve looked at her.

“Tony might have him down.” Katie answered. “He runs the updates at night some times. I do know one thing though.”

“What?” Steve asked as she stood up.

“That couldn’t have gotten in here without Tony letting it in one way or another.” She glanced at Steve, her pretty face full of annoyance. “Imma kill him, fucking idiot.”

She turned to leave and Steve gently caught her arm. “Honey...”

“Seriously? You want me to let this go?”

“Hell, no.” He shook his head, “I want you to wait for me to put some clothes on.”  

Despite herself, Katie grinned as her eyes scanned Steve’s naked body, his shield still on his arm. He rolled his eyes and nodded to the suit on the floor, “I’m going to give him his property back, along with a piece of my mind.” **** Tony spun round, his brow arching as Steve and Katie walked into the lab. But whatever smart quip he had been about to come out with died as he spotted what was slung over the super soldier’s broad shoulders. With a loud slam, Steve threw the two parts of the robot down on the desk.

“What did you do to it?” Tony moaned.

“Threw my shield at it.” Steve folded his arms over his chest, the sleeves of the white ribbed Tee he had shrugged on straining over his thick biceps.

Tony was that distracted by his destroyed robot that he failed to notice Katie stomping towards him. She drew her right fist back and punched him hard on the shoulder.

“Ow, Kiddo!”

“You dick!” She yelled. “What the hell were you doing sending that into our apartment?”

“Wanted to test your reaction to it.” Tony shrugged. “See how it came across.”

“How it ca- Tony, it’s half past 3 in the morning!” She shrieked.

“Exactly.” Tony scratched his beard. “Total element of surprise. I thought you guys would give me a base of how people would react to them. Can’t have been that well if Spangles felt the need to cut it in half with his frisbee.”

“We had no idea what or who it was.” Steve felt his anger beginning to rise, “what was I supposed to do?”

“I’ve told you before, big guy. Ask questions, throw shield later.” Tony shrugged, “I can’t believe you killed Iron Kid.”

“Iron Kid?” Katie blinked.

“Yeah, the name’s a working progress.”

“Tony, what is it?” Steve pressed.

“It’s a prototype.” Tony informed them. “I had the idea last week. The Avengers exploded after New York. You should see the piles of fan mail that the guys downstairs sort each day.”

“Less bragging, more explaining.” Katie narrowed her eyes.

“The point is, we attract attention. So I had a thought about something that could help keep the public at bay,” Tony gestured to the pile of metal, “we can use them to issue instructions, help aid the emergency services. Keep civilians out of the way.”

Katie and Steve looked at one another, and Steve hated to admit it but the idea made sense.

Sorta.

“Clearly I need to rethink a little.” Tony mused. “I mean if they freaked you out then...” “It freaked us out because it was in. our. apartment!” Katie groaned. “In the middle of the night.”

“That’s the point, it was supposed to have the element of surprise, wake you up.”

“Well there’s your first fuck up!” She hissed. “We were already awake-“

“Why?” Tony frowned

“Because we just finished a great, sweaty sex session.” She shot back and Steve groaned, feeling the heat in his neck as he looked down, his bare toes flexing against the cool floor of the lab. “And you wanna be grateful we had finished because if we hadn’t I’d be really, really mad. You get me?”

“That’s.. disgusting.” Tony wrinkled his nose.

“And you’re an asshole.” Katie shot back.

With a shudder, Tony moved and picked up a screwdriver. He turned the helmet up aside down and opened a small hatch at the back. Stooping slightly, he prodded and poked at something inside.

“Huh, least the main board wasn’t damaged.” He straightened up and turned to face them both. “So, other than scaring the shit out of you what was it like? Voice interface okay? Too much me or not enough me or-“

“There was no voice interface.” Steve replied.

“What?” Tony frowned, “JARVIS was supposed to be controlling it. It should have told you why it was there and-“

“Well he didn’t.” Steve rolled his eyes, his already stretched patience wearing dangerously thin.

“He didn’t...huh?” Tony frowned and Katie moved past him to a computer.

“Oh for the... he’s on mute you dumbass!” She tapped a few buttons and JARVIS’ voice rang out.

“Thank you Miss Stark.”

“Shit.” Tony gave a sheepish grin. “Sorry, buddy. Forgot I turned you off.”

“Mr Stark, may I suggest you call it a night, Sir? It is rather late and you’ve been awake for almost twenty-one hours. Miss Potts instructed me to ensure you-“ “And that is precisely why I did.” Tony rolled his eyes and Katie let out a growl of annoyance

“I’m done. Come on, Steve.”

She stalked towards the door and Tony looked up. “You not gonna wish me happy birthday?”

In response she raised the middle fingers on both her hands, flipping him off over her shoulders as she stomped out of the door.

Steve watched her go before she turned to Tony. “You know, I think you’re onto something. Keeping civilians away would make things a lot easier.”

“Wouldn’t it?” Tony nodded, eagerly. “We’d need a fleet of them, an Iron Fleet, no that’s... like i said, the names a work in progress.”

“We can discuss this tomorrow. Give it some proper though.” Steve took a deep breath. “Just don’t send any more into the apartment, please?”

Tony saluted him and Steve rolled his eyes. He turned to go before he stopped, and looked back at his friend.

“Happy birthday, pal.”

Tony snorted. “Cheers, Spangles.”

Tony watched Steve walk out of the lab, before he glanced back at the destroyed robot.

“Mr Stark... Miss Potts is awake...”

“Ahh shit.” Tony groaned. “How much trouble am I in?”

“I don’t think a Roman Legion would protect you.” JARVIS replied and Tony stilled, a huge grin spreading across his face.

“Iron Legion.” He tossed the screwdriver up in the air and caught it, chuckling. “JARVIS, you are a genius.”

“Why thank you, sir. And now I really must insist you go to bed.”

“Yeah, okay, I’m going. Lock everything down will you? Oh, and order us all breakfast from the diner on the corner of fifth.”

“Of course. The usual?”

“Yeah. Have it delivered about 10:30. Should be enough to calm Kiddo down.”

“Very wise Sir. I’ll ensure there’s extra bacon, just in case.”

“Yeah, who doesn’t love extra bacon?”

[nerdypanda3126]

Conceal and Reveal

This was written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge. 

The rules are three 15-minute sprints with 24 hours for light editing, which includes new writing to smooth transitions or make it feel complete. I ended up adding about 600 words (is anyone surprised at this point? 😅) 

The prompt I used this time around was: Tan lines (although I went for the more painful cousin, sunburn lines)

And while I was writing, I started to consider this a prequel to Love Somebody Who Ruins Your Lipstick, one of the first sprint challenges I did. I always kind of regretted that I didn't show Luka actually putting the lipstick on her, or the conversation that they had that made Marinette realize *things* so, here it is. This can be read separately, but there's smooches in the other one, so....

Read on Ao3 

Marinette detransformed in a flash of pink light in an alley close to the Liberty. If she was lucky she’d be just in time for Kitty Section practice. She slipped a macaron to Tikki and ran, still blinking spots from her eyes from the akuma she and Chat Noir had defeated moments earlier. She’d had a blinding power, as bright as the sun, and it baked like the sun, too. Marinette had had several near misses with it, and as she ran towards the houseboat the wind stung against her face. She could only hope she hadn’t been burned too badly. 

She skidded to a stop in front of the gangplank and carefully climbed aboard before she realized that while she’d thought she would barely be on time… no one was there yet. 

A quick check of her phone found a group text postponing practice due to the akuma. Which meant she was an entire fifteen minutes early. Enough time to breathe and try not to be angry with Chat Noir for sacrificing himself for the millionth time. Enough time to try to scrub the memory of him disappearing in a flash of blinding light from her mind’s eye.  

She took a deep breath and it came out as a groan as she fell onto her usual cardboard box in front of the stage and covered her face with her hands. 

“Marinette?” a familiar voice called. When she peeked between her fingers, she found Luka kneeling in front of her, his concerned blue eyes trained on her. But they widened when he caught sight of her face. 

“Uh, Marinette? You’ve got…” He chuckled and gestured around his eyes. Marinette reached up to touch her cheek and winced as it stung again under her fingers. Luka glanced around at the empty boat before he stood and offered her a hand up. “Come with me,” he said, and pulled her gently over to the stairs that led below deck. 

At the bottom of the stairs, he paused and held up a hand for her to wait as he looked around. When he seemed satisfied, he led her to the bathroom on the side and shut the door behind them quickly and locked it behind himself. 

She didn’t have the energy to ask him what was wrong as he hooked his foot around the leg of a stool under the sink to pull it out and pointed at it for her to sit. When she had, he turned to a small linen closet and took out a black and purple makeup bag. As he turned back and saw her watching him, he chuckled again and gestured to the mirror and she was barely able to process that he wanted her to look at herself. 

But when she did she gasped and covered her face with her hands again, hissing in a pained breath as her bright red cheeks turned white under her touch. Only the skin around her eyes was left untouched—in the exact shape of her Ladybug mask. 

“Luka, I can explain—” she started, but he just smiled and started taking different bottles and sponges and brushes out of the bag. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said easily. “We can cover it up.” 

“But—” He was too calm, too collected. Why wasn’t he freaking out? She was definitely freaking out. This was an absolute disaster! And Luka was acting like… like he’d thought about it before. Like this was expected—normal, even. She tilted her head to consider him. “Did you know?” 

“Know what?” he asked innocently, but the corner of his mouth was turned up in a small smirk. “Hold still and close your eyes.” 

She huffed impatiently at him, but did as he asked and his fingers swept something liquid and cool over her burning cheeks. As soon as he was finished, she opened her eyes again and hardened her gaze. 

“Luka, seriously. How long have you known?” 

He didn’t answer right away, instead keeping his head down, the blue tips of his hair falling over what little of his face she could see as he searched through the bag for something else he needed. The stick he pulled out was seafoam green, and when he took the top off and twirled the bottom, so was the product inside it. She pulled back from him as he turned back to her. 

“That’s green,” she pointed out, a little bewildered. He laughed. 

“And you’re red. They cancel each other out. Trust me.” He gestured for her to come back to him and she did, albeit reluctantly. He held her chin in his hand as he dabbed the green product along the hard line of her sunburn, contouring it along her cheeks and nose as he went. When he set it down, he started feathering it with the pads of his fingers, and that’s when his eyes met hers again. 

“I suspected, I guess,” he answered finally. “It wasn’t anything solid, just a feeling.” 

She caught his hand. “You can’t tell anyone. Not even Juleka.” 

“Technically, I still don’t know anything for sure,” he said, chuckling. “There’s two people in Paris who might be having this issue right now. You could be either of them.” That little smirk twitched upwards as he teased her. But his words hit her sore heart and she couldn’t help but wince. 

“I’m not Chat Noir,” she said quietly. 

His hand lingered to cup her cheek and a beat of silence passed between them. “No, you’re not.” 

After another moment, he smiled sadly and let her go, picking up a bottle of a more skin-colored shade and squirting a bit on the back of his hand. They were both quiet as he started sponging the foundation on for her. She only noticed that a tear had slipped down her cheek when he brushed it away gently. 

“I saw on the news,” he murmured. “It must be hard.” 

She nodded, but if the lump in her throat was any indication if she tried to speak she’d only end up crying and ruining Luka’s hard work. 

“You must mean a lot to him,” he continued, “if he trusts you so much.” 

“I wish he didn’t sometimes,” she admitted. He nodded and hummed, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he turned to switch products again, this time a white, shimmery powder and a fluffy brush. He ghosted it across her skin, focusing on her cheeks and nose before he set everything down and gestured for her to look again. 

She barely recognized herself. All she saw were tired, sad blue eyes in a mask of pale skin with pink cheeks. 

“Is that me?” she couldn’t help but ask. Luka looked in the mirror with her, then turned her face back to him gently. 

“Two more things,” he said, smiling, and she could’ve sworn she saw a thought flash through his eyes. Something he hadn’t meant for her to see. He dug in the bag and pulled out two things she finally recognized—eyeliner and a lipstick tube. 

He didn’t even have to tell her and she closed her eyes for him again, leaning her face forward blindly until his hand was cupping her cheek again. She felt him steady himself before the pen was on her eyelid. He drew soft, feathery strokes at first along her lash line, then winged it out on the side. She waited until he’d completed the other side before she opened her eyes and her breath caught. 

She hadn’t expected him to be so close. 

Apparently he had the same reaction because he chuckled nervously and drew back, then tipped her chin from side to side, checking his work. As he set the eyeliner pen down and reached for the tube of lipstick, she noticed his fingers were trembling. He had to take a deep breath and then he turned back to her with a crimson lipstick uncapped in his hand and a small angled brush.

He cleared his throat before he tapped the brush against the color, then gestured for her to lean forward again. She set her chin in his hand and watched as his eyes focused on her lips. As he followed their contours with the brush, only stopping occasionally to pick up more color. 

And as he stopped once more to admire his work, his thumb lingering in the hollow of her chin and his eyes catching on hers, still full of that same thought she couldn’t quite place.

“There,” he breathed. “Ready to face anything.”

[i-am-bitterly-jittery]

My Best Friend’s Brother (Virgil/Remus/Janus/Patton fic part 2/2)

Part 1

Word count: 2193

Rating: teen

Pairings: Virgil/Remus/Janus/Patton (intrumoxeit?), logince

Warnings: minor swearing, suggestive language (mostly from Remus), minor contortion

~~~START~~~

“WAKE UP, THOT!” Roman startles awake as his door hits the wall with a loud bang. Remus stands in the doorway grinning at him.

“Remus, what the fuck?” Roman groans. He wants to pull the covers over his head and just ignore his brother, but if he does that, he won’t have the slight advantage of being able to see whatever Remus is about to do. So he settles for just glaring. 

“We’re going out to breakfast with all of our boyfriends!” Remus declares. “You’re going to be nice to my boyfriends, and I won’t make unsolicited comments about your boyfriend’s ass, dick, or mouth!”

“I hate you,” Roman groans. 

“Love you too, Roro!” Remus clutches a hand over his heart before turning to leave. “Get dressed or I’ll drag you there in your pjs!” He calls behind him. 

Roman throws his pillow through the open door, but Remus is already gone. Instead of chasing his brother down, Roman gets dressed because Remus will drag him out in his pajamas otherwise. 

There’s two texts on his phone when he pulls it off the charger.

From Crofters Slut @ 6:15am: Virgil Knight is a student in our year. He won that art competition last year that Remus was in. I’m surprised you don’t know who he is. 

Even with the hint, Roman has no idea who Virgil is. He vaguely remembers the art competition, but mostly, he remembers being salty that his piece hadn’t even qualified for it, and then being salty again when Remus didn’t win. There is absolutely nothing in his memory about who won, what they looked like, or what piece they’d entered. 

The second text is:

From Padre Puffball @ 7:54am: Hi Roman! I hope you slept well. I was hoping that you’d be willing to get breakfast today? You, me, Logan, Remus, Janus, and Virgil? Please? I know you don’t like Janus and Virgil, and you’re not happy that I’m dating your brother, but I really like them, and I think you would too if you’d just give them a chance (maybe not as much as I like them, but enough to be friends?) I’ll text the others too, but I do hope you come! Love Patton 💖🐶

And honestly, even if Remus wasn’t going to forcefully drag him to this breakfast, there’s no way Roman could ever say ‘no’ to Patton. So when Remus comes back, Roman is fully dressed, and in the process of applying his eyeliner. 

“C’mon, princess, let’s go!” Remus insists, but he does resist the urge to pull on Roman’s arm and ruin his makeup and possibly cause Roman to stab the pencil into his eye. 

“I have to finish this first! Logan’s going to be there and a prince has got to slay!” Roman replies. 

Remus rolls his eyes. “You just got back from spending two months sharing a room with him! He’s definitely seen you without makeup before.”

“Noooo, I woke up earlier than him specifically so he’d never see me without my makeup!” 

“Roro, you are the most pathetic thot I’ve ever met. And I’m including myself. How early did you have to wake up to be up before him?”

“...four-thirty am,” Roman admits slowly, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes in the mirror. 

“Excuse me while I go barf!” Remus giggles. “You woke up, at ass o’clock in the morning, so that Nerdy Wolverine wouldn’t see you without your makeup?”

“Yeah, well I’ll bet you showered daily while I was gone!” Roman shoots back. “In fact, you’re smelling pretty fresh over there. Did you perhaps shower already this morning?”

“I’ll admit to nothing!” Remus screeches. “Hurry up, we have to pick up Jan.”

“I have to be in a car with that freak!?” 

“If you ever call any of my boyfriends ‘freaks’ again, I’ll rip off your nipples and shove them so far up your nose they’ll lodge inside your brain!” Remus yells, angrier than Roman’s ever seen him. “Assuming you even have a brain.”

“Why you-!”

They pull up to Janus’ house forty-five minutes late. 

“I don’t know why I trusted you to pick me up on time,” Janus comments as he slides into the backseat. “You’re always so punctual.”

“Hi JJ!” Remus greets chipperly, completely ignoring Janus’ annoyance. “I told Roman to sit in the back but he refused.”

“I was here first!” Roman insists stubbornly. 

“He also called you freak,” Remus tattles. 

“I didn’t mean-!” Roman turns to Janus quickly while he tries to explain himself, but Janus just smirks. 

“Well I suppose being able to do this makes me a little bit of a freak.”

Remus doesn’t even have to look to know that Jan dislocated his shoulder and twisted his arm around his head unnaturally, Roman scream tells him everything he needs to know. Remus has to pull off to the side of the road because he’s laughing so hard. 

It takes them almost fifteen minutes to get to the cafe, which is longer than it should take to get there from Janus’ house, but Remus had needed time to calm down from his laughing fit. Roman hadn’t spoken the entire drive over, and Jan was looking pretty satisfied with himself. 

So, coming into the cafe over an hour late, it’s not that hard to find his boyfriends and the Dork (hehe, whale penis). They’re in one of the semi-circle booths with Patton sitting between Virgil and Logan. It looks like Virgil and Logan are in the middle of a conversation, which is good, until, ya know, Roman has to go and ruin it. 

“EMO NIGHTMARE!?” Roman screeches at the top of his lungs. It causes the whole cafe to come to a screeching halt as everyone stops to stare at them. Virgil stiffens, shoulders coming up to his ears and he quickly throws his hood over his head. Logan sends Roman an unimpressed look. 

“Wonderful. Excellent. Thank you, Roman,” Janus mutters, already making his way over to the others. 

“Indoor voices, Roro.” Remus nudges his brother as he passes. 

“You’re dating Emo Nightmare!?” Roman hisses, quietly enough that Remus is the only one who can hear him. “Actually, back up. You know Emo Nightmare? Emo Nightmare has friends?”

“His name is Virgil, Roman,” Remus says, not bothering to dignify Roman’s questions with an answer. “And you promised to be nice.”

“I was startled,” Roman answers petulantly. 

Remus doesn’t dignify that with an answer either, instead he ignores Roman and goes to join his boyfriends at the table. Janus has already reached the table, and has his arm wrapped protectively around Virgil’s shoulders. Remus slides into the booth next to Janus, leaving the space next to Logan open for Roman. 

“You’re late,” Logan informs them once Roman’s taken his seat. 

“Only by like an hour,” Remus replies cheerfully, grabbing a menu and perusing the breakfast options. 

“We already ordered,” Patton informs him gently. “You’re getting the breakfast sausage platter, Janus is getting a veggie omelet, and Roman’s getting pancakes with a side of eggs.”

“The sausages look like dicks!” Remus said, quietly enough that only the table next to them send him weird glances. 

Virgil snorts from under his hood, so Remus counts it as a win. 

“Charming,” Logan says, years of being friends with Roman have rendered Remus’s antics to little more than background noise. 

“So, Nerdy Wolverine, why Roman?” Remus asks, after all, that’s what this breakfast is for, right? Grilling Logan on why he has such bad taste in men? “He’s sooooooo… ugly.”

“WE HAVE THE SAME FACE!”

“BUT I WEAR IT SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU!”

“Stop yelling!” Virgil hisses, finally leaving the safety of his hood. “We’re in public!”

“Besides,” Patton chimes in. “That’s mean! You’re both very handsome!”

“At least I don’t have a fuzzy caterpillar on my face,” Roman mutters petulantly, but any further argument is thankfully cut off by the waiter bringing out their food. 

“Thank you!” Patton calls as the waiter leaves

“Well,” Logan sighs. “After that little display I have no idea why I like Roman.”

“What!? No! Logan!” Roman whines. Logan just rolls his eyes and kisses Roman on the cheek, effectively placating him. 

“I am more surprised by you, Patton,” Logan continues, raising an eyebrow at his friend. “When we left, you were still afraid to be within thirty yards of Janus. I’m surprised you got over your fear so completely in such a short amount of time.”

“Logan!” Patton yelps, hiding his blush in Virgil’s shoulders. It doesn’t work out too well since Virgil’s shoulders are shaking from laughter. 

“Patton, I’m so insulted that you’d be afraid of me,” Janus drawls. “I was trying so hard to seem nice and approachable.”

“I’m so sorry Janus!” Patton apologizes from his place hiding in Virgil’s shoulder. 

“Don't apologize, Pat,” Virgil assures him, patting the side of his head awkwardly. “He wants people to be afraid of him. He was so happy when he realized he got a scar from flgmmn!”

Janus clamps a gloved-hand over Virgil’s mouth quickly, pulling his head against his chest to stop his struggling. 

“Nothing!” Janus hisses quickly. “Absolutely nothing. Nothing to see here!”

Virgil bats his hands at Janus’ head, but the angle makes it hard to land any solid hit. 

Remus laughs, and Patton just grabs one of Virgil’s hands and kisses it apologetically, neither of them try to help him. 

“Janus won’t let Virgil tell anyone how he got his scar,” Remus explains between giggles. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Janus says dismissively as Virgil goes limp. “Are you trying to bite my hand?”

“Kinky!”

The rest of breakfast continues… somewhat normally, of course Janus has Virgil pinned the entire time, and as a result, neither of them end up finishing their food. Roman’s determination to pout lasts all of twenty minutes, but then Janus started quoting Shakespeare and well… maybe Janus isn’t so bad after all. 

“Romeo and Juliet isn't a love story,” Janus argues, he’s still covering Virgil’s mouth even though it’s been half an hour, and Virgil has long since stopped struggling. “It’s about two stupid kids that make dumb decisions and get the people around them killed.”

“You take that back!” Roman gasps, clutching his chest as though he’s been stabbed. “Romeo and Juliet is a story about star-crossed lovers and overcoming life’s obstacles!”

“What obstacles did they overcome Roman? They both died in the end.”

“Sorry to interrupt, kiddos,” Patton butts in before their argument can get any more heated. “But Jan, do you think you can let Virgil go now? He hasn’t eaten yet.”

Janus glances down at Virgil consideringly and the emo just gives him his most innocent expression. “Fine.”

Janus releases Virgil but continues to watch him suspiciously. In turn, Virgil just starts shoveling omelet into his mouth. After a moment, Janus seems satisfied and returns to his argument. 

“And their own deaths could have been avoided if Romeo had just-”

“JANUS FELL OFF HIS BIKE!” Virgil blurts out suddenly. 

“TRAITOR!”

This starts a scuffle between the two that has Remus cackling like a madman. 

They get kicked out of the restaurant.

Well… Janus, Virgil, and Remus get kicked out of the restaurant, Patton, Roman, and Logan get told that they can stay if they don’t cause anymore scenes. 

In the end they only stay long enough for Roman to pay for everyone’s food (because he’s a gentleman… and because he’s rich, but mostly because he’s a gentleman), and Patton to get the rest of Virgil and Janus’ omelets in a to-go box. 

Remus and Janus are clearly having some sort of argument when Roman and the others make it outside, but the only part Roman manages to catch is Remus saying “calm down Peewee Herman!”

“Patton is officially my favorite boyfriend,” Janus pouts, maneuvering himself so that Patton is in between him and their other two boyfriends. Patton doesn't seem to mind, planting a kiss on Janus cheek that majorly undermines his edgy facade. “You two are dead to me.”

“Only on the inside,” Virgil responds sagely. 

“You love us Janny!” Remus crows, outmaneuvering Janus’ human wall by pulling both Patton and Janus into a bone-crushing hug. 

A funny feeling develops in Roman’s stomach as he watches the four of them interact. They all clearly like each other, and Patton seems so genuinely happy trapped between Remus and Janus. Maybe Roman overreacted last night. 

“Well?” Logan asks quietly, slipping his hand easily into Roman’s. 

“I was wrong,” Roman answers, finally dragging his gaze away from his brother, his best friend, and their boyfriends to look Logan in the eye. Logan is giving him that soft smile that makes Roman’s heart thud. “They’re cute together.”

“Patton seems happy,” Logan agrees. “Though I do believe that, objectively, we’re the cuter couple.”

“Yeah,” Roman agrees as Janus lets out an indignant squawk. 

Turning around, Roman finds the Virgil had obviously tried to join the group hug and ended up toppling them over, leaving Janus on the ground with Virgil sprawled over his back, Remus and Patton lying in a heap next to them, all of them laughing.

“Objectively.”

~~~END~~~

Whoo! Finally finished the second part, I’ll probs post this on AO3 tomorrow

There will be more in this universe (currently working on a Virgil!centric one that deals a little bit more with them getting together

Taglist:

@royalty-of-all-things-snuggly @pixelated-pineapple @the-sunshine-dims @taylorxoxo22 @oatmealoatmealoatmealoatmealoatm @captain-otis-dante @007ardra @fandomfan315 @sophiexteresa @smolemopotato @contemplativespectrum @theyluna-womoon @queer-chair @your-gay-enby-highness @sanderssides-angst @idont-freaking-know @marshymoop @imlovethomassanders @sourshadowling @frogsandcookies @aricana8 @cute-and-angsty-princess

[babyflossy]

exposed | p.js

pairing: jisung x reader

requested: i’m working on loads of request atm but when i saw this i had to write it straight away lmao

summary: when dispatch reveals your secret realtionship with jisung to the public, the fans aren’t the only ones surprised.

warnings/genre: unedited, kinda just self-indulgent fluff, lots of words, not much happens

word count: 1.7k

a hand on your shoulder breaks you from your slumber, words already being spoken at you. in your sleepy haze, they floated straight through your head, mind still groggy from being woken up so suddenly. as soon as you recognise the voice as your manager’s,  your eyes snap open, meeting equally wide ones over the head of your manager. haemee, your leader, shoots you an apologetic look, something unsettling for so early in the morning.

“what happened?” the words are quiet and tired and your manager sighs in pity, handing over their phone. your eyes squint in response to the brightness, stomach dropping when your eyes finally focus on the news article.

BREAKING; DISPATCH REVEALS UQS’ Y/N AND NCT’S JISUNG ARE DATING.

the title is accompanied by three photos; one of you at a fansign, smiling at a fan, one of jisung waving at a camera in the airport, and then a blurring photo of two figures walking hand in hand through a park at night. the park you and jisung had visited two weeks ago. 

“there’s a meeting at the company. can you get ready quickly, please?” despite the ‘scandal’ and the stress your manager was most likely under, she shoots you a comforting smile and ruffles your hair before leaving, phone already ringing. 

as soon as you and haemee are left alone you reach for your phone, feeling the bed dip as she sits beside you. she rests a hand on your shoulder, rubbing her fingers down your back soothingly. your lockscreen in full of text messages. you thumb through them, seeing many from jisung, along with the other nct members you were close with. you ignored them all, only searching for the ones from your boyfriend.

jisungie <3: have you seen it yet?

jisungie <3: call me when you see this

jisungie <3: are you okay?

jisungie <3: i know you didn’t want ppl to find out like this

jisungie <3: let me know you’re okay plzzz x

“it’s gonna be fine, you know?” haemee’s hands abandon your shoulder and take your phone out of your grasp, tipping your chin so she can look at you. there’s still a smile on her face and you’re reminded of why she’s the group’s leader instead of anyone else; always able to keep things calm. “think about all the other idols that have dated. i bet the fans were expecting this, anyway.”

that was probably correct, you knew. ever since you and jisung had starred on a dancing show in america together, your social medias were full of edits of the two of you, compilations of your interactions from the vlogs you had filmed. as jisung wasn’t fluent in english you had translated for him and done the speaking whenever you ordered food, giving the fans loads of things to include in their edits.

the show had been fun and you had kept in close contact with jisung after it ended, eventually deciding to start dating after months of pining over each other. since then, only haemee, taeyong and the company knew, although you expected chenle knew as well due to the teasing you got whenever you met jisung outside of your training hours. 

when haemee left you to get ready you took your phone back, unlocking it and calling jisung as you flicked through your wardrobe, trying to find your hoodie. the call connected after the first ring, jisung’s voice echoing over the line and into your bedroom.

“are you okay?” although there was high chance you were about to be scolded for days, the worry in jisung made your heart beat just a little faster, a reluctant smile taking over your face. 

“i’m fine. what about you?” spotting the lilac hoodie at the end of your closet, you pulled your sleep shirt, jisung’s shirt, over your head, replacing it with the warm softness of the purple material. you followed it with a pair of jeans, slipping a face mask on after realising there would probably be reporters outside the SM building already.

“yeah, i’m fine now. i freaked out at first, though,” he chuckled, shouts coming through from his end. “jaemin came in screaming about how he was so betrayed i didn’t tell him, i had no idea what he was talking about.”

“what’d you think is gonna happen?”

there was a pause before he spoke and you had time to grab your bag, throwing in your headphones and a spare mask along with a pair of sunglasses incase. “i’m not sure, taeyong said he’s hopeful, though. so it might not be that bad. it’s not like the company’s finding out about it, though, so it might just be press and stuff.”

“yeah, i hope so. i’ll see you in fifteen minutes i guess,” before you left the safety of your bedroom, you reached for the bucket hat hanging from the corner of your chair, pulling it over your face to hide your eyes. you looked ridiculous, like you were planning to rob a bank, but you guessed it was better than the alternative; hundreds of photos released of your sleep-deprived, drooping eyes.

no one else in the dorm is awake and you’re able to slip out the front door before haemee catched you again, taking a deep breath before heading outside to the car waiting. as it’s just you and your manager, you’re able to sit in the front seat, something you would normally be ecstatic about but due to circumstance it feels lonely and cold. not a word is spoken until the car reaches the entrance to the SM building, throngs of people with cameras waiting outside the front door.

“we’ll go in the back entrance.” you manager says with a frown, eyeing the reporters with concern. “god, it’s impossible to get any privacy nowadays.”

after security escorts you through the back door, pushing reporters out the way when they got too close, you can finally breath properly. for the most part you ignored their questions, signing the first song that comes to mind in your head to distract yourself. ironically, it’s chewing gum, and you realise with resentment it’s going to be stuck in your head throughout the meeting.

upstairs, taeyong and jisung sit on the opposite side of a glass table, two seats left open for you and your manager. their manager stands and motions for him and your manager to talk privately outside, leaving you with the two boys. you take off your hat as you sit down, pulling you mask down so you can talk properly. jisung’s tired eyes crinkle with a smile when you do, a smile you return eagerly.

for a moment you see taeyong think over what to say in his head, trying to find the right words for the situation. eventually, he settles on what your own leader had already told you. “i’m sure this will be fine,” and as if he realises how cliche his words are, he adds “in the end.”

“in the end? what’s that supposed to mean?” jisung tears his eyes away from you to look at the older boy.

“well, i mean, it’s gonna be a big deal at the start,” he states matter of factly, eyes switching between the two of you. the voice he uses is just as level and calm as the one haemee uses whenever she’s trying to sort something out, it must be a universal thing. “the press and the fans will go crazy for a bit, let alone everyone you didn’t tell.”

the reminder makes you dread going back home, knowing the rest of your members will blow this way out of proportion. you were the youngest, and they always managed to be overdramatic whenever it came to you ‘growing up’ as they had put it so many times. none of them knew you were dating jisung, and you could already picture the gloomy pouts you would get for the next few weeks.

after your managers returned, a few more staff entered, filling the last few seats and closing the door, successfully locking you in. they talked for what felt like hours, only occasionally asking you or jisung a question. they decided the easiest thing would be to just come out and admit it, allowing you and jisung a moment to disagree. you locked eyes for a moment, having a silent conversation between yourselves. you raised you eyebrows in question, taking the minuscule nod he sent your way to be the go-ahead.

“i don’t see why not,” you answered for the both of you, smiling at your manager who nodded in agreement back at you.

you don’t get a chance to say goodbye to jisung properly before you leave the building, the staff ushering you in opposite directions to get your schedules for the day started. in the car on the way back to the dorms you send him a text promising to facetime when you both have time, mentally preparing yourself for the confrontation from your members.

“you’re dating jisung?” is the first thing you hear when the front door opens, closely followed by “why didn’t you tell us?” which is swiftly followed by “i can’t believe you’re the first one to date anyone, it’s not fair.”

“that’s mean.” you smile back at the oldest, laughing at the disbelieving smiles covering their faces. “why are you guys so surprised? you didn’t think i could do it?”

“whatever, but, why didn’t you tell us?”

“in my defense, the company told us not to tell anyone.”

for the next few days, your group’s twitter was hectic. you trended on twitter for nearly a solid day, photos and edits and memes of you and jisung together filling your timeline. there were the negative comments, obviously, from jealous fans of both fandoms, some even claiming you should both be removed from your respective groups. they were easy to ignore when the positive comments and the text messages from your boyfriend outweighed them astronomically.

jisungie <3: as much as i hate to say it.. taeyong was right x

a/n: if you got this far im acc proud of you lmao i rlly dont like this but it's been a kinda mentally exhausting day for me so im gonna post anyway and edit tomorrow x

[livesincerely]

always yours, always mine

Also on Ao3. Rated E.

Disclaimer, this is another A/B/O fic, which I know isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so feel free to skip over this one if that’s not something you’re into <3

00000

“Okay,” Davey says after the third time one of the boys flinches away from him: Albert, this time, who lets out a panicked yelp and all but tucks and rolls, head over ass, in his attempt to keep Davey from touching him. Given that Davey had only gone to clap a friendly hand on his shoulder while they line up to get their papes, this seems like a drastic overreaction. “What aren’t you all telling me.”

They actually have the gall to look surprised—as though they’ve been anything even approaching subtle in the not-quite fifteen minutes that have passed since Davey arrived in the square—and their guilty, hang-dog expressions might’ve been comical if he wasn’t so annoyed.

“Well?” Davey says, arching an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping over each of them in turn. “What is it?”

Race snatches Albert’s cap off his head and thwaps him with it. “Nice goin’ Albie, you done gave it away!”

“What was I s’pposed’ta do?” Albert says, disgruntled, rubbing his forehead. “Jus’ stand there?”

“No, but you were s’pposed’ta handle it discrete like, dumbass—”

“Oh, sure, ‘cause it’s just that easy—”

“None of you would know discrete if it socked you in the jaw,” Davey cuts in, his hands making their way to his hips as he stares down at them. “Now, what’s going on?”

There’s a long silence as the boys all glance at each other, shifting guiltily, but none of them willing to be the first to break.

Finally, Racetrack sighs. “This was a stupid idea anyway,” he mutters. He rolls his shoulders back and looks Davey straight on, opens his mouth to speak—

Henry elbows him in the side, hissing, “Race! Don’t tell him!”

“Albert already ruined it, we might as well come clean—”

“I didn’t ruin it!” Albert cries.

“You kinda did,” Finch says with a shrug. “You were really obvious, Al.”

"What was I s’pposed to do!”

“I say we just tell him,” Buttons chimes in over Albert’s protests. “Davey’s gonna figure it out eventually—”

“—and he’s gonna be more upset the longer we keep it from him.” Specs adds. Buttons points at him as if to say, yeah, see?

“You just don’t want Davey to be mad at’cha,” Romeo says, accusatory. 

“Do you want Davey to be mad at’cha?”

“....No.”

“I’m gonna tell him,” Race announces to the group at large.

Multiple voices interject all at once, shouts of disagreement and words of encouragement all jumbled together.

“Race, you can’t,”  Crutchie says with a shake of his head, his quieter tones just barely heard beneath the others’ bickering. “Yesterday was bad enough and you heard what Jack said! He doesn’t want to say anything—“

“Yeah, well maybe if Jack wasn’t such a moron, it wouldn’t’ve gotten so bad in the first place—”

“So, this is about Jack, then?” Davey asks, loudly, and the silence that falls is so sudden and absolute that it almost seems to echo.

The boys all look at each other, apprehensive. Then Racetrack blurts, “Jack’s in rut!”

“Jack’s… what?”  Davey says, startled, because out of all the possibilities he’d suspected, this wasn’t anywhere on the list. “I thought he was sick?”

“He didn’t want us to tell you,” Crutchie admits, apologetic. “He didn’t want’cha to know.”

“Jack’s in rut and he wasn’t going to tell me?” Davey says, confused and a little hurt. “But… why?”

“Because he’s an idiot?” Race offers, rolling his eyes. “He wasn’t exactly forthcoming with any typa explanation but he’s probably freaking out about some stupid alpha thing—”

“Hey,” Mush protests weakly. Sniper just shrugs as if to say fair enough. 

“—and he’s been all keyed up since Tuesday, stinking like frenzy and frustration—and not the fun kind,” Racer continues, wrinkling his nose at the memory. “Plus, he can smell you on all’a us when we get back to the Lodging House every evening; he nearly tore Buttons’ arm outta its socket yesterday when he caught your scent on his sleeve, just from wantin’ it so bad.” 

“He didn’t hurt me,” Buttons assures him when Davey looks his way, alarmed. “Nothing like that—you know Jack would never. But he’s driving himself crazy stayin’ away from ya, and havin’ your scent around without you there with it is only makin’ things harder on him.”

“But, why doesn’t he just…” Davey asks, trying to think of a delicate way to say fuck it out, even as something in his chest bares its teeth and snarls at the thought of Jack even considering a rut partner. 

“You’re kiddin’, right?” Race says flatly, thoroughly unimpressed. “Please tell me you’re kiddin’, because I can only deal with one of you bein’ stupid at a time and Jack’s already called dibs on this week.”

“So, what, he’s trying to just wait it out when he knows that I would—“ 

Davey stops himself, flushing. It’s no secret, how he and Jack have been circling each other—teetering on the brink of becoming  more,  just waiting for something to finally give—but he’s reluctant to talk about it too openly, the possibility of him and Jack still feeling oh so fragile where it’s tucked away in the deepest corner of his heart.

Because he’d thought that they were on the same page, thought that there was an unspoken understanding between them that one day, eventually… But if Jack didn’t want him to know about his rut, hadn’t asked Davey to keep him company through his cycle… Davey chews at his lower lip, stomach twisting up in knots.

“Didn’t I just tell you not to be stupid?” Racetrack asks—frowning, but with no real heat to his words—and Davey realizes that his scent has taken on a sour, anxious note as his thoughts spiralled. “You can’t possibly think that he’d want anyone but you riding this out with him.”

“Except, he doesn’t want me there,” Davey points out. “You just said that he didn’t want me to know—”

“Yeah, but not ‘cause he don’t want you,” Racetrack assures him, as though this is plainly obvious. “‘Cause he really, definitely does: he’s puttin’ up with the rest of us ‘cause he loves us and ‘cause he don’t gotta choice since we all live together, but he wants  you.  I think he wants you so bad that it scares him.”

Davey tilts his head, running his tongue over his teeth as he considers Race’s words. But it’s not even a choice that needs contemplating, really, not when it’s Jack.

“I’ll go over and check on him,” Davey decides, a little voice in his head whispering yeshelpprotectfixsoothe. “See if I can convince him to let me help him.”

The boys all sag as one—it’s clear that they hadn’t wanted to go directly against Jack’s orders but are relieved that Davey’s going to step in.

“Thank fuck,” Elmer mutters. “I can’t take anymore of his goddamn pacing.”

“Felt like I was havin’ sympathy pains, watching him prowl around,” Mush agrees, rubbing a hand over his chest like he can feel an ache there. “Don’t know how he’s managed to hold out so long—I can’t imagine tryin’ to get through a cycle without Blink now that we’re together—”

“I’ll handle it,” Davey says, determined, the feeling in his chest crystalizing into something solid and certain and unshakable. 

“We’ll let your folks know where you are,” Crutchie tells him, clapping Davey on the shoulder. “Just go an’ take care of him—god knows he ain’t gonna take care of himself.”

“And don’t let him run you off,” Race advises. “You know how he gets.”

“I’ll handle it,” Davey repeats firmly.

00000

Davey smells Jack before he sees him: the air is heavy with his cedar and summertime scent, undercut with the smoky sweetness of his rut, so potent that Davey almost goes dizzy with it.

“Jack?” he calls out, announcing himself out of politeness rather than any real need—he’s positive that Jack smelt him the moment he arrived. “Jackie?”

The hair on the back of Davey’s neck stands on end, his heart skipping a beat in his chest, and Davey turns just as Jack steps out of a side hallway, his face shadowed with tension.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Jack rumbles, watching Davey with dark, dark eyes. He’s only wearing a pair of thin sleep pants, his skin dewy with a sheen of sweat, and even from where he stands, Davey can feel the heat rolling off of him in waves.

“Oh?” Davey says, arching an eyebrow. “Because I’m pretty sure this is exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

“Which one of ‘em squealed?” Jack asks with a growl of frustration, raking a hand through his hair. “No, don’t tell me, it was Racer, wasn’t it?”

“Why didn’t you tell me your rut was coming up?” Davey asks, getting right to the point. 

“I didn’t wanna put’cha in that position,” Jack says evasively, gaze falling to the floor.

“And what position would that be?” Davey questions, crossing his arms over his chest.

It takes Jack several seconds to answer. “Didn’t want’cha to feel… obligated or nothin’. Like you hafta be here, like you hafta help me with this, jus’ ‘cause we’re...”

“I don’t understand,” Davey says, watching him carefully, a spark of realization starting to dawn. “How is this any different than you helping me through my heat last month?”

Jack’s spine stiffens, tension thrumming through him like a live wire, but he lets it go just as quickly as it arrived. 

“Come on, Davey,” Jack says, voice heavy, his mouth pressed in a thin, unhappy line across his face. “You know what I mean. You know why it’s different.”

“Sweet, stubborn, overprotective alpha,” Davey murmurs with a sad sigh, shaking his head. “Jackie, you’re not going to lose control and go wild just because you’re in rut, it doesn’t actually work like that—”

“Are you sure?” Jack says darkly. “Are you absolutely positive? ‘Cause I’m feelin’ pretty fuckin’ outta control, here, Dave. Feels like I might bust outta my skin any second, my instincts are goin’ goddamn nuts, I can barely sleep, can barely keep my fuckin’ head on straight, and there’s this hollow, empty spot between my lungs that aches every time I breathe, and I can’t— I can’t—”

“Jack,” Davey says, low and soothing. “You have to stop fighting your instincts. I know you think you’re protecting me by holding yourself back, but I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. Let me help you, darling. Please?”

Jack wavers—not like he’s convinced, not like he’s found any sort of faith in himself, but like he no longer has the strength to keep arguing—and that more than anything has the alarm bells going off in the back of Davey’s mind.

“Jack,” Davey beckons, soft but firm. “Jackie, love, come here.”

Jack takes a stumbling, hesitant step forward. Davey meets him halfway and draws him into a tight embrace, one arm wrapped securely around Jack’s middle, the other guiding Jack’s head to rest against the curve of his throat. 

Jack’s hands settle cautiously against the small of his back, his nose tucked right against Davey’s scent gland. He takes in a single, shaky breath, then crumples like a puppet that’s had its strings cut, that salty, bitter note of distressed alpha finally fading from his scent.

“Dave,” Jack whines, snuffling desperately at his neck. “Davey.”

“I know, Jackie,” Davey murmurs, hugging him even tighter. “I’m here, I’ve got you.”

They stand like that for several minutes, just holding each other—Davey pressing gentle kisses to the top of Jack’s head while Jack clings to him, relaxing more and more with every inhale. 

“Can you look at me for a second, love?” Davey asks, craning back as much as he can without letting go. Jack grumbles but obediently tilts his head back—now that they’re closer, Davey can see that his eyes are glassy with fever, his skin flushed beneath his tan. “When’s the last time you ate something? Or had anything to drink?”

“I dunno,” Jack says, shrugging. “A while, I guess. H’ven’t been keepin’ track.”

“Let’s get some food and water into you, okay?” Davey says. “You’ll feel better once you’ve eaten.”

Davey leads Jack along the hallway and down a set of stairs into the basement, following the traces of Jack’s scent in the air to find wherever he’s been hunkered down for his rut. 

He quickly discovers what must be the Lodging House’s cycle room. It’s cold, cramped, and uncomfortable, not a hint of carpet or wood or  anything  to cover the wall-to-ceiling concrete that encloses the space, and Davey’s heart aches at the thought of Jack waiting out his cycle here, alone, for these last couple days.

He takes stock of the room: there's a wooden bed frame with a lumpy mattress pushed up against one of the walls, covered in a plastic mattress protector and made up with a cheap set of sheets that are stale with sweat, and a single threadbare blanket to go with it—no pillows. There’s a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter sitting on a table in the corner, a mostly full pitcher of water and a glass next to it, and there’s a stack of towels and linens tucked underneath the table with a wash basin.

“Think you can eat something?” Davey asks.

Jack shrugs again but doesn’t answer. Davey decides to interpret this as a  yes. 

“Sit down for me, darling,” he says, making quick work of fixing Jack a peanut butter sandwich and a glass of water. 

Jack hovers close for a second, then finds a spot right on the floor, leaning with his back against the far wall. 

“Go ahead and eat this for me,” Davey instructs, handing over the food. Jack accepts it from him by route, but makes no move to actually take a bite. “Jackie, please. You need to eat something.”

“‘M not hungry,” he mutters.

“I know you aren’t, but that’s just the rut talking,” Davey says, running a hand gently along his arm. “You’ll feel differently once you’ve got some food in your stomach.”

Though he’s clearly not thrilled about it, Jack manages to choke down half of his sandwich and two glasses of water. Once that’s taken care of, Davey starts stripping the dirty sheets off the bed, piling them into the corner to be washed later, then remakes it with a fresh set.

“Do you want to try laying down for a while?” Davey asks as he finishes, smoothing away a wrinkle near one of the mattress corners. “You said you haven’t been sleeping well—”

“I think you need to leave,” Jack interrupts, the words coming out in a low, gravelly rasp. 

Davey goes very, very still, a sudden flare of heat prickling low in his stomach. 

He slowly turns around. Jack rises to his feet with all the grace and power of a jungle cat, his eyes shaded dark with hunger and his scent burning like a wildfire, staring at Davey like he might devour him whole, the air between them growing heated as the next wave of his rut kicks in. 

Davey barely resists a whimper, his own scent spiking sugar-sweet in response as desire pulses through him. He wants to rub himself all along Jack’s front, until that smoky-spicy-cedar scent is imprinted into his skin. Wants to lick the taste of it right out of Jack’s mouth.

“David,” Jack growls. His eyes are scorching. “You gotta go, sweetheart. You gotta leave right now.”

Davey swallows around a suddenly dry throat, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, but his voice is remarkably steady when he says, “What if I don’t want to leave?”

Now it’s Jack’s turn to stiffen. “Davey,” he says sharply. “I know you’re tryin’ to help, but trust me, this ain’t like your heats. You don’t wanna be here for this.”

“You haven’t actually asked me if I want to be here for this,” Davey points out, taking a single step forward. Jack’s hands ball into fists at his sides. “You’ve just assumed that I don’t.”

“Because you don’t understand how—” Jack’s jaw snaps shut as he cuts himself off, expression tight.

“Answer me this then,” Davey says when Jack doesn’t continue, stepping closer and closer until they’re standing toe to toe, chest to chest. Jack’s nostrils flare, the muscles in his arms tensing and flexing, and that mouth watering scent spikes even stronger. “Do you want me, Jackie?”

“Of course I want’cha,” Jack groans, and one of those big, hot hands finally curls around Davey’s waist—not pulling him any closer, really, but like Jack just can’t help himself. “What kinda question is that? This ain’t about not wantin’ ya.”

“Then why is it so hard for you to believe that I want you too?” Davey asks. “That I want you like this? That I want everything you’re willing to give me?”

“You don’t know what you’re askin’ for,” Jack insists, stubborn. Davey would admire his dedication if it wasn’t so exasperating. “I’m— I can’t control myself as well when I’m in rut, I get rough, possessive—”

Davey rolls his eyes. 

“You’re my alpha, Jackie,” he says dryly. “Possessive kind of comes with the territory.”

Jack’s eyes go wide. Two seconds later, Davey realizes what he’s said: this is the first time either of them have openly acknowledged what they are to each other, and voicing it aloud, saying it so plainly… something in Davey’s chest thrums with energy, with  connection.

“You... “ Jack’s throat works for a moment. “You think of yourself as mine?”

“Jackie, I’ve always been yours,” Davey says, cupping his hands around Jack’s face, so true and so tender that he aches with it. “And, I think you’ve always been mine.”

Jack pulls one of Davey’s hands away from his face and curls his own around it, pressing a kiss to Davey’s knuckles, then to his palm, and then to the inside of his wrist, his gaze growing more heated with each one. 

“Mine,” Jack growls, a hint of teeth scraping against Davey’s pulse as he pulls away. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Davey breathes. “All yours.”

Jack’s eyes flash red, then he’s drawing Davey in for a hard, demanding kiss, pressing a thigh between the hot space between Davey’s legs. Davey gasps at the first brush of Jack’s lips against his neck, the slide of Jack’s hands shifting down to palm at his ass, his fingers digging into the swell of Jack’s biceps for purchase. 

“Take these off,” Jack growls, yanking Davey’s shirt out from where it’s tucked into his pants. “Take them off before I tear them off you.”

Davey fumbles for the buttons on his shirt, liquid heat pooling low in his stomach. Jack’s hands trail greedily at every bit of his skin as he uncovers it, thoroughly distracting and too good to ignore, and after several minutes of scrabbling, interspersed with long, frenzied kisses, they eventually manage to get their clothes off. 

“Bed, cielito,” Jack says. “We need to— Bed.”

Davey hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t move, his face buried against Jack’s shoulder, biting at the skin there until it bruises.

“Dave,” Jack tries again.

“I’m busy,” Davey mumbles, mouthing at the sharp line of Jack’s collarbones.

“And I’m about two seconds away from pushing you down and fucking you right through the floor,” Jack says, voice laden with promise. “So get on the goddamn bed.”

“I really don’t see what the issue is,” Davey teases, still not moving an inch. “The floor is closer, isn’t it?”

Jack snarls, curling a hand around Davey’s nape and pulling him back up into another frenzied kiss.

“Mouthy— little— smartass—“ he pants, his teeth dragging along the tendon in Davey’s throat. “I’m gonna eat you out ‘til you cry.”

He wraps his hands under Davey’s thighs and hoists him up and back. Davey lands on the mattress with a soft bounce, barely given any time to situate himself before Jack is on top of him, pinning him down with rough hands and spreading him wide before following through with his threat, tongue lapping at Davey’s entrance in broad, greedy strokes.

“Ah,”  Davey gasps, fingers tight in Jack’s hair, scrabbling for some kind of anchor as Jack licks him open.

Jack lets out a low rumble of approval that vibrates right against where he’s most sensitive, his body growing even wetter, even slicker at the sound and feel of it. Jack swirls his tongue around his opening, making Davey’s toes curl against Jack’s sides, then presses in—Davey cries out, a harsh, desperate sound that tears out of him as he grinds up into the sensation.

“Jack,” he gasps, mindless, hips jerking uselessly in Jack’s unrelenting hold, body pulled taut and stretched loose at the same time, pleasure coiling in his belly. “Jack, I’m— I can’t—”

One particularly filthy swipe of Jack’s tongue has Davey’s breath hitching in his chest, head thrown back as the feelings swell and crest, and it only takes one more teasing flick before Davey’s coming with a broken moan.

“Jack,” he croaks when his lungs reinflate. “Holy shit.”

Jack’s mouth and chin are shiny with slick, his pupils blown wide and shaded with satisfaction. 

“Told you,” he says smugly. 

Davey tugs him down into another messy kiss, needing to lick that handsome smirk off his face. Then he rears up and flips them over so that he’s the one on top now, kneeling over Jack with his legs straddling Jack’s lap.

“My turn,” Davey murmurs, reaching down and taking Jack’s length—thick and hard and wet at the tip—in hand, lining it up at his entrance.

Then he takes a breath, leans back, and sinks down onto it in one slow, smooth downstroke. 

“Mmn,” Davey sighs, his eyes slipping shut as his body adjusts to the stinging stretch of finally being filled. He’s thrumming with tension, with heat, his thighs quivering where they’re spread wide around Jack’s hips, hands splayed against Jack’s chest for leverage, and it feels so good he could almost choke on the pleasure of it. 

Jack’s hands flex jerkily against Davey’s sides, then go wonderfully, bruisingly tight, thumbs pressing hard against the divots of his hips.

“Fuck, Davey,” he groans, staring up at Davey with dark eyes tinged with red, lovely and wanting. “You’re gorgeous, sweetheart. So fucking gorgeous and absolutely perfect for me.”

“For you,” Davey agrees, grinding down in a tight, deliberate circle, ass flush against the cradle of Jack pelvis, and Jack’s scent burns even brighter, smoky and sweet. “And you’re all mine, aren’t you darling?”

“Always,” Jack promises.

Davey rises up then drops back down, carefully at first but quickly finding his rhythm, rocking his hips in a  steady back and forth motion that sends liquid fire sparking up his spine. Every slip and drag of Jack’s dick inside of him feels like being shaken apart and pieced back together all at once, aching desire coursing through him with every slap of skin against skin.

“Davey,” Jack pants, his hips bucking up to meet Davey’s own as he rolls down again, and Davey moans through the bursts of bliss that explode behind his eyelids. “Oh, fuck, that’s good.”

“Jack,” Davey gasps, leaning forward to tuck his nose against Jack’s neck, nipping at his pulse point as he grinds down in his lap, the scent of summer and cedar and mate, mate, mate anchoring him even as he goes a little scent drunk on how  right  it all is. “Jackie, I— oh, yes, just like that.”

Jack pulls him down into the next thrust, hard and fast, and Davey cries out, twisting his hip as he sinks into it. 

“Perfect,” Jack grunts, those hot, rough hands squeezing tight. “God, Davey, you look absolutely incredible. So fucking pretty, sweetheart, feel so good riding my cock.”

Davey works his hips that much faster at the praise, so much so that the bed starts rocking underneath them, the squeaky creak of the wooden frame echoing through the room in time with his own heaving breaths. He’s so wet now that he can hear Jack fucking him, hears the slick, dirty squelch of Jack’s knot pressing a little deeper inside of him every time they clash together, driving closer and closer to completion.

“Harder,” Davey pleads, his thighs burning from the effort of keeping up his pace but still needing more. “Jack, please—fuck, alpha, please—harder.”

Jack snarls—a low, rumbling, dangerously sexy sound—and his eyes bleed red, his scent washing over Davey like blazing fire. He leverages his legs up, bending them at the knee with his feet flat against the mattress, and when he thrusts up into Davey on the next roll of his hips, it feels so impossibly good that Davey’s mouth falls open around a broken, guttural little keen.

“O-oh,” Davey says, the word catching in his throat, barely able to think with how completely and utterly Jack is destroying him, his knot starting to thicken and swell against his rim as their bodies meet again and again. Davey arches his back, planting a hand against one of Jack’s bent knees for balance, chasing blindly after his pleasure, and Jack makes a noise like he’s going out of his damn mind, a possessive growl tearing its way out of his throat. “Oh fuck.”

“Say it again,” Jack orders, eyes on fire.

It falls out of Davey’s mouth, desperate and true: “Alpha, alpha, my alpha—”

“My omega,” Jack says, his voice low and gritty, rut and desire clouding his gaze. “Mine.”

They’re both teetering on the edge. Jack’s knot is catching on every thrust, fucking him open in torturous, delicious increments, and Davey wants, wants,  wants.

“Jack,” Davey’s head hangs heavy between his shoulders, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he pants and sighs. “Jackie, yes, give it to me, give it to me, please, yes—”

Jack’s hands slide lower, clench harder, and Davey has one second to delight in how much he loves the feel of those big hands curled around him before the world spins and he lands flat on his back again with Jack braced above him, his eyes wild and vivid red. He grabs the backs of Davey’s thighs and pushes his knees up towards his ears, hardly faltering at all before he’s driving back inside again, fast and hard and so, so deep, and Davey’s boiling, blistering from the feeling of Jack, always Jack, pulsing inside of him, etched right into the seams of his heart.

“Mine,” Jack growls again, nipping viciously at the base of Davey’s throat, tongue swirling over his scent gland like he’s already trying to taste his claim. Davey tilts his head back with a needy whine, unable to do anything except offer himself up to him, freely and wholly. “Mate. Mine.”

“Jack,” Davey whimpers. “Jack, I— I’m—”

“You’re going to come for me,” Jack orders, pistoning his hips even harder, and the new angle means that he’s tagging that sweet spot inside on every other thrust, fierce and relentless. 

“Yes,” Davey moans, sparks flying at the edges of his vision. “Yes, I’m— Don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t—”

Jack presses him down, snaps his hips forward, sharp, and his knot finally catches, swells, and locks inside of him. Heat thrums, then surges through him, white hot, at the searing stretch of it and Davey comes so hard he goes lightheaded, body rippling and writhing through wave after wave of pleasure. Jack manages a couple more filthy grinds of his hips before he’s tumbling over the edge right after him, capturing Davey’s mouth in a breathless, bruising kiss as his orgasm rocks through them both.

When he feels like he can move his limbs again, Davey lets his legs slip down to wrap around Jack’s waist, looping his arms loosely around Jack’s neck. He turns his face towards Jack’s temple and inhales, smiling softly when he catches the smoky, spicy, cooling-embers scent of a sated, happily exhausted alpha.

“How are you feeling, darling?” Davey murmurs, brushing Jack’s sweaty hair off his forehead with a gentle touch. “Alright?”

Jack mouths something unintelligible against his collarbone, a solid, grounding weight sprawled bonelessly on top of him. Davey cups his hand around the nape of Jack’s neck, then strokes soothingly down his back, his mind a wash of hazy contentment. 

“‘M good,” Jack grunts. “I’m… fuck, Dave.”

Davey huffs out a laugh, then presses a kiss to the high point of Jack’s cheek. “Fuck,” he echoes hoarsely, still recovering from his high.

“You?” Jack asks, nuzzling clumsily at the column of Davey’s throat. “Feelin’ okay?”

“Better than,” Davey decides, his body aching deliciously around the hot, hard knot pressed inside of him, stomach sticky with with own release, his thighs wet with slick and come, neck littered with marks, the air thick with their combined scents, spring and citrus and cedar and sweet  melded perfectly together, and he feels totally, entirely, completely— “Feel claimed.”

Jack’s body twitches, his knot throbbing as he spills another burst of pleasure deep inside of him. Davey hums, pleased, some base omega instinct purring with satisfaction at how wonderfully full he is.

“Jesus, sweetheart,” Jack eventually gets out, voice rough and raspy and  wrecked.  “You can’t just— Have mercy on your poor alpha.”

“My alpha,” Davey agrees. “All mine.”

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

NSFW Alphabet: Crosshair

A/N: Not officially a request, but I thought I’d better cover the whole Bad Batch while I’m at it. And as a reminder, remember to REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!! The tumblr tags are fickle at best and it’s the only real way to support creators on this hellsite.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He’s always stuck between wanting to keep your body against him, but at the same time not wanting to come across as needy. He’ll probably start kissing your shoulders and neck, before nipping at the skin and telling you to go take a shower. Once you do, he’ll try to play it cool like, “you can stick around if you want, not that I care either way”. But, he does. He does care.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He likes your waist. Odd, but true. It’s the natural place to put his hands when he pulls you close to him. He likes the way you shiver when he runs his fingers along your skin. Not to mention it’s the perfect place to grip you as his fucks you senseless.

For himself, he likes his legs. Yeah, they’re not as thick or muscular compared to regs, but they’re distinctly his. Plus even if he’s not any taller, it helps with the illusion that he is.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His favorite place to cum is all over your chest and stomach. Seeing you a sweating, blissed out mess with his cum sticking to your skin is the single hottest image his mind can come up with. Second only to you hazily swiping his cum onto you finger and sucking with a moan.

You better be prepared if you do that because you won’t be able to walk the next day.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has an impressive collection of dirty holos you’ve sent to him while away on missions.  He’s kept every single one.  It’s gotten to the point where he just picks a random holo and that’s the fantasy he indulges in to get himself off until he can see you again.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Like the rest of the batch, he’s had a pretty healthy string of one night stands since leaving Kamino. He actually has the most notches on his bed post which he is not ashamed to bring up whenever Wrecker is getting just a little too cocky. So, he’s pretty experienced all things considered.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Taking you from behind and against a wall. That’s the popular image of him in the fandom and I’m ain’t here to dispute it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not funny, but he’s definitely a smug asshole who can’t help but comment on every sound you make.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps it pretty well groomed down there, almost complete shaven.  Also, dark hair down below, if you’re curious. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It’s very rare for Crosshair to be emotional in bed.  He uses sex more as a way to get rid of tension or get a solid hit of dopamine.  Actually being open with someone is not something he’s comfortable with.

The most intimate he gets is when he feels he might lose you, either in the field or to another man.  Then, he uses it as a way to assure himself you’re with him and his. In that case, it can get pretty intense.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jacks off often, before and after meeting you.  He’s got a higher sex drive than his brothers and needs someway to work off the tension after a mission.  He prefers doing it in the shower when he has the time, but he’ll honestly whip it out anyplace where he can get some privacy for fifteen minutes.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Let it be recorded that Crosshair is not only a Dom, but the only true Dom in entire Grand Army of the Republic. (With the exception of Commander Wolffe.)

Seriously, the man likes nothing more than pinning you down and using your body as his personally fuck toy.  His ultimate fantasy is keeping you tied up in various positions, your body spread open and willing for him to use whenever the mood strikes him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere with a relatively flat surface. I cannot emphasize how much he does not care where he does it: bedroom, shower, locker room, bar bathroom, sparring room, between a couple of boulders out of view of the rest of the Bad Batch. He does not care.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

His ego...let me explain.

There are two ways to really get him going, but they both come down to how they effect his ego.

Number one, praise.  If you compliment him on a shot, confirm that he did, in fact, beat Wrecker at something, or rasp a dirty promise in his ear that he’s the only man who has ever made you cum that hard; that’ll get him going more than anything.

Number two, jealously.  If he sees another man actively flirting with you, he’ll all but sling you over his shoulder and carry you to the closest abandoned alley he can find to fuck you senseless.  He doesn’t care if you were interested in the guy flirting with you or not, you’re his and he needs to remind himself and you of that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Humiliation for him is a no go. There’s the more obvious stuff, like the idea of you putting him on a leash or something equally degrading just gets him frustrated, and not in a sexy way.  But, more specifically verbal humiliation. He genuinely gets upset if you’re the one to say he’s not good enough for you in some capacity or compare him negatively to somebody else. That’ll kill the mood in seconds.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Much prefers receiving to giving.  Seeing you on your knees with his cock in your mouth his heaven.  And being able to cum all over your face and chest when he’s done? He’s in heaven.

That being said, he’s not bad at giving, he just ends up mostly using his fingers while he runs his mouth.  He can’t help it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Fast and rough, like all the time.  He basically has no other mode.  Now, whether it’s more intense with pent up emotions or a fun stress reliever depends on his mood.  Either way, if you’re not a sweating, panting mess by the end of it he feels like he’s failed in some way.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes.  He’s going to say yes to quickies.  Where ever and whenever is good for him.  But, don’t think it’s really over when it’s over.  He only considers it a preview of what he’s going to do to you once you actually get some time and a little more privacy.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’s certainly willing to try different positions and kinks, but he’s not big on getting more toys in the mix.  He’s more than happy to tie you up and spank you, but he’s not so keen on adding a paddle or something like that, if that makes any kind of sense.  It’s about his body and what he can do to you.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Just as good as every other clone, with a fantastic recovery time. A solid average of three rounds per night lasting as long as either of you can stand it.

That all being said, he’s in constant competition with himself on how long he can last and for how many rounds.

Current record for time is two hours before he came once with you cumming a total of five times. Current round total is him cumming five times in one night while you lost count of yours.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Surprisingly not his thing. He’s got some cuffs he uses on occasion with you, but not much else. Like I said, he’s in competition with himself, not him and a toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He doesn’t tease often, but when he does, he’s an asshole.  He’ll keep you pinned down, lazily rubbing the tip of his cock against your opening, never fully going in until you’re squirming and begging him to just fuck you already.  Sometimes he will and sometimes, he’ll leave you hanging there.  It all depends on his mood.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not especially. In the beginning he keeps it almost conversational, as he talks dirty into your ear. But, it all changes when he comes to the end. It’s like whatever control he had over his vocal cords gets shut off. He curses a lot combined with grunts and borederline feral growls as he rams his cock harder and deeper into you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Crosshair has a real jealously streak, especially when it comes to regs. 

While he’s confident in his abilities, he’s aware more than Wrecker or even Tech that they’re basically a bunch of freaks the Republic likes to keep under wraps.  A funny little lab experiment.  While regs were made just as much as he was, they actually have a chance at being...well, normal after all is said and done.  He’s not sure he’ll ever be normal.  So, the fear of you realizing you’re dating an actual freak of nature weighs on him constantly.

He needs to remind himself that you’re with him, that you chose him and you’re not going to walk away.  It drives him crazy that you make him feel that way, but it’s the truth.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Just as long as his clone brothers (a solid 8-inches), but not as thick.  Not that he need that extra edge.  His talent is precision after all.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I’d say he has the highest of the batch, actually getting agitated if he hasn’t had a good fuck in more than a few days.  His hand can only do so much for him before he gets down right hostile.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I’d say it takes him a solid half-hour to finally fall asleep after sex. He’d never tell you, but he likes the feeling of you asleep in his arms. He’ll savor it for as long as he can.

[writingbykrystal]

"See ya, Jack!" called Jessie as Jack left th building.

"Bye, Jess," Jack called back, waving tiredly. It had been a brutal day today. Three different small villain organizations had all robbed various buildings that day, the last two only being fifteen minutes apart. To make matters worse, Leah and Eva had both come down with the flu, leaving Jack and Jessie short staffed today, and Jack's car had broken down and Izzy was out of town, leaving nobody to carpool with.

Sighing, Jack started on the twenty minute walk back to his apartment. He really didn't want to walk, but he had no other option, since Thomas worked on the other side of town, and wouldn't be done work for another hour or so anyway.

-----

About five minutes away from home, Jack feels his wallet start to fall from his pocket. He grabbed it, and shoved it back in, and kept walking. A couple seconds later, however, he feels it slide out of his pocket again.

He looks around, confused, and hears a piece of glass crunch behind him. On instinct, Jack throws a puff of frost in the direction of the sound. The ice makes contact, and spreads over the thing it hit. To Jack's confusion, there's nothing there, except the floating I've spot.

The ice spot makes a sound, that sounded like a human squeal, and then starts moving away down an alley.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. That ice spot was a person with invisibility powers. And that person just so happened to have stolen his wallet.

Jack swore, and started sprinting down the alley, chucking more frost.

The alley eventually ends in a chain link fence. Jack can hear the sound of someone trying to climb the fence, so he quickly covered it in ice, making it impossible to climb.

He heard a shriek, and then a thud, as whoever was trying to escape fell off the fence. As he made his way down the alley, he saw that the person he was chasing became visible.

"Hey motherfucker, give me my goddamn wallet back," Jack said, walking toward the winded pickpocket.

The thief didn't reply.

Jack walked over and grabbed the thief's shirt. "I said, give me my wallet ba- What the hell, you're just a kid!"

The thief that Jack had happened to catch turned out to be a teenage girl, who by the looks of her, had been living on the streets, and was absolutely terrified of Jack.

Jack let go of her shirt, and she started crying. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, here's your wallet back, I didn't take anything else, I promise, please don't take me to the police, I'll leave, I won't steal again, I'm so so sorry, please don't call the cops!"

Jack was also starting to panic. He had no idea what to do with a teenage girl, much less one who he had just caught stealing and was now sobbing in the back of an alleyway.

"Um, hi, hi, uh, please stop crying, I won't call the cops, just please stop crying, please?"

The girl looked at him. "You're really not gonna call the cops?" she asked.

"Look kid," Jack replied. "You're obviously going through a tough time, and I'm gonna guess that you're running from something, maybe a bad home situation, or foster care. Am I on the right track?"

The girl had almost stopped crying at this point. "Yeah," she sniffed. "Something like that."

Jack crouched down beside her, but she flinched away, so Jack stood up again. "Listen, kid, I don't wanna call the police, but I'm also not gonna let you go back out onto the street tonight. So, you've got a couple options. You can either come back to my place tonight and have dinner with my boyfriend, and we can figure something out for you in the morning, or you can try to run, and I'll have to catch you again, and this time, I'll call the cops, and they'll be the ones to figure something out. Which do you feel like doing, kid?"

While he was talking, Jack had created another snowball and was casually tossing it back and forth between his hands.

The girl eyed it nervously. "I- I'll come with you."

-----

In Jack's apartment, the girl sat at the dining room table, nervously scanning the room.

"So, kid, what's your story?" Jack asked, trying to break the silence.

The girl just stared at the table.

"Okay," Jack said, "I'll start. As you could have already guessed, I'm Jack Frost, I work for Bright and I'm a hero in the city. But, my real name is Jack and that's what you can call me."

At this the girl looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. "Jack Frost's real, legal name is Jack? Like for real?"

Great. Fifteen minutes with this teenager and the sarcasm is already coming out.

"Yeah," Jack said. "It's short for Jackson, but I needed an alias for my resume, and I thought it was funny at the time."

The girl snorted. "I'm sure you did."

Jack shook his head. "Anyways, that's my story, what's up with you?"

The girl looked at him for a long time, before deciding to speak.

"My name is Chloe. And you're right, I did run away from foster care. There were tons of other kids there, and they were treated well, but not me, just because if these stupid powers. They bullied me and called me a monster. The "parents" would hit me, and lock me in my room. They didn't want me to hurt the "normal" kids. I ran away from home after home, but I kept getting caught. Finally I figured out how to use my powers well enough to not be found. Until now I guess."

Chloe laughed bitterly. "And now I've been caught again. By the city's coldest hero. I guess you're not called a freak if you're famous. Now what, you're gonna send me back to foster care?"

When she had finished talking, she sat back in her chair, looking utterly defeated. Jack had been listening to her story in silence. He really had no idea what to do with this poor kid sitting in his kitchen.

Standing up, he asked the only thing he could think of to do at the moment. "You like pizza?"

-----

About an hour later, the door opened and Thomas walked in.

"Hey, Jack, I'm hom- what the hell, who is this?"

Jack grabbed Thomas's arm and pulled him into the kitchen.

"Ok, I'm gonna tell you everything, but promise you won't get mad."

-----

"So, basically, she's here now, and I don't know what to do with her."

Thomas sighed. "Well, she obviously can't go back on the streets, and foster care clearly has been hell for her. I don't know what we can do, except keep her here for the night at least. We can figure out what to do with her in the morning."

Thomas and Jack walked back out into the living room. As Thomas opened the door, he hit something solid, which then made an indignant squeak.

Jack laughed. "Word of advice, kid, when you eavesdrop, don't stand in the way of the door."

Chloe turned visible and looked at the floor. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Well," said Thomas. "I'm guessing you heard everything we said in there."

Chloe nodded sheepishly.

"Well then," Jack continued. "I guess you know that we want you to stay here at least for tonight, until we figure out what to do with you."

"I can't speak for sure what will happen, but I can promise that you will not go back into the streets or into the system again, and you will absolutely not go to jail for trying to rob my boyfriend," Thomas said.

Chloe met Thomas's eyes. "Thank you," she said, in a small voice, and then yawned.

"Ok, kid, it's time for bed, let me get the air mattress set up for you in the living room," said Jack, and he and Thomas walked off to make a place for their impromptu guest to sleep.

-----

"Where the heck have you two been?" Jessie asked when Jack walked into work.

Jack and Thomas had both taken the week or so off to figure out living arrangements for Chloe. They both decided that it would be best for her to stay with them for the foreseeable future, and had been busy learning how to care for a sassy fourteen year old girl, in addition to converting the office that neither of them used into a bedroom, and buying a lot of things. Probably more than necessary.

"Well," Jack said, "I think me and Thomas kind of have a kid now."

[hale-13]

Caved In

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 10 - Trapped

Despite Peter’s obvious enthusiasm to join missions, Tony tends to keep him away as much as possible. But this is just a simple raid of a defunct. There’s no trouble the kid can get into here right?

Words: 2534, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandom: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov

TW: Medical Procedures, Claustrophobia

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

Tony coughs himself awake, the mask of the Iron Man suit cracked nearly down the middle and crumbling at the edges, gaping holes allowing for dust and debris to trickle in. His cough is dry and unpleasant but causes only a small twinge of discomfort in his chest and, beyond the minimal aches and pains that come from the regular wear and tear of trying to be a superhero in his late forties, he feels pretty solid.

“FRI?” He croaks, coughing dryly again on the end and trying to clear his throat. “You up honey?”

His comm that connects him to the rest of his team and his AI is worryingly silent for a three count before FRIDAY’s pleasant Irish lilt says “Here Boss,” with only a small amount of static. Score.

“Thank God,” he breathes out. “Status report.”

“It appears someone activated the self-destruct sequence,” she offers helpfully, a broken layout of the HYDRA base they were raiding popping up on his HUD, only partially visible due to the fractured mask but it gives Tony plenty of info.

“How’s the rest of the team?” Tony asks, still lying on his back and making no effort to move yet. He feels okay considering the situation but he doesn’t want to waste energy until he has to. “Why is my comm muted?”

“The collapse damaged the transmitter,” FRIDAY explains. “I have sent in a distress signal and pinged your location,” Tony lets out a relieved sigh that gets caught in his throat when his AI reports, “All Avengers accounted for except for Spider-Man.”

“Vitals FRI,” Tony says, a little frantic and struggling to sit up now around the dizziness that surely means a concussion. “Where’s the kid?”

“The suit is approximately thirty feet to your left,” FRIDAY tells him, marking it on the blueprint still in the corner of his HUD with a blinking blue dot. “Karen is offline so I’m unable to get vitals,” she tells him regretfully as he groans and rolls onto his hands and knees. The floor starts to rotate under him and he has to take a few deep breaths to control his nausea before he feels like he can crawl through the mess of concrete around him in the direction of Peter.

With FRIDAY’s help, Tony is easily able to navigate through the rough patches on his way to Peter and, though his comm is broken, she is able to relay rescue info from Nat. So far they don’t have much idea on how long its going to take and Tony can already feel his heart beating too fast in worry.

“The kid’s fine,” he tells himself firmly. “He’s okay.”

When he comes across Peter about a minute later he is, decidedly, not okay. His right leg up to mid-thigh is trapped under a large slab of concrete and he’s unmoving except for the stuttering of his chest and the wet sounds of his breathing. Tony’s heart beats ever faster when he notices how wet the suit is around Peter’s trapped thigh and the oddly shaped protrusion that surely indicates a compound fracture.

“Fuck,” he curses, settling next to Peter’s head on his knees and carefully removing the torn mask from his face. Peter is pale under the spandex, a bruise high on his cheekbone and his nose crooked and bleeding – clearly broken again – but he’s breathing and seems otherwise alright. “Up and at’em Petey,” Tony says, patting Peter’s unmanaged cheek softly with two fingers until his eyes scrunch up and crack open.

“Hey man,” Peter slurs, a lopsided dopey grin pulling up the corners of his mouth and his pupils obviously uneven as he looks up at Tony. “Come here often?”

“Oh yeah,” Tony tells him with an eye roll. “Love hanging out in decrepit buildings, you know me.”

Peter snots out a laugh and then winces, a hand coming up to probe at his nose. “Ouchies,” he mumbles, sounding a little nasally. Tony bats his hand away from his face.

“You’re not wrong,” he agrees, pressing a hand to Peter’s chest to keep him from sitting up. “Let’s just take it easy for a bit until the rest of the team busts us out okay kiddo?”

Peter frowns at him, his eyebrows pulling together in an expression that would be adorably confused if Tony wasn’t internally freaking out a little over their situation. Peter looks woozy and out of it from his concussion but the kid has always been pretty perceptive and Tony doesn’t say anything as he does an obvious full body check, gasping in pain almost immediately. “Mr. Stark?”

“You’re alright,” Tony reassures, trying to defuse the situation before it even becomes a situation. “Nothing we can’t fix. You’re just a little… confined until Nat can figure out how to get us out.”

Peter looks unconvinced and he has a tinge of panic on his face – leftover claustrophobia from getting trapped under a warehouse Tony knows – but he gulps and takes a few deep breaths to relax himself. “How long?”

“Whatcha got for me FRI? Any ETA on our imminent rescue?” Tony asks, one hand rubbing through Peter’s sweaty, messy curls and the other tapping on the side of his mask over the comm impatiently. He tries to hold in his grimace when she reports back that it may be a couple of hours for Peter’s sake and, instead, smiles down at him, only half his mouth visible through the cracked mask. He opens his mouth to lie through his teeth but Peter rolls his eyes before Tony has the chance.

“You know I have enhanced hearing right?” He questions pointedly, taking the wind out of Tony’s sails before he can even talk.

“Yeah alright,” the man agrees with a shrug. “It’s going to be a bit before they get here.”

Peter squirms a little uncomfortably, letting out a hiss when he jostles his leg, eyes crossing and sweat breaking out across his forehead at the pain and Tony feels his chest clench in sympathy. “Can you uh…” Peter starts, gulping and squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, tears of pain popping up in the corners but stubbornly not falling. “Can you distract me?”

“Did I ever tell you about that time in college when Rhodey and I got blitzed on cheap vodka and flooded the laundry room with foam before our engineering final?” Peter lets out a little hysterical laugh and shakes his head ‘no’. “Well settle in because it’s a doozy. So it all started around ten in the morning in the fountain at the student center…”

Tony had plenty of stories about his and Rhodey’s misadventures through undergrad but he was really running out of semi-appropriate tales he could spin by the time the clock in the corner of his HUD had passed three hours. Peter, stubborn and ever the trooper, had stayed awake and cooperated every time had harassed him to keep the kid coherent. The shifting of concrete was definitely getting closer now.

Peter, however, had continued to steadily decline since Tony had found him. The wound in his thigh where the bone had punctured the skin but, miraculously, not the suit had continued to bleed steadily to the point that Tony had cut a hole in the tightly woven carbon and spandex fibers around Peter’s leg so that he could staunch the bleeding with specially made nano-particles. This had, unfortunately, clearly been a bandaid on a bullet wound situation.

Peter had steadily paled until his face was greyed around the edges and clammy. His hands were shaking and, since he wasn’t able to thermoregulate well and shiver, could only be from shock. The situation was quickly becoming dire and Tony knew he wasn’t doing such a stellar job of hiding his reservations anymore.

“Get me an update FRI,” he ground out, one hand moving methodically through Peter’s flat curls, overworked by how much Tony had been basically petting him for the past few hours. The kid’s brown eyes, half-lidded, flickered up to look at him and some quiet conversation passed between the two of them before Peter broke eye contact with a weary blink.

“Rescue is imminent Boss,” the AI reported. “Maybe fifteen minutes.”

“Here that Pete?” Tony asked, trying for bright but falling short. “Fifteen minutes. We can do that right?”

“Sure,” Peter mumbled, his own voice hoarse from coughing up dust and a little blood sneaking its way onto his lips when he wet them. His teeth were stained red and Tony could feel his heart stutter at the sight. He hated nothing more than being useless and that’s all he was right now. “Fifteen minutes. No problem.”

“Tell them to hurry it up,” Tony hissed into his comm before hitting the emergency release on his suit and peeling it off. Peter’s eyes were hazy and confused, a frown pulling his pale lips down as he watched.

“You can’t,” he said, fingers twitching in the direction of the defunct suit. “Need to be protected.”

“I’m fine kiddo,” Tony promised, moving them around until Peter’s head rested in Tony’s lap instead of on the ground. “We’re almost out; nothing’s going to happen.” Peter’s eyes narrowed but he clearly didn’t have the energy to argue further, letting his lids flutter shut and stay closed. Tony shook him none too gently to rouse him, heart aching at Peter’s low whine of pain and betrayal. “Stay awake for me Webs. Just a little longer.”

“I’m really tired,” Peter muttered, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to keep them open. “Just a little nap. Please?”

“No can do,” Tony said, feeling on the verge or tears, running his thumb carefully over the bruises under Peter’s eye and up to his temple to gently massage it. “No sleeping until Bruce gives permission. He’s a stickler about these things.”

Peter hummed, his mouth pulling down at the corners. “Sorry Mr. Stark,” he whispered, his eyes closing and his speech starting to slur. “I don’t think I can.”

And then, terrifyingly, he went completely boneless in Tony’s lap.

“No!” Tony nearly screamed, shaking Peter as carefully as he could. “You need to wake up right now Peter I’m serious!” But Peter’s head just lolled to the side, his face and jaw slack and his skin, somehow, even paler than before. “FRI get them here now! I don’t care what it takes, Peter needs out!”

“Tony!” A voice echoed through the cavern not even a second later and Tony felt tears of relief prickling his eyes.

“Here!” He called back, sniffing hard. “About time you got down here!”

Moments later the dusty forms of Steve and Sam pushed their way into the small space that Tony and Peter had been occupying, dragging a stretcher and a bag of medical equipment behind them.

“Shit,” Steve breathed, taking them both in before hustling over to lift the concrete off of Peter’s leg.

“Stop!” Sam said, trying to body block him in the cramped space and having little success but Cap stopped nonetheless. “He could have compartment syndrome. You move that before I place a tourniquet and you could kill him!” Steve turned white and moved back, holding his hands up in surrender. “Tony you need to take the suit and get out.”

“Like hell!” He protested, bearing his teeth and gripping Peter’s shoulders possessively only to have his hands batted away so Sam could get Peter’s pulse.

“You’re in the way,” Sam explained firmly as he pulled the medical bag over and began to wrap the tourniquet tightly around Peter’s upper thigh making the kid gasp in his sleep but not wake up. “You can trust me with him,” Sam promised, making brief eye contact before getting back to his work. “I promise that I’ll take care of him for you but you have to let me help him and I can’t do that when you’re in the way.”

Tony let out a choking sound that he would never admit was a sob and covered his mouth. “That’s my kid Wilson,” he said, voice firm. “I’m trusting you with him.” Sam nodded solemnly and Steve just watched them both with a wounded expression. Tony ignored all this and bent down to press a feather-light kiss to Peter’s hair line before squeezing his eyes shut and doing the hardest thing he’s ever had to do – leave Peter alone.

“Tony,” Bruce said, relieved, when Tony emerged from the hole that the team had dug up. The man was shirtless and in his Hulk shorts, hands shaky and tired but looking alert and ready to do what he could to help them. “Where’s Peter?”

“Cap and Sam are getting him,” Tony said, feeling a little shaky and shell-shocked himself, not noticing he was swaying until Natasha ducked under his right arm to help steady him. “He um. His leg got trapped under dome of the rubble. It’s broken and he’s lost a lot of blood.” Tony explained, allowing Nat to guide him to sit on some of the surrounding debris.

“It’s okay,” Bruce soothed, bending down and grabbing Tony’s wrist to take his pulse with a frown before prodding at a couple of the tender spots on his head that made Tony wince. “We can fix it. I have blood on the jet and we’re only an hour out from the nearest SHIELD base with a full medical staff. He’s going to be fine.”

Tony nodded compulsively and submitted himself to Bruce’s exam, watching the hole intently until Cap emerged, carrying half of the stretcher with Sam following closely behind supporting the other half.

Things became a bit of a blur from there for Tony. Nat held him back from getting in the way of Bruce and Sam treating Peter and assisted him onto the jet and into a seat near the head of the gurney they had moved the kid to. Peter was still passed out, his hair and face covered in dust but he was getting a little color back in his face once Sam started the blood transfusion.

“What’s the verdict?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall and only his finger twitching showing how worried he was, taking the words right out of Tony’s mouth.

“He has a good prognosis,” Bruce reported, looking at the X-ray FRIDAY had taken and sent to his tablet. “He’ll need surgery to reset the bone but you know how quick he heals. I suspect he’ll be begging to get back in the saddle by the end of the week tops,” a collective exhale of relief passed through the team and Tony dropped his head into his hands.

“Thank you,” he said, voice thick with emotion, stumbling over to stand at the head of the bed and run soft fingers down the side of Peter’s peaceful face. This was enough excitement for a while, Tony decided, he and the kid would need to sit out the next few missions and take an actual break. Pepper had been looking at a cabin on a lake as a possible summer home and Tony couldn’t think of a better way to recuperate than sitting on the ample porch in the warm weather with his family.

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

Dangerous Love (Pt. 12 of 13)

Pairing: Bruce Wayne (Batman) X Harley Quinn's sister!Reader

Word count: 2.8 K

Summary: You're Harley Quinn's sister, Havoc, one of the many villain's of Gotham. But you've been caught, and has been tortured constantly for an year in Belle Reve. But when your think your life can't be anything else than the nightmare you find yourself into, Bruce Wayne, the Batman, takes you in for a project. He has a program to rehabilitate villains, and you're his lab rat. But soon enough confusing feelings start getting in the way. You know falling for Bruce is stupid. But can you keep your heart under control?

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{Justice League - DC Masterlist}

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So The Whole World Knows

Bruce loves you. It's the first thing that comes to your mind when you wake up. You talked for hours, until late at night, and Bruce told you exactly when he started falling for you. It was on the day he went to Belle Reve to take in your papers. That was the first time he saw you, through the camera they had in your cell. You remember that day because the lights were turned on for fifteen minutes or so. But you would never guess it was for Bruce to see you. From that moment on, Bruce told you, he felt something change inside him. He also tried to push it back, ignore it, misread it. But he knew he had to help you.

It got a little messy when it was your time to speak. You stuttered like an idiot, struggling to find the right words to express yourself. Bruce did seem to find it a little funny, so you playfully slapped him a couple of times. But in the end, the three words finally came out, from your lips and from his. Bruce is dead serious about your relationship, and this time he told you with all the words. He assured and reassured you this is not just a fling or a crush. He wants what you have to be serious, solid. And you want the same.

Smiling, you move closer to Bruce, felling as his chest rises and falls with his steady breath. “Morning, sweetheart.” He says.

“Hey...”

“It's a little late, I bet.” He turns his head to look at the digital clock by the nightstand on his side of the bed. “Almost ten.” He starts moving to get up and you let out a groan.

“Five more minutes. C'mon.”

“I'm taking you out today, remember?” He sits up, looking down at you. “So get up and get ready.”

He's way more excited about this than you are. But you get on with the morning routine. Shower, breakfast, and you have to add dressing up on something other than sweatpants and tank top. You have just two pairs of jeans to choose from and a few blouses. Bruce got them for you a while ago, but you never had any reason to use them. You have a pair of white sneakers too. When you're done, you do look different. Normal... These simple-looking clothes are expensive, you can tell. You've had your share of stolen high fashion clothes, so you know the difference between clothes that normal people can buy and the clothes Bruce Wayne has access to.

“Are you ready?” Bruce calls and you leave the bathroom. “You look–”

“It's just sneakers, jeans, and a purple blouse.” You cut him off, rolling your eyes at the smile that comes to his lips. “You look very handsome in this suit.” You can't help but say, trying not to look for so long and leading the way out of the bedroom.

Bruce rathers have his driver taking you, so he can stay on the back seat with you. Seeing the city after all this time, almost a year and a half if you count with the time you were in Belle Reve, feels different. Even more because you're in the daylight, not trying to hide, and not planning any kind of mischief. It's like seeing everything for the first time. Gotham has it's a beauty... at least here, the good part of the city.

When Bruce tells the driver to stop, your heart skips a beat. He gets out first, and you're frozen, suddenly aware of people walking up and down the street. “Let's go,” Bruce says in a soft tone after he opens the door for you.

“Let's go,” you repeat, more to yourself than to him.

And you're off the car, holding Bruce's hand as you walk at a slow pace. You get the feeling that people are staring. At you, at Bruce, and them at your holding hands. It's good to know that they don't seem to know who you are. Bruce takes you to a few stores so you can buy your own clothes. You resist a lot because you keep checking the price tags even though he told you not to. You stop by a restaurant to have lunch before you hit different stores. At some point you know you have more than you need right now, but he doesn't seem to see it that way.

“They don't recognize me,” you mutter as you pass by a small group of people.

“You're different. And not just because of the hair color.” He looks down at you, smiling.

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile too. As you look at the store's display, you slow down until you stop before a window. There's a necklace in a display, with three pink stones. Acting out of pure instinct, your eyes scan the store's entrance for cameras. Two. “I could steal it, you know.” You decide to tell Bruce, just to tease him. “One of those cameras is broken. And even if it wasn't, it never stopped me before.” You wink at him as he raises his eyebrow, starting to move again.

“Come.” He grabs your arm, pulling you inside the store.

“No,” you exclaim, trying to pull him back to the street. Which is useless. “Bruce, c'mon.”

“Ma'am. I'd like to see that piece you have on display. The necklace with the pink diamonds.”

“Diamonds?”

The woman does as he says, and seconds later she puts the piece on the desk before you. “This is a unique piece. The designer never makes the same piece twice. A true jewel.”

“It sounds super expensive.”

“Well, you can't expect to buy something unique for a low coast.” She says, even though you weren't talking to her. “Are you going to take it, Mr. Wayne?”

“Let's see.” Bruce takes the necklace from the display and moves to stand behind you. “Pin your hair up for me, please.” He asks when he notices that you won't move. Taking a deep breath, you do as he says, and Bruce puts the necklace around your neck, pulling you to stand before the mirror. “What do you think?”

The delicate stones looks beautiful, obviously, and you touch it with your fingertips. “I think it wasn't meant for someone like me,” you whisper.

“I think you're wrong. And it's you that makes the necklace look even more beautiful.” Bruce places a soft kiss on your shoulder before turning back to the woman. “I will take it.”

Unbelievable. “You shouldn't spoil me, Bruce Wayne,” you tell him when you're leaving the store.

“After everything you went through in that hell, I will spoil you... Just a little bit.”

“Well... I think we can go home now. Or do you want to take me somewhere else?”

“You will need a dress for today's gala.”

“What?” You stop walking again, turning to look at him. “What gala?”

“I have another dull party to attempt, and I thought it would be a good chance to introduce you to the city.” He says as if it's no big deal to take a wanted criminal to a high society party, where everyone will not only see but photograph you.

“Bruce, people will... Everyone will see that we're together... What will they–”

“Haven't you considered the possibility that I might want people to know we're together?”

“But...”

You don't even have the chance to think about what the hell you were going to say next because Bruce pulls you into a kiss. It's slow, as if you're weren't in the middle of the sidewalk of a very hectic street. But soon enough there's no one else. As you step closer, wrapping your arms around his neck, you deepen the kiss. The world fades away, and nothing else matters. And you feel like you can deal with the gala as long as you're with him.

• • •

As much as you love the silver dress Bruce gave you for your birthday, your back is still a little messed up. So your new dress, in a dark shade of blue, covers it. It's crazy how Bruce has to help you figure out what to do with your hair. Luckily, Diana is still here to intervene. She helps you make some waves and pin half of it up, to so it'll stay away from your face except for a few locks. You're worried sick about this gala thing as you go downstairs, and to the living room, where Bruce is waiting. He smiles when he sees you, and you blush and look down.

The short trip to the gala is silent because you're gathering the courage you'll need. When the car stops, you're taken aback by the countless photographers and journalists.

“Are you ready, my love?” Bruce asks, holding your hand. You nod, taking a deep breath. “I'll open the door for you and those flashes will be on your face. There will be questions, and probably a headline about Bruce Wayne's girlfriend tomorrow.”

“I know.” Nodding at him, you watch as he gets out. Bruce stops and waves for the cameras for a while before walking around the car and opening your door.

The world slows down as you step out, holding onto Bruce's arm, trying your best not to look more misplaced than you already do. “Just smile.” He whispers before placing a kiss on your cheek. And you do as he says, smiling and even waving a little. There are countless cameras flashing, microphones, and a lot of questions, so many you can't even understand most of them. Some want to know your name, why you showed up with Bruce Wayne if it's right to assume you're in a relationship. But since Bruce doesn't seem like he'll answer any of them, you keep your mouth shut. “Time to go in. Let them freak out about it.”

“Okay.” You let him guide you inside, a hand on the small of your back.

This gala takes place in a luxury hotel, and its main hall is sophisticatedly decorated. Everything seems terribly expensive and breakable, and the people seem to be stupidly rich. You even recognize some of them. Politicians, philanthropists, CEOs... You stole from some of these guys and here you are now, at the same party, as if you belong.

“Bruce...”

“What is it?” You stop by your table, and he pulls the chair for you to sit.

“What happens if only one person here recognizes me?” Would they call the police? Start running? Yelling? It would certainly be a mess, and the last thing you want is to ruin this. Bruce decided to bring you here so the city will see you, and to make a point to those women who still insist on trying to get him... And because he wanted your company. You can't even count how many times he told you that having you here would make this dull gala become something great... Bringing yourself to believe it it's still hard, but you're trying not to doubt him anymore. He has been proving that everything he says is true.

“They won't, my love. And even if they did... You're with me, remember? Nothing is going to happen to you.”

“Bruce Wayne.” A woman stops by, the same you saw some time ago from your window, hugging him in the garden. “So the rumors are true. You actually came with a girl.”

“Angela, this is (Y/N), my girlfriend.” He says, smiling as you reach out your hand to shake Angela's. There's a sting of anger in your chest, and for a moment you don't know why. But it must be jealousy, right? Bruce told you they're just old friends, but the image of the hug, and what you thought it meant back then floods your mind. But you bring back to memory everything Bruce said, and everything he has done.

“Nice to meet you, Angela. Bruce told me a lot about you.”

“Only the bad things, I hope.” She giggles and you offer her a smile. “You better be ready to see your face on every news channel tomorrow night. The woman who finally got into Bruce Wayne's heart.”

“I've been warned,” you say, exchanging a glance with Bruce.

“Well, take good care of him. He can be a little... Complicated.”

“You have no idea how.” Oh, if she only knew about his night job...

“I will leave you two. I still need to make my presence known to some very boring people.” With a last smile, she walks away.

“And I should do the same.” Bruce stands up.

“Okay.” You're starting to accept the fact that you'll have to sit here alone for a while when he reaches out his hand. “What?”

“Did you think I'd leave you here?” You take his hand and stand up, and he pulls you to his side. “I won't leave you alone.”

Biting your lip, you hold back a smile.

Now you get why Bruce finds these parties so dull. He walks around, meeting people, engaging in small conversations, complimenting random things... The difference now is that he's introducing you to every single one of them, as his girlfriend. Saying that they're surprised is a misunderstanding. They're perplexed because they don't seem to recognize you from any of the high society families of Gotham. Or from anywhere else.

As the night goes by, you feel the anxiety vanishing. You even give your opinion about some things. Politics, company administration, economy. It makes Bruce give you a proud smirk, that you'll make sure to tease him about later.

When the formal talk is over, and the music starts playing, Bruce takes you to the middle of the hall, and you dance among the rest of the people. The photographers are allowed in, but not the journalists. And it doesn't take much until some of them reach you, and the cameras start flashing.

“As soon as they get a few good shots, they'll leave,” Bruce reassures you.

“I'm alright. It doesn't bother me.” You have your eyes fixed on him, but you close them when your foreheads touch.

“There's something else I need them to get on camera. To make things one hundred percent clear.”

“What?”

Bruce closes the final distance between the two of you, capturing your lips on a soft, warm kiss. And it happens again, the rest of the world disappears. The flashes, the gossip... Nothing else matters.

• • •

“Bruce, I'm on TV,” you yell from the living room. “And not because I broke the law.”

He comes from the kitchen with a smile, handing you a bowl of ice cream before sitting beside you on the couch. “What are they saying?”

“The girl who came out of the blue stole Bruce Wayne's heart. The most wanted bachelor is now taken. Sorry, girls.” you add the last sentence, shrugging your shoulders. “Same thing that channel five.”

“I got calls. People asking for an interview with you.”

“Oh, no. They'll ask about my past. What the hell am I going to say?”

“You don't have to say anything. They don't have to know.” He gestures for you to move closer, and when you do, he pulls you so you're seated in between his legs, comfortably leaning against his chest. “Nothing else matters, remember? Just you and me.”

“Nothing else matters,” you repeat, closing your eyes for a moment to feel the soft kiss he places on your shoulder. “Life is good, you know? It's finally good.” Your mind floats back to your troubled past, when you had many things, expensive things, everything money could get. And how empty it was. Flash forward to today, here, in Bruce's arms, you finally feel complete, loved, like you found your place in the world without having to steal it, or put on a mask to conquer it.

“There's only one thing left, my love. Your freedom.”

Moving so you can look at him, you sigh. “Even if I have to be here, not being allowed to go out there again, I'd still be happy, you know.”

“But I want you to have everything. To be free to go for a walk if you want, to make friends and hang out with them. Graduate and find a job you enjoy... All the things you never had.”

“Maybe it's more than I deserve.”

“You deserve it. More than those guards who torture you. They're criminals too, as were you.”

The simple fact that the said it in the past makes you smile. “I love you, Bruce.”

“I love you too.” You both focus on the news again, watching an entire show decided to talking about you. Countless photos and videos of Bruce come to the screen, and you can't help but look with admiration. You look good, despite seeming a little clueless in the beginning, but then you look almost normal, holding onto Bruce's arm. The gala was nice, and you felt a little special by being there, but the best part was coming home with Bruce and having the silly little things you have. Having dinner together, falling asleep together. Happiness isn't enough to describe it. You'll have to create a whole new word.

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