#and maybe the handshake could be argued as such

[bottombaron]

ok im just going to say it and yeah its a little negative and no im not saying its "over" but

the handshake thing is a little insulting

like. purposefully so.

when you know there's a card with: "Nandor + Guillermo Kiss?" pinned in the writer's room and you know they expect some people would be anticipating something more emotionally substantial than one of the most commical of masculine handshakes...

and instead of even a hug

you kno, that thing they've been setting us up for a cathartic resolution after 6 seasons of rejection since the very begining...

...we got a handshake (yes, i get the parallel from Nandor’s firing, when they werent able to have even a basic handshake and now they're showing how strong they are together and honestly it only makes me feel a tiny bit better)

like, im not saying its never going to happen since we still have an episode left

but im not going to act as if the damn thing is nearly as emotionally fullfilling as the hug we desperate need

[noisilyscreechingsong]

It’s canon that Jason Todd had a brother named Danny Todd. All we know is he died being a look out for a local gang. Who’s to say he didn’t die at the age of fourteen and come back? Maybe the Fentons were investigating the levels of ectoplasm in the area and somehow got their hands on an amnesic kid who died and didn’t quite stay dead? Perhaps they wanted to make him their side experiment, or they wanted to see if they can teach it to be good and not evil. Who knows. But as soon at Danny steps foot in Gotham, the entity of Gotham is there to greet him, welcome him home and remind him of who he was. And does he remember.

Danny is just a year or two younger than Dick and he was supposed to be starting a new job in the R&D department of WE. Instead he’s pushed back his start date to do research.

Of course, the first thing he looks up is his family, his original family that he can’t believe he forgot, to find out his mother, his father, and his little baby brother are all dead and buried. He has to take a break to sob uncontrollably on the kitchen floor for a while before gathering himself back up to find out what happened. He is unimpressed with the lack of information on Jason’s death, but he did find lots on his adoption to mister rich guy Brucie Wayne.

So it’s with almost no hesitation that after finding every single article and snippet he can on his brother and still find it lacking, he drives his motorcycle, that he built himself thank you, to Wayne Manor where he rang the buzzer repeatedly with a little too much force.

It takes him a while to finally bully his way through the gates, arguing with the butler and telling little white lies of ‘of course I don’t want to harm Mr. Wayne, I just need to ask him some questions’.

Sure he could have waited and got close to him through his new job or had some other cunning plan, but Danny has always been a straightforward kind of person and that didn’t change after his death. No, he prefers to get what he wants straight from the source.

That’s how he ends up pacing the length of the sitting room the British guy left him in with a deep glare and tense shoulders.

It was a nice place. Clean. Taken care of. Expensive. Jason lived here once upon a time. Too bad it didn’t last.

Mr. Wayne does show, surprisingly, and takes the time to assess him like a threat as he BS’s him with a ditzy expression.

Danny walks right up to him and sticks out his hand to shake because Jazz raised him with manners.

“Mr. Wayne,” he greets with a stiff nod.

Mr. Wayne hesitantly takes the offered hand.

“Uh, nice to meet you, I’m sorry, Alfred didn’t tell me your-“

As soon as the handshake is over Danny socks him with a right hook straight to the face. The force throws him back a few steps but he recovers quickly. Danny shakes out his hand.

“My name is Danny Fenton. Before that though my name was Danny Todd.” He sees Wayne’s eyes widen a bit in recognition. The next part didn’t really need to be said but he did it anyway. “My little brother was Jason and no I don’t have proof so you’ll just have to take my word for it. You are going to tell me exactly how he died and I’m not leaving here until you do.”

His words had fallen back into his Gotham Crime Alley accent with how emotional he was. He forgot how he even used to talk. How does that even happen?

He walks back to sit on the couch, getting comfortable because he has a feeling this guy will drag this out like pulling teeth.

“I’ll ask Alfred to get some refreshments,” Wayne says after several minutes of silence.

“You do that.”

[starlostseungmin]

a wedding and an unexpected meeting — han jisung.

୨୧‎ 𖹭⠀⁺　best man!han x fem!reader (she/her pronouns).

SUMMARY: 　you caught his attention during the wedding ceremony and after that, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

GENRE & WARNING/S:　 fluff, strangers-to-lovers, han and reader’s characters are inspired by charles and carrie, han is smitten, skz members that were mentioned and the reader are in their late 20s, alcohol consumption, swearing, a few paragraphs of kissing, inaccurate description of places maybe? semi-proofread, lmk if i missed one.

WORD COUNT: 　4.1k

୨୧‎ 𖹭⠀⁺　inspired by four weddings and a funeral, if you haven’t watched it then you should! also note that the places mentioned are inaccurate, so please don’t mind everything. dedicating this to @starseungs for surviving a bad week and to han for it is his birthday today !! don’t forget to reblog and leave feedback.

“Don’t be such a doofus! Go and talk to her!” Jisung heard Hyunjin say after he kept banging his head on the pole of a random tent at the reception. 

He’s been greeting everyone and received congratulatory messages that would later be relayed to his brother. With all smiles and handshakes, the draining social interactions, and trying to keep up with the conversation, Jisung just wanted to have his forehead get struck by the pole but then, the “you” situation happened. It created this burning urge inside of him that he wanted to make a move yet your presence being his top priority, he couldn’t move at all. 

“What if she won’t like me?” Jisung answered with doubt in his voice as he looked at Hyunjin worriedly. “I’m such an awkward person! You know I never approached someone before!” He added, grabbing Hyunjin’s collar making the latter almost spill his glass of champagne. 

“The woman won’t eat you alive Han! Man up.” Hyunjin groaned, trying to get his friend’s grip off from his expensive suit. 

“Easy for you to say! You’re handsome and people would swoon over you. I am surprised that you’re still single in your late 20s.” Jisung retorted as Hyunjin glared at him and sighed. 

“So what?” Hyunjin argued, rolling his eyes in annoyance. 

“Are you sure you won’t use your face to get laid tonight?” He asked with those eyes filled with sadness for his dear friend. 

“I don’t give a fuck about dating and leave my hopeless romantic ass alone so go ahead and make yourself useful or something!” Hyunjin shooed as he pushed Jisung away from him. The younger boy scoffed at him while fixing his white blazer and went ahead. 

“Such a waste of potential!” Jisung told him but Hyunjin just turned his back away and left the pole. 

It is indeed a special day for everyone in the reception but to Jisung, it’s not just his older brother’s wedding day. He stood at the altar as one of his brother’s best men as the bride glided gracefully through the aisle way back at the church two hours ago. You stood from one of the benches after the maids of honor, wearing that beige dress to match the motif. Jisung saw you there, all beautiful and elegant, a gorgeous creature he had never seen before. It’s not safe to say that it was love at first sight but he was captured by your bewitching presence. He stood there with confidence in the hope that you’d notice him too. Maybe not, for you didn’t know who he was. 

He asked for your name after the wedding ceremony but no one knew as you were new in town. You were clinging to your only friend at the venue, Jeongin whom you shared classes with when you were in college, and yet, he was out there hanging out with his other friends leaving you alone by the fountain. No hard feelings, aside from him, you were there for the bride. 

“Y/N! I’m so happy you could make it.” The bride beamed as she approached you with a hug. 

“Pleasure to be here. I can’t miss your wedding.” You smiled at her. “Congratulations on another chapter in your life!” 

Jisung stopped in his tracks as he stood two meters away from where you and the bride were having a conversation. He was drawn into how soft-spoken you were and the way you laugh is so elegant and classy. He also finds your smile pretty and the way you keep a pleasing eye contact with the bride somewhat makes him want to experience from you as well. A short exchange of words is not your best feature when it comes to socializing but having to understand the fact that you’re not the only guest around is acceptable and it wasn’t long after that the bride left for another guest to entertain as you sat down on the rim of the fountain, sipping on your glass of wine while enjoying the busy sight of people sharing gossip and laughs. 

It was his chance but shame and being bashful made him turn his back on you when the bride left as his heart started to beat faster than normal when he knew he was done waiting for you two to finish. It was crazy how his heart wouldn’t stop jumping as if it was going to rip his chest to get out from the excitement he felt the moment he laid eyes on you back at the church. He doesn’t know what to say to start a conversation and he hates himself for wasting minutes while you sit there, so beautiful in his eyes. But not until you noticed him being uneasy. 

You weren’t dense not to notice him ever since the wedding march started. His eyes were on you instead of the bride but you pretended not to put much thought into it because maybe he was looking at someone else. Another guest went to you and told you about a guy asking for your name but he was called by Jeongin (surprisingly) even before you could say your name. He was also going to approach you first but the bride beat him to it and when it was his turn, he couldn’t move, instead, you could see the shape of his back from where you were sitting. And that’s when you were sure, it was you he was interested about. 

“You know, you’ll never get the girl if you stay still on your spot.” You said making him flinch in response and slowly turning around to face you. 

“H-Hi?” Jisung greeted you with that sheepish smile of his as you stood up from the rim and walked toward him. 

“Hi.” You smiled and oh boy, he was smitten. It was like having to see an angel amid a large crowd. 

“I’m sorry if I ever made you uncomfortable, I’m not a creep or anything. I’m justー” Jisung said, waving his hands in front of you implying that he has nothing but good intentions. 

“No, no, I totally understand.” You said cutting him off and offering your hand for a shake. “I’m Y/F/N (your full name), the bride’s college roommate and you are?” 

“Jisung, but everyone calls me Han. I’m the younger brother of the groom.” He said, shaking your hand and it was so soft that he didn’t want to let go. “Nice to meet you.” 

“Nice to meet you too, Han.” You smiled at him. 

He is cuteーthat you admitーhe also stood out from everyone else as he wore that white blazer among the four other best men his brother had recruited. His long black locks were styled neatly with a bit of his bangs sprayed still on the sides of his face, a white polo shirt inside that white blazer, a cream-colored tie around his collar, the black slacks, and the shoes, he looked neat and attractive. Han didn’t want to leave a bad impression when this day ends and Hyunjin was right, he needed to man up to finally be able to get himself useful to society and flirt. He can’t blame the poor man for not having a lot of experience when it comes to finding a partner, and so do you. 

Despite his feeling of shame and you, not loving to interact with strangers, you are thankful that he came by albeit there was a long pause between you and him. To be honest with yourself, you didn’t know how to start a conversation either but Han most definitely caught your attention as well and you’re happy about it. The loneliness faded into thin air as his smile brought color into your gloomy and colorless solo flight. 

Maybe it was fate that brought the two of you together in the same place at the same event. The sounds of people coming and going, their conversations, the laughter, and the wind were making the atmosphere somewhat entertaining to listen to. Jeongin was talking with his old friends, and Hyunjin was with them. Everyone is busy with their bubbles leaving you and Han together. 

“So uhm, do you know anyone around here?” He asked you, finally breaking the ice. 

“Apart from the bride, there’s Jeongin.” You said pointing at your dear friend using your glass of wine. 

“Oh, you’re with Jeongin? I’m sorry!” He said, upon realizing you must’ve been taken and mentally wanting to slap him square on the face. 

“No!” You giggled. “I mean, not in that kind of relationship. We shared classes in college with the bride so we’re pretty close. We’re just friends and I came here with him.” You reassured as Jisung sighed in relief. “You know him?” You asked. 

“Yeah, he’s a family friend and a business partner. I thought you were together.” He blurted out making you laugh. 

“Oh, but it’s not that.” You smiled, taking a glance at Jeongin from afar. “Actually, it has been a while since the last time we saw each other since he started working and I’m on break from my masters.” You added. 

“Masters?” He asked, feeling intrigued. 

“Yeah, Liberal Arts in a university in (country).” You answered, sipping a few amounts of wine.

“Wow! You’re amazing. So you’re new in town?” Jisung must’ve been entertained in this conversation as he kept getting interested. With such beauty that also possesses a great mind, he is never going to turn his back away from this. 

“Well, you could say that because I have never been outside of Seoul before. It’s my first time to be here in Chuncheon.” You said as Jisung nodded thinking it might be a good chance to know you more. 

“Well, I could show you aroundーI mean…” Jisung wanted to slap himself for being direct and let the ground eat him because of embarrassment but he only earned another laugh from you which made it more degrading but endearing at the same time for he finds it cute. “I mean, if you’re not going to leave for Seoul or if you still have time before your break ends. I swear, nothing creepy though. I mean… uhm… it’s just that…well fuck.” He stammered with a flustered look on his face. 

“I get it, Han.” You giggled at his cuteness making him red as his hands got shaky and cold. “I’ll be back in Seoul by Friday afternoon so that gives you a day left to show me around.” 

“Really?” 

You know it wasn’t right to trust a stranger at first hello but the thing with Han Jisung is just so shielded. He’s the cute guy you met at the wedding and finally pursued a conversation. Not only that, he made a subtle way to ask you out and you answered. Even him got surprised. He wasn’t expecting you’d be up to it immediately. There’s nothing suspicious about those round eyes and cute cheeks with all the stammering and awkwardness. 

“Yeah.” You said. It seemed like you were desperate too but it’s been lonely since you arrived yesterday. Jeongin was with his friends and only accompanied you to dinner because you were too shy to go along with the other guests staying at the same hotel. “But I have to leave in a few minutes since I need to submit some paperwork to my professor before the deadline tonight.” 

“Where are you staying? I can walk you there or give you a rideー”

“It’s fine Han, I’m just at the bride and groom’s hotel until Friday after lunchtime. How about you?” 

“Well, they’re planning to have a yacht party tonight so I’ll be there with my friends and newlyweds of course.” He answered as you gave him a nod. 

“I hope you’ll have fun later.” You smile at him as you take a glance at your wristwatch. 

“Thanks.” He said as he noticed you looking at the time. “Is it okay if I walk you back to your hotel?” He asked as you look at him again. 

“Wouldn’t your brother and friends look for you?” You asked him.

“They wouldn’t. They know I don’t like big crowds and my friend just shooed me away before I came to you.” He said making you laugh again in response and place your empty glass of wine on the waiter’s glass tray who happened to walk by. 

“That wouldn’t be a problem.” You said. 

“Lead the way!” He beamed. 

You knew you had a lot to talk about while you were on your way to the hotel not far from the reception. It was a breezy afternoon and the sun was almost at its peak to welcome the night sky. Han is sure to have a lot of things to share as you listen to him. A long exchange of words happened and it is quite entertaining knowing that you (surprisingly) have a lot in common. He is the type of guy to smile a lot and gets really hyped when excited. You, on the other hand, got smitten with him and found it cute. The jokes he said and the laughs you’ve shared, he’s funny without making any effort. 

When it was your turn to say something about yourself, it came out to be unexpected with all the things you carried from the moment you met Jeongin and the bride. You made him laugh out of your clumsiness, for being forgetful nowadays because you get busy. After all, he can totally relate and tell you he would always carry a piece of paper and a pen with him despite having a notes app on his phone. The story of you being single for a while after a nameless, stupid, irrational guy dumped you during the anniversary of your university way back in college and how flings don’t work on you because the guys you tried to date were all fuckers. Jisung wanted to be different. 

It wasn’t the wine that you had earlier but minute by minute that you spent with him, Jisung became more handsome in your eyes. You could listen to his voice all day without getting tired of it and the fact that he also mentioned that he sings, made your heart leap even more. He came out to be somewhat nerdy but in an acceptable way and he is thankful for letting him talk about a lot of things without getting bored of him. The anxiousness of having a stranger beside you just vanished as you became comfortable with his presence yet you know that he’s not a stranger anymore but a new person you decided to open the door to your life even if it’s just for a short while. 

“Well, this is me.” You said as you both stopped at the entrance of the hotel. 

“It was nice spending some time with you Y/N.” He smiled despite the feeling of sadness he had inside because he didn’t want it to end. 

“Thank you for keeping me company, Han.” You smiled back and he knew he had to leave in a few minutes for the party tonight. 

“Not a problem actually but uhm…” He paused. “May I ask you out tomorrow? I mean, you mentioned you’re not so familiar with Chuncheon so maybe I can show you around? If that conversation and agreement is still valid of course! I mean, I won’t take it to heart if you’re notー” He stopped when he felt your lips on his cheek making him turn red. 

“You may.” You smiled at him as he was utterly speechless. 

“S-so, uhm… will 9 or 10 in the morning tomorrow?” He asked, feeling bashful as ever. 

“9 am would be great. Good night, Han.” 

“Good night.” He said. 

And with you disappearing across the double doors of the hotel’s entrance Jisung almost passed out. His heart was going crazy again but good for him, he finally asked you out. He may want to thank Hyunjin for shooing him away earlier just to get to you but for now, he wanted to keep it sane for himself and let the excitement burst later when he’s alone. A big and cheeky smile is plastered on his face as he takes his way back to the reception to meet his friends so he can get a ride to the yacht party later. 

“Where have you been?” That’s what Changbin asked the moment he arrived, still having that lovesick smile on his face earning a disgusted look from his friends. 

“Yeah, did you finally get laid?” Hyunjin smirked making him slap his arm in response as the smile faded and turned into an annoyed one. 

“With whom?” Jeongin asked, feeling intrigued. 

“Oh shut up you three.” Jisung sighs. “I met a girl, talked to her, walked her back to the hotel, and asked her out.” He said. 

“Finally! You made yourself useful for once, Han.” Hyunjin clapped. “Is it the girl in a beige dress?” He asked as Changbin and Jeongin raised a brow. 

“Yep,” Jisung smiled. “Thank you for leaving Y/N alone earlier, Jeongin, I owe you one.” He added, taking the younger one’s hands and shaking them violently. 

“You were with Y/N?” Jeongin gasped despite his disbelief. 

“Who?” Changbin asked, feeling completely out of place. 

“None of your goddamn business. I’m taking her out tomorrow and perhaps, show her around Chuncheon so you three can go hiking without me. Ha!” Jisung exclaimed and made his way to the car, dancing in joy. The three of his friends looked at each other in amusement and later shrugged the thoughts off to move to the next venue. 

It was already dark when they left the reception after getting everyone’s attention to announce that to those who wanted to attend the after-party at the yacht by the coast. Changbin was driving as Hyunjin and Jeongin were talking. Jisung was surprisingly quiet despite his excitement earlier and he was beating himself upーthinking about giving up the after-party to get back to the hotelーhe couldn’t wait to spend the day tomorrow and he could only decide to meet you halfway from his next destination. It’d be stupid if he’d ask Changbin to stop the car and make an excuse for having an upset stomach when in fact he walked out of the car and went back to the hotel. Hyunjin wasn’t convinced about Jisung being a pathological liar but they let him go anyway. 

Jisung didn’t get scared of the dark when he decided to leave and went straight to your hotel when all of the guests were heading to the yacht. You stayed behind because of the commitment to your masters and you didn’t want to fail. Jisung asked the front desk about your room being out of breath because of the running as you typed into your laptop by the windowsill, trying to get a nice view of this foreign place. You weren’t expecting any unexpected things to happen tonight aside from submitting paperwork not until you heard a knock outside your door. The laptop is soon left unattended on your couch as you make your way to the door and take a peek from the small hole. It was him.

“Han?” You asked, immediately after opening the door for him. 

He was still wearing his suit and was about to knock again. It looks like he was hesitating to get here but there was this unspoken spark and excitement in his eyes that he could not hold it in that’s why he ended up here. Also, he can’t get you out of his mind and seems to have a lot to say to you albeit in the conversation you had this afternoon. Being frozen on his spot, he couldn’t construct the words into sentences the moment you opened the door and just stared at you, thinking what he should say or just let his lips crash onto yours because of his goddamn feelings. He admits, he was curious and drawn into you the time he laid his eyes on you and now he’s here trying to make up the time he wasted after saying good night. 

“Han, what are you doing here?” You asked. “I thought you were going to the after-party.” 

“Changed my mind on my halfway there.” He said. “Well, I know I said I’ll be here tomorrow by 9 but I just couldn’t wait.” 

“What?” You asked again, confused but you couldn’t lie to yourself that you feel the same even though you just met hours ago. 

“Y/N.” He called as he locked eyes with you and there he realized it was indeed love at first sight. “Fuck.” He hissed, feeling his lips onto yours. 

It was unexpected but without hesitation, you returned the kiss. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him inside while he closed the door from behind. His kisses were desperate and longing at first filled with unspoken words as they became tender and exploratory with a hint of excitement and commitment. Your eyes shut at the slam of your lips together, the taste of wine and champagne getting mixed lingered upon the kiss. It was sweet as your lips molded together, feeling each other’s hot breaths at the tip of your noses as it got deeper. 

Your hands reached for his neat hair which was now messy and disheveled as your fingers played with the long strands of his black locks. He snaked his one hand around your waist to pull you closer to his body and let you melt against his kisses while the other hand was placed on your jaw to feel it better. The kiss is tempting and hot. It wasn’t like the kisses you felt before from the guys you allegedly dated, not even close to your first kiss when you were in middle school. Jisung’s kiss is so different as you feel sincerity and fondness. You didn’t want to break it, you wanted to feel a little bit more. 

Jisung doesn’t want to stop either but the fact that kissing someone he just met is a bold and shameful move. He loved your lips at first taste and now you’re getting pinned against your door hearing a loud thud as he continued to move his lips on yours. You hugged him again as he placed his knee between your legs so you couldn’t escape and you didn’t have the intention to. He could feel how eager you were that it made him smirk against your lips and he couldn’t stop himself from it. 

Your hands reached for his collar to pull him closer to yours to feel more although you know it’s not right for you to be this desperate. I didn’t matter anymore. The years of not being able to be kissed properly are something that you don’t deserve and now Jisung is the very first one to make your heart flutter like butterflies, you can’t just let him go after this. He also knew you felt the same the moment you got struck like lightning by his frantic kiss. Again, it doesn’t matter. You want him too, that’s all you both need to know. 

“I want to be with you,” He said, slightly pulling away from your lips upon trying to catch his breath. You locked eyes with him again as you placed a soft kiss on his lips before smiling at him. 

“Isn’t it weird that I want to be with you too?” You asked him as he chuckled in response. 

“No, it’s not.” He said. “Did I interrupt something before I…” 

“No,” You said cheekily and kissed him again. “Are you staying for the night?” 

“If I’m allowed to?” He answered between the kisses.

“You may.” You answered before pulling away. “But what about the party?” 

“I can’t go now that we’re doing this.” He giggled. “Let me stay here for a while. I mean my room is just above this floor so I’ll take some clothes and we can spend the rest of the night together and go on a date tomorrow like we agreed…?” He added as he caressed your cheek, still keeping that eye contact with you. 

“Sure, let’s do that.” You said as he gave you a forehead kiss before excusing himself to go to his room, leaving you all hot and a blushing mess. Meanwhile, he was out there by the hallway dancing while humming his favorite tune and being all smiley about what just happened. 

It is indeed a special day, a wedding, and an unexpected meeting.

୨୧‎ 𖹭⠀⁺　───　 @notastraykid , @ameliesaysshoo , @l3visbby , @reignessance , @lix-ables , @skzfelixlove , @rachabreathing , @hyunverse , @minluvly , @sleepyleeji , @starseungs , @midsoulz , @oddracha , @armystay89 , @lashaemorow , @hanjsquokka , @suebin , @starlostastronaut , @stayconnecteed , @myjisung , @arrasuh 　( open. )

©️ 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍 , 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒.

[pinkdaiisies]

hi! Can you write something for angus Tully where she goes to the sister school of Barton and maybe they have a meet cute in town??? After winter break

Angus Tully X Reader

745 words | i feel like i could write a second part to this. lmk if you guys would read.

Winter break was officially over. The new semester had started, and after your first week back you wanted nothing more than to find a new book in town to make the beginning of the semester somewhat enjoyable.

So that's exactly what you did. Once classes were over that Friday evening, you put on your big coat and scarf and marched into town. Perhaps you would even grab a coffee for the walk back! The walk into town wasn't too long, but it sure felt longer now that a light snow started to fall upon you.

On your walk there, you noticed a lot of the Barton boys headed into town as well. The rowdiness of the teenage boys took your usual quiet and scenic walk into a cold and treacherous journey.

St. Francis was Barton's sister school, meaning you were in forced proximity with loud teenage boys anytime you wanted peace and quiet away from campus. You were even forced to go to formals and spring flings with school! You didn't understand the appeal for any of the Barton students, you thought they were all stuck up and superficial.

Eventually, you made it to the second hand book shop that you loved so dearly. When you opened the door the bell on top of the door rung, and you were met with the labyrinth of stacked books on the floor and bookshelves.

The smell of old books comforted you as you started your hunt for Franny and Zooey by J.D Salinger.

The somewhat alphabetized shelves helped, until you were looking between the S's and the T's with still no sign of the book. You started to run your finger along the books faster and reading the names quicker until you bumped into someone.

""Oh! I'm so sorry-" You started to apologize when you noticed the white book with the green spine in his hand. "That's Franny and Zooey." You said matter of factly. Your eyebrows pinched in annoyance.

"Yes, it is." The tall boy with curly hair said. "I've been wanting to read it for months." The boy flipped through the pages quickly with his thumb.

"I walked here in the snow for that book. Its the only copy they have on the shelf!" You argued, although, you knew deep down the mystery boy had beaten you fair and square to the book. You felt like making him feel a little sorry for you though.

"Well I'm sorry, but I was in here 15 minutes before you, so I don't know what you want me to say. I'm Angus by the way." He threw his name in there at the last second, and for a second, you took your attention off the book and onto the boy in front of you. He was tall... and not too hard to look at. You could tell he went to Barton though by the way he wasn't letting you have the book. Despite the fact that he was handsome, you were not walking out of the book store without that book.

You mumbled your name back in politeness. You needed that book, but had no other way to argue him out of it. You two fell into an awkward silence.

"I'll tell you what, I go to Barton. I'm guessing you go to St. Francis?" You nodded at his question. "Okay so, how about you let me read the book first, and in a week from now we can meet up and I'll lend it to you?" Angus negotiated with a flirtatious smirk.

You figured his idea was pretty reasonable. Either that or his smirk was working.

"Okay. Deal." You reached your hand out for a handshake. He copied you, but you pulled your hand away at the last second. "Only, if you buy me a coffee for my walk back. I'm not going back to school empty handed." You put your hand out again, only this time Angus hesitated. Was coffee to far? Did he not want to be seen out in public with some random girl?

"Deal." Angus smiled as he reached out for your hand. You sighed a breath of relief.

The handshake lasted longer than a handshake should ever be. Angus held incredibly good eye contact with you. Too good... You looked away with a faint blush on your cheeks.

The walk back to St. Francis was better than the walk into town. Coffee in hand and a new friend by your side.

[sixtsposts]

The Student and the Teacher - Newt Scamander

TW: female!reader

Y/N, a young New York witch who has always been passionate about magical creatures, heard about a magical zoologist who lives in London. So she went looking for him in the hope that he would teach her his trade.

She walks the streets on the lookout for the slightest clue that could help her find this famous Newt Scamander. When suddenly, while passing in front of an antique jewelry store, she saw something moving inside. She stopped her steps and returned to the window and was not surprised to see a Niffler filling the pocket of her belly with necklaces, earrings and other sparkling objects. Without being able to hold it back, the young girl burst into crystal-clear laughter and drew her magic wand to try to recover the little thief creature.

But before she could do anything a young man with curly hair arrived followed by another man with a mustache. He broke the window with an unspoken spell and rushed into the window to try to recover the Niffler. Unfortunately, the beast jumped out of the store, slithering across the road. Y/N then rushed towards the poor creature who was unable to escape from her. The young man got out of the trashed window and shook his wand to put everything back in order. With a disappointed look, the wizard collected his suitcase and began to walk away. But before he could left with his friend the young girl ran to him, handing him her Niffler. The man's gaze moved from the girl to the creature and so on.

- I managed to catch your Nifleur before he escaped Sir, she said, smiling.

The young brunette then gave him a frank smile and took the creature in his arms before putting it back in his suitcase.

- Thank you so much...

She told him his name and shook his hand honestly.

- You are Newt Scamander, aren't you?

- Um yes yes, it's me. He smiled shyly

- I was just looking for you, Mister Scamander... He cut him off.

- Please call me Newt.

- Of course! Well, Newt, I was looking for you.

- Looking for me? He frowned.

- Yes ! I was told you were the only one magiczoologist that exists. And being passionate about magical creatures I I was wondering if you could teach me your trade... maybe?

She finished her sentence in a whisper, not sure of his reaction. Norbert raised his eyebrows, surprised. Then he gave a small smile.

- Well, you can to come to my reserve and I'll see what you're capable of... Other than catching Nifflers I mean, which is very useful you can believe me.

She laughed softly and followed him, happier than ever. They apparated together and arrived at Newt's house, in his reserve. The young girl was finally able to put into practice everything she had studied for so long. And it must be admitted that Norber was rather enthusiastic at the idea of ​​having him as an apprentice.

- Where did you learn all that? He asked curiously.

- Well, thanks to your book Newt. She replied, laughing.

He turned red and laughed heartily with her. The evening continued like this. And after two hours of visit and treatment they went back upstairs. There, Newt returned to Y/N and him while holding out his hand.

- Y/N, you are officially my apprentice. He smiled. She returned his handshake almost jumping because she was so happy.

- Oh thank you Newt, you won't regret it not, I promise you!

- Oh but I'm sure of it. He smiles crookedly looking at her with piercing eyes without realizing it.

The young girl could not keep from turning scarlet. After that they all went to eat and Y/N was able to meet Newt's friend, Jacob Kowalski. A very nice boy who's very in love with a certain Queeny Goldstein. He told you she was the sister of Tina Goldstein, the girl with whom Norbert would be in love said Jacob

- No Jacob, I already told you, Tina and I it's over. He said shaking his head.

- Oh, did you argue? Asked carefully Y/N.

-Ah no, not at all. We left by mutual agreement. We were better friends after all. And that's what we are now. He gave his friend a pointed look which made the young girl laugh.

The end of the meal was in a good mood. Jacob leaves right after and the two found themselves alone. They were chatting on the sofa in a quiet atmosphere

- By the way Y/N what were you doing back in America? he asked, facing the young girl, her head resting on her hand and her elbow propped on the back of the sofa.

- Well I was studying. I just finished a few weeks ago. After that I came directly to pick you up. She replied, sitting cross-legged facing the brunette.

- Oh but then, how old are you? He said, getting up and going to get the kettle which was starting to whistle.

- I'm 22 years old.

They talked for another hour, while drinking tea before going to bed.

- Well, good night Newt. See you tomorrow !She said as she got ready to go through the door. entry.

- Wait, where are you going to sleep? he worried.

- Oh I think I would find one hostel or hotel for the night.

- It's already past midnight Y/N, you won't find anything tonight.

- But yes, don't worry. I'll manage. She smiles at him.

- And for tomorrow and the other days eh? No, out of question. I can't let a young girl wander the streets of London alone in the middle of the night. You can take the guest room! He said it all in one go and she smiled softly.

- All right. She said simply.

- Really ? Awesome ! So come, follow me.

He took her to a nice little room where she opened her suitcase and settled down to sleep. The next morning she got up first, being used to being woken up very early by her family. So she set about preparing breakfast to thank her host. She was making the omelette when the latter arrived in the small kitchen, shirtless.

Seeing the young girl, the frying pan in her hand, her mouth open and her red cheeks staring at him, he realized that he was not alone, jumped up and stammered apologies before going to put on a black tank top. He wore loose beige fabric pants and was barefoot.

Y/N, on the other hand, was wearing a large shirt and pajama pants too. Newt was scarlet red while the young girl couldn't help but laugh at the scene that had unfolded before her eyes a few minutes before.

- I'm sorry Y/N, I forgot that I was no longer alone. He admitted embarrassed.

- Oh no, it's nothing Newt. This isn't the first torso I've seen, you kn-

But she didn't finish her sentence when she realized what she was saying, she in turn turned purple. This time it was the magiczoologist who burst into hearty laughter.

- No, well what I mean is that I grew up with three brothers so I often saw them shirtless. Saw you? She said stuttering.

- I see yeah... He replied simply, a smile on his face as he scrutinized the young girl in front of him. It’s true that now that you mention it, you haven’t yet told me about your family.

- Oh there is nothing interesting to say really. To be honest, I've never had a very good relationship with them. She said as she served him the omelette.

- Thanks, that looks delicious! Exclaimed the wizard, throwing himself at the food. Is that why you came to London? To escape them?

- Run away from them no, just take a step back.. But beyond everything it was to find you Sir. She gave him an amused look as her cheeks took on a rosy tint.

- Well, I'm delighted to have served as an alibi for you to escape from the United States. He laughs.

- We can hardly make a better alibi must be said! She laughed in turn.

Once breakfast was finished, Newt took his assistant to his basement. They spent the day talking to each other, inadvertently touching their hands and so on.

The days passed and it was almost two months since Y/N worked alongside Scamander and obviously the contact between the two individuals became more familiar. They had become very accomplices. It was obvious that Norbert liked the young girl, he even felt more fascination for her than for Tina before. And conversely, Y/N was very attracted to the magiczoologist but convinced that he could never love her. And then she was too young for him and not beautiful enough.

Well, that's what she thought until the day when Newt - under Jacob's advice of course - decided to surprise him. The first night they met, after dinner once Jacob had left, she told him that she had always dreamed of having her own Niffler. But she never could because her parents hated animals and now she can't because she doesn't have enough money. However, it turns out that Newt's Nifflers have just had a litter of baby Nifleurs. So he said it would be nice to have one for her. And then he also planned to confess his feelings to her this evening. That evening Y/N was returning from a visit to Queeny - with whom she had become very friend - and had just put her coat on the rack when she felt a presence at her back. She turned around to face Newt with a big smile, her cheeks rosy.

- Y/N.

- Newt, what’s wrong? she asked puzzled by his intense gaze.

Without answering he slipped his arm around her waist and guided her to the sofa where she sat. The magical zoologist stood before her and him in front of a small wooden box with a hole in it. Inside, the girl saw something moving.

- It's for you. The wizard said softly to him. I hope you like it. He concluded with a cute little smile when she carefully took the box from his hands.

She opened the lid of the box and examined the contents. Suddenly her eyes lit up, she carefully placed the box on the coffee table and jumped on top of the man to give him a hug. The person in question returned her embrace by wrapping his arms around her and holding her close to him as if he no longer wanted her to leave. He breathed in the perfume that emanated from her hair, she smelled good of lavender. He loves lavender.

She broke away from him and kissed him on the plays while whispering a little: “thank you infinitely Norbert, I don't know how thank you". Then she turned around to look at the box when a hand clung to her wrist. He turned her towards him and with a quick step approached her, placed his hand on her cheek and placed her lips on his.

After few seconds of surprise she young girl responded to his kiss by slipping her hands into the sorcerer's hair. He then placed his other hand on her hips. The kiss lasted for several more seconds and the two lovers had to separate because of the lack of oxygen.

- Y/N I like you... I really do. He whispered to him gently.

- Oh if you knew how I waited moment. Obviously I love you Norbert.

And she kissed him again. And that's it, lrt's leave the two lovers the privacy they need. In any case, what is certain is that it was a shock for Jacob to show up at his friend's house and surprise him in bed with the young girl. But strangely, Queeny wasn't surprised at all...

[simplydnp]

honestly I was thinking the same as you RE rebrand but it did seem weird that he just said "here at dan and phil" and not "dan and phil games" idk maybe I'm reading too much into it lol but the obviously scripted that whole thing so it could've been a deliberate hint? and obviously the glitching like it's disappearing?

oh anon you've opened a can of worms

to me, the way dan said 'here at dan and phil' came across more like poking fun at it rather than it happening.

many months ago i had discussions about if dapg would rebrand, and i said dan would rather die than rebrand to 'dan and phil' because it comes with different expectations. it reads like a family vlogger channel name. it loses the 'games' plausible deniability that they sit so comfortably in. it's a big step to shed it. the audience knows that they're in for low-effort games with more of a focus on banting on dapg. even if most of what we want is to put dnp in a situation and go from there. specifically changing to 'dan and phil' would feel almost more invasive--like it's inviting that--and i don't think either of them want that. they're happy to do domestic content when it suits them--on dapg or phil's channel--without it becoming what they are and what's expected of them.

nora also brought up that it's a big commitment, especially for dan. a years long kind of thing. and i'd argue that's not even far enough. once they go fully 'dan and phil', there's no going back. there's no pretending it didn't happen, there's no undo, there's no hiding what it means. when people refer to it, it will no longer be their gaming channel, but their joint lifestyle channel. i genuinely don't know if they're ready for that, or if they even want it. it would also be a pain to refer to, for both them and us. they could say 'our channel' sure, but how do we refer to it? the dnp channel? like it's some tv channel 😂 dap? where we have to learn a cool handshake? their joint channel? i'm sure you see the issues here.

further into the logistics--they'd need new logos and banners and such, but the two of them have really stuck to classic youtuber formulas, especially with their intros. the gaming channel intro is iconic, to the point phil's done it on his own channel before by accident. so what happens to it? phil opens every video saying 'hello dan and phil'? what happens to the traditions that we just got back? it's not to say they can Never play games again but it would feel so strange. especially with how casual they've been about other content appearing on the channel. i ask, what would be the point?

to me, a rebrand would signal a change. a big one, too. it's more than shaking up the status quo by reviving a channel and allowing different types of content to appear on it. it's not impossible, especially with the way they've been teasing the upcoming project. but i don't think it's likely. i don't think it's what we've been 'manifesting'.

but prove me wrong! i will gladly eat my words. i just want them happy. and if it is a rebrand i'll still be excited

[its-time-to-write]

Hi! I requested the last Jamie tartt/Kent!Sister that’s not phoebes mom.

Do you think you could another one with phoebe and Roy spending the day with them and phoebe making Roy jealous of how she adores Jamie? And reader just getting baby fever,and Roy figuring out she is and freaking out. Lol sorry it’s a lot! Thanks and love ur writing✨💜

Your wish is my command! I’m trying to get out of my writer’s block, so hopefully I’ll have more fics out tomorrow. We’ll see!

would it be enough if i could never give you peace?

Molly is at work. Again. Which means you’re watching Phoebe with your brother, Roy. You point out that Roy doesn’t technically have to be here, but Phoebe vehemently protests that he does. 

“Who will be the princess?” she asks, and you decide not to tell her that you wouldn’t mind. You sneak photos of Roy in the tiara to send to Jamie under the express condition that he never show anyone else. Jamie tells you that seeing the photo is enough for him. 

Jamie is not scared of Roy, by the way. Sure, he’s dating the youngest Kent sibling and sure, Roy hates his guts, but it’s all a show, innit? 

At least, that’s what Molly tells you both when you’re sitting at her kitchen table, distraught at 11pm. 

But regardless of Roy’s feelings, he’s going to have to get over it because you love Jamie and he’s here to stay and that’s that. You’re actually meeting him at the park (per Phoebe’s request) and then the four of you are headed to lunch and a movie. 

Jamie’s waiting on a bench by the time you make it to the park, and he lights up at the sight of you. He stands to greet you, but is intercepted by a running Phoebe. He puts his footballer reflexes to good use as he swings her high into the air as you shake your head grinning, and Roy just shakes his head. 

You watch Jamie put Phoebe back on the ground and begin some elaborate secret handshake and, like lightning, you’re struck with a feeling of oh shit.

“Oh shit,” you breathe aloud. 

Roy takes a sideways glance at you and his frown deepens.  “No,” he says, but you’re not listening. 

Because all you can think about is Jamie swinging your own kid into the air, or holding a tiny baby, or teaching a toddler how to kick a football.

In fact, it’s all you can think about the entire time you’re out. You forget to breathe as he teases Phoebe about her lunch order and Roy has to elbow you and say, “For fuck’s sake.” 

Phoebe is holding Jamie’s hand and skipping on the way to the movie while you and Roy walk a ways behind them. His knee’s hurting him a little bit, so you’ve linked your arm around his.

“Just like when we were kids, huh Roy-o?” you grin.

Roy snorts. “Don’t really remember us walking fucking hand-in-hand, unless it was me dragging you away from Molly and her fucking marshmallow shooter.”

You shudder. “You know she used to lick them so they’d stick to us, right?”

Roy grimaces. “And you want a kid with marshmallow-licking genes with fucking Tartt? He’s practically a fucking child himself.”

You open your mouth to protest but Roy shakes his head. 

“Don’t fucking argue with me, I see how you fucking look at him when he’s with Phoebe. Can practically hear the fucking wedding bells.”

You check to see if Jamie’s looking (he isn’t) then you punch Roy in the arm. “Fuck off, Roy. You love being an uncle. And Molly keeps asking when me and Jamie are going to take another step in our relationship, and maybe this is it. I mean sure, he’s a footballer and like probably the best one Richmond has ever seen-” Roy interjects with an oi- “and generally footballers don’t even want to settle down, but he’s dating me, and sure, it’s probably a little to fuel his obsession with you, I mean come on, our family has great eyebrows so it’s not a surprise that Jamie and I are together and fucking hell, Roy, he’d be such a great dad.”

Roy says, “You talked to fucking Molly about this?” like he’s been betrayed by his best friend.

You shrug with the one arm that isn’t held in his. “We all grew up in the same home and you didn’t realize that Molls is fucking nosy? Come on, Roy.”

Roy says, “Fucking hell,” and then you’re at the movie theater and unable to continue talking.

—

It is fucking late and you’re back at Jamie’s house. It’s just you two, and you’re in the kitchen with the dim lights on. You stayed at Molly’s after the movie while Roy cooked dinner, then stayed till she got back from the hospital. You and Jamie both decided you weren’t tired, which is why you’re on the floor of the kitchen eating out of a tub of ice cream.

You’ve both made a considerable dent when you put your spoon down and say, “Jamie.”

“Hm?” he asks, mouth full of mint chip.

“Do you-” you hesitate. “Do you ever think about where this is going?”

Jamie swallows and is silent, so you continue talking.

“I mean, obviously we don’t have to talk about it, I know that it’s a lot and we’re kind of just messing around, right? And with football and all that you don’t really have the whole settling-down kind of lifestyle, and anyway if you do it should probably be with a model or a pop star, especially since you’ve got the whole Beckham look going on right now.”

Jamie rolls his eyes and laughs. “That’s what you think? I’ve got the girl of my dreams and you think I’d dump you for a fucking model?”

You shrug without meeting his eyes.

“Oi,” Jamie says softly. “Is that really what you think? Or is this about something else?” He nudges your shoulder with his.

You sigh and turn to face him. “Look, I’ll tell you, but don’t fucking laugh or I’ll get Roy to mess you up.”

Jamie nods.

“I have baby fever.”

Jamie breaks into a grin and despite yourself, you mirror it.

“Don’t fucking laugh!” you protest, “It’s a real thing! And I have it so fucking bad, that all I could think about today is how much I wanted to go home and fuck you. I have no idea what we even did today. And Molly is always on me about giving Pheebs a cousin but I think it would actually kill Roy if I had a kid, because he still thinks of me as his baby sister even though I’m a literal adult.”

Jamie is shaking with poorly suppressed laughter and you shove him with your shoulder. “Why are you laughing, Jamie?” you giggle. “This is a real issue!”

Jamie is practically wheezing, doubled over and holding his sides. 

“Babe,” he manages to get out, “usually I’m the one who’s thinking about fucking you all the time. It’s fucking hilarious that it was you. Now you know what it’s like.”

Good lord, this boy. 

“And,” he continues, starting to wind down, “I didn’t realize Molly was talking to ya. Would’ve said something sooner if I knew.” He takes the ice cream out of your hands and pulls you onto his lap. You’re facing him, straddling his thighs. He places one hand on your cheek and the other on the back of your neck. “Love,” he says, “I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it a fucking lot, actually. I want all that shit with you, a wedding, kids, whatever. I ain’t ever letting you go.”

You smile and thread your fingers through his hair. “Oh yeah?” you ask. “What else have you thought about?”

Jamie’s eyes darken and his tongue darts between his teeth. “Well,” he says, hands sliding from your neck to your waist and under your shirt, “though about all the work it takes to make a baby.”

“Oh yeah?” you ask, except it comes out as a gasp because his hands are tracing soft patterns on your skin and you’re barely keeping yourself together, but you manage to breathe out a, “What else?”

Jamie smirks. “Well babe, pretty sure we’d have to be somewhere other than the floor to get the whole experience.”

You’re on your feet in a flash and pulling Jamie up the stairs to the bedroom. You’re good with this type of future planning.

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

The Other Half Part Twenty Three

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Notes: This is a long one y'all. There's more angst, BUT there's a fluffy ending, so. Ya just gotta trust me.

Length: 6K

Warnings: Angst that ends in fluff, so you're gonna suffer, but you're gonna be happy about it; canon-typical violence; a D-level DC villain that's usually more of a Superman baddie, but he's fought Batman once or twice, so.

Summary: When Michelle had announced that she would be moving to Keystone City, you’d burst into tears. Your other friends had passed it off as you being overcome by the news of your oldest and dearest friend moving, but Michelle knew you, and she knew better. It hadn’t taken her long to drag the truth out of you. 

“I never liked him.” 

Michelle’s flat insistence makes you splutter a laugh through your tears. You sniffle, raising both hands and scrubbing at your eyes, knowing that you're almost certainly ruining your makeup. You’ve tried to put on a brave face, but Michelle has known since you arrived that something was off. She’s banished everyone else from the kitchen, giving the two of you a quiet space to talk. The odd swell of laughter and conversation reaches you every few moments, reminding you that you’re having an incredibly sensitive conversation just a few feet away from people that would probably sell it to the Gotham Gazette for one corn chip. 

“Yes, you did,” You argue, raising your hand and scrubbing a tear away. 

“...I mean, a little.” Michelle rips a piece of paper towel off of the roll, passing it over. “Did he tell you why?” 

You dab at your eyes, trying to piece a reasonable explanation together—one that wouldn’t shock Michelle and expose Bruce’s secret. 

You had waited up for Bruce all night, but he’d never come back. At least, he hadn’t come back to you. You’d realized when you’d gone down for breakfast that Bruce had returned, but slept elsewhere—down in the bat cave, maybe, or in an entirely separate wing of the house? But there he was at the table, genially listening to your father discuss whether or not the Metropolis Metros had any chance of making the playoffs that year. You had gotten yourself some coffee and sat at the opposite end of the table, unable to catch Bruce’s eye. He was avoiding it; he was avoiding you. He’d kept that up as you’d seen your parents to the car, as you’d hugged your mother and dodged her attempts to discuss what had been said last night. You saw the firm handshake that Bruce had shared with your father, the strained smile that he’d managed as your father had insisted that he hoped that there weren't any hard feelings. 

The two of you had stood side by side as the car pulled out of the driveway, hands to yourselves, eyes set on the fading red tail lights until they were out of sight. 

“Can we talk about it?” You finally hedged. 

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.” 

You turned to watch him stride away, stunned. It took you a moment to follow, taking the stairs two at a time to catch up. 

“I think there’s a hell of a lot to talk about!” 

“I don’t agree.” 

“Why the hell not?” 

“Because they’re right.” 

“Excuse me?”

“They’re right!” Bruce barked, whirling around to face you. You froze in place, eyes widening as his yell echoed in the foyer. “I can’t keep you safe.” 

“You have kept me safe—You do keep me safe, Bruce!” 

“If I could, you never would’ve gotten kidnapped in the first place!” 

“I got out of there because of you—” 

“You got in there because of me!” 

“There are people in this world that are just plain greedy, Bruce. There’s nothing that you can do about that, it is not your fault.” 

“It’s my fault that you of all people were taken, and as long as you and I are together, you will continue to be a target.” 

“I don’t care!” 

“I do!” 

“Oh, so you get to go out every night and put people away and get the shit kicked out of you even though you know I hate it and that’s fine, right? Bruce Wayne can make his own damn decisions and put himself in as much danger as he wants, but I get into one little situation and that’s it? You’re decided? I don’t get a say in this?”

“You get a say. You have had a say, but I am through knowing that I’m endangering your life.” 

“Well let’s think this through, then. Who else are you putting in harm’s way? Lucius, for one—” 

“That’s enough—” 

“You’re endangering Alfred. Are you telling him that you’re through putting him in danger?” 

“Do not bring Alfred into this.” 

“It’s a bullshit argument, Bruce.” 

“I’m done talking about this,” He warned coldly, turning away from you. You didn’t let him get far, keeping a pace or two behind him as he strode toward the study.

“What if I’m not?” 

“I don’t give a damn.” 

“What do you want, Bruce?” 

“I want you to leave!” 

He stopped short again, but there was no danger of you slamming into him this time. In fact, you took one step back, then another. You searched Bruce’s face desperately as your entire body felt like it was going to cave in on itself. You shook your head a little, hands flexing at your sides as you forced yourself not to reach out, not to tug him in and hold him close and beg him, plead with him to reconsider. 

“You don’t mean that,” You insisted. 

“I do.” Bruce’s gaze dropped to your shoes. 

“Look at me.” 

“I’ll have Alfred pack your things—” 

“Look me in the goddamn eye and tell me that.” 

“You can stay at the penthouse until Michelle can move you back in.” 

“Bruce, don’t do this—” 

“You can take as long as you need.” 

“You—” You reached up, grasping the lariat necklace and yanking it roughly. You felt the clasp break roughly against your skin, heard diamonds scatter as you tossed it at his feet. “You are a fucking coward.” 

You hadn’t let him see you cry, but you were sure he’d heard you. You’d hardly made it into your shared bedroom before you’d knelt down and let out a raw, sharp scream—one so long and so loud that you were hoarse when it finally broke. You had spent the day hiding out in your room, and had only managed to stop crying just long enough to fake a few smiles at Friendsgiving. 

When Michelle had announced that she would be moving to Keystone City, you’d burst into tears again. Your other friends had passed it off as you being overcome by the news of your oldest and dearest friend moving, but Michelle knew you, and she knew better. It hadn’t taken her long to drag the truth out of you. 

“We just, um…” You sniffle. “We just haven’t been seeing eye to eye on a lot of things lately.” 

“Marriage? Kids?” 

You shake your head at her plying. 

“A lot of things.” 

“...Does this have anything to do with the fact that your parents were at Thanksgiving?”

“Let’s just say their visit was less than stellar.” 

“Oh, hon, I’m sorry,” Michelle shakes her head, taking your hands in hers. You give them a gentle squeeze in turn, eyes swimming as you look down at them. She’s quiet for a few moments before she plies: 

“What are you going to do?” 

“...May as well move to Metropolis,” You admit. “Mom and dad are there, you’re leaving, and Bruce…” You clear your throat. “There’s nothing keeping me here.” 

“Will they let you transfer at work?” 

“Something tells me they’ll have the bright idea first thing Monday morning.” 

“No, he wouldn’t.” 

“He’s stubborn. Once he gets an idea into his head, he won’t shake it.” 

“You can be damn stubborn, too.” 

You nod a bit. “I can, but I’m just…” You shake your head as the tears well viciously again. “I’m so damn tired, Mish. I can’t keep fighting for him if he doesn't want me.” 

“Honey,” Michelle sighs, crowding close and drawing you into her arms. You curl your hands around her arm, keeping her close as the sobs begin to shake you again. 

-- 

“How is the weather there?” 

“We’re really resorting to speaking about the weather?” You smile. “My my, times are desperate. Did you pull the lilies up yet? Must be getting cold over there.” 

“Now who is speaking of the weather?” 

You chuckle at Alfred’s reminder, shaking your head. The two of you go quiet on your sides of the phone. You focus your gaze on your mom’s macrame plant hanger, shifting from foot to foot. You know how Alfred is (“Just fine, as always, dear.”), but you don’t dare ask how Bruce is. 

“Have you settled in?” Alfred presses before you can bring anything else up. 

“Um…” Your brow furrows. “The office is nice—bigger desks.” 

“And the apartment? The car?” 

“I’m with my parents. I don’t have a car.” 

Alfred is quiet for a few moments before he offers: “Master Wayne—” 

“I know what he did,” You cut in quickly. You'd gotten the email from the newly Wayne-owned apartment building, as well as the message to pick your new car up from the dealership when you'd arrived in Metropolis. “I don’t want anything from him.” 

Alfred sighs softly on the other end, and it makes your gut twist. You lean back against the kitchen counter, looking down at the floor. 

“...How is he?” You finally mumble. 

“He misses you.” 

“Funny way of showing it.” 

“Buying you an apartment and a car?” 

“I don’t care about things, he knows that. If he cared, he would pick up the—...Damn phone,” You trail off in a mumble as you hear yourself growing more and more frustrated. You tried calling him three times before you left Gotham, but you hadn't gotten a single response. You haven't bothered to try since.

“Anyway,” You clear your throat, “You never answered me about the lilies.” 

“I have a few weeds to pull up before I cover the beds.” 

“You should do that soon. It’s only going to get colder. Are the lights up in the city yet?” 

“They are.” 

“Must be nice. I love Gotham at Christmas.” 

“How is Metropolis?” 

“It’s nice! It’s nice. It’s fine. Pretty. Good lights. Not as good as Gotham’s, but good.”

“Are the accommodations at your parents comfortable, at least?” 

Comfortable. That isn't the word you’d use. These days, you’re sleeping on a lumpy pullout couch in a cramped living room, living out of a duffel bag. They’re meant to be spending their days comfortably, not with their heartbroken daughter sleeping in the living room and trying to put the pieces of her life together. You’re grateful to them for opening their home, and you feel so ungrateful for feeling crowded, but a week ago, this was not the life that you pictured—

You raise your hand to pinch the bridge of your nose to stem a wave of tears. 

“Mhm!” You nod, though Alfred can’t see you, hoping that the affirmative movement will bolster the firmness of your tone. “S’nice, it’s cozy.” 

“I am glad to hear it.” 

“Yeah! Yeah, thank you.” You clear your throat. “I should get going for work soon, I’ve got a meeting to prep for.” 

“Of course. I'll send the remainder of your things tomorrow."

“Sounds great. I’ll call you soon.” 

“It will be lovely to hear from you then.” 

“It’s lovely to hear from you now.” You smile bitterly. “Bye, Alfred.” 

“Goodbye.” 

You lower the phone and hang up, raising your hand to swipe at the few tears that have managed to slip. Work, you have got to get to work. Your parents' place is a quick bus and train ride to and from the office, but you’ve been getting in early to get up to speed—and with the hopes of avoiding the paparazzi. 

There aren’t nearly as many as there were when you were in Gotham, but so far, you’ve had a handful lingering around the front door when you leave. They always throw out questions—Why’d you leave Gotham? Did you and Wayne break up? Did he cheat on you? Why aren’t you living in the apartment with your name on it? Are you ever going back to Gotham? 

You hadn’t bothered to answer a single question, just kept your head down and strode toward the train station. They had the decency not to follow you on, or back to the apartment. When you arrive this morning, there isn’t anyone with a camera outside the building. You give the receptionist a friendly smile before you head to the elevator, pressing the up button with a knuckle to keep from dropping your phone or spilling your coffee. 

The office is quiet when you step inside. You can see a couple of other people there, but they don’t acknowledge you as you settle in. You open your laptop, humming to yourself as the laptop begins to boot up. You heard a few carolers performing Silver Bells on your way to the office, and it is stuck in your head now. You rest your chin on your hand, trying to picture what the grounds’ gardens must look like all covered over. You can picture Alfred crouching down, covering the raised beds with chicken wire, with Bruce pulling it taut from the other end—

You shift in your seat, trying to push the thought of Bruce away.

He’d be bundled up, too, maybe using the spare pair of gloves that you bought for Alfred—

Ugh, stop it! Stop, just banish him from your mind. That’s probably impossible, sure, but you can pretend, right? You click on the internet app, and freeze when you see the loaded article on the homepage: Bruce helping a model out of a car. You recognize her. You're sure that you’ve seen her at a couple of Liz’s parties. You can’t quite remember her name, though…Your eyes stray to the description before you force them away again, pulling up your email and biting the inside of your cheek to keep from letting tears fall. It feels like all you can do these days is cry, no matter what you do. You know that getting over Bruce is going to be slow-going.

Your hand strays to your neck, where the lariat necklace used to sit…No. Nope, letting it go. Taking out your headphones, putting on your favorite angsty playlist and letting it go. 

--  

“How was your day, honey?” 

You poke through your container of leftovers as you lean against the kitchen counter. You give your mom’s question a placid smile, and don’t bother to say a word. You know that an admonishment isn’t far behind. 

“Oh, don’t stand and eat,” She tuts just a moment later when she spots you. 

“I’m fine standing, mom. I've been sitting all day.” 

“Your day, honey.” 

“It was okay. We got the invite for the Christmas party, it’s next week.” 

“Everyone was nice?” 

“It’s an office job, not my first day of kindergarten.” 

“Well,” She sniffs, “Forgive me for asking a question.” 

You roll your eyes. 

“Everyone's pretty nice, yeah, but...I don't know. We reviewed this application for a toy maker who wanted to set up a workshop for the holidays, but the board wound up turning it down. I thought it seemed like a good cause,” 

“Oh really, that’s nice.” 

Nice. She isn’t listening—but you push on anyway: 

“It’s a bummer, you know, this Schott Jr. guy’s application was kinda…Sad. It was a little childish, though. I think the writing on the grant really messed up his chances.” 

“You can tell me about it later, hon. I have my quilting group tonight.” 

God, your mother has more of a life than you do these days. “Well, have fun. Where’s dad?” 

“Late shift.”

“Out on Neville Island? Jeez, how late are they gonna keep him?” 

“Your father is a big boy.” 

“I know, just…” 

Your mom casts you an almost pitying look. “This isn’t Gotham, sweetie. He’ll be fine.” 

You nod a little, peering down into your remaining leftovers. 

“Have fun at quilt club,” You add as your mom heads for the door. 

“Sure! We’ll keep it down when we come in!” 

“Yeah, I know you all get really wild while quilting.” 

“Oh, and honey?” 

“Mm?” 

“Try not to spend the night sulking. Maybe…I don’t know, go to a bar, pick someone up—” 

You choke roughly as you accidentally inhale the bite of food. You regain your breath, throat throbbing as you gasp, “Mom!” 

“The only way to get over someone is to get under someone! Okay, I’m going, I’m going,” She insists, holding her hands up in mock-surrender as she edges for the door, taking up her quilting tote bag. You scoff, turning and practically flinging the remainder of the leftovers into the trash as you hear her footsteps retreat down the hall.  

“Only way to get over someone is to get under someone,” You mumble, “Fucking…Unreal.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing toward the trash can. Maybe you shouldn’t have thrown out those leftovers. You’re still hungry. Maybe you ought to get yourself out of the apartment, grab some food. Or...You reach into your pocket, drawing out your phone. You don’t call Alfred again—instead, you dial Michelle’s number and walk over to the couch, plopping onto it. You wince a little, glancing down at the cushions. You really should be more gentle with it, you are sleeping on it all the time.

You set the sound to speaker as you wait. It rings…And rings…And—

“You better not be calling to tell me that you’re back with that jerk.”

You can’t help but smile at Michelle’s candor. 

“I haven’t even heard from…Him.” 

“That jerk. Call him a jerk.” 

“Mish, please.” 

“Well, he is. But I guess I’ve said it enough for both of us.” 

“How’s Keystone City?” 

“Honey, I have never seen so much corn in all my damn life.” 

“Is it doing the men out there any good?” 

“It would have to be super corn if it did.” 

“How’s the apartment?” 

“Oh my god, it's fucking huge. Half the price we were paying in Gotham for double the size. You should move down here. With our joint funds, we’d be able to build our own mansion.” 

“Mm, I don’t think I could move down just yet. I’ve only been at the Foundation for three months, and just moved to this location a week ago. If I up and left now, I’d lose my job in minutes.” 

“We could find you one down here.” 

“Is it very busy down there?” 

“No. But maybe you could do with slowing down a bit.” 

“Maybe. Hey, have you gotten your tree yet?” 

“Have you?” 

“The couch folds out right where it would go. Mom’s thinking of getting a small one that she can put on the kitchen counter.” 

“She wouldn’t.”

“...I think it’s guilt,” You admit. “She’s why I’m here, anyway.”

“Ugh, you’ve hit the point of blaming your mother. Finally—took you long enough.” 

“Well,” You grumble, “She wasn’t thinking, but her not thinking kinda got me on her couch. You know what she told me before going quilting?” 

“What?” 

“That I should go pick up a stranger.” 

“What?” Michelle screeches, and you wince, turning your head away from the phone. “Oh, my god! Are you mortified? I would die, oh my god!”

You giggle, a lightness taking over you for the first time in several days. 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, the sexual tension between me and the electrical sockets are slowly creeping up. I’ve gotta find my own place.” 

“If you need a reference—”

“I’ll call you—” 

“I will lie through my teeth.”

“You’re a dear.”

“...Have you spoken to him?” 

No. “No.” 

“Have you blocked him?” 

No. “Yes.” 

“Do you miss him?” 

Terribly. “Maybe.” 

“...Okay, here me out—” 

“Oh, no, Mish—” 

“I’m just saying, maybe your mom is on to something. Not like that, but—have you taken a moment for yourself since you got to Metropolis?” 

You think for a few moments, shifting back on the couch. 

“...No, I’m just working,” You admit softly. “I feel like if I let myself do anything but work, I’ll just…I’ll fall apart.” Your words quiver as you say it.

“I’m not saying don’t think about it,” She reassures. “I mean…It was almost a year with him, you know? Just…Don’t let that be the only thing that you think about.”

You sink back into your seat, lips pursing as your eyes begin to wet. 

“I don’t,” You protest weakly. Michelle sighs on the other end, and you know that you haven’t fooled her for a moment. You shake your head, resolved to push the conversation in another direction: 

“Are you going to paint any rooms in your apartment?” 

“...I got a few paint samples.” You can hear how reluctant Michelle is to move on, but feel a swell of gratefulness when she does. “Mostly blues and greens. I’m thinking of some kind of turquoise for the kitchen.”

“Some kind of turquoise? Isn’t there only one kind of turquoise?”

“You know, I used to think that, but the paint section of the store proved me very, very wrong.” 

-- 

You tuck yourself in early, knowing that you won’t be asleep by the time your parents get in. Still, you’d rather fake it than have them ask you if you had a nice night in. Worse, your mother could ask if you’d gone out and gotten under someone, as it were. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to focus on taking slow, even breaths. 

You can’t help that Bruce creeps up in your mind. 

What’s he doing right now? Is he creeping through some alley? Swooping down on a wrongdoer? Conferring with Gordon? 

Elspeth Emerson, that’s that model’s name. She’d hardly spoken a word to you the couple of times that you had met her. Come to think of it, you couldn’t remember what her voice sounded like. 

Can you even remember what Bruce’s voice sounded like?

“I want you to leave!” 

You wince at the thought, and you roll onto your side, as if you can pull away from the memory. Yes, you remember what Bruce’s voice sounds like. How long will it take until you forget? You peer through the curtains, chest muddling with pangs of regret and sadness as your mind begins to race—to wonder if things would be different if you’d just fought a little harder—

But how many times can you give your love to a man that’s trying to push you away? A man who only took a few days to get over you—or at least to go out and make it seem like he’s moving on? 

He must have known that you wouldn’t use that apartment, or that car. He must have just wanted to seem like the bigger person, as if he wasn't the one that had sent you packing. You huff softly, raising your hand to swipe your tears away as they begin to leak. It’s no use; a few slip. It’s only a moment before the trickle turns into a stream, dampening the pillow beneath your head.

-- 

You fall into a rhythm. It isn’t a rut—it is decidedly not a rut. You manage to get up and out of the apartment before your parents are awake in the morning. The paparazzi stop lingering around the office, because your existence ceases to be news. You stop flinching at the mention of Bruce’s name; you stop hearing his voice as you try to fall asleep. The ache of missing him doesn’t disappear, but it lessens, some. You don’t take your mom’s recommendation of getting over Bruce by getting under someone else. You consider it, sure. You download a couple of dating apps, but you never actually make a profile. There’s just nothing about it that feels right. 

You speak with Alfred almost daily—usually on the phone, if not over text. You don’t ask about how Bruce is doing, and he doesn’t tell you. 

That doesn’t stop you wondering. 

-- 

“What the hell is that?” 

“Did you see it?” 

“It’s so cute!” 

“Do you think it’s some kind of office Christmas gift or something? A little teaser before the holiday party later?”

“You hear Wayne’s gonna be in attendance? Someone said they thought the saw him in the elevator. Do you think it’s because of…You know—” 

“Who cares—Hey, does that thing move or is it just a decoration?” 

Your coworker’s chatter draws your focus, and you turn away from your laptop. You can see people crowding around something by the elevators. You stand, joining them and peering around them to try and get a look at what they’re talking about. You can just catch a glimpse of a brightly colored, 5-foot tall nutcracker. Your brow furrows as you take in the fuzzy beard, the crisp blue paint of the nutcracker’s coat, the bright gold buttons, and the rifle tucked at its side. You nod at the painted script on one of the boots. 

“What’s that say?” 

“Schott and Son.” One of your coworkers steps forward, stepping around it and eyeing the back. “There’s a button back here!” 

Schott and Son. God, why does that sound familiar? 

“Press it!” Someone else urges. You hear the gears crank and whir, quickly covered by a music box rendition of the Nutcracker Suite. You smile a little, as the Nutcracker’s arms move as if marching. You all startle, then laugh as it steps forward and does a short bow. It reaches around itself, and your stomach churns as it grasps the butt of its rifle. You take a step back, warning, 

“Uh, guys—” 

“Lighten up,” Someone scoffs, “It’s just a toy.” 

Their insistence is stifled by a gunshot, leaving the tip of the rifle smoking. You hear two panicked huffs before someone screams. You whirl around to see blood pouring from your coworker’s shoulder. Their scream is chased by others as the Nutcracker ventures deeper into the office, firing again. You scramble away as the others do, running for whatever cover you can find. You stumble as someone gives you a shove, practically climbing over you to get out of the way. You crawl along the floor, getting beneath a desk and tugging a chair in. You fold yourself in as tight as you can, clasping your hands together and fighting to keep your breathing and quiet as you peer out, watching people scramble to get out of the way of the Nutcracker. 

Fuck, you left your phone on your desk, so you can’t call 911—Surely someone has, right? Someone’s heard the commotion from another floor, or an alarm has gone off, something— 

You hear a horrifying thud, chased by a few more gunshots. You wince with the furious bashing sounds, raising your hands to press over your ears. You focus on your own pounding heart, your rapid breathing—

The feeling of the chair shifting beside you makes you scream and open your eyes. 

The sight of Bruce crouching beside your desk makes you crumble. 

-- 

“...It’s nice.” 

It’s a feeble attempt at a compliment and a conversation starter. It’s also an insane understatement. It seems that Bruce didn’t only buy you this apartment—he’d had it furnished, and filled the fridge and cabinets with groceries, spices, all of your favorite goodies. You look from the fully stocked bar cart by the kitchen over to the living room, where Bruce is hurriedly closing the curtains over the lowered shades. 

Maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise that the apartment he chose is so big. 

Just being the bigger person, You remind yourself, He doesn’t want to be the bad guy. 

Bruce finally turns to look at you. You see his lips twitch with something unspoken before he purses them and swallows thickly. He looks so wan—pallid, and tired. He’d looked it when he’d found you beneath that desk, after apparently smashing the shit out of that Nutcracker with a printer. The ride to this apartment (in the car that he had bought for you and had driven to the office) hadn’t made it any better. Neither of you had spoken. 

“You never, um…” You clear your throat. “What are you doing in Metropolis?"

“It was requested that I make an appearance at the holiday party.”

Your gaze narrows slightly. You smell bullshit...But you're not really in the mood to litigate it right now.

“Right.” 

You turn away, finally, shrugging off your coat and tossing it over the back of a chair as you head for the bar cart. 

“Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine, Mr. Wayne. Great, even.” You take up a clean glass, setting it windowsill beside the car before you reach for the bottle of whiskey. “You want some?” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“More for me, then.” 

“Are you sure you wanna do that right now?” 

“I can’t think of a better time.” 

You reach for the seal, struggling to twist it off before you fling it away. You grasp the bottle firmly, trying to ignore your shaking hands as you lift it and the glass. You can’t steady them no matter how hard you try, but you pour anyway, some of the liquid sloshing over the sides and onto your fingers—

You go still as Bruce crowds up close to you, grasping your hands and forcing them down. The glass connects with the windowsill with a sharp, shrill sound; you wouldn’t be surprised if it was chipped, if not cracked. You squeeze your eyes closed as you just feel him—the heat and strength of him up against your back; the gentle press of his face against your hair, and the sound of him drawing in a deep breath; the warmth of his hands, steady over yours. Your lower lip begins to wobble as Bruce intertwines your fingers, using his grasp on your hands to curl your arms around yourself. 

“Good thing I wasn’t in Gotham,” You quip dryly, forcing your stern tone over the your rapidly fracturing resolve, “Or today could’ve been a real disaster.” 

You shake Bruce off, stepping out of his arms and snatching your glass from the sill, striding more deeply into the living room. You hear Bruce sigh behind you before he hedges: 

“What do you want me to say?” 

“An apology would be nice.” 

“You want me to apologize for wanting you safe?” 

“Was I safe today?” You snap, whirling to face him again. “Was that—Killer nutcracker something I was safe from? You can’t anticipate every moment of my life, Bruce. No matter where I go, I could be in danger. What, do you want me confined to a room somewhere and permanently out of harm’s way? What if someone breaks into that room?”

You search his face, desperate for some kind of recognition, some kind of understanding. Bruce shakes his head, his gaze dropping shamefully to his shoes. You lower yourself into an armchair, peering down at the amber liquid, watching it shift with your still-shaking hands. You hear Bruce cross the room before his shoes come into view. He grasps the wooden coffee table, tugging it closer and sitting on the edge of it. 

“I just don’t…I don’t like the idea that someone could come after you again, with the purpose of getting to me, or getting something from me,” He admits softly. “I can’t be the reason that I lose someone I love. I can’t do that again.” 

You lift your head as Bruce’s voice breaks, heart stuttering as you see his eyes well with tears. You set the drink aside, taking his hands in yours. 

“I know that it scares you. It scares me, too. But Bruce, you cannot protect me from everything. But you do—” Your voice breaks as your face twists with upset, “You do protect me, from so much. You protected me after the kidnapping, you protected me today. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would’ve happened…’Sides between this and the attempted robbery at the store, I think I’ve proven that I can get into plenty of trouble all by myself.” 

Bruce huffs a shaky laugh through his nose as he nods. He raises your joined hands to his lips, pressing kisses to your knuckles. 

“I’ve missed you so goddamn much,” He murmurs. 

“I’ve missed you, too.” 

“I want…” He winces at the phrasing, and seems to reconsider. “I mean…Would you consider coming home?” 

Home. Your chest aches with it—with the thought of the mansion, and Alfred, and the covered garden beds. 

“Bruce…I love you so much. I want us to have a life together, but…” You shake your head, steeling yourself as his face falls, “But I can’t keep having this argument. I can’t be pushed away from you over and over again and keep wanting to come back. This nearly broke me—No, Bruce,” You chase his gaze as he averts his, holding his eye as your tone grows more firm. “I understand that you want me in one piece, I get it. But how the fuck do you think I feel, night after night, knowing that every time you leave may be the last time I see you?...If I come back,” You hedge carefully, “This is…It. If we implode, or you change your mind and throw me out again, we’re through, I mean really through—” 

“That will never happen again.” 

“But—”

“You have my word.” He says it firmly, holding your eye as you held his. “I…I acted like an asshole. I didn’t want you to leave, but I thought it would be better for you.” 

“Nothing about this has been better for me.” 

“I know, I see that now. I’m sorry.” 

You nod a little, looking down at your hands. 

“...You just want me back in Gotham so you can keep a closer eye on me.” 

Bruce chuckles softly, raising a hand to cup your cheek. 

“I want you back in Gotham because nothing has been right since you left.” 

You tip your face into his hand, letting your eyes slide closed and allowing your tears to fall as you accept the gentle touch. Bruce shushes you softly, smoothing your tears away and pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Tell you what,” He murmurs. “Why don’t you call your parents, let them know you’re alright and you’re spending the night here before we go back. I’ll figure out getting your things back in a couple of days.” 

“They’re not gonna like that…And the Foundation’s going to be pissed.” 

“S’okay. I think they’ll understand you transferring back after what happened in the office. They've cancelled the holiday party to secure the building, make sure that thing didn't have any extra surprises hiding anywhere.” 

“Speaking of which,” You lean back, scrubbing your eyes. “There’s someone you should look into.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“The uh…The Nutcracker, it had a name on it—” 

“Schott and Son.” 

“Right. Winslow Schott Jr. put in an application for funding from the Foundation, but it was denied.” 

Bruce’s frown deepens. “When did this happen?” 

“Uh—Two weeks ago, maybe? He left a few angry calls and emails, but then he dropped off, so we figured he’d given up.” 

“Did he have a company he applied through, or was it just him?” 

“Umm…” Your brow furrows as you try to remember. “It was…The Toymaker, or…The Toyman, something like that.” 

Bruce hums, nodding. “I’ll have Fox pull the file, see what we can find.” 

“Okay.” 

You stand and step away, and only make it a couple of steps before you hear Bruce stand. He catches hold of your hand, folding you into his arms. You go willingly, pressing your face into his neck and drawing in a deep breath as you cuddle close. 

"Bruce?"

"Mm."

"Why are you really in Metropolis? I know you, you hate these parties."

Bruce's thumb sweeps along your lower back as he peers gently at you.

"I needed to see you," He admits softly. "It was just supposed to be for a minute...But I was headed to your floor, and I heard the shots, and..." His face goes tight, his jaw tensing. "I couldn't stop myself."

"I'm glad you didn't," You give him a small, reassuring smile. "But I'm a little biased." You reach up, gently sweeping your fingers across his stubbled cheek.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” You accuse. 

“Told you,” He mumbles, “Nothing’s felt right since I lost you.” 

You tip your chin, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Then it looks like you found me just in time."

Next Part

[toournextadventure]

everyone but her pt.18

Summary: Wednesday goes with you to visit your family. It's loud, it's chaotic, it's ridiculous, they're too accepting, it's all just too much. And the worst part? She almost enjoys it.

Word Count: 10.7k Warnings: Swearing, mentions of grief Pairing: Wednesday x Reader (everyone but her Masterlist) Taglist: @extinctspino @basichextechml @cfvgbhndun-new-blog @jinxscatbomb @awolfcsworld @suzhiman @gengen64 @eclipsesmoonshine14 @alexkolax @thenextdawn @cacciatricediartemide @cozwaenot @the-night-owl-blr @natashasapphic @parkersmyth @alilbitlesbian @irish-piece-of-trash @rainbow-love4ever @audigay @bakugounuggets @myfturn @rockwyn @bigbadsofty07

Wednesday was starting to regret agreeing to meet your family.

You had called them that next morning, going outside to talk for what ended up being three whole hours. She had watched you pace the yard, lay on the grass, kick rocks, and use your wings to hover above the ground for short spans of time. How you managed to stay on the phone for that long, she had no earthly idea. But then you came in and said they were more than happy for her to visit for two weeks, and everything was set.

After packing, she was sitting in the library waiting for you to get back. You had made one more weekend trip to see Nicky before going further South where it would be more difficult to make the trip. It was admirable how you always found a way to see him no matter how far away you were.

And now you were back, practically jogging to the car with the bags and talking as if your life depended on it. Maybe to you it did. Or was it your nerves taking over and not giving anyone time to argue or disagree? Whatever it was, you seemed excitedly nervous.

You had tried to convince them to take the train, but Wednesday wasn’t having it. Take the train down, then we’ll head to the bus, then Tio will pick us up from the bus station, you had said. The entire Addams family had let you know that it wasn’t necessary, Lurch could drive you both down. It was simpler that way. It took a bit of convincing but you reluctantly agreed.

The closer you got to your house, the more nervous you got. Your incessantly shaking leg was almost enough to rock the whole car when it would pull up to stops. There was a tuneless hum that started to pick up as time went on. In what turned out to be the final stretch, Wednesday noticed you even started to pick at your fingers. A nasty habit, really.

“You can stop down here,” you said to Lurch before he could get the car started up a dirt path. “It’s easier to walk.”

Wednesday gave you a look, but you just shrugged and gave her a hesitant smile. She hoped you knew she wasn’t questioning your motives, just the fact that it appeared that there would be a hike to your house. Would it not be better to drive up?

“Your ancient car will get stuck,” you said when  you practically shoved Wednesday out of the car. “I can grab the bags.”

And grab them you did, slinging your duffel bag over your shoulder before picking up Wednesday’s suitcase. You leaned over and gave an enthusiastic “Bye, Lurch!” before watching the car pull away. Only once it was out of sight did she feel you reach down and grab her hand. Not intertwining your fingers, but simply holding it and leading her up the dirt path.

“They know not to hug,” you said, “but Pop and Grandpa might still reach out for a handshake.” The path got steeper. “And Tio might still go for a hug, he doesn’t really listen.” How did any of you traverse this path regularly?

You continued to talk as you led her further up the path that was becoming more and more surrounded by trees. Pretty soon the branches covered the path, creating almost an archway until she could see a house in the distance. A log cabin, more accurately. It sat in the middle of a clearing along with a few smaller buildings; a barn and what looked to be two or three tool sheds. The path continued to a crooked gate, and you let go of her hand to open it and usher her in before closing it behind you.

“Don’t mind the dogs,” you said as you gestured your head over to the right. Yes, there within another contained fence were three dogs that looked bigger than her. “We’re pet-sitting for the neighbours.” It was impressive that they weren’t barking.

Oh, if only your family was as well behaved.

The front screen door of the house was thrown open with such force it nearly shook off its hinges. Instinctively, Wednesday took a step back and you quickly maneuvered yourself slightly in front of her, just enough to be a barrier. She was not prepared for the amount of voices or people that came out of a cabin that did not look big enough to hold them all.

“You’re here!” A small voice screamed.

You dropped both bags and stepped forward with outstretched arms which were almost instantly filled with two young children with matching tight curly hair. They giggled as you squeezed them tight, alternating kisses on their cheeks. The rest of your family was close behind as you set the children down.

“She’s real?!” The oldest girl said in an accented voice. Australian, maybe.

“I told you,” the oldest boy retorted with a smirk. “You owe me ten bucks.”

“I think she’s pretty,” a younger girl said with a smile in Wednesday’s direction. She had almost forgotten how unsettling little kids could be.

“So does Y/N,” the last boy said with a smirk.

“Okay, that’s enough,” you cut in quickly, taking your place in front of Wednesday once again. She noticed the blush on your cheeks. “Pace yourselves.”

“Sorry,” they all mumbled.

Wednesday listened dutifully as you introduced everyone; it was overwhelming, to say the least. There were too many people, too many names, too many things to keep track of. Part of her wondered why it even mattered if she met all of them or remembered who they were. Sure, they were your family, but they clearly weren’t your blood.

But as she watched your face, saw your toothy smile and sparkling eyes and heard your laugh, she realised it didn’t matter. They were your family whether they were blood or not. And truthfully, you had met her family, as large as it was. You had met as many extended family members as you could at the Addams’ Ball a few months ago. Surely she could meet the few people that you called family.

“Go take these inside,” you said, handing the duffel bag and the suitcase to… Alex and Daniel? Possibly? “Be very careful with Wednesday’s bag.”

“But not yours?” The younger boy - Daniel? - asked with a smile.

“Get inside,” you huffed, using your hands to guide all the children back inside.

A sigh fell from your lips once the kids were far enough away. Wednesday didn’t know how to describe it, but you looked tired already. Not in a bad way, you didn’t look sad, but there was a weariness on your face. Almost as if you looked older, a little more worn.

“Welcome home, baby,” an older woman said in a Southern accent as she walked closer and pulled you into a hug. You practically towered over her when you hugged her back.

“Hey Momma,” you said before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s fine, baby bird,” she said with a smile, pulling back. “Lovely to finally meet you, Miss Addams.”

“You as well,” Wednesday said. It was awkward, a little unusual to be called Miss Addams so casually.

"I'm sorry it's so crazy," your mother continued while wiping her hands off on an apron tied around her waist. "Y/N told us you weren't big on touch. The kids will settle down in a day or two."

"It's quite alright-"

“-Where is mi pollito?” A man called out, and Wednesday saw your brows furrow as you let out a huff before being bearhugged by a man almost as tall as you. He must be your Tio. “You look terrible, what happened?”

“I came to visit your sorry ass,” you mumbled back, but Wednesday could see the smallest smile on your face. “Do you know how exhausting that is?”

“Behave,” another man’s voice called out, thick and slow and almost painfully Southern. Much thicker than your mother’s. He gave her a toothy grin; even though he was missing a few. “Nice ta meet ya, Wensdy.”

“Pop,” you said with a sigh after noticing what was most likely confusion on Wednesday’s face.

“What?” He said. “That’s how ya say it, ain’t it?” You both smiled at each other.

"You know it's not," you replied quietly.

"Did she prepare you for this?" Your father asked her, to which she shook her head. No, you hadn’t prepared her for this, not in the slightest. "Figures," he tsked.

“Where’s everybody else?” You asked, trying to change the subject.

“Inside,” your Tio said. “Abuelita is making tamales and C is bossing her around.”

“Lord help us,” your mother said with an exhausted sigh. “Everyone inside before they kill each other.”

The adults walked back to the house, leaving you and Wednesday standing in the yard. Her heart felt like it was going to explode. That was far too much all at once, far too many people. How did you live like this? How did you manage to keep yourself sane when there were so many people around at all times?

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, “I told them not to come out all at once.”

You almost looked guilty. Was this what you had talked to them about for so long the other week? She almost hoped not, that meant you cared. It meant you cared a lot and took her preferences into account. That was terrifying. To know that you cared enough to tell your entire family to be careful. It was almost painful, really.

“Do you need a minute?” You asked when Wednesday stayed silent. “It’s crazy inside, so we can sit outside for a minute if you need to.”

What she needed was for you to stop being so considerate, it was becoming uncomfortable. Yes she wanted a minute, that was a lot of people. But she didn’t want you to think she couldn’t handle it. She was an Addams, she could handle anything that was put in front of her.

“Let’s go,” she said before grabbing your hand.

For safety, of course.

"Okay then,” you chuckled softly, dragging her to the house and through the screen patio door. "Buckle up, Addams."

You were right. It was absolute chaos inside. The small entry hallway had seemed normal with framed photographs lining the wall - she noticed a few with you in it, you looked young - but once you brought her to the main room, she understood what you meant. Children’s toys littered the floor, she could hear everyone talking, sounds were coming from the kitchen that was connected to the main room.

It was too loud, and too much, and everything all at once.

“Try not to trip,” you said as you pulled her again, heading to the open kitchen. She did her best to step over the toys. Something cracked when she stepped down; she hoped it wasn't broken.

“Be careful,” Daniel said; he was sitting on the couch with his nose in a book. “Abuelita is on the warpath.”

“Great,” you mumbled, “she better behave.”

When you finished pulling her into the kitchen, she noted almost all the adults were there, plus a few she hadn’t seen yet. A man that looked practically ancient - possibly older than Grandmama - was standing near the counter with a grin. His fangs were prominently displayed when he laughed. Then there was a woman that looked a little older than your father. Her black skin and stunningly coiled hair matched the twins; it must be your Auntie C. Then there was the old Mexican lady arguing with your aunt while expertly preparing tamales.

Your Abeulita, of course.

“Welcome home, puișor,” your grandfather called from across the kitchen in yet another accented voice, silencing everyone that had previously been talking. “And it's a pleasure to meet you, Wednesday."

“About time,” your aunt said with a sigh, “Abuelita needs some help.” She stopped for just a second to look at Wednesday with raised brows and a knowing smirk. "Well, aren't you cute."

“Why can't you help?” You shot back before Wednesday could question the comment. Tio laughed from his spot at the table where he was also helping with tamales.

“If I help, I’m gonna kill someone,” she answered before looking over at Wednesday. “You’re Latina, you can help too.”

“C.”

“Watch it,” you and your father reprimanded together.

“Am I wrong?” She asked.

“You can’t just say that.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“She just got here-”

“-That’s enough!” Your father shouted again, bringing yours and your aunt’s argument to a sudden halt. “C, take a hike,” he said in a calmer voice, “Y/N, help your Abuelita.” Your aunt sighed and walked past Wednesday to get to the living room.

“I was hoping he would do that,” she whispered to Wednesday before laughing and walking away. You pulled Wednesday over to the table, gave your Abuelita a kiss on the cheek, and everyone got to work.

Oh, Wednesday liked your aunt. If that was who she was going to get to interact with the entire trip, this was going to be fun. Someone who also liked to raise hell, question authority, do as she wished. It was a stark contrast to you who, even though you very much did all of those things, you still obeyed, you desired that approval. It was beyond evident in the way you preened when any of the adults told you “good job” or any sort of positive verbal reinforcement.

From her spot at the table, she was right in front of your Tio and right beside your Abuelita. Your Abuelita and Tio showed her how to make the tamales, and she had to hold her laughter in when they refused to teach you in English. She caught on quickly and started talking to them in Spanish, which got another rise out of you.

"You know I don't know all of those words," you huffed after Abuelita explained precisely how to do the next step. In Spanish, of course.

Abuelita only laughed in response, and Tio gave Wednesday a wink when she met his eyes. She liked them, she decided. Liked the casual way they went about the chaos, picking and choosing when to interact with others, more often than not just minding their own business. It was respectable. It helped keep her heart from jumping up her throat in anxiety.

Dinner was an entirely different affair altogether and Wednesday, for what would be the first of many instances during the trip, was unsure of what to do. After all the prep, all the nonstop, loud talking, all the cooking, it was finally time to eat. Instead of everyone sitting at the table, they scattered. Grabbing their plates, getting their food, and going off to the living room or outside or wherever else they could find a space.

She sat on one of the chairs in the kitchen and watched you while the chaos unfolded. Took note of the way you had Alysah on your hip with a plate in your hand, talking with her and getting her food. Then after placing her on the floor in the living room, you did the same with Jamie, even though he seemed far more talkative. You looked older when you were helping them. More responsible, even.

“What do you want?” You asked, drawing Wednesday out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even seen you come over. “I’ll make your plate.”

“I’m not helpless,” Wednesday shot back; she noticed your aunt chuckle, clearly eavesdropping.

“I know, Wends,” you said with a slight uptick of your mouth, “now what do you want?”

She glared at you for a moment, waiting for you to take the offer back, but you didn’t. With a sigh, she told you, and you mouthed a “thank you” before standing back up and grabbing everything. This, she realised, is what you enjoyed. Being helpful, doing things for others. Where had you learned it? Where had you learned to be so selfless?

And how had you taken a liking to her, who lived quite selfishly?

The thought made her sick to her stomach. She couldn’t bring herself to eat when her stomach was rolling and she couldn’t stop feeling like you were one day going to realise she was the opposite of you. She wasn’t going to devote her life to helping others, she wasn’t going to be like her mother, that just wasn’t who she was.

Thankfully no one pointed out how little she had eaten.

Getting ready for bed was another affair entirely. After everyone had sat in the living room and talked and settled after dinner, it was time to get the kids to bed. Wednesday waited dutifully for you to show her where to go, feeling completely lost in the house. Your grandfather pulled you aside and talked to you for a moment and she noted the way he eyed her and, even though a smile pulled at his lips, he shook his head and you sighed.

“Try not to hate me,” you said when you walked back over to Wednesday, “but you’re bunking with Emily and Hailey.”

“And you?” She asked, doing her best to maintain her composure. Your sisters seemed kind, and she had roomed with Enid, she just… wasn’t sure how to interact with them.

“I’m on the couch,” you sighed. “Grandpa made it clear; no sharing rooms.”

“Because?” She asked with a raised brow.

“No sharing rooms with partners until you’re married,” you said with a shrug. “He’s old school.”

Wednesday nodded along before allowing you to grab her hand and lead her up the stairs. Part of her felt humiliated that your entire family could see you both holding hands; public displays of affection was not something she enjoyed. But the other part of her felt comfort that you were staying with her and making sure she didn't feel overwhelmed. Well, she did feel overwhelmed, but you were doing your best.

“You’ll be in my bed,” you said when you finally brought her to the room, and she almost felt right at home.

It gave off the same energy as Enid’s side of the dorm. Pinks and purples and rainbows covered the entire room. How did you manage to sleep in it? Bunk beds were on one wall while the other held a single bed covered in too many blankets. Clearly yours. Her suitcase was already sitting at the foot of the bed.

“I’ll be on the couch downstairs if you need me, okay?” You said after everyone had brushed their teeth and gotten settled. “And the girls make great company.”

“It’s like a sleepover!” Emily shouted from the bottom bunk.

“You’ll pay for this,” Wednesday whispered to you before you walked out.

“Good luck,” you said in a sing-songy voice. “Good night, girls!”

“Good night!” They called back.

It was going to be a long night.

Your bed was too soft, it felt like she was going to sink through to the floor. The blankets were also too soft, and nowhere near as warm as you were. Not that she was cold, but for some unknown reason, it was unusual to be sleeping away from you. Maybe it was the fact that she was in your bed without you, she wasn’t sure.

Her eyes roamed your side of the room. There were two or three posters taped to the ceiling, bands that she didn’t know about. A few photos hung from a piece of string going across the wall over the bed, each one a photo of you with someone else. She couldn’t tell in the dark, but one looked like a photo of you and Nicky when you were younger.

Where had Nicky slept when he had come home? Did he sleep with Alex and Daniel the same way you roomed with Hailey and Emily? Or was it completely different? His presence, from what she had seen, was still littered throughout the house in picture frames. How had everyone else handled him being gone for so long?

The train of thought was going down a dangerous path, and Wednesday felt her heart starting to race again. Would your presence have been remembered the same way if you had been in his position? If that werewolf had hurt you worse than it had, would your family treat it the same? Would you be remembered in photographs that would hang on the walls?

She needed you before her mind started to convince her that you were the one gone, not Nicky.

Her brain raced with thoughts, planning how she could get away with you coming up, or her going down. She couldn’t simply forgo the rules your grandfather had laid out, it was clearly a well established one. No, there had to be a reason, something she could get away with.

Ah. She had a brilliant idea.

She waited just a moment, listening to the hushed, even breaths coming from your sisters before letting out a scream. Not too loud as to wake everyone else up, but for your sisters to also scream and wake up. She had to push down her smile when your sisters jumped out of bed.

“Are you okay?” Hailey asked as she practically fell onto the floor and padded over.

“Did you have a bad dream?” Emily asked, peeking over the side of the bunk bed.

“Yes,” Wednesday said, doing her best to make her voice sound sleepy. “It was a terrible nightmare.”

“I get those sometimes too,” Emily said.

“You should sleep with Y/N,” Hailey mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Her accent was thicker when she was half-asleep.

“She makes the bad dreams go away,” Emily chimed in as she climbed down the ladder.

“Maybe you’re right,” Wednesday said, sitting up and planting her feet on the floor. “I suppose it’s worth a try.” She should have felt an ounce of guilt for using your sisters in her devious plan.

She didn't.

“Come on,” Emily said. Wednesday tried not to flinch when she felt a cold little hand grab her own. “We’ll take you to her.”

The entire house seemed to creak under the three sets of feet making their way down the carpeted hallway. Wednesday would need to learn where those spots were so she could avoid them over the next two weeks. Then down the carpeted stairs that squeaked every two steps; an easy pattern to memorise. One turn down the hall and there you were on the living room couch.

She was glad it was so dark because then your sisters would have seen her smile. You were completely sprawled out on the couch, the single blanket tangled around your legs, one of which was hanging off and the other was hoisted onto the back of the couch. An arm was also hanging off the couch while your other was over your head and your mouth was slightly open. She could hear your soft snores.

Hailey walked forward with a purpose while Emily continued to hold Wednesday’s hand. The older girl kicked your foot just once and your snore cut off quickly as you sat straight up. Your hair was a mess and your eyes were wide and unseeing.

“Who's hurt?” You asked immediately, trying to stand up. Your legs got stuck in the blanket around your legs and you fell to the ground. Hard. “Fuck.”

“No one is hurt,” Hailey said. She didn’t even bother helping you up to your feet.

“What happened?” You groaned as you managed to push yourself up, the blanket falling from around your waist and legs onto the floor. Wednesday turned her gaze away when she noticed you were only wearing boxers and a loose tank.

“Wednesday had a bad dream,” Emily said as she finally pulled Wednesday closer.

“Is that so?” You asked, your voice sounding more awake and your eyes seemingly searching into her soul. “A bad dream?”

“She screamed,” Hailey said.

“Screamed?” You asked, your eyes starting to crinkle at the corners.

“It was horrifying,” Wednesday said with a tilt of her head.

“Must have been,” you continued.

“I told her you scare off the bad dreams,” Emily said proudly.

“You’re right,” you said with a smile as you patted the top of her head. In turn, Emily gave Wednesday’s hand for you to hold. Thankfully you did. “Thank you for bringing her down.”

“Let’s go back to bed,” Hailey said, reaching her own hand out to Emily. “Good night.”

“Have good dreams, Wednesday,” Emily whisper-shouted before they rounded the corner and went back to their room.

“You screamed?” You asked after a few moments, turning to look at her. “Really?”

“I’ve been known to have nightmares on occasion,” she defended.

“You like nightmares,” you argued.

“It was exponentially more terrifying than normal.”

“You’re so full of shit,” you said quickly.

You fell back onto the couch, but your interlocked fingers caused her to fall down with you. With a skill that came from someone who regularly slept on the couch, you hooked your foot underneath the blanket and brought it back up. Your back was pressed against the back of the couch and Wednesday quickly fit herself to your position.

“Stop terrorising my sisters,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arm around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer.

“Would you prefer I terrorise your brothers?” She asked, to which you only chuckled.

“Good night, Wednesday.”

She didn’t verbally answer, just pulled your arm tighter around her and let herself drift off to sleep.

—---

The next few days went off without a hitch. Yes, everyone was still too loud and too much and there were just too many people in general, but it got easier. Emily was really the only one that was handsy with Wednesday, aside from you, and even that was simply holding hands. It was uncomfortable at first, but she quickly got used to it.

The adults in your family were kind as well. Your Tio made it a point to talk to her all the time, usually in Spanish, and even played a few songs on the guitar for her. All the younger kids did their dances, laughing to the music. That too was unusual for Wednesday, but it seemed like something that happened regularly in the house.

You had gotten a scolding from your grandfather once he realised Wednesday was sleeping down on the couch with you. She couldn’t hear the discussion, but could see the genuine attempt to persuade him. It didn’t appear to be working until Hailey cut in, telling her piece, and eventually your grandfather sighed and nodded.

She pretended not to notice you slip some cash into Hailey’s hand.

It was a change, a rather big one in fact, to live in a house where everyone had designated chores. Not that Wednesday was incapable or unwilling, but she had grown up with Lurch. Now she was helping you take care of the animals you were pet sitting, cleaning out the stable which was currently housing two horses, a dairy cow, and more than a handful of goats.

Those goats were the devil’s spawn, that’s what Wednesday believed.

“When are they leaving?” Wednesday asked when the grey goat - Steve - bumped into the back of her legs again.

“Steve is ours,” you said with a smile as you continued brushing one of the horses. “So he’s staying.”

“Of course he is,” Wednesday mumbled, turning to glare at Steve. He simply glared back before ramming into her leg.

It took everything in her power not to lock him in one of the stalls.

“Don’t mess with him,” you said, finally turning around. It was as if you had read her thoughts. “This is his house.”

“He needs to treat his guests better,” Wednesday grumbled again. She could feel him chewing on her shoelace. “The wrong person might turn him into dinner.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” you said with a glare as you put your tools back to their proper place. This, Wednesday realised, was one of the few places you stayed organised and everything was back in its proper place.

“One more chance,” she said.

Steve rammed the back of her knees, forcing her to stumble forward.

Oh, he was going to be dinner before she left this place.

Everyone in your family became increasingly casual as time went on. No more “Miss Addams,” no more watching what they said (although your aunt never did), no more niceties for the sake of being polite. They gave her separate chores from you, treated her no different than the other kids, even berated her if she argued with Alex. It was torturous.

“Kids in the car,” your father called out one afternoon while everyone was sitting on the ground playing Monopoly. Wednesday swore she had never seen such violence in her life. It was beautiful.

“Where are we going?” Alex asked as he happily swept everything off the board to a chorus of “heys” and “seriously?”

“Gotta pick somethin’ up in town,” he said, “figured y’all might want some ice cream.”

Both you and Wednesday flinched at the screams and cheers that came from everyone’s mouths. It died down quickly enough when your father ushered everyone outside. You took your time gathering the pieces of the game and putting it all away, your face entirely emotionless.

Wednesday knelt down to help you, using it more as an excuse to keep an eye on you than to actually help. The past week had given her plenty of time to learn some of your tells, and one of them was keeping your face neutral when something potentially triggering came up. She actually felt proud of herself for catching this one.

“You can fly and meet us there,” Wednesday offered. You didn’t look up, but she took note of the miniscule movement near the corner of your mouth.

“I’m good,” you said softly, “it’s a short trip.” The game was finally picked up and you turned your head to look at her with a closed-mouth smile. “But thank you.”

You didn’t give her a chance to reply before grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet, guiding her out of the house. A chorus of adults called out their “see ya laters” as the patio door swung shut. The older two were relaxed in the bed of the truck while the younger ones were buckled in safely in the cab.

“Hop in,” you said, pulling Wednesday’s hand to ease her into the bed of the truck with Alex and Hailey. It was uncomfortable climbing into it, but she managed and you were quick to follow suit.

You plopped yourself down and knocked on the back window three times, and off you went. All three of you looked far too relaxed and comfortable, as if this wasn’t your first time. Clearly it wasn’t, of course, but you couldn’t have made it more obvious.

On the other hand, Wednesday was surprisingly nervous. She had never ridden in the back of a truck before, hadn’t felt the wind blow her hair around or hear it rushing past her ears. The only thing keeping her sane was your arm wrapped tight around her back, holding her as close as you could without outright pulling her into your lap.

It was about a 25 minute drive into town; she had never realised you lived so far away from civilization. That must have been nice, it explained why you could have so many people in one house. She understood the desire to be away, her own family lived away from the hustle and bustle as well. 

You, Alex, and Hailey were all standing up and hopping out of the truck before it pulled to a complete stop; Wednesday wouldn’t admit it put a lump in her throat, but you seemed confident enough. Only once the truck was at a full stop did you reach out to help, grabbing her by the waist and lifting her out and back to the ground.

The warmth of your hands was comforting.

“Alright Big Bird, you’re in charge,” your father said as he handed you a small wad of cash. “I’ll meet y’all back here in half an hour.”

“Yes sir,” you said with a nod, and he started walking down the small sidewalk. “Alright team, buddy up and let’s go.”

Clearly this was something you all did often, because everyone seemed to move like a well oiled machine. Hailey and Alex stood near each other while you let one of the twins on your back while you carried the other. Emily and Daniel went to either side of Wednesday and grabbed each of her hands. It was difficult to fight the instinct to pull away.

“So we don’t get lost,” Emily said with a smile. Wednesday looked down at both of her linked hands before nodding once. It was sound logic, she supposed.

“Lead the way, Lex,” you called out, and the group started moving.

The little hands holding hers were warm, but nowhere near like yours. Although she would admit, she was getting disgustingly accustomed to it at this point. Before you, she would have found this whole trip unnecessary. Your buddy system, your carrying the twins, going for ice cream, the whole thing. But everyone was smiling and talking and you looked almost peaceful as you listened to the twins ramble about one thing or another.

She supposed it wasn’t all that bad.

“Hey Johnson clan,” the kid behind the counter called out when everyone walked into the small ice cream parlor. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Bo,” you answered as you set the twins on the floor. “How ya been?”

“Not too bad,” he - Bo - said with a smile. “The usual?”

“That’d be great,” you said, and Bo nodded once before getting started on whatever “the usual” was. “Get settled, I'll bring it over."

Wednesday let everyone lead her to a booth near the window - rather similar to the booth she frequented at the Weathervane - as she watched you approach the counter. You talked to Bo, casually leaning against the counter while he worked. There must have been some sort of acquaintanceship there for you to act so nonchalant. Did you smile at her like that when she wasn't watching?

"Uh oh," Daniel said.

The whole group turned their heads when the bell above the door rang. Three high schoolers walked in, one girl and two boys. Their overly flashy jackets were enough to give Wednesday a migraine, but what caught her attention was the way your body froze when you caught the girl's eye. Who was she, Wednesday wondered.

"That's Ash," Daniel said aloud. How had he known her thoughts? "Y/N's ex."

Oh. Instead of the usual rushing of her pulse where you were concerned, her heart now felt frozen. You had never mentioned an ex, at least not to her. Wednesday supposed she was pretty, though quite the opposite of herself. More boisterous, obnoxiously bubbly, like she wanted to be Enid but could never pull it off. How had your taste changed so drastically, because Wednesday was nothing like that girl.

What were you doing to her? Now you had her comparing herself to someone else? She was going to have a serious talk with you about this.

“What are they saying?” Hailey asked, doing her best not to stare at you and the small group surrounding you.

“I read minds, not lips,” Daniel huffed. Of course, Wednesday thought. That makes sense.

“Then what are they thinking?” Hailey asked with a roll of her eyes.

“Nosey,” Alex mumbled.

Wednesday kept her mouth shut because, quite frankly, she wanted to know too. Although she hid her curiosity by pretending to watch Emily and the twins colour on the papers on the table. She had no idea what they were drawing, but they seemed to be having fun. It gave her a certain warmth in her chest.

She blinked once at the revelation.

Oh damn you.

“Ash thinks she’s pretty,” Daniel said. He wasn’t looking up, instead drawing his own picture. Meanwhile, you looked uncomfortable as your foot tapped the ground and you kept shifting weight from leg to leg.

“Ew,” Emily grumbled. Everyone failed at hiding their smiles, even Wednesday couldn’t help herself. But only for a moment before she was back to her usual demeanor.

“One of the meatheads thinks she’s pretty too.” Now that was infuriating. If there hadn’t been children around, Wednesday might have had something to say.

“And the other one?” Alex asked. He was eying the whole group carefully, as if he was prepared to jump in at any point. “The one looking at us?” That same one said something, and your eyes flitted over to where everyone was sitting at the table.

“He thinks Wednesday is pretty,” Daniel said with a disgusted frown.

“He needs to keep his eyes to himself,” Hailey practically growled. She sounded like Enid. “Before I claw them out-”

“-She’s gonna kill him.”

Everyone froze for a split second before their heads turned to look at the group once again. Wednesday could see how tightly your jaw was clenched and the way your eyes squinted just so. The muscles of your forearms were pulled taught as your hands were balled into fists so tight that she could have sworn your knuckles were about to split.

“Alex-”

“-I’m on it,” Alex said, immediately walking over to where you were standing.

The moment he put his hand on your arm, you visibly relaxed. Your head turned to face him and all the anger had faded, turning into something akin to a soft protectiveness. She couldn’t see what Alex was saying to you, but you nodded absentmindedly and said something to the group before pulling Alex over to the counter to grab the ice creams Bo was sliding over to you.

And then one of the guys said something and you moved to turn, but Alex’s hand gripped your arm. Not just touched you, but gripped you, holding you still and stopping you from turning around to face them again. From where she was sitting, Wednesday couldn’t properly see what was going on, couldn’t see the look on your face, but she knew that tenseness in your shoulders.

You were furious, and someone was going to be on the receiving end.

Alex pulled you to the counter and slid a few ice creams over, which you eventually took with shaking hands. He left first, walking ahead of you so you had something to focus on, and you dutifully followed behind. There was still a fire in your eyes, but you kept them glued to the back of his head.

“Hey,” Ash called out, and you stopped in your tracks without turning around. “If you’re ever free-”

“-I’m not,” you interrupted before immediately finishing your walk to the table and sitting down beside Wednesday.

She watched your face carefully as you handed out ice creams, sliding specific flavours to each sibling. You looked passive, but she could see the gears still turning behind your eyes. Whatever they had said to you wasn’t sitting well. It was evident in the way you only half listened to everyone’s talking.

The hair on the back of Wednesday’s neck stood up when she felt someone watching her. She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was because the group had sat not too far away from your table. Her mind kept replaying what Daniel had said. Ash thinks she’s pretty. That wasn’t sitting well with Wednesday, not at all, especially now that she knew Ash was an ex girlfriend.

In a split second decision, Wednesday leaned up to leave a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek, reveling in the way your body froze underneath her before leaning into her touch. You were smiling when she pulled away. In her peripheral vision she could see the look of absolute shock on Ash’s face. A smirk tugged at her own lips as she looked down and took the second spoon sticking out of the ice cream in between you both.

Now this made public affection worth it.

—---

The last full day of the trip started with chaos, as did every other day. Except this was different; the day started before the sun was even up.

Well. Technically it had started the night before.

Wednesday was sitting on the porch swing in the back with Daniel while the younger kids ran around with the goats. Alex and Hailey were down at the creek and you were in the kitchen preparing something for the next day. Something you had said would cook overnight. She didn’t understand, but you seemed confident that she would like it. Every now and then, she would see you looking out the door at her and smiling before going back to helping your father.

“She likes you,” Daniel said even though his nose was still in a book. She liked him the most; he kept to himself.

Wednesday just gave him a look, and he shrugged once he finally saw it.

“She won’t say it,” he said softly, “but she thinks you belong here.” She turned her head to look at you again. You were currently arguing with your father over something she couldn’t hear. “And she likes your butt.”

Her cheeks flushed at Daniel’s words; he simply chuckled before returning back to his book, not even phased by whatever thoughts he clearly heard in your head. And yet she couldn’t take her eyes off of you and the way you moved around the kitchen as if you belonged nowhere else. Your hands expertly preparing whatever was on the table, a smile on your face, your laughter at your Tio spilling out of the open back door.

You smiled at her when you passed by, something wrapped in tinfoil resting in your hands as you carried it to the grill. Smoker, Wednesday corrected herself when she remembered what you had told her earlier. A slow cooker, something she had never used before but clearly you knew how to work.

Wednesday watched you place what was in your hands into the smoker and check a few things before making your way to the porch swing where you sat down in between her and Daniel. Desire told her to lean into your side, and even though she could hear all the people around, she listened. She leaned into your side and felt your arm instinctively wrap around her shoulders to pull her close, and she sunk into you.

The wind was getting cool an hour or so later when you nudged her gently, urging her to get up and head inside with everyone else. Everyone bid their good nights and Wednesday immediately curled up with you on the couch. You left kisses on the back of her neck as you slid a hand under her shirt, resting your incredibly hot hand on her stomach before settling down.

Wednesday had been in a deep sleep when movement woke her up.

“Sorry,” you whispered before placing a simple kiss behind her ear as you lifted yourself off the couch. “Go back to sleep, I’ll be right back.”

She stayed still, wrapped up in your blanket as she listened to your feet stumble across the floor. The back door creaked open and the crickets and frogs from outside reached her ears. It had made it difficult to sleep at first, but now she found the sounds comforting. Her mind was at ease while she waited until finally the door creaked and locked and you dragged yourself back to the couch.

"Good night," you whispered with another kiss and an arm around her waist, and she quickly fell asleep again.

Until you got up a second time, not even two hours later. You gave her a kiss on the forehead before getting up, and another kiss when you got back a few minutes later.

And then a third time. This time she grumbled and practically kicked you out when you tried to crawl over her. You hit the ground with a grunt but made your way outside anyway. It took you far longer to come back, and she was almost asleep again when you crawled over her and fell back onto the couch, instantly pulling her into you and falling back asleep.

By the fourth time you got up, Wednesday was tired and grumpy and truthfully she just wanted you to hold her. All this up and down and sleeping and waking up, it was exhausting. When the sun finally started to rise, you were already up again and making coffee while your grandfather and father made their way downstairs.

"Mornin', Wensdy," your father said. She had grown to find his pronunciation of her name tolerable, if not a little endearing.

"Kept you up all night, didn't she?" Your grandfather asked with a chuckle.

She didn't dignify his question with a response. He found that even more funny, judging by his deep laugh.

Through half-lidded eyes, she saw you hand mugs of coffee to your father and grandfather, head them mumble their thanks before walking outside. She would hand it to your family, you all spent a lot of time outside. Practically from the moment you all woke up until you went back to sleep, the outside was where you were all happiest.

As much as she wanted to just change into her usual clothes for the day and get started, she was tired. She wasn’t afraid to admit it, she was tired. So she did what she had seen all of you do for the past two weeks; she left her pyjamas on and went into the kitchen. You were sitting on the bench by the table and trying to blink away the sleep in your eyes.

“Mornin’,” you mumbled as well, your voice still croaky and thick with sleep. “Saved some for you.”

She took the mug from your hands and sighed at the warmth that spread through her fingers. A similar warmth spread through her chest when your arm wrapped around her waist and you pulled her down to sit on your lap. You were ruining her, she thought when she didn’t even flinch. No, she just let herself sit on your lap and let your chin rest on her shoulder.

Everyone eventually made their way down into the kitchen by the time Wednesday finished her coffee. You were finally looking more awake and ready for the day, and you even pressed a kiss to her cheek before standing up, placing Wednesday on her feet before taking the empty mug and washing them in the sink.

Emily grabbed Wednesday’s hand and pulled her back down to the bench before you could bring her outside. For your sake, she pretended not to notice the slightest pout on your face when you noticed you had been beaten to the punch. But you put on a brave face and went out the back, and soon everyone was moving around.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Emily asked once everyone had started eating breakfast.

“What’s tonight?” Wednesday asked, and she could feel the energy in the room shift.

“We’re having a bomfire!” Emily cheered.

“It’s bonfire, Em,” Alex corrected her as he too walked out the back to join you and your group.

“For your last night,” your Abuelita said, softly enough so you couldn’t hear her speaking English. Wednesday aspired to be that woman. The level of pettiness was incredible.

“Y/N even agreed to bring out Nicky’s fiddle,” your mother said with a soft smile.

“She should leave it alone,” Hailey mumbled into her cereal.

“Hey,” your aunt cut in. “If you can’t say nothin’ nice, keep your mouth shut.”

“Well she should,” Hailey continued. “She’s not even as good as he is.”

“She’s aware, Hail,” your mother said with a sigh.

Wednesday had a feeling this conversation had occurred before. If not this particular conversation, then the topic itself. She had noticed the way everyone acted when anything involving Nicky came up. Whether it was a family photo, a book, a movie, he was there. It was as if his memory was sitting in the corner, waiting for everyone to notice and remember that he wasn’t gone, he would never truly be gone.

If his tidied, untouched side of the room wasn’t enough of a display of everyone’s feelings, this certainly was.

“I think she’s good,” Emily said, drawing everyone out of the sour mood. “She makes funny faces when she messes up,” she giggled.

“She’s always got a funny face,” Daniel said around his mouth full of eggs.

“That’s just how I look,” you said, making all the kids jump and instantly look guilty. Wednesday got joy out of their guilt. Immense joy. “I was born this way.”

“Everyone start behavin’ and eatin’ your breakfast,” your mother said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do before we can have fun.”

A chorus of “yes, mommas” rang throughout the kitchen, and everyone essentially inhaled their food before getting to work. Wednesday was impressed until your mother put her to work while you were sent out to help your Tio and father start preparing the outside area.

It was a madhouse the entire day. More than once she had tried to escape the kitchen to go see you, getting just close enough for you to pull her around the corner and kiss her. But then your mother would call out and scold her - the nerve that woman had - before practically shooing her back inside to finish helping.

“Let’s get ready,” Emily called out, grabbing Wednesday’s hand and dragging her upstairs. “We’ve got something for you to wear.”

“I have clothes,” Wednesday argued.

“Y/N bought them special for you,” Emily continued.

“She’s so whipped,” Hailey chuckled with a toothy grin.

Wednesday just kept her mouth shut. Why had you picked out clothes for her? She had plenty of her own, she didn’t need any new ones. After all, hadn’t you complained recently about how you couldn’t wait to start working again because you were “broke,” as you put it so bluntly? But when the girls showed her the clothes laid out on the bed, she understood. Did she approve? That was to be determined, but she at least understood.

Everything fit perfectly. A little too well, it was almost suspicious. How had you gotten her exact measurements anyway? She supposed it didn’t matter because the black pants and shirt fit like a glove. Maybe you had a talent she knew nothing about. Would you be a skilled designer?

Who was she kidding, she had seen your wardrobe, you were the furthest thing from a designer.

“You look so pretty!” Emily called out, practically screamed, and Hailey flinched at the noise.

“Inside voice, Em,” Hailey said in a far softer voice. “Let’s go before they start without us.”

Wednesday allowed herself to be pulled downstairs, through the kitchen, and to the back where everyone was already setting things up. There was a large table to the side with all the food from the day laid out with three different coolers beside it. On the other side of the yard, a little further away from the food, was a large clearing where wood was piled almost as tall as her. Seats were scattered as if the singular purpose was to watch the fire.

Maybe it was.

And kneeling next to the wood with a torch in hand, arguing with Tio, was you. You, in jeans and boots and a hat tilted back on your head just enough to block the sun out of your eyes. There were tailored holes in your shirt that kept your wings snug, yet free. They twitched and ruffled when the wind brushed against them. It was certainly a look. A good look, if Wednesday was being completely honest with yourself.

Although you ruined it when you nearly caught your sleeve on fire in an attempt to prove something to Tio.

Wednesday stumbled forward when something pushed against the back of her knees. She exhaled loudly through her nose when she turned and faced her mortal enemy; Steve. Whoever had let him out was going to pay. He kept eye contact with her, staring deep into her soul before knocking into her kneecap and walking away.

That demon spawn would perish in the fire on this night. Wednesday swore it.

Once the fire was started, you finally walked over to where Wednesday was standing and everyone started getting their food. Just like you had been the whole trip, you made her plate for her, piling on more food than she would ever be able to eat. When asked where your plate was, your face darkened and you gave her a sheepish smile.

“I was actually gonna eat off your plate,” you said softly.

You wanted to share food with her? That was big for you, to share food. Of course you had cooked it and had gotten it all for her, but to share it? The whole meal? That was a rather big deal for you, she was actually honoured that you would even assume such a thing.

“Come on,” you said, “let’s sit down.”

You led the way and sat her down on one of the logs near the fire, and everyone else was quick to follow suit. Alysah and Jamie were more preoccupied with playing with Steve - that damned creature - and would occasionally come back to grab something to eat before going back to play. Emily made it a point to sit beside Wednesday and talk the entire time. Daniel was beside you, and Alex and Hailey were on a different log while all the adults milled around.

After everyone was done eating and you helped distract the little ones, Wednesday could hear the gentle tunes of a guitar; your father and Tio were playing softly, nothing complicated, nothing flashy. She stayed in her spot and listened, watching their fingers move expertly across beaten up instruments that were horribly out of tune. And yet, they still sounded beautiful as the strings were plucked in just a way that created a perfectly constructed melody.

“Come on over, baby bird,” your father called to you. You stopped chasing Jamie and Alysah - and goddamn Steve - around and looked up. “Play us a tune.”

You stood up straight, and Wednesday could see you take a deep breath in before slowly exhaling. Something in your expression made her feel sad, and she remembered what Hailey had said about the fiddle. It was Nicky’s. But you quickly replaced your expression with a smile and walked your way over. When you passed Wednesday, you took your hat off your head and placed it on hers.

She heard gasps come from somewhere, and when she looked up there was a teasing look on your Abuelita’s and grandfather’s faces. Your mother and father were looking at each other, and your aunt and Tio were laughing. Full, belly deep laughter. She looked up at your flushed face and narrowed her eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” you mumbled, refusing to meet her eyes, and walking over to where your father and Tio were sitting. When they laughed at you, you hit their shoulders and she heard a hushed “shut up.”

Daniel came and sat down beside Wednesday again and the both of them watched you take the fiddle out of its case and start getting it ready. You put such care into it, touching it with such gentle fingers, almost as if you were scared to damage it. Maybe you were; it was Nicky’s.

You held it to your left shoulder; like a right-handed person, though you most certainly weren't one. It looked a little unnatural, and yet you weren’t hesitant when you drew the bow across the strings a few times. As much as Wednesday hated it, you tuned it to the already out-of-tune guitars. And yet, when you drew the bow across the strings once again, it almost sounded nice.

But if you ever asked, she would never admit it. She would still scold you for being so horrendously out of tune.

Your father started the song first, and you jumped in with an uncertainty that Wednesday rarely saw in you. It wasn’t fear, not really, but she could see something else even if she couldn’t put it into words. Your brows were furrowed and you looked down in such intense concentration and before long, your tongue was even sticking out slightly.

She wouldn't say you were fantastic. You were good, of course, but you were no professional. Normally it was something she would take into account; why play if you couldn't play it to perfection? That's what practice was for. Yet you continued to play, and you played past the mistakes (and made the funny faces Emily enjoyed), and your fingers quickly found their spaces on the neck and you looked peaceful.

As you played, Wednesday started to wonder who had taught you. Had it been Nicky? Whoever it was had taught you to play right handed. Was it uncomfortable to play that way, or was it the only way you knew? Those questions continued to swirl around her mind as she watched you, practically studied your movements and skill and smile.

She definitely studied your smile.

The longer everyone played, the more songs you completed, the more comfortable you looked. She almost even thought she heard you laugh when the kids started dancing around the bonfire. Your boot tapped to the beat and your father would sing and your Tio would laugh and it was such an unusual atmosphere for Wednesday.

And, much like everything you had subjected her to on that trip, it spread a warmth through her chest.

At some point, your aunt came over and sat on the other side of Wednesday. She didn’t think anything of it, everyone was either watching the three of you or watching the kids dance. It still evaded her as to why your family would make it a point to sit by her, or talk with her, or include her in things. She wasn’t part of the family.

Although she supposed her family did the same thing with you.

“Figured out the hat thing yet?” Your aunt asked when you finished the song and started bowing out, turning around to tuck the fiddle back into its case.

“No,” Wednesday admitted. Though truthfully she hadn’t even attempted to figure it out; she had, unfortunately, gotten distracted.

“It’s some old superstition,” she continued. You had finished putting up the fiddle and were now being dragged out to play something called “mothman” with Alysah, Jamie, and Emily. “If someone gives you their cowboy hat, it means they like you.”

Oh. Yes, well that- that would explain everyone’s reactions perfectly, would it not? You had, more or less, laid your affections out for the entire family to see. Not that they hadn’t seen it before, of course, they had certainly seen you holding her hand or pulling her close. But if it was superstition then it meant a great deal more than just hand holding.

A scream echoed through the air and everyone’s heads turned to where you and the kids had previously been running around. Except now there were only two people left; you and Jamie were nowhere to be seen. Wednesday tried to ignore the fear that sent through her veins that you had both just disappeared.

“They know I hate this game,” your mother mumbled as she walked past where Wednesday’s bunch was sitting.

“How do you play?” Wednesday asked.

“Y/N flies around and tries to steal you without anyone seeing,” Daniel answered. His leg brushed against Wednesday’s, and surprisingly she didn’t flinch away.

“If you’re caught?” She asked. Emily and Alysah were sticking together, looking all around for wherever you could possibly be.

“Then you lose.”

Her blood froze in her veins when your whispered voice came from right beside her left ear. How had you managed to sneak up on her? How were you even capable of being that silent? Your breath hit her ear as you chuckled and you left a quick kiss on her cheek before backing away and disappearing once again while Jamie suddenly reappeared on your aunt’s lap.

Was that attractive? Did Wednesday find your sneaking skills attractive? She did. She very much did. Another scream rang through the air; her eyes still hadn’t found you. She did, however, manage to catch you walking up behind her, Alysah and Emily both hauled over your shoulders like sacks of potatoes.

"I win," you said as you practically dropped their giggling bodies to the ground.

"Again!" Jamie called out.

"No more," your mother said almost instantly. "It's time for bed."

Grumbles and complaints came from all the children, Alex and Hailey included. But in the end they were no match for your mother, aunt, and Abuelita; those women were a force to be reckoned with and everyone knew it. Even Wednesday had learned to say a simple "yes ma'am" and go along with it.

Everyone got to cleaning up, putting up the leftovers - such an unusual concept for Wednesday, truthfully, but she believed she liked it. Possibly - and getting the children off to bed. You passed her once on the way to help carry something and grabbed the hat from her head and put it back on your own.

Everyone except your parents burst into laughter.

“You better not-”

“-Not in my house,” your mother and father said at the same time.

“It’s my own damn hat,” you shouted back. “I can take it back if I want.”

“What does that mean?” Wednesday asked your aunt.

“I’ll let lil’ bird tell you that one,” she laughed before walking away and leaving Wednesday to continue packing things up.

She felt something tickle her ankle and looked down, instantly feeling an intense rage. Steve. The damned goat was chewing her shoelace as if it was his god given right. It was beyond tempting to throw him into the bonfire that was still roaring behind her.

“Wanna stay up and watch the fire?” You asked, reaching down to pat Steve on the head. Wednesday glared at him again. You’re lucky she’s here to save you, she thought but kept to herself.

With the fire behind you and the hat tilted down over your face, you looked like a silhouette against the red and orange backdrop. She couldn’t see your eyes or your smile, but she could feel the happiness. It was in the relaxed set of your shoulders and the constant twitch and ruffle of your feathers.

“That would be nice,” Wednesday said, and this time she could see the reflection of the light off your teeth as you gave her a toothy grin.

You pulled her into your lap once you got to the logs near the fire. She instantly adjusted until she was comfortable; it was disgusting that she was now so used to sitting in your lap that she knew how to get comfortable so effortlessly. Your chin rested on your shoulder and your arms wrapped around her waist and you both just stared into the fire.

Neither one of you said anything, just sat there in a comfortable silence listening to the crackling of the burning wood. Every now and then she would feel you press a kiss behind her ear, or to her neck, or your hand would squeeze her thigh lightly. She let you continue, just enjoying the feel of your skin on hers. But the moment she went to turn around, the back patio door slammed open.

"If one 'a y'all gets pregnant, your Pop is putting you up for adoption," your aunt called out.

"Oh my god, go to sleep!" You shouted as you turned to glare at her. Her laughter echoed in the empty yard as the door closed again and you sighed.

Wednesday didn't bother hiding her smile as she pulled you into a real kiss. Her heart hammered in her chest when she felt you smile back.

[theghostbunnie]

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE TALK ABOUT NIKKI AND NERRIS IN THE NEW EP I LOVE YOUR OPINIONS ON EVERYTHING

(bcs they're scarily similar to mine)

TYSM????❤️♥️💕💝 and I always have so many opinions I'm the fuckin yapinator

I was literally talking just the other day about how Nikki has a detachment from feminity as she's literally been reprimanded for doing it wrong before even her two best friends doing an 'eh' with an iffy handshake when she even REFERS to herself as a girl and I do strongly believe it's bc she's at that age where she's learned feminity does equal something shameful or weak, or in her case maybe even thinks it makes you mean and shallow. While SIMULTANEOUSLY still being a young feminist and trying to not have that subconsciously!!! Creates a sort of "it's for others not for me" mentality accidentally bc she's supposed to be Nikki™ and thinks she'll be less respectable, or less herself if she's feminine.

But she's actually been this way in the show before she's willingly wore pink on two occasions willingly, as casted as Juliet, and wearing Indian traditional clothing. (I'd argue even further on the second one as it wasn't given to her for play but she made it!! And it was pretty!!) In the episode Neil and her get stuck in the flowerscouts he just WAKES UP with makeup and a seaweed wig on and I'm firm that like she did that and knows how to lmao. (Further proved by her literally doing her own makeup in this episode)

But back on topic yeah when she was enjoying herself until she realized ofc her worries weren't upfront exactly "oh no I look girly!" It was oh no I look like a FLOWERSCOUT, a "type" of feminity she's tried to push away from bc she associates it with a specific type of woman, and worries who she is as a person if she likes this.

I hope the fandom takes this episode as Nikki being a more rounded character instead of like, just erasing her masculine side or something :/

Bc most importantly; Nikki's expression of feminity in this episode *wasn't performative* she was doing it by herself for how it felt

ONTO NERRIS

I love their character ok like everyone in camp campbell is an asshole in their own way and their own degree, and I know early fandom liked to demonize the hell out of Nerris but I actually love how their character flaws compared to the other campers way more just scream "child" to me. They do shit and I go "yeah this is definitely a character acting immature with not a full grasp of their actions" and it's cute in a way to me idk!!! Like girl that's someone's DIARY WHY DID YOU POUR YOURSELF SOME JUICE AND KICK YOUR FEET AND GIGGLE READING IT YOUR SO SILLY ! Nerris often prioritizes themself in selfish ways but also in very childlike ways so yeah reading someone's diary because they connect with them and gain a little crush on them through that is adorable, esp jumping straight to "is this LOVE?"

Nerris liking girls- also something!!! Hinted towards in past episodes!! ((Nikki too some people call It "just admiration" but she literally has blushed at Ered and called her "my baby")) Nerris' scene where they're profusely sweating asking Ered to hang out with them i want to say could be a sign she has a crush on her too, but honestly? I'd be more inclined to believe the "it's just admiration" argument more here, I could see it going either way.

NERRIS WITH NIKKI THOUGH, IN NIKKI'S LAST DAY ON EARTH, Does that god modding type play little kids do where they narrate what they want to happen and get huffy when the other kids don't play along, which again back to my previous point of Nerris honestly being a small time offender compared to most the cast and also adorable.

But specifically she was trying to lowk boss Nikki into running into her arms and to me that's always been🫵🤨🏳️‍🌈⁉️

So I find it really funny how Ered, a character most the fandom hasn't really paid attention to or been a favorite or anything, always gets HC'd as a lesbian (often just for the jokes, or because her parents are gay, or because she's colored hair pronouns and skateboard/hj)

Absolutely no hate to the HC itself I'm sure there's someone who loves her character alot who has it but sometimes you can kind of tell when most are just slapping labels on characters they don't care about, and Ered out of the three of them is the ONLY one who hasn't shown cannonically interest in girls??? 😭 Like most of the cast, hasn't in anyone or any gender!! Nerris and Nikki have been exceptions in that, and now it's even official for Nerris!

Nerris and Nikki have cannonically only shown interest in girls. Unless some specific brief scene is slipping my mind atm/gen

ALSO GONNA TALK A LIL MORE ABOUT ERED BC I LOVE HER also need to specify the difference between a hc and a theory RN as I know it's very likely not cannon but the fact Ered doesn't know a lot of "being a woman" or periods (like an alarming amount missing for someone 14 ALSO CAN I GLOAT A LITTLE BIT ABOUT BEING RIGHT SHE WAS 13 IN S1-S4 !!??? OTHER PEOPLE WOULD SAY LIKE UP TO LIKE 17 SOMETIMES) (also context it's bc she says "other freshmen" and freshmen are 14-15.)

You could argue she simply is a late bloomer but girl you yelled at the word uterus like you simply can't understand 🏳️‍⚧️🫵🤨⁉️⁉️ and "what happens at NIGHT TIME??" like the whole conversation gave me the vibe she only knew things on a surface level and wanted to know more simply to be included!! I also wanna point out Ered never says anything that could confirm or deny she even gets one, just that Gwen thought she did, which could've been assumption or simply the wording she chose to phrase.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: THIS IDEA JUST SPARKED HOLY SHIT?? OK have you ever watched Hot Ones with Sean Evens (first we feast is the youtube channel) so basically that but Steve is the one being interviewed but he LOVES spicy food??(watch the episode with Florence Pugh i LOVE it but basically I want it to be kinda like that) just yeah that. Jxjxnxnx please and thank you

MY LOVE ❤️ I admit, most of what I watch of really anything is either highlights on Tik Tok or short clips my friends send me because I am out of touch with the cool kids. But Hot Ones is SO GOOD. The Lewis Capaldi episode (I do love him anyways) had me actually almost pee my pants laughing. I hope you love this fun (short, sorry) thing for this! - Mickala ❤️

-------------------------------------------------

“I just don’t know why you got Hot Ones. They could have had the whole band on there making idiots of themselves,” Eddie pouted.

He’d been pouting for two days now.

In fact, his entire band was from the moment Steve called him on tour to let him know that he would be doing the Hot Ones interview next week.

“I told you, they had a last minute cancellation and my schedule just worked. Maybe you’ll get next season,” Steve said over the phone as the oven timer went off to let him know his brownies were done cooking.

“Whatcha makin’ Stevie?” Eddie’s curiosity was adorable.

He was in London, just got off stage from their last show in Europe. Steve was in their home in LA, having the last lazy day in before his awards season started.

“If I tell you, you’ll be sad you’re missing it.”

“Tell us! Tell us!” Gareth said from much closer than Steve would have expected.

“Hi Gare Bear. No personal space tonight?”

Eddie laughed as Steve pulled the brownies out of the oven and shut it off.

“He said personal space is for people who don’t like each other and he likes me very much,” Steve could hear Eddie’s eye roll in his voice. “A shame because I can’t stand him.”

“Play nice boys. You’ll be home in less than 24 hours,” Steve reminded them.

Gareth lived a mile up the road from them with his boyfriend and their excessive amount of cats.

Excessive being four.

Steve was allergic, so any amount of cats seemed excessive to him.

But Steve and Gareth were close, had been since even before Eddie and Steve started dating.

He was Steve’s best man in their wedding, much to Dustin’s bafflement. He only didn’t argue because Eddie softened the blow by asking him to be his own best man.

Usually if baked goods or a home cooked meal were involved, Gareth would show up at their door ready to partake.

“You’ll be home when I get there?”

“Yep. Cleared my whole day just for you, baby.”

“Good. Miss you.

“Miss you too. You heading to bed?” Steve poked at the brownies, making sure they were cooked.

“Yeah, I’m beat.” Eddie yawned to emphasize how exhausted he was. “Did your manager tell them you love spicy foods or are you just gonna let them assume you’re a wimp?”

“Nah. It’ll be fun.”

—-------------------

When he arrives on the set of Hot Ones, Sean greets him with a smile and a handshake.

Eddie wasn’t able to come with him, but Robin had promised to record the whole thing just for them.

She watched from the side next to his manager, Nancy, and his bodyguard, Hopper.

They settled at the table, got mic’d up, makeup touched up, and Sean reminded him that if he absolutely had to tap out, they could stop recording and edit everything accordingly to make it look like he made it through the challenge.

Steve wasn’t worried.

The first three wings didn’t even have a kick. It was just a casual conversation between friends.

He talked about his work with a theater group for kids in New York City, as well as his work on an indie film that was coming out in the fall.

The fourth and fifth wings had a pinch of spice to them, but nothing to make even bat an eye.

Sean continued asking questions, Steve continued answering them.

On the seventh wing, Steve was barely distracted from the question: “What project of yours are you most looking forward to doing next?”

“I think I’ll be most excited to take some time off with my husband, working on starting the family we’ve wanted for a while. He’s been on tour for most of the last year, and we agreed it was a good time to figure out what we wanna do,” Steve said as he took another bite.

He could feel the burn of this one at least, felt the sting on his lips and tongue.

But it was very manageable, and the jalapeno flavor was almost refreshing. It tasted fresh.

“Okay, I have to ask: did you practice these beforehand?”

Steve snorted.

“No. I’m just not very sensitive to spicy foods. I usually keep a lot of hot sauces in my house. Poor Eddie’s learned how to tolerate spice because of it,” Steve said as they brought out the eighth wing.

“I’ve never had anyone so calm at this point. I’m starting to think even the hottest one won’t really bother you!”

“I guess we’ll see!”

The ninth wing was hot. He wouldn’t try to deny it.

“It does have a lovely watermelon flavor to it, very fruity and tangy on top of the spice. I like it,” Steve smiled.

He knew his face was getting a bit red from this one, and he reached for the water, but only had to take a couple of small sips before he was ready to keep going.

“Alright, for this one, we’ll ask a question for you to answer before and then we’ll have one for right after. You ready?”

“Bring it on!”

And it definitely did.

It was hot, and he could feel tears in his eyes, and sweat breaking out across his forehead.

“Finally, we have a reaction!” Sean exclaimed.

“This one’s definitely a lot more than the others,” Steve added, reaching for the milk.

He could tell Robin and Nancy were laughing, probably very much enjoying any amount of pain he managed to have when he went into this so sure that none of them would get to him.

“Final question: Would you ever consider retiring to follow Eddie on tour with your future family?”

Steve nodded once, taking another sip of the milk.

God, this one was hot.

“Uh, yep. I mean, retiring is a strong word. I would definitely take a long break. I’ve always wanted a family,” he stopped to take another sip and a bite of the celery. “I’ve wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember. And I know Eddie wants that, but he also doesn’t wanna stop making music, and the rest of his band isn’t ready to take a break like that. I know it would be easy for me, so my plan would be to take at least a few years off.”

“Doing alright over there?”

Steve laughed, fanning his face.

“I’m okay. That just went from a kick to a beatdown pretty quick.”

“Well, you’re a pro at making it look easy. You deserve an Oscar for this performance!”

It was a ridiculous sentiment, but funny, and Steve was up for an Oscar this year.

He finished the glass of milk and shook Sean’s hand, thanking him for having him.

“Eddie is already in tears watching Sean watch you in disbelief,” Robin started as soon as he joined them again.

“What was all that at the end?” Nancy asked, arms crossed, face furious.

He usually had free reign in interviews, but he knew Nancy would tell him not to mention anything even slightly related to retirement.

His career had really only just taken off a couple years earlier, and talking about a break or retiring now would immediately cut his chances of good roles in half.

“Just the truth, Nance. You know Eddie and I wanna start a family,” he said as they started walking through the backstage area to leave.

“I just didn’t know that meant taking a break. I thought you’d just take turns with stuff or hire a nanny.”

Steve knew that worked for a lot of couples, but they both were too family-focused for that. They didn’t want a nanny raising their kids.

“Why are you freaking out?”

“I’m not! I just would’ve liked a heads up.”

Robin stared between them, eyes bouncing back and forth like it was a tennis match.

“I don’t have to tell you every single detail of my life. You know all that’s relevant right now.”

Nancy sighed, but nodded, turning away and typing furiously on her phone.

His phone rang seconds later.

“Sweetheart, let me just say: it is so sexy how you handle those hot sauces,” Eddie’s teasing voice was enough to get him back into a happy mood.

“Your standards for sexy are so low,” Steve said as he walked to the corner to get as much privacy as possible.

“No, it’s just that everything you do is sexy.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“But I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.”

“Steve!” Sean’s voice came from behind him, large smile lighting up his face. “Sorry to bother you, but would Eddie and the guys like to come on the show as our bonus episode this season?”

Eddie was screaming yes through the phone, much to their amusement.

“So…yes?” Sean asked.

“Yes!” Eddie yelled.

Sean walked away to update the producer while Steve kept talking to Eddie.

“See? Now you’ll get your show, too.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

[somedaylazysomeday]

Hooked - Part Two

Continued Billy Butcher x fem!reader

You bring Billy back to your apartment.

Rating: Explicit - mind the warnings. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3,400

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, blunt conversations about sex, swearing (obviously), brief description of a sex toy, piv sex.

Previous | Masterlist

---

“You live next to a junkyard,” Butcher said, grinning. “Are you shitting me?”

You huffed at him, but it was hard to argue his point. Instead, you concentrated on unlocking your front door and said, “It’s not a junkyard. It’s part of the tow yard.” 

“Full of junk.”

“What did you think happened to cars that were crushed?” you asked, exasperated. “They’ll get recycled eventually, but it’s cheaper if we keep them here until we have a full load of them.”

“Doesn’t make the view any prettier.” Butcher turned around, eyes raking up and down over you. “Least, not lookin’ that direction.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That was stupid.” 

Butcher barked a laugh. “Your sweet talk needs work.” 

“How’s this, then?” you asked, stepping inside your apartment and beckoning him to follow you. “I have alcohol.” 

“Sweetest talk I ever heard,” Butcher declared. “Anything good?” 

“Cupboard next to the fridge,” you said, pointing it out to him. “Pick your poison. I’m gonna change into something not covered in oil.” 

When you came back into the combined kitchen and living room of your cramped apartment, Butcher’s eyebrows lifted. “You actually changed clothes.” 

You glanced down at yourself. Instead of your makeshift uniform of dark jeans and a serviceable shirt, you were wearing a soft tee shirt and loose pajama pants. “I said I was going to. I don’t want to get oil on my furniture.” 

“Yeah, you did say that,” he agreed. “But normally, people come back naked.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” you said lightly, pulling a beer out of the fridge. “But I want a drink before I do anything else. Cheers.” 

Butcher watched as you tapped the bottom of your beer bottle against the glass of amber liquid he was holding. He followed you to the comfortable living room, and you could feel that he was going to say something as he settled on the other end of the broken-in couch.

“Tryin’ to talk yourself into doing this?” he asked. “Or out of it?” 

“Neither,” you said, wiping a stray drop of beer from your lip. “I just wanted a beer.” 

“You sure you want to fuck?” Butcher’s tone was blunt and stark, his gaze echoing it perfectly. 

“Yeah.” That didn’t seem to be enough of an answer for him, so you shrugged. “I like sex, and I like you a hell of a lot more than some of the people I’ve slept with in the past. Are you sure you want to do this?” 

Butcher scoffed, but you didn’t accept that as an answer. When he had taken the hint, he said, “There you go, calling me a pussy again. ‘Course I do. You’re fuckin’ gorgeous. Just thought it was strange that you want to jump in bed with a stranger. We didn’t even shake hands.” 

That was so ridiculous that you choked on your mouthful of beer. Sputtering, you stuck your hand out for him. Butcher glanced at it, then up at your face before he took it, giving a ginger shake. 

“There,” you said, clearing your throat to dislodge your drink from where it had wandered. “Are we well acquainted enough to sleep together, or do we need to make a secret handshake?” 

“Smartass,” Butcher muttered, taking a healthy swallow from his glass. “Though now that you mention it…” 

He scooted closer and you braced yourself for a complex handshake or something equally ridiculous, but he leaned in until he could press a kiss to your lips. You were still for the short exchange, frozen in shock, but he ducked in again and you managed to respond. 

Butcher was a surprisingly good kisser. You hadn’t expected it from his gruff and generally unpleasant demeanor, but maybe you should have. Butcher seemed like an asshole and he was - but it was paired with a depth and humanity that took time to unlock. Maybe you should have guessed that he would be the same in other things. 

The moment you responded, he deepened the kiss. You did the same, unwilling to let him get the upper hand. You could feel Butcher smile into the kiss, even if it was half a snarl, and he nipped sharply at your lower lip. When you gasped, he swept through your mouth like a force of nature, leaving no room for doubt that he had taken charge. 

So, naturally, you had to up the ante by straddling him. 

Your knees sank into the couch on either side of his hips. That only made it easier to press your core against him. You were starting to feel distinctly hot and slick inside of your loose pajama pants, and you could feel Butcher’s stiffening length through the thick weave of his jeans. 

Butcher groaned, the sound muffled by your lips, and you smiled to hold back a noise of your own. He felt delicious against you, and this was starting to sound like a better idea every moment that passed. Normally, you didn’t hop into bed this soon after meeting someone - especially when they had started off being such an asshole - but you really wanted to do this. And you trusted yourself enough to follow through on that want. 

“Want to stay here?” you asked between breathless kisses. “Or move to the bedroom?” 

He was about to give a sarcastic response, you could see it rising behind his eyes. You had only just braced for it when you watched him make the decision to be civil. “Bedroom.” 

“This way,” you instructed, climbing down from his lap and leading him over toward your bedroom door. “Hang on.” 

Butcher waited while you shoved a pile of clothes onto the floor. “Love a woman with good organizational skills.”

“Shut up,” you told him unceremoniously, tossing a spare sock toward the chair in the corner of your room. “I didn’t exactly expect to have someone over here tonight.”

“Glad you changed your plans.” 

His sarcasm almost made you say something harsh. The only reason you didn’t was because you worked out your frustration by shoving him onto the bed. He was still bouncing when you climbed on top of him again. 

He stayed quiet for a minute, mostly because he was too busy kissing you to talk, but he could only make it so long without speaking. “Hang on, love. Who said you get to be on top?” 

“My house, my rules,” you explained, nibbling at his jawline. “Besides, you give off pillow princess vibes.” 

“Excuse the fuck outta me,” Butcher bit out, but he wasn’t actually mad. “I ain’t nobody’s princess, love, not even in the bedroom. Not that there’s anything wrong with a man layin’ back to enjoy the view…” 

His hands skimmed up the sides of your body, dragging your shirt up toward your chest. His dark eyes soaked in every bit of skin he had bared, and eagerly watched for more. A dirty little grin curved his lips, stretching them in a way that probably hurt the split skin. With a look of mild concentration, he lifted the shirt even further, exposing your breasts. 

You had been mostly thinking about comfort when you had chosen not to put on another bra, but you were happy you had skipped it. The appreciative groan Butcher let out when he saw your bare chest stroked your ego. In fact, you were feeling confident enough to whip the shirt off entirely, leaving you wearing only your pair of well-worn pajama pants. 

The pants were thin enough that his bulge put pressure exactly where you wanted it the most, and you ground your core against him unashamedly. 

Butcher’s fingertips slid below the stretched elastic waistband at your hips. “Does that mean you’re not wearing anything other than these?” 

You raised your eyebrows at him. “If you weren’t overdressed, you might already know.” 

“Don’t need to tell me twice.” 

He bucked hard, spinning beneath you. You fought the noise that tried to rise in your throat, and compromised by collapsing to the bed beside him. As soon as you landed, you rolled to lay on your side to watch him. Butcher was already working at the button of his jeans, stripping them off as quickly as he could manage. His shirt followed, then his socks, until he was dressed in a pair of dark blue boxer-briefs. 

“That makes us even,” he said, gesturing to his hips. It was a pointless movement - you were already looking. “Unless you are wearing something under those.” 

You tugged down the fabric of the pants, pulling until there was a stretch of skin showing from hip to mid-thigh. “Nope.” 

Butcher pouted when you let the waistband slide back up into place, but he consoled himself by cupping one of your breasts. He watched raptly as its nipple pebbled under the attention. “Much as I love the foreplay, love, I think we should get a little more hands-on.” 

“Okay,” you agreed, willing enough. You teased your fingertips into the hair on his chest before following that dark trail downward until it disappeared into the boxer-briefs.

“Careful,” he warned, catching your hand before it could make contact with anything more vital. 

“Giving me one last chance to back out?” you teased. 

Butcher grinned. “Nah, you’re outta chances. Givin’ you one last chance to get naked before I take care of it myself. And I can’t promise that these,” he paused, experimentally tugging at the fabric of your pants, “would survive it.” 

“Fine.” You sighed, sitting back to give yourself room to wriggle out of the soft bottoms. You balled them up, tossing them vaguely in the direction of the chair where your clean clothes had ended up. When you rolled back toward him, Butcher’s gaze was so intense, you could almost feel it on your skin. Still, you pretended not to notice. Instead, you shrugged. “Better?” 

He was naked faster than you could believe, and on top of you even faster than that. He savaged your mouth with his, the kiss full of teeth and heat and desperation, but you were distracted by the way he had pressed his hips between your spread thighs. The press of him against your core increased the pressure eating you alive, and it only grew more intense when you started to wriggle against him. 

Butcher didn’t seem like the type to get off on denying himself, and he bucked firmly against you the moment you moved. You could feel the thick slide of him against your damp folds, the head of him catching occasionally against your clit. 

“Condom,” you gasped, as you remembered that very important requirement. “There are some in the nightstand.” 

He sat on the side of the bed, fishing through the top drawer of your bedside table until he came up with a small, foil-wrapped packet. He rolled it over himself, but took a beat to switch on a large rabbit vibrator he had found. He smirked at the way it wobbled in his hand as you rolled your eyes. 

“Butcher,” you complained. “Do you always get distracted so easily?” 

“Who says I’m distracted?” he challenged, looking back at you with a glint in his eyes. “Maybe I’m planning round two.” 

Your lower belly fluttered at the idea that he was already interested in going again with you, but you shook your head. “I’m more worried about us starting round one before you have to go pick up your car.” 

Butcher chuckled lowly. “Yeah? Well, since I don’t like to make you worry…” 

He crawled across the bed on his hands and knees, making eye contact while he approached you. Butcher ran his rough hands up your legs as he urged them to part, slotting himself between your thighs as soon as he had the room. He was pressed against you again, but this time, there was nothing to stop him from pushing inside of you. 

So he did. 

The broad head of him slid through your slit, bumping your clit and collecting wetness until he was in the perfect spot. That first press was slow, and you vaguely noticed Butcher’s muscles trembling as he worked to hold himself steady. 

Though he didn’t force himself quickly into you, the steady slide into you was just as overwhelming as a sudden thrust would have been. He felt massive stretching you, patient and almost inevitable. 

The rest of the world disappeared. There was no tow yard, no car in need of repairs, no desperate job hunt. There was only here and now, the bed beneath you, and the warm weight of Butcher on top of you. And, of course, the thick stretch of him as he slowly made room for himself in your body. 

Your head kicked back and your nails sank into Butcher’s shoulders and back. He grimaced slightly, but there was nothing you could do about it - your body was reacting without any conscious input from your mind. 

When his hips were firmly nestled in the cradle of your pelvis, you took a shaking breath and realized that it was the first time you had breathed in a while.

“Fuck,” Butcher spat out. You would have almost thought he was angry, but his eyelids were fluttering in barely suppressed ecstasy. “You okay? Feels like you’re about to snap my dick clean off.”

You shook your head despairingly. “Romantic.” 

He glanced down at you in surprise. “Wouldn’t-a thought you’d go in for the romantic stuff. Want me to say something nice? Ay?” 

“Don’t,” you demanded. “I think it would creep me out if you started being nice.” 

Butcher opened his mouth to say something - probably something insulting, if you were to guess from the curl of his lips - but you rolled your hips experimentally. He choked, but you ignored him. 

He still felt massive in you, but you were adjusting. By that point, you were acclimated enough for him to start moving. You rolled your hips again. 

Butcher caught at your waist, holding you in place. “Easy, sweetheart. Don’t wanna hurt you.” 

“I’m fine, now move.” 

He tilted his head at you. “Bossy.” 

Then he started to move. And it was… fine. 

He was going too slowly, far too slowly. Maybe he wanted to keep things slow? Maybe you were tight enough that you were hurting him? But you didn’t think so. There was a fine tremble running through his chest and biceps, and his hips gave an occasional stutter against yours, like he was struggling not to start thrusting into you. 

You weren’t going to put up with that. You hooked a leg around the back of his knee, giving a sharp tug to topple his balance. When he collapsed forward, he pushed a fraction of an inch further into you, driving a moan from both of you at once. 

You managed to recover quickly, moving to one side as his body came crashing down on the mattress beside you. From there, it was simple to push him onto his back, then to straddle his narrow hips. With a steadying grip on his cock and a bit of thigh strength, you were sinking down onto him. 

The stretch was still intense the second time, but it was a manageable stretch. You could think of things beyond it rather than being fully engrossed, and your senses stayed sharp. That gave you an excellent view of Butcher’s eyes fluttering shut as he was enveloped in your heat a second time. 

The groan he tried to stifle made you throb around him, especially when it trailed into something dangerously close to a whine. “Fuck. You’re gonna kill me if we’re not careful.” 

“Is there a better way you want to go out?” you asked. It hadn’t been intended as a rhetorical question, but it turned into one when you started to ride him slowly. 

The room wasn’t quiet. You could hear traffic on a nearby highway and strains of music playing in an apartment somewhere in the building. More immediately, the sounds of panted breaths, muffled curses, and moving bodies filled the room, creating a perfect sexual soundtrack. 

You leaned forward, planting your hands against Butcher’s chest to balance yourself. The coarse hairs tickled your palms, but you only pressed harder as you used your thigh muscles to propel you both toward glory. Butcher’s fingers sank into your ass, clutching you tight as he started to thrust counter to your movements. 

“Faster, love,” Butcher urged. 

“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled back. “My damn legs are falling off.” 

He hooked one arm behind his head, supporting it on his own elbow as he smirked up at you. You were slightly appeased by the hitch in his voice when he spoke. “Can’t blame me. I started out on top, didn’t I? Then someone pulled a nasty trick so she could be in charge of things. But if you want to give up, I could be persuaded to take over again…” 

“Shut up, Butcher.” You grimaced as you sped up. The complaints from your leg muscles were loud, but your impending orgasm managed to be even louder. You leaned in, letting him support even more of your weight to ease your burning thighs. He let out a little ‘oof’ at the additional pressure, but seemed mostly unbothered.

You hadn’t stopped moving during the exchange, and neither had he. You were both getting close, you could tell by the way his breathing had sped in time with your own. 

“Gonna come, love,” Butcher warned. 

You nodded, rapid and too many times, but your focus was elsewhere. “Touch me, Butcher. I’m close.” 

His hands lifted, moving confidently to your breasts. That wasn’t exactly what you had been thinking, but there was something delicious about the way he cupped you. And when his rough fingers rolled the tender flesh of your nipples, you begrudgingly changed your opinion to ‘good’. 

Still, it wasn’t quite the stimulation that you needed. You shifted your hands so that one would support your weight while the other dipped down and back, between your own legs. Butcher twitched at the way your knuckles brushed the base of his cock, but you were far more focused on the magic your fingers were working against your clit. 

The stimulation felt nice most times, but it was particularly intense when there was something stretching your channel. A few quick, sure strokes against those screaming nerves and you were poised on the edge. 

“Beautiful,’ Butcher said roughly, eyes fixed where your fingers were still playing. “Come for me.” 

You hated to give him the satisfaction of doing anything he asked, but your body seemed willing enough. The moment he had finished saying it, your inner muscles cranked down like a vice, squeezing him in a helpless spasm of desperate pleasure.

Beneath you, Butcher groaned and hissed. Nothing he said were actual words, but you knew they were meant to be curses. Just as your peak started to recede, his hands pulled you down onto him, spearing up into you as far as he could. His hips jerked and danced as he spilled, and only the condom he wore kept him from emptying himself into you. 

At last, you both were lying on the bed, heavy-lidded and sated. Butcher had struck you as the type to jump up and leave immediately after sex, but he didn’t. Instead, he peeled off the condom, cleaned himself up with a tissue, handed another to you, and settled comfortably against one of your pillows. 

You crumpled up the tissue in your hand as you went to use the bathroom. One of washcloths you kept by the sink would do a much better job at cleaning you up, and you had to pee anyway. 

When you came back into your bedroom, Butcher was still lying in your bed. His breathing was slow and even, and you knew that he had fallen asleep. It made you smile as you climbed in beside him, pulling the sheets over you both. You had expected that would wake him up, but he was out.

Maybe it was because of his injuries. Maybe it had been a long day for him. Either way, you remembered thinking how cute it was that he fell asleep so quickly, then sleep rose up and claimed you without a chance to fight it. 

The single time you rose back to consciousness, Butcher was pressed close, lips brushing your shoulder and an arm flung over your waist to keep you where you were.

---

Author's Note - Thanks for reading! There are other Fanfic February fics on the way, but I would love to hear what you thought about this one! This is my first time writing Billy Butcher, so I was a little nervous about this one.

[serendipitous-girl]

I was going yo write a multichap for sally face but i am much better at oneshots so i am scrapping that idea however i am sharing how much i had written so far

"Why can't you let us know anything about what happened?" You argued, glaring at the stubborn police officer guarding the door. Ms.Sanderson was somebody you held dearly in your heart and she was dead so quickly. Of course you wanted ton investigate but it was difficult when police officers wouldn't answer any questions.

"Get lost, little girl." The police officer ordered, glaring down at you. You rolled your eyes and started walking away, when in the corner of your eye you noticed a person with blue hair in pigtails. They must be new to Addison apartments and possibly your age.

"Hey!" You called out, rushing towards them. You got closer and they turned around, wearing a mask? (No, actually you realized it was a prosthetic something you had seen on TV recently.)

"I'm [Name] and I live in 202. What's your name?" You said, holding out your hand for them to shake. They accepted the offer, their hand cold (but nice) as they gave you a firm handshake.

"The name's Sal but my friends call me Sally Face." The person responded, voice slightly raspy and very masculine. Oh, so the new kid is a boy. There wasn't anything wrong with that, in fact its totally cool! "I just moved in and decided to check out my neighbors."

You nodded and smiled, listening to his words. He had such a soothing voice, it was incredibly easy to listen to. You were determined to make him your friend.

"Well I can introduce you to Larry, one of my best friends who also lives here." You said, hoping Sal would take the offer. You wanted to be his friend, if he doesn't want to hang out with you now will he ever?

Much to your relief, he nods and starts following you. Maybe he can help you figure out what happened with Ms.Sanderson! So will Larry, probably, but the more helping is better.

You passed by some of your other neighbors, which makes you describe them all. From the creepy Charlie to the strange Mr.Addison. It was hard to tell if he was listening since you couldn't see his expressions through the mask, but you kept talking anyhow.

"Hi, Lisa." You waved as you approached Larry's mom cleaning the floor. She looked up and smiled, smiling at Sal behind you as well.

"Hi, dear. Who's this?" She asked, although more framing the question towards Sal. He introduced himself, and Lisa did the same.

"Is Larry in his room?" You asked, wanting yo get back to the reason you had approached her. Lisa nodded and tossed you a key to her apartment so you could head inside.

"How long have you lived here?" Sal asked, walking side by side with you. He looked at you, one of his eyes a gorgeous blue color that was so vibrant it was surely electric. His other eye was a much more muted blue although just as pretty..it seemed he had only one eye that actually functioned.

"Probably as long as I can remember." You chuckled, shrugging, "I've grown up in Nockfell and I think I've pretty much lived at Addison since I was a toddler. Where are you moving from?"

"New Jersey." He replied, voice a bit more curt. You winced and noted it as a touchy subject, hopefully Larry won't bring up any of this when you see him.

Finally you two made it to the basement and you unlocked Lisa's apartment, "She gets to live here basically for free since she is the janitor. Larry is her son and he's our age."

Sal nodded and followed you as you entered the apartment. "Larryyyyy," You yelled, "Get your lazy ass out of your room!"

A few seconds go by and surprisingly enough Larry walked out of his room. He was tall with long hair (that looked surprisingly soft despite him being terrible at taking care of it) and of course a Sanity Falls t shirt.

"Whoa, dude." Larry said, laying his eyes laying on Sal, "Nice mask!" He gave Sal a thumbs up, the bro code for gaining his respect.

"It's a prosthetic," You corrected at the exact same time Sal says it too. He glanced at you, seemingly surprised.

"How did you know its a prosthetic?" He asked, eyes boring into your skin. Your face warmed and you looked away, unused to such a piercing stare.

"I just guessed since I have seen them on TV before." You replied, trying to hide your fluster. Larry raised his eyebrow at you, noticing your reaction but luckily he said nothing. You would've fought him otherwise.

Sal nodded and left it alone, glancing around the room. He noticed the Sanity Falls poster and Larry started geeking out on him.

`ᘞ✿❀ᘡˊ°`���❀✿ᘡˊ°`ᘞ✿❀ᘡˊ°`ᘞ❀✿ᘡˊ°`ᘞ✿❀ᘡˊ°`ᘞ❀

"Is this a good idea? Probably not." You said, sighing as you realized what you guys were about to do. But it's for Mrs.Sanderson! It's necessary.

"Okay so I distract the officer while you too sneak into Mrs.Sanderson's room. I have one walkie talkie that you guys can both use." Larry says, tossing the walkie talkie to Sal. (Rude, you've known Larry longer.)

Sal and you both nodded, ready to get the plan in motion. You all exited Larry's room, with Larry going to her room.

You and Sal waited nearby, listening for the signal you can proceed. Your heart pounded and your blood felt charged with electricity, this was more exciting than you were used to.

Finally the walkie talkie crackled to life as Larry gave the all clear. You glanced at Sal and nervously smiled, rushing towards Mrs.Sanderson's room quickly.

Your footsteps echoed your heavy heartbeat, threatening to jump from your chest. You tried to mentally prepare yourself, it was going to be bloody probably and it could be scary. Stay calm, just stay calm.

Sal opened the door and courteously went in before you, probably since his noticed your hands shaking with nerves. Even though your fear was valid it was embarrassing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you followed Sal and crinkled your nose at the utter stench of death.

You dragged your eyes through the scene, dark red splatters all around the room like a gruesome painting. Attempting to focus, you noticed something. There was a empty spot where the blood splatter went...like an object was there and got removed.

"Sal, Sal, look!" You hissed, nudging him with your shoulder and pointing at the spot, where it looked like there was a missing glitter pony. Sal nodded and looked at you.

"Good job! Now lets go before we get caught." Sal said, turning around and hurrying the way you both came. Footsteps were quiet and rapid as you guys practically ran out of the room before the officer came back to the room.

Once you were safe, you leaned forward catching your breath. Sal was staring at you, his emotions unidentifiable under his mask.

"Its cool that you noticed that earlier, I almost missed it." Sal said, giving you a small nod. Larry showed up a few moments later, a big grin in his face.

"Now we just have to find evidence in Charlie's room." Larry said, feeling serious about locking the creep up. And honestly, it made some sense that Charlie killed Mrs.Sanderson.

"I'm sure one of his glitter ponies has blood on it. That could be evidence." Sal said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, but he would flip out if we got too close to them." You pointed out.

Larry nodded, seeming a little deflated. You were too, how would you get close enough to the glitter ponies without Charlie trying to commit even more murder?

"He falls asleep when he drinks Mr.Addison's tea..maybe we could make it stronger?" Sal suggested, the observation skills being on point. You smiled, although not sure how you guys were going to drug Charlie.

"Do you guys have any sleeping pills?" Larry asked and you shook your head sadly. Without any sleeping pills how would you make Charlie go to sleep?

"My dad takes sleeping pills. I can get those." Sal said, and you all agreed on it. It was scary how easily your plans were working but there was no time to question your fortune.

Sal got the pills and you got the tea. Together you mixed the concoction and got ready to drug your neighbor. Normal teenager behavior of course.

"Since he might be a murderer and try murderous things, you can stay behind me." Sal said, holding the tea and staring at you. You gave him a warm smile, something that has been happening more since Sal showed up.

"Thanks, Sally." You said, following behind him as you entered Charlie's room. You had a plastic baggie in your hands, big enough to snatch up a glitter pony if you find it.

Charlie was sitting on his chair as usual, practically melted into the furniture. He looks at you as you enter, his eyes trailing down your skin. Ew.

"I got you some more tea." Sal says, handing the cup to Charlie. His eyes light up and he slurps the tea greedily, only to pass out right after.

"At least we know it works?" You said, before shaking your head and focusing on the collection of toys. Carefully you scanned each one looking for any sort of blood stain.

A presence stood beside you, Sal moved to stand beside you somehow completely silent. Finally he must have noticed the bloody pony because he took the plastic baggie and grabbed it.

"oh, awesome!" You said, jumping when

[civilization-illstayrighthere]

Ahh wait there are too many good options!!🫣You're too good to us Rama!! What about 87. for VxKerry with a hint of silverdyne? ( Take as long as you like ofc🥺)

87. he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserved to be fucked

I think I probably took this in a slightly different way than you may have thought when requesting, but this prompt absolutely gripped me and i ran away with it :’D Kerry/v, with silverdyne / silverVdyne, ~3.5k, absolutely explicit rating lol

“I think we should kill him.” Johnny Silverhand says.

Standing side-by-side, V exhales a plume of cigarette smoke directly into Johnny, watching his engram form fractal before the smoke dissipates into the open air.

“We’re not killin’ nobody.” V grumbles, though he’s feeling less and less committed to that as he keeps his gaze focused on the scene unfolding on the patio below. 

Kerry Eurodyne’s parties were something of a legend throughout Night City; even before V had met his now-input, they’d been preem front page screamsheet tabloid fodder, blurry photos of the who’s-who of Night City bumping shoulders, gossipy quips about who was allegedly bumping uglies. 

V was finding the tabloids weren’t as far off as he would’ve liked. The music world was downright incestuous; it felt like half the people here had at one point been Kerry’s one night stand, input, output, brief fling or fancy, and fuck, when did Kerry even find the time to do anything other than doing someone?

But V held his tongue. The Rockerboy was his now, besides; all those other guys and girls were in the rearview, as much as Johnny had been hissing otherwise in his ear.  

He wasn’t Johnny. Kerry was enjoying himself; he’d been so flippant about it when he’d mentioned throwing the party, but now here, V could see the man was in his element. He flitted between groups of people, laughed and chatted and preened. There was an extra swagger in his step, and not just because of the easy flow of booze and drugs. Kerry looked good in the limelight. V could share.

To a point. 

Kerry had introduced him earlier to a bulwark of a man named Patryk, ostentatiously chromed but not entirely unsurprising; after all, plenty of mercs went the private celebrity bodyguard route for the lucrative pay and relative safety compared to running fixer gigs. Him being an ex of Kerry was unsurprising as well. He was relatively handsome; built with broad shoulders, a shaggy head of straw blonde hair and a firm handshake that V’s sure he would’ve really felt if his own hands were not military chrome.

Patryk grinned. He squeezed V’s hand a little harder. “B, was it?”

“V.” He corrected tightly, flashing his gold canines in a mirroring grin. He squeezed Patryk’s hand back. Kerry, already tipsy, just chuckled and threw his arm around V’s waist, and Patryk dropped his hand. 

“Nice to meet you, B.”

Patryk kept grinning that shit-eating grin. Behind him, Johnny flickered into existence; arms crossed across his chest, he prowled around him with agitation, looking him up and down.

“Helluva ex.” He muttered. Getting closer, Patryk was oblivious to Johnny’s proximity and scowl. “Kerry always knew how to pick them.”

V only barely held his tongue, arms intertwining with Kerry’s as he settled a hand on his hip. He slipped a finger into a belt loop and pulled him in snug against his side. Kerry seemed genuinely oblivious as the conversation continued to whatever it was before V had wandered over to be introduced— or maybe, Johnny’s acerbic voice hissed in his head, he’s just enjoying all this attention. Kerry always liked having a couple of meatheads fight over him. 

He could argue with Johnny that it’d been fifty years between when he knew Kerry and now. He could feel the want to do something stupid grow. 

Maybe that was some of Johnny. Maybe that was a lot of V, who found Patryk’s gaze faltering to where his thumb traced the soft skin just above the waistband of Kerry’s tight pants, right under the hem of his tank as he held him close. 

“— good talkin’ to you Patryk, but I gotta mingle.” Kerry finished. He leaned over, pressing a kiss to V’s cheek. “V?”

V flashed Patryk a smug smile, his hand dropping down to Kerry’s ass as he lead them away. He could feel Patryk’s stare on his back. 

“Gonna grab another drink, you comin’?”

“Nah,” V excused himself, “gonna have a smoke outside, get some fresh air.” Maybe the irritation simmering in his blood was more nicotine cravings than jealousy; either way, one would soothe the other.

Kerry smiled; he knew the party wasn’t exactly V’s scene. “Come get me when you're done?”

“‘Course. You know I always wander back.”

The new second floor deck Kerry had built with the Us Cracks collaboration advance was nice; more importantly, it was empty and relatively quiet, save for the full thumping of the base from the music inside making the windows practically pulse. Chain smoking cigarettes and flicking the spent butts out into the waterfall feature was probably not the most social way to spend a party, but V was not a social creature by nature. He’d hold Kerry back.  

He hadn’t expected to see Kerry descend the stairs below to the shadowed patio below; he definitely hadn’t expected to see him followed by Patryk, either.

“One punch to the trachea,” Johnny goads, “easy as syn-apple pie.”

“No.” V grouses. 

“Just a little love tap to the temple.”

“We’re not killing anyone at Kerry’s house.” V replies to Johnny in his head, watching as the two talked below. The moving water kept him from hearing much of anything. It seemed Kerry had a similar idea as V, smoking as he chatted. “He’d immediately be suspected.”

“He’d get charged accessory at most.”

V rolls his eyes. “I don’t think he wants the media circus of what accessory at most will bring.” Eyes still on Kerry, he holds out his cigarette; he only briefly feels Johnny’s chapped lips on his palm, taking a short drag. He’d be more surprised at the sensation if he wasn’t so distracted. Patryk steps closer to Kerry; just as easily, Kerry keeps distance between them, his rumbling, nerve-filled chuckle rising over the dull roar of the waterfall.

“Like he doesn’t have the money to pay off whatever they might try and throw at ‘em.” Johnny complains.

“Again, I’m not fucking zeroing—“

Ice prickles up his throat as he watches the ex start to slowly corral Kerry backward, towards the darkness of the patio chairs; he can’t hear over the roar of the waterfall and the muffled din of the party still going on behind, but Kerry’s cringing body language and his reluctance couldn’t be telegraphed more clearly if he’d yelled it. The chrome fingers of V’s left hand twitch, instantly crushing the filter of the cigarette between them.

He’s expecting a smug “I told you so” from Johnny but is met, surprisingly, with a twin feeling of possessive fury, a second internal voice matching his own that is propelling him into immediate action. V vaults over the balcony railing; his reinforced tendons easily absorb the impact of the short fall when he lands in a crouch.

Save the lights coming through the glass where Kerry’s Aerondight is parked above, it’s relatively dark down here under the house; even the faraway lights of Night City don’t seem to pierce the gloom of the nook. Kerry’s eyes seem to glow. 

“What’d I say, Pat?” Kerry’s voice is strong, but he’s cringing as his ex-output steps forward, “I’m not fuckin’ interested. I got a mainline.”

“Yeah,” the man purrs, “but he doesn’t fuck you the way you deserved to be fucked, does he?” 

V straightens to standing. Spying V past Patryk’s shoulder, Kerry alights with recognition. 

“You always moaned so sweet for me, baby doll,” Patryk practically croons as he advances. Kerry takes another step back— his heel catches the edge of a lounger, and when he falls back onto his ass with a “whuph,” Patryk perks up like a slavering dog over a bone. “You were the best cock sleeve I ever had, and I know for sure I was the only dick good enough to fill your sloppy boy cunt. Lemme remind you—”

V allows his next step to fall heavier.

The man’s shoulders stiffen, but he doesn’t turn around. “Fuck off. We’re busy.”

“Y’know, actually,” V clears his throat. “I think you’re done here.”

Patryk turns around. He’s got an inch or two on V; he looks him up and down with a sneer. “Ah, the little mainline.”

Johnny crackles into existence, pointedly placing himself between Patryk and Kerry, as if he could do anything; his Hand twitches towards the holster on his thigh. 

“Yeah, uh,” V sniffs, real loud, real obnoxious, and he reaches up to scratch at his nose with one crooked finger. Purposefully, carefully, because all of the blades of his knuckles are fully deployed. Kerry’s gold looks real nice with all of his house's professional lighting, but he thinks the way the lights plays off his silver serrated edges look good, too. “Man of the hour already asked you to, but now I’m insistin’. You should delta, choom.”

“Yeah?” Patryk snorts. He rolls his broad shoulders. “Make me.”

Kerry shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair. “Patryk, please just fuckin’ go—“

Patryk whirls, snapping, “shut the fuck up, Eurodyne.”

The man’s chipped, of course— Kerry had a type, unfortunately— but the momentary dumb display of anger gives V an easy turned back to lunge towards, viper-quick, to grab the back of his neck with one hand and the back of his shirt with the other.

He can feel Johnny’s anger nipping at his heels, coursing through his veins of blood and chrome plasma alike— Patryk immediately grapples for V’s arm as he walks the man stumbling towards the edge of the patio, hand fisted into the meat of his neck so tightly he thinks he could crush his spine if his grip twitched just so. He barely feels the ex’s fingernails biting into his syn-skin as he scrabbles against his arms.

“First of all, you’ve got a lot of fuckin’ balls just coming here.”

The roar of the waterfall nearly drowns out V’s snarl, though he knows Patryk can hear him. 

“Second, cute as you think that B bullshit was, my name is fucking V, you got that? V, the one who zeroed Jotaro, cleared out countless Scav nests, makes Maelstrommer’s shit their pants, goes solo toe-to-toe with Arasaka and Militech spec ops,” V grits out with a swiftly rising fury, coinciding with a ramping of his processors that has the chrome in his body audibly humming with the promise of violence. 

“The VDB that are left call me Agau, the Wraiths call me Dakota’s dog, but you, princess?”

V grins as Patryk’s face drops.

“You can call me V.”

He thrusts him into the direct steam of the waterfall, sudden enough that he knows Patryk takes a full gulp as soon as he’s under. Warnings flash in the corners of his vision’s HUD as he deploys all his chrome to keep him there; he can feel his body temperature rapidly rise, his chrome tendons creaking and some of the closest spray turning into mist where it touches exposed skin. 

“And then bothering your ex-output? Kerry fuckin’ Eurodyne? You’re not even worthy of lookin’ at his fuckin’ reflection. The stupidity of that, choombatta, I mean—“ V chuckles tightly, barely upholding the veneer of a casual conversation atop his white hot rage. He pulls the man out of the spray; he wheezes, flailing uselessly under his grasp.

“W-wait—“

“Nah, think I’m done waiting.” V interrupts, further cutting the man off by thrusting him back under the torrent. Choking loudly, his struggles grow more frantic as he keeps taking on water. “You wanna talk more about my output? My output? ‘Cause clearly he wasn’t interested in you and your pathetic dick, so even when he kept saying no, you really had to push, huh?”

All V would need to do was let go and this two-enny hack would tumble right over the side of the cliff-face. His body wouldn’t stop until he had rolled all the way down to Charter Hill.

“I want you to keep Kerry’s name out of your mouth, you got that?” V snarls, “mine too, while you’re at it. I’ll bounce your skull off the pavement if I so much as catch you thinkin’ his name again.”

He’s clearly a merc; hell, V might’ve even seen him skulking around the Afterlife. He could threaten his ties he’s got with fixers, scare him out of work until he had to leave the city to even make an enny with his name. But V didn’t need anyone else's name to invoke fear; not a fixer, not Kerry’s, not Johnny’s, nobody but himself.

It takes a moment before he realizes Patryk can’t respond while still under the water; he pulls him out, impatiently listening to him hack and wheeze in a full breath.

“I got it, I-I got it, alright,” Patryk sputters, clutching fruitlessly at V. All the bravado’s been wiped from him; there is snot down his face, spittle across his lips as he gasps, “man, I’m sorry!”

V slaps the whimpering merc across the face, open-handed, laughs at the way he flinches and cringes. When V steps back and tosses him onto the ground, away from the edge, his left fist balling up in his peripheral is silver.

“Get the fuck out of my sight.” V spits.

The man scrambles to his feet—tries to, but the fear is making his limbs uncoordinated, and slick from the waterboarding, he stumbles and falls face first onto the deck. It takes another try before he’s up and running, dripping, the long way around and away. 

V could follow the bastard, and watching his disappearing back makes something predatory pulse in him; he wants to hunt him down, a hound to a hare, press his teeth to the back of his neck until he crunches through bone and shake his body until he goes limp. He wants to rend him in two; wants to carve his name, his moniker, into his skin with his knuckles, a potent portent to any other gonk who thinks they could even conceive of laying a hand on what’s his and his alone—

“V…” Kerry’s voice, unnaturally small, breaks through behind him.

V turns. He crosses the gap between them in a few long strides, immediately dropping a knee onto the patio chair between Kerry’s legs to bend down and cup his face; he’s unharmed, and shaking, though maybe that’s actually V’s hands trembling in the comedown as his body starts to unwind from its tight coil.

“Ker.“ He murmurs, swiping a slick thumb over Kerry’s cheekbone, his temples, leaving behind a trace of wetness that makes the gold inlaid in his skin shine, “you alright? You okay?”

Kerry’s chest heaves. He says nothing; he kisses him, meeting him with a voracity that makes V groan, muffled by his lips and tongue. When Kerry fists his hand into V’s mullet and yanks his head back, he goes as docile as a lamb, only just managing to silence the whine bouncing behind his bared teeth.

“I thought you were gonna kill him.” Kerry breathes. His lips are spit-slick, just a touch puffy from the abuse of the hard kiss. 

“You want me to?” V demurs. “I’ll go get ‘im. I meant it all. I’d do it for you, Ker.”

Kerry sucks in a breath. “Fuck, V.”

“Throw him off the side, pummel him to a paste, whatever you like.” V continues, a deluge of words on the current, “I’ll go out there and do it now, gorgeous, you just give the word.” He feels frenzied, only kept in check by Kerry’s ringed fingers holding him tight by the root of his hair. “Let me kill him for you.” 

Kerry’s blue Kiroshis are so bright, just a sliver around the dark, fat pupils. He looks tempted. He looks drunk off the ultraviolence of it all. V would give him everything; he doesn’t even need to ask, not when Kerry looks at him like hat. 

“You would, huhn?” Kerry quietly marvels. He reaches up, rubs his thumb over one of the prominent scars patterned across V’s cheek; he turns into his touch, mollified.

He pulls V into another harsh kiss by the back of his head; their moans muffle underneath each other's lips. 

V’s greedy hands roam downward. He paws at his sides, gropes his chest. Beneath him, Kerry arches. The thought of that fuck touching Kerry comes back to mind, unbidden, and he feels another fresh bolt of possessive fury course down his spine.

“You’re mine,” V mouths against Kerry’s bearded cheek, and his voice lowers a too-familiar octave when he repeats, “mine.”

Kerry shudders. When V pulls back, his eyes are dragged behind Kerry; leaning back against the lounger, Johnny reclines. They hold eye contact for a beat. If he was solid, Kerry would be in between his legs, lying against his chest; now, his flak jacket wavers where Kerry clips into him. He strokes an unfelt hand down the length of Kerry’s neck, and his cyberware; V follows the motion, and Kerry bares his neck with a groan, slides his hand up to cradle V’s. Underneath those million-eddy hands, V’s blades lie dormant. 

“Fuck, V,” Kerry croaks, intertwining their fingers; he lets his head fall back, his hips rocking, his body a delicious supine. Johnny's hands follow where Kerry drags V’s down, across his collarbone, pushing at the neckline of his white tank top. 

He wants what’s underneath; he doesn’t take a moment of reflection, hooking his fingers into the collar and ripping the shirt down the middle with an elastic tear. 

He can feel the collective weight of their stare on Kerry’s exposed body, even if he’s none the wiser; V cups his pec, really takes his time to squeeze him, lets his flesh bounce a little under his hand. Only when Kerry starts to squirm does V run his thumb over one of Kerry’s pert nipples, pinching it sharply before rolling the pad over in a soothing, rocking motion. The breathless noise Johnny makes is nearly drowned out by Kerry’s breathless panting.

“Wanna fuck you.” V mumbles. He pinches Kerry’s nipples again; watches his body arch into the twin pain and pleasure, as enraptured with that as by the silver hand possessively stroking up and down his neck. “Can I?”

“Jesus, kid, like you have to ask—“ Kerry groans. And he seems to realize the irony, an almost wild laugh escaping him as he starts to writhe underneath V, fumbling to shove down the tight pants clinging to his hips. “Of course, fuck, fuck me.”

Anyone could come downstairs to the waterfall loungers, looking for the man of the hour; if they did, they’d see Kerry Eurodyne, hastily stripped down to only his ripped tank hanging off him like a vest, getting down on his hands and knees like a dog in heat, reaching back and spread himself with a growled command to “spit.”. They’d see the best merc in Night City get on his knees and do him one better, pressing his face inbetween where Kerry was shaved smooth and lick his hole, over and over, until the man was mewling under his tongue. 

They wouldn’t see a silver hand stroking down Kerry’s spine, detouring across the freckles that still dot his syn-skin. They wouldn’t see Johnny Silverhand perched on the back of the lounger, watching them both, the front of his leather pants painfully tented. He’s silent as he palms himself, his heavy gaze shifting between the two of them. That was just for V.

V gets his pants down just under the curve of his ass, pulling out his cock; with only spit as lube, it takes a few moments of delicious, tight stretching before he’s in, and then he’s fucking Kerry in slow, deep thrusts, hips slapping hard against his ass each time. He takes him so well; fits perfectly around his cock, clinging tight each time V nearly pulls out, moans when V buries himself back in to the hilt. 

V’s eyes slip closed in rapture. Only for a moment; his face jerks to the side as a slap lands soundly on his cheek, and when he opens his eyes, Johnny is glowering there, gripping his chin tightly.

“Keep your goddamn eyes open, V.” Johnny says. His voice is wrecked with disuse; with want. “And fuck him harder.”

He flickers back to the lounger, hungrily watching Kerry and V. V can feel Johnny’s annoyance simmering under the surface, too keyed up to hide his thoughts; he wants to be there, he wants to fuck Kerry until the plastic slats imprint into his knees. But time is dwindling for V, and this is as close as he can be; stroking his cock in time to V’s brutal thrusts, drinking in the sight of Kerry’s arched spine, the way his ass bounces on impact, the moans he wrenches from his output. Their output, and his; and that’s one and the same.

And that scares them both.

[lovelyiida]

kiribaku as your bestfrieds!

INLUDES: KATSUKI BAKUGO, EJIRO KIRISHIMA

WARNINGS: implied fem reader, FLUFF, intimidating kiribaku yas, vulgar language, COMPLETELY PLATONIC RELATIONSHIP

A/N: sorry guys if this seems rushed, I currently have two projects due and I’m trying to get this out of the way so that I’m able to post lol.

MASTERLIST

WORDS: 2K WORDS

Kirishima and Bakugo as your best friends is truly something…

As the only girl in the group of friends besides Mina. It wasn’t easy getting into the friend group off the rip, it was almost like a secret association.

You had to know someone, to know someone, to see someone, then talk to said someone, then finally befriend that person to get in said friend group.

It wasn’t a simple: 'hey! Can I join your crew?'

You were introduced to Kirishima by a friend in hero engineering. They told you that he was cool to be around if you just wanted to talk, so that’s what you did.

You didn’t know later on that it would lead you to have four more friends down the line. One of those friends being Bakugo Katsuki.

He didn’t like you at first.

You'd come around with Kirishima and he just scowls at you, he wouldn’t even ask for your name and just call you an “extra.” And as completely narcissistic as that sounds—you still came around him.

Because I’m reality, you could give two shits whether he liked you or not. You had four other cool ass friends to be around anyways. And that irked him.

“So you aren’t gonna talk to me?” Bakugo spits.

It was passing time and you just so happened to run into the infamous 1-A crew in the hallway. It would be rare for you to see them on occasions like this, since you were in hero-analytics.

You bubbled up seeing all your friends, diving to Mina and Sero for a high five, waving at Denki and doing a secret-not-so-secret handshake with Kirishima.

And there was Bakugo too.

Turning towards him, you smirk. “And you’re name is?…” you ask, your tone overflowing with sarcasm as your words trail off. This makes Bakugo scoff, a stinky scowl etched over his lips.

“You know who I am, dip-shit.”

Bakugo walks up to you, pushing your shoulder a little bit, you flinch. “Watch who you’re pushing!” You yell, pushing him back.

“Well then watch who you’re talkin’ to!” He yells, pushing you back even harder. “I got one of the most powerful quirks in the whole school, watch your tongue—cause I can blow it off.” Bakugo says, a smug smirk present as he watches you shake in anger.

Walking away, he bumps your shoulder and heads to class. You see your friends walk away with him, as they scold him. Frowning you look up to see Kirishima with a guilt grin, “hey, I’m so sorry! Bakugo gets a bit pissed off when he hasn’t eaten lunch yet ha ha.”

Kirishima apologizes, a bright grin on his face as he reaches out to help you up. Smiling you grab his hand and push yourself off the ground.

Patting yourself down you look up at Kirishima and shake your head, “you shouldn’t excuse his behavior, he’s an asshole!” You spat.

“I know, I know, it’s just—listen, I think he likes you! He just doesn't have a lot of experience when it comes to the whole adding another person to the friend group thing! Just let him warm up to you, it’s only been a week!” He reassures.

You roll your eyes at his words. One part of you hangs on to the false hope that maybe he’s right.

“Yeah, whatever, see you around.”

The two of you would argue throughout the rest of the week. It didn’t matter where, it didn’t matter when, and it didn’t matter what it was for—the both of your were gonna argue like you life depended on it.

It could be over the smallest minute thing, like one time the both of you argued over how you don’t like spicy food ( if you do just pretend you don’t lol ), you didn’t understand why you were arguing because why is Bakugo upset that you don’t like something he likes?

Why can’t we just agree to disagree?

It was like a switch in your head that told you that if you saw him it was time to become more aggressive than ever. You were completely out of your nature, and when people you knew walked by, they would be shocked because they'd never seen you like this.

One day, the sky was blue and the clouds were nowhere to be seen. The birds chirped and the sun glared down harshly with ease, it was a cool spring day that was too beautiful to waste.

You were taking a walk outside until you spotted Kirishima on the grass working out, talking for a while, you noticed that somehow everyone else appeared as well.

you thought you were enjoying the time you were having until Bakugo tells you how the way you ties your shoes is wrong.

“Does it really fucking matter? They’re tied aren't they?" You spat at him. "Why can't you be a normal human being, eh?" Who doesn’t wrap the string around the bow first? Who the hell makes two bows and then ties? You damn maniac!” He exclaims.

“Okay then, I’ll be that!—you fucking twat” you harshly mumbled the last few words under your breath with a scowl. Bakugo’s eyes widen for a moment, walking closer to you he dryly chuckles.

“Say that again princess, I didn’t hear you.”

Princess?

“Princess!” You yell in awe at his words, “who are you to call me Princess?” You say, poking at his chest.

“Guys! Can we stop torturing her now? It’s been weeks!” Denki yells tiredly. You and Bakugo turned at Denki's protest; it was clear that you were confused.

Your eyes snap over to Mina and Sero, as you see them burst out laughing, and Kirishima follows along with a small chuckle.

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” You growl. Your eyes look over to Bakugo and see his smug grin still hasn’t wiped off.

As if on cue, Bakugo’s hand harshly pats your shoulder. “Well L/n, you passed the test—you’re in.” Bakugo chuckled again before walking off. Astonished at his words, you didn't even realize he finally called you by your name.

“The test?” You mumbled in confusion.

Ah, the test.

On this glorious day, approximately two weeks ago. Bakugo Katsuki, Minda Ashido, Denki Kaminari, Sero Hanta, and Ejiro Kirishima all sat down and made a plan.

A test if you will.

The test is simple, they push you to your limit. If you stay and endure, you earn a spot in their group. If you leave, you’re not in the group and will stay acquainted with one another.

As harsh as that may sound, it was only the truth. They have all passed the test. it was without them knowing…but that doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that you’re in.

When you were finally “in,” you swore when you walked into school the next day everyone was a whole new person. Sero, Mina, and Denki didn’t talk to you that much—but when you saw them today, they basically jumped at you.

“L/n! What’s up newbie?”

“Sup L/n?”

“Ah! I’m so happy to see you, I have so much to tell you about!”

They were so boisterous when talking to you, it completely caught you off guard.

When you’d walk to class, you’d notice how you bump into everyone more often. Either sharing quick glances or stopping to have a chat.

When it was lunchtime, you walked out of class and saw Kirishima waiting for you at the door. When they dragged you to the lunchroom, you noticed that they made a spot for you at the table for lunch.

It also didn’t dawn on you then that you were sitting with some of the most popular if not the most popular kids in the school.

You were just some random girl from hero analytics, and you’re sitting with future pro-hero’s? Unbelievable.

Now, when you were a first year, you became friends with everyone. But it wasn’t until your junior year that you all became best friends.

Especially with Kirishima and Bakugo.

It was almost like two sub-groups within the six of you guys. Depending on the day, it would change. If there were a main three, it was usually you, Kirishima, and Bakugo.

This happened by pure chance, third year hero analytics classes were able to watch and study students in the hero course. Luckily, you scored high enough to be placed in class 1-A, as you were assigned to random students.

Those two students turned out to be your friends, so on and so forth.

When you spend time watching them, you guys would talk non-stop. Whether it be normal things or serious things, the three of you have a lot in common.

Growing that bond you have, you guys ultimately became best friends.

Sometimes it feels surreal to be able to be friends with them.

During break time, you’d walk over to class 1-A just to pop in and chat with everyone. You could see Bakugo's eyes lighten up, a grin forming on his lips as he sees you smile everyone’s way.

Everyone in the class knew who you were, even though you'd never talked to any of them like that.

“It’s because Kirishima talks about you non-stop” Denki told you one day. You chose not to read into that too much.

You noticed that you were closer with Kirishima and Bakugo one day when you saw that Kirishima made a whole other group chat with only you and Bakugo in it.

You guys would talk to each other for hours and hours on end, staying up late and night until early in the day. Laughing to yourselves about the inside jokes you all have.

Sometimes Bakugo would ask you and Kirishima to come to his dorm to hang out. You’d lay on his bed and do your homework. He and Kirishima would play video games together. Or sometimes Bakugo would play on his guitar while you and Kirishima just talked.

You notice when you come over that he doesn't talk that much. He told you he just liked having company over, which was adorable (you had to beat that information out of him).

Sometimes the three of you would go out to the arcade or out to eat. It didn’t matter what you guys did as long as you guys had each other.

That vow comes in handy at times.

Like that one day you were sitting at lunch with your friends and Mineta decided to ruin your day.

“I’ve never seen a girl like you before!” He creepily gawked at you. His short stature makes him too close to you for your liking.

“Um…I’m not in your course, actually,” you awkwardly chuckle “I’m in hero analytics.”

“Really? Didn’t know chicks were so damn hot in that course, thought they’d all be ugly.”

"Laughing," you hurriedly glanced around, and eventually saw Kirishima and Bakugo with lunch trays in hand with the scariest faces you've ever seen before.

Their hero faces, you’d call them.

Their eyes were dark, and their fists were clenched tightly around their trays. Walking over calmly they set their trays down and towered over the poor pervert.

“Hey dude, whatcha talkin' to L/n about?” Kirishima smiles at Mineta, hand slapping harshly on his shoulder. Looking down you see spikes ripple off his skin.

Looking over at Bakugo, who didn’t even try to hide his shit-eating grin. Hands out and fingers separated as short sparks of fire pop out.

You can say that Mineta never looked at you again after that.

Jumping up from your seat you give them a big hug and a loud “thank you,” you feel them take in your embrace.

“Anything for you L/n!”

“ s’no big deal.”

But it was a big deal for you.

You were thankful for your friends, every last one of them. You were upset that the time you all had was limited and that it wouldn’t be like this forever.

You were proud to say that Bakugo and Kirishima were your best friends.

well shit guys, almost 300 followers, I meant to have something planned for 100/200 followers but it seems like it keeps growing. I might do a 500 follower special event instead lol.

— lovelyiida<3

[nevereverthem]

HP one-shot : partners / friends

🫱 [Mattheo Riddle × Draco Malfoy] 🫲

Warnings : none.

Length : 2k

We need to talk...

It's your decision

Imagine if Mattheo Riddle, the son of Voldemort, was studying at Hogwarts as a young ‘spy’. Nobody knew about his real identity, except from the insiders. Draco, being a newbie death-eater, was now aware of his classmate’s status. He already respected the guy, but it got ‘worse’ when he learned who he was.

Today, Mattheo sent him a note to meet in an abandoned part of the castle. When the clock ticked, Draco was exactly where he was asked to be, anxiety crippling in his chest. He knew the dark lord had a mission waiting for him, and he feared the time had come, that he had sent his son to deliver the message.

Mattheo was standing right next to a window, gazing outside, observing the night sky. “You came.”

Draco kept a fair distance from him. “Of course I did!” He sounded way too scared for his own liking. He cleared his throat. “I mean… Why am I here?”

“I would like you to help me.” His monotone voice prevented the blonde from guessing his intention.

“Anything!” Again, a bit too loud. “Hum… whatever he wants me to do.” Deep down, he wished it was just some stupid teenager drama that he honestly missed. It was all so trivial and comforting compared to the shit tone of terror it was to live with a mad man creeping around in his house.

Mattheo continued. “The request is not from my father. It’s from me.”

Draco’s brows furrowed in confusion. He hesitated a second. “I… what’s the matter?”

“I’m in a relationship.”

The blond let out a slight huff, relieved and intrigued by his declaration. “And..?” When Mattheo revealed the name of his lover, Draco could not believe it. His eyes grew wide. “But she’s-”

“Muggle-born?” His eyes finally met Draco’s. They were dark, filled with a dozen feelings that the blonde couldn't distinguish. “Don't you dare give me the mud-blood speech, or I'll rip your tongue out!”

Draco pressed his lips together, shutting his mouth. He gulped loudly, freezing in place.

“You’re not allowed to judge me for something you don't even believe in yourself.”

Draco tried to argue but he was cut short. “Oh please, quit your shit! I noticed how you look at Granger when you think no one's watching. You’re like a child fighting the urge to eat the snack his parents forbade him to.”

The boy looked utterly offended, a false expression of disgust tore his face “I don't like HER! She’s-”

“What!? Smart, pretty, sassy and powerful? The last time I checked, it sounded like your type of girl!” Draco was silent. “She’s also reasonably wealthy for a muggle. If her parents were born with magic you would already be dating her.” The blond opened his mouth to intervene. “Maybe not… but you’d be a bit nicer to her.”

“That’s not-”

“It’s easier to destroy the things you want, rather than admit it hurts to know you can never have them, right?”

Draco held his gaze but he just couldn't speak. Memories of the few past years appeared in his mind. He saw the day Potter refused his handshake. When he first mocked Weasley, and picked on Granger… He felt powerful. That got him allies to mess with other students, laughing at them and causing trouble. Now that he was in all this… he couldn't even tell them… It wasn't fun, it wasn't what he wanted anymore… Did he ever want it? Yes, he did… but it didn't feel right anymore…

As if Mattheo could hear his thoughts, he continued. “I ignore people. It doesn't mean I do them wrong. You, on the other hand, did a pretty great job at being a jackass. I heard bullies are just bastards who want attention. That may be the case for you. Although, I’m sure witnessing a bunch of murders cured you. Am I right? It doesn't feel as right to pick on the weaker as it did before?”

Draco looked away. His body itself refused the discussion.

The dark-haired continued his monologue as if he was by himself. “Muggles aren't that bad. You may think I'm crazy or brainwashed by ‘love’, but don't get mistaken. It's not because you’ve been told to hate some kind of people your whole life that it’s right to do so. They're okay. Some are kind, others are egotistical assholes. It’s just like our own world! I must say, you wonder how they manage to live this old without magic, knowing how clumsy they can be. It's pretty impressive.” He seemed lost in his thoughts, info-dumping about an interesting subject of his. “You’re one of the best students here, right? You enjoy learning.” The blonde looked back at him, frowning in confusion. “If you just took the time to learn a few things about them, you’d realise how mistaken we all are…”

Draco huffed, faking exasperation. “Are you trying to recruit me on Potter’s side, or is it a way to test my loyalty? If that’s the case I-”

“Maybe I'm like him. I’m hateful and cruel… but I won't fight for the same shit as my father does!” Draco was lost at this point, lost between fear, disbelief and incredulity. “You think I enjoy watching him kill innocent people? Never have, never will.” Draco’s nails digged in his palm. “I know you don't either. I saw the expression on your face. You tried hard to be a total jerk. You definitely succeeded, no problem with that. But I know you're not a murderer.”

Draco tried to remain composed. “If I have to-”

“Could you kill her? The muggle-born you supposedly hate!”

Picturing Hermione, badly injured, struggling in a pool of her own blood… He felt his throat close on itself, restricting the oxygen’s entry…

Mattheo didn't stop. He had to make his point, had to make him understand. “Could you even kill Potter, or the Weasley? Could you look them in the eyes and tear the life out of them? Could you actually cast the spell and end their life with your own wand?”

That sole idea made panic increase his breathing. A strangled sound slipped out of his lips “I-”

“It’s no use lying to me. I'm not asking you if you have to, or if you sometimes want to. Could you actually do it?” He needed an answer.

Draco held his gaze again. He didn’t want to be perceived as weak. He was not. But he knew Matt was right. As much as he grew to hate the trio and their little lot… he couldn't go that far… he probably went already too far… but there was a line he would be incapable of crossing… mur- just the thought of the word made him sick to his stomach. Tears gathered in his eyes when images of professor Burbage being executed right before his face passed in his mind… He shook his head the slightest that he could, a subtle movement that Mattheo caught.

He nodded in return, noticing the reflection in the boy’s shining eyes. “You can call me weak if you please, but I do think the girl I'm with makes me stronger every day. She makes me so strong that I'm ready to turn against my own father for the first time…” Draco was thoroughly listening. “We’ve shared a whole lot of things, but she's never seen me cry.” At that remark, the blonde tried his best to blink his own tears away. “I can tell or hear the most heart-wrenching thing in the wizarding world, and I wouldn’t shed a single tear. I physically can't.” Draco wished he had the same ability. It would have saved him a lot of sleepless nights. “I know you do. You’re not as discreet as you think when you sneak into the bathroom at night. Some may think you’re going for a midnight wank or something, but we both know that what we’re in suppresses this kind of fancy from our body.”

Draco raised his eyebrows, nodding in agreement.

“So, please do. Do cry all you can. You're feeling something important and I don't want you to push it away.”

Draco received the advice and didn't add anything. No response. No comment. He wasn't planning on crying more than he already was, but maybe this would help him feel a little less ashamed the next time he did. Strangely enough, Mattheo also went mute. Maybe his mouth felt dry from all the talking. The boy just went on a full monologue about rights and wrongs…

After a moment, it was Draco who broke the silence. “You… your girl, she doesn't fear for her life?”

Mattheo was pulled out of his thoughts. “About?”

The blonde sighed heavily. “I’m sorry to remind you but… you're the dark lord’s son.”

Mattheo looked away. “She doesn't know…”

“But-”

“I know. I’ll have to tell her. She's gonna know anyway. It’d be better if I'm the one breaking the info…”

“I wouldn't say ‘better’. It’s a shock when you find out.” Draco reminisced about the day he first saw Mattheo at a death-eater meeting. He was across the table, sitting right next to his father, Volde-...

“Yes… I just hope not to sound like a manipulative muggle-hunter traitor if I tell her myself…”

The mutual understanding floated in the air…

“What will you do if she… rejects you when she knows?” Draco asked.

The boy responded with no hesitation. “I’ll leave her alone.” Draco felt the need to object but Mattheo was faster. “Wouldn't you have doubts about your partner if you just learned they were actually related to a dangerous association led by a genocidal monster who’s actually their own father?”

The blonde’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He couldn't deny it. Then he asked. “...What are you gonna do?”

“I don't know. I’ll prove myself to her. I’ll stop him. Whatever I have to do…” He sounded determined and sure of himself. He had nothing planned for now, but the sheer resolution that emanated from him was enough to believe he would never go back. “Will you help me?”

Draco was shocked when he heard the question. That was his request then… the reason they were standing in a dark corridor in the middle of the night…. Was he ready to switch sides? Was Matt asking him to join Potter’s little group or what? Absolutely not! The implications were making him nauseous, but… Was he actually gonna make it on this side? Would he be able to do whatever the dark lord was to ask him?... He already knew the answer… His parents? His dad was far long lost when Draco was just a child… When he learned about all of this… he remembered conversations he eavesdropped that didn't make any sense at the time… now everything was perfectly clear. His mom… She was sucked into the same beliefs and probably was doomed to the same path… though he was certain he had noticed something… He wished he could know… know what to do… know they were all gonna make it safe and sound… One particular moment lit up in his mind. It was a Christmas Eve night, when he was only 9. He remembered it perfectly as if it was yesterday. His mom was actually baking, the muggle way, now that he thought about it, while his dad was casting spells away to decorate the manor… He knew things could never be this way again… but he would do anything to feel this relaxed and carefree just for one second. He had to try… He would also prove stupid Potter that he was no better than Draco Malfoy! And that detail was non-negligible.

Mattheo was waiting for his answer. They were not going to dethrone his father, just the two of them, that was for sure. However, he knew that Draco could have sensitive information. The boy was the embodiment of ‘walls have ears’. Plus, obsessed with Potter as he was, he would be able to gather information on the other side’s intentions.

Draco lifted his head, staring into Mattheo's eyes with the same determination he displayed a moment ago, a hopeful glint in his eyes. “Where do we start?”

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

Hi,

This is a little idea that I had and wanted to share. ~

I never expected it to be this long, but here I am with a 2k random idea. 😌

I hope you enjoyed it. ~

Feel free to drop likes and comments. ~

XO

Update : Do you want a sequel?

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