#and the fact that he definitely has already been dumped

[makorragal-312]

I think that next episode, when Buck and Eddie talk about everything that's happened with Kim, Buck is gonna talk to Eddie the same way he talked to him about Ana.

He's gonna show concern for Eddie and what he's going through and he's going to offer him words of encouragement and advice, but he's also gonna add in that harsh jab and make it clear to Eddie that he did, in fact, fuck up with his emotional affair and that Chris has every right to be pissed at him.

[feeder86]

Fixing the Feeder

“Who’s that?” Hendrix asked his new friends as he gazed around the gay venue he was visiting for the first time. Having recently moved here for his job, Hendrix had arrived alone that night and quickly started introducing himself to the group of men who seemed most likely to visit the club on a regular basis. The guy he was asking about was clearly very attractive, with a tall, slender frame and pretty face. However, that wasn’t the reason why Hendrix’s interest had been piqued. It was the fact that such a handsome guy stood all alone and, unless Hendrix had been very much mistaken, he’d just seen him checking out a couple of the softer chubs in the corner.

Collectively, the guys all pulled a face. “That’s Felix!” one replied. “We don’t talk to him.”

Hendrix’s face lit up with intrigue; the cogs in his head were already whirring.

“He dated Lee, one of our friends,” another explained to Hendrix. “He was already quite a big guy, but he absolutely ballooned when he was with Felix.”

“And you think Felix was the reason for that?” Hendrix asked, pleased that his predictions had been exactly right.

“Definitely!” jumped in another. “We could all see what he was up to, with his cream cakes and fast food. Then, the moment we convinced Lee to go for the gastric band, Felix finished with him, just like that!”

“Oh, really?” Hendrix asked, taking another look over at the pretty boy in question. “That’s not cool,” he agreed. “So you think he’s a feeder, huh?”

“We know he’s a feeder,” came the swift reply. “And now everyone else does. He can’t hide it any more.”

“So you’re able to warn those you see him getting close to?” Hendrix smirked, knowing that he had chosen the exact right people to make friends with that night in order to learn all he could about the crowds in here.

“Absolutely!” they all nodded, like a team of justice warriors; their cold stares fixed firmly on Felix; the enemy walking amongst them.

“Well, well… it sucks to be you!” Hendrix chuckled as he headed to the bar an hour or so later and caught Felix on his own once more. He smirked at the guy, knowing he himself had already picked up the number of a deliciously doughy-looking chub he’d seen Felix staring longingly at earlier. “You’re about as popular as herpes around here,” he stated without sympathy.

“It won’t last forever,” Felix replied, seeming to instinctively know that he was talking with a kindred spirit after eyeballing Hendrix flirting with the fat boy he had been so keen on. “People soon forget these things.”

Hendrix couldn’t help but laugh at Felix’s naivety. “I don’t think they do,” he scoffed. “Dumping your boyfriend because he was going for a gastric band? You exposed yourself to everyone,” he explained unsympathetically. “Sure, they may have had suspicions before about you being a feeder, but you made damn sure to give them the final nail to seal your coffin.”

Felix grunted bitterly, but he couldn’t deny the truth of what Hendrix was saying. “So, that means more fat boys for you then, huh?” he asked. “Your biggest competition has been eliminated from the game.”

Smirking once more, Hendrix looked Felix up and down. Yes, the boy was handsome, but it was Hendrix’s upper body strength that made sure he never lost out when it came to picking up the guys he wanted. Felix thought of himself as his competition? In Hendrix’s experience, guys always chose the ‘muscle stud’ over the ‘pretty boy’ every time. He collected his drinks, heading straight back to the fat boy he planned to take home later, looking back over his shoulder to ensure that Felix was watching as he placed a hand on the chub’s deliciously soft, under-exercised butt: the first of many fatties that he planned to fuck around here.

The next day, Hendrix squirted a little extra aftershave on himself as he got ready for his new job. He already knew that he was going to smash it. He’d consistently been the most successful car salesman since his second month at the last dealership he’d worked at. Now, moving up to the higher end of the market, the commission he was about to start earning would at last give him the life he deserved. Tight pants never hurt, nor shirts that showed off his excellent muscular physique. It was a fine balance, making himself look handsome enough to attract the female market, yet with a clear muscular athleticism that would encapsulate how the male customers aspired to be and ensure that they felt free to talk sports with him as he guided them towards a hefty sale.

Nothing had surprised Hendrix on that first day, apart from the identity of the pretty-looking dude, sitting in the accountancy office. It couldn’t be, surely? Felix, the fallen feeder, worked here too? He’d smirked and shaken the guy’s hand, keeping up the pretense that they had never met before. What a small world they lived in, he laughed to himself, staring back over his shoulder from the main floor and noticing that Felix was staring back through the glass walls that separated him from where the real work happened.

The mechanics in the back were friendly enough, if a little quick to grumble about how the site was managed. But Hendrix was a natural at smooth talk and soon ingratiated himself with them all. Within two hours of being there, he’d made his first sale: a company record.

It wasn’t until Day 4 that the new golden boy, Hendrix, found himself unaccompanied as he grabbed a coffee from the back room. That was when Felix crept in. “Hello again,” the man smiled, as if pleased that they were both able to speak freely at last. “How did things go with the chub after you left on Saturday?”

Hendrix laughed as he poured himself a cup from the machine; of course that was going to be Felix’s first question to him. “Pretty good!” he nodded, turning back around. “That doughy ass took a good pounding and there was plenty of decent back fat to grab onto.” He closed his eyes for a second, emphasising how perfect the memory of it was. “His whole body jiggled beautifully.”

Felix seemed to flush with arousal at the thought, surprised at how immediately open Hendrix was about it all. “Lucky you!” he mumbled.

“The foreplay was nice too,” Hendrix continued. “I squirted a can of cream over places and made him lick it all off,” he boasted. “Let’s just say… fat boy was VERY good at that part!”

“You like to feed them as well?” Felix asked, his eyes alert, as if this was the most important conversation he would have all day.

“Of course,” Hendrix nodded. “It’s rule number one in my book,” he explained. “When you fuck chubs, you’ve always gotta leave them a little bit fatter and softer for the next guy.”

Felix swallowed. “I hope that next guy is me,” he mumbled.

Once again, Hendrix chuckled, patronisingly patting Felix on his butt. “It won’t be!” he smirked. “After your little stunt, all the fatties know to stay well away from you.”

Sighing, it was somehow very obvious that Felix was turned on and frustrated. “I’ve gotta find some way to fix this,” he rambled, seeming as if he might burst if he didn’t get some fat boy action soon.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” Hendrix gloated, putting his coffee on the table and throwing his large, muscular body down onto the couch, before fixing his hands at the back of his head and relaxing. “You’re just going to have to move somewhere very far away, where no one knows you,” he teased.

“How jiggly was his butt?” Felix asked next, sitting down with him and keen to return to hearing all about Hendrix’s experience.

“Very!” Hendrix grinned, happy to indulge the horny boy. “Great rippling when I thrusted against it! You know, like those fat boys who don’t do any exercise whatsoever. Although, he wasn’t that used to taking guys as big as me, so he squealed a little bit in places.”

There it was: the little boner pressing against Felix’s pants. He really was every bit as kinky as Hendrix, who smirked at the sight of it. This meant that there was an opportunity to be exploited, should Hendrix play things very carefully…

“We should go for a drink after work; compare notes on the fatties we’ve had,” Hendrix suggested next, already lifting his great body up with a nonchalance that suggested Felix’s answer would mean little to him either way.

“Sure!” Felix shot back, not getting up from the couch and knowing full well that he would have to stay down for a little while longer; until the hardness retreated.

Hendrix had never spoken so openly about his experiences of being with chubs as he did that evening with Felix. He suddenly found that he had a way with words and storytelling that made each and every one of them sound so sexually charged and erotic; he could see Felix hanging on his every word.

“So, he actually ate it all?” Felix laughed, hearing the end to yet another of Hendrix’s kinky tales.

“Of course he did!” Hendrix nodded. “Look at me. Would you deny a stud like me anything if I asked it? He gobbled it all down straight away, then couldn’t button his pants the next day. It was so fucking cute!”

“That’s amazing!” Felix smiled, his eyes full of awe.

Hendrix checked his watch, sighing as if it was getting late. “Shall we sort that out?” he asked casually, pointing down at Felix’s bulging erection that hadn’t gone down all evening.

Felix looked surprised at being asked, yet Hendrix’s tales had wound him up enough that there was no chance of him saying no. He was one of those men who just seemed so much more malleable when he was horny. Soon, he was back at Hendrix’s new place, dropping his pants and relieved to finally have someone stroking his dick at long last.

Hendrix was determined that it shouldn’t be a quick fix, despite how desperate Felix seemed to want to climax, slapping the guy’s hand away each time he seemed to grab his own hardness in an attempt to make himself finish. He could see why the fatties had fallen for him. Felix had a fine body, with cute, pert little glutes that Hendrix knew he would need to stick his dick between soon. It was how he came, twenty minutes later, ploughing his harness into the delighted Felix whilst the guy lay on his front, pressed into the bed. 

After climaxing, Hendrix rolled them both onto their sides, still keeping himself fully erect and inserted. He moved quickly, reaching behind the pillow to where he had stealthily hidden a can of whipped cream. “It’s your turn!” he whispered, knowing just how achingly horny the boy was by that point. He couldn’t see his reaction as he took in the can of cream, but Felix would have been naive if he hadn’t known this was coming. “You know my rule…” Hendrix whispered, inserting the nozzle between the guy’s lips. “If I fuck them, I fatten them.”

There was a click as the fresh can sprang into life. Felix’s submissive mouth was filling with cream whilst Hendrix slid his other large hand up and down the guy’s shaft. This was it: the moment Felix was at last going to be allowed to climax. The boy swallowed and swallowed, desperate for Hendrix to keep on working his erection and not stop. He seemed to intuitively know that every scrap of pleasure Hendrix provided would be conditional upon this one concession of his: swallow the cream down.

Hendrix chuckled, unable to help how amusing he found it all. “Good boy!” he cooed into Felix’s ear as he felt the hardness pulse and almost quiver; the can of whipped cream getting lighter by the second as it was mercilessly pumped down Felix’s throat. There was something so pathetically sexy about the way a guy would relax when this was done; their bodies limp and full of complete unjustified trust in him as Hendrix brought the inevitable explosion closer and closer. Felix whimpered as his erection spluttered and then shot out forcefully across Hendrix’s sheets, making quite the mess. Only the tiniest amount remained in the can, which Hendrix quickly scurried away so that he didn’t see. By the way Felix was looking at him, mouth agape, Hendrix knew that he had just given the guy the best orgasm of his life.

The next day, Hendrix’s only contact with Felix had been to nod at him in mutual appreciation of the very large, deliciously overfed guy who came into the showroom: legs of pure blubber and an ass that was bordering on being too big to be accommodated in the seats of the cars, Hendrix knew that this was a body that they both could drool over. Despite having a sixth sense that the guy didn’t have the money to be a serious buyer, Hendrix indulged the man for a full forty minutes, delaying the inevitable chat about finance options which always sent them running. 

“Why does Felix keep looking over here?” complained one of Hendrix’s new friends at the gay club that weekend. 

“Oh,” smirked Hendrix. “That’ll be me,” he chuckled. “It turns out we’re now colleagues. He works in the finance department of my new showroom.”

“Unlucky you!” growled another. He hadn’t stopped scowling at Felix since he’d first come in.

“He’s developed a bit of a thing for me,” Hendrix went on to explain. “Not that you can blame him!” he winked at them all.

“He’s bad news,” warned Pete, the oldest of the group.

Hendrix nodded in falsely sympathetic agreement. “But I know how to handle guys like Felix. Plus, it might be good to give him a taste of his own medicine…” he laughed, looking squarely at Pete. “Get some revenge for your friend, Lee.”

The guys all leaned in closer; every last one of them. “What were you thinking?”

“No luck this evening?” Hendrix asked half an hour later, strolling over to Felix.

Felix appeared delighted to have Hendrix beside him. He shook his head. “Just the usual chubs,” he replied, without glancing to double check.

“That’s a shame,” Hendrix smiled. “You’ll have to come home with me instead,” he offered, placing his large hand on Felix’s slender butt as if he owned it.

Electricity seemed to crackle in Felix’s eyes. “That doesn’t seem like a bad consolation prize,” he mumbled back, his voice breaking slightly. When Hendrix held out his hand, Felix took it, allowing himself to be led out of the club; completely oblivious to the amount of knowing eyes that were upon him.

“Who the hell is that?” asked Felix, hearing someone knocking at the front door some time later as he made out with Hendix on his couch.

Hendrix lifted himself up and pulled out his wallet to tip the delivery person, returning to Felix’s side holding two large boxes of meat and cheese-filled pizzas. “You know my rule,” he grinned, opening the box and letting out a plume of delicious scents, “If I fuck them, I fatten them…”

Felix raised his eyebrows, as if trying to work out when Hendrix had even had time to order pizzas since they had arrived back at his place. He wriggled nervously in his seat, unsure whether he should lie back or sit up. Meanwhile, Hendrix set to work stimulating the guy’s little dick, ensuring it was pumped and ready for some kinky fun. “Alright… maybe just a bit of pizza,” he conceded. 

In Hendrix’s experience, in order to flip a feeder, you needed three things: a definite, unrelenting admiration of fat guys, a potential submissive streak, and a super hard, easily excited dick. That last one had become tonight’s focus. Hendrix worked that sensitive muscle between Felix’s legs with a cherishing love, knowing that it was the key to everything that would come next. If Felix had ever been a feeder of any sort of substance, he should have realised how keenly Hendrix was educating himself on how best to stimulate his dick: the grip strength, the speed of the stroke, the positioning. If he could edge him well enough, he knew he could make Felix do anything he wanted in time. Tonight, Felix wanted to climax, there was no doubt about that. Hendrix just had to make sure that he had maximum results on the calories front before that happened.

Three weeks into all this and Hendrix knew that Felix was ready for the chat. He’d witnessed a slight softening in the torso and a subtle broadening in the guy’s rear. “You know I’m going to get bored of all this soon, unless I start seeing some results?” He shrugged his shoulders, looking at Felix earnestly. “I am what I am,” he sighed. “A feeder soon gets bored without some blubber to play with.”

His timing had been good, with Felix having spent the last 30 minutes sucking on cream and getting pounded until he practically exploded everywhere. It was obvious from the soppy eyed expressions Felix gave him that no one had ever pleasured the boy quite like this. “I’m up five pounds,” he tried to answer.

Hendrix scoffed. “Five pounds?” he repeated back to him, as if emphasising how pathetic it sounded. “You know what I am,” he whispered smoothly, sliding down the bed and spooning the naked guy until Hendrix’s semi-erection nestled back between Felix’s butt cheeks, where it belonged. “I want a piggy!”

“I’ve never thought about gaining myself,” Felix replied quietly.

“Until now…” Hendrix reminded him, kissing the back of his head sweetly. “You can’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed those five extra pounds I’ve put on you.” His hand reached into Felix’s groin, feeling that the guy was indeed getting hard again. Slowly, he began to tug it, knowing how much more malleable the boy became when he was horny. In reality, the guy should have been wise to this sort of manipulation, were he really as adept at feeding as he had previously claimed to be in his previous relationship.

Felix moaned in agreement, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“And you want to put on more weight for me, don’t you?” Hendrix asked him, pushing a much firmer erection back inside him. “You want to make me proud to fuck you, right?”

Felix’s body completely relaxed, enjoying the submission as he prepared to be fucked once more. “Yes,” he whispered diligently back, as if hardly comprehending what a momentous milestone he had just passed.

Over the years, Hendrix had met a few guys like Felix; sling a hard dick inside them and they gave in entirely. The only difference here was the fantastic, instant access Hendrix had to Felix for so much of the week. Hendrix could whip up his most devious calorie shakes, then chuckle as he’d watch Felix discovering it in his desk drawer at work; slowly sucking it all down throughout the morning in the hope that Hendrix may pleasure him in the bathroom come lunchtime.

“You’ll see when he comes in,” Hendrix boasted to his friends at the gay bar. “His face is puffing up quite a bit and those tight little glutes of his have swollen out somewhat!”

“Is he actually getting a belly?” asked Pete, surprisingly thrilled by Hendrix’s genius plan to enact revenge for them all.

Hendrix considered for a second. “It’s more of a paunch than a belly. But if you want me to put a gut on him, I can definitely make that work,” he smiled obligingly.

The whole gang chuckled, nodding their heads. “Do it!” they cried, as if this was all one giant, elaborate prank.

Hendrix sighed, pretending to find this to be one long, tedious homework assignment; as if he was doing all this out of a kindness to them all. “Very well,” he nodded. “I’ll see what I can do for you.”

When Felix arrived twenty minutes later, Hendrix was delighted with the fit of the guy’s pants, stretching across the broader, softer glutes. Even in the middle of the bar, Hendrix couldn’t resist gently stroking the tubbier rear, knowing that the eyes of everyone were watching his every move. He paraded the boy for a good thirty minutes, before slowly guiding him out; taking him back home to fatten and fuck him; much like every night.

“I’ll tell you who’s packed on a few pounds recently,” grunted Roy, one of the mechanics in the back. “Have you noticed Felix’s stomach recently?” he asked Hendrix and a couple of the other guys as they took a few moments outside to chat at the end of the lunch break.

“Yeah, I noticed that,” nodded another mechanic. “He’s starting with a right little beer gut,” he agreed.

“Well, what do you expect?” Hendrix shrugged. “The guy sits on his butt at a computer screen all day,” he explained, rolling his eyes as if Felix was nothing more than lazy. “He’s not up on his feet all day like we are.”

The other guys nodded, feeling that, despite whatever the admin-pushers like Felix believed, it was really their hard graft that kept this place running. “I have a cousin who ballooned after he got an office job,” agreed one. “It’s not good for you at all.”

At that moment, Felix appeared from around the corner; his portly little stomach straining the buttons of his shirt after quietly consuming two of the calorie shakes Hendrix had left for him that day. He called across to one of them, asking if certain parts had arrived so that he could finish writing up an invoice, then spun back around, giving them all a perfect view of his thicker glutes. Once out of earshot, the guys all looked at each other and burst out laughing. There was no doubt about it: Felix was slowly becoming quite the fat boy.

Perhaps Felix hadn’t even noticed how much more he was able to eat over the coming weeks and months, but the change had been nothing if not deliberate. With each kinky act of foreplay, Hendrix had slowly raised his expectations for what he expected Felix to consume. The fat itself was packing on beautifully across Felix’s sides, giving him deliciously cute, plump-looking love handles that completely altered his previously slender shape. Simply watching them emerge had given Hendrix a thrill unlike any other.

“Time to step on the scales,” Hendrix cooed, rousing Felix from his sleep that Sunday morning.

Felix groaned a little and rolled over in bed. It had only been four hours since he had been woken and fondled until he was horny enough to swallow down a gainer shake for Hendrix in the middle of the night. Ultimately, however, he was a good boy, dragging himself out of bed for a quick bathroom stop before the scales were ceremoniously brought out in front of Hendrix’s full-length mirror.

“Look at you!” Hendrix marvelled, admiring the way the blubber had continued to spread itself around Felix’s waist that week. There was no denying the fact that the guy was getting little moobs, with even the tops of his arms starting to puff up in a way that only happened with a consistent period of prolonged weight gain. Hendrix pulled down the tight boxer shorts that Felix had slept in, noticing all the little marks where they had been quietly digging into his plushier flesh. 

A lover of fat, even Felix couldn’t help getting hard as he saw it all and felt Hendrix’s large hands bouncing his heavier glutes up and down. His thighs had taken on quite a lot of fresh lard the last couple of weeks, making even Felix’s most resistant clothes absolutely redundant.

“Are you ready to find out how fat you are today?” Hendrix whispered into the boy’s ear, playing with Felix’s dick to ensure he was super turned on before he saw the new number on the scales. It had been a good week for gains, that much Hendrix was sure of; the traces of Felix’s former slender 145lb body slowly disappearing.

Felix nodded and stepped on; his cute little double chin showing itself as he looked down over the top of his developing gut at the building numbers. Two weeks ago, he had crossed 200lbs for the first time. Now the numbers were crossing that threshold with ease: 208…211… higher and higher.

“Fuck!” Felix gasped as it was obvious where the number was going to settle. He turned to Hendrix, catching the sparkling joy in his feeder’s eyes as. “How have I put on so much this week?”

“Because you’re a greedy little fucker,” Hendrix chuckled back, making his lover step off and onto the scales a further two times, just to be certain of the measurement. He grabbed a handful of lard from Felix’s stomach and held it proudly. “I’ll have another eight pounds on you next week as well,” he declared. He’d practically moved Felix in to get these sorts of gains on him, but with results like these, it had all been absolutely worth it.

Hendrix turned Felix back to the mirror, grabbing the boy’s hands and making it grab onto the flesh blubber. He took a step back, watching the former feeder’s love of fat start to wash over him. Felix’s own hands touched all those areas a feeder could never resist. Felix jiggled and bounced himself, raising his arms to admire the new love handles and twisted to see the remarkable transformation of his butt. The boy had always loved seeing fatter bodies, but it was obvious that he had never anticipated the next chubby body he got to play with would be his own. The guy’s dick was so irredeemably hard, Hendrix couldn’t help but laugh. This fatty had the potential to be taken all the way.

Hendrix was greeted as a hero as he strolled about in the gay bar a couple of months later. Whenever Felix went off to the bathroom, someone would come up and pat him on the back, telling him what an amazing job he had done teaching the guy a lesson. They spoke as if it was all done, as if the love handles and the double chin that Felix now owned were the end of the road. To Hendrix, it seemed like the most ridiculous concept to simply stop there. 

“He’s quite a greedy boy, y’know,” he told them all with a grin. “He almost seems oblivious to how much he overeats now. I definitely don’t think he’s done growing yet. That fat ass of his is pretty much made from pure ice cream!” he chuckled.

The guys nodded. They couldn’t help but notice the ridiculous shape of Felix’s glutes in the tight pants he’d worn that night. “Well, no one can deny that you’re committed to the cause!” they’d laugh back.

Hendrix smirked and nodded, spotting Felix making his way back towards him. “Karma’s a bitch!” he winked at them conspiratorially as they all drifted away once more, leaving Hendrix to play his games with Felix.

“How come they all still love you so much?” Felix asked, frowning at the fact that his lover was always so popular here. “Look at how much weight I’ve gained! Surely they must know that you’re a feeder?”

Hendrix laughed, slipping his large hand over Felix’s heavy glutes, rubbing and patting them with pride; the feature he most adored on Felix’s overweight body. It felt even more erotic to enjoy touching him like this in here, where everyone had known his previously slim physique so well before. “I’m just a bit cleverer than you,” he whispered back. “I could turn you into a literal mountain of lard and still have them love me.”

“But, how?” Felix pressed, having his fat stomach rubbed by Hendrix right there in the middle of the bar. He clearly could not comprehend how easily his lover was simply getting away with it all, whilst he himself had been ostricised. 

“Oh, it’s even better than that!” Hendrix smiled, pulling out a coupon for the ice cream joint down the street. “You wouldn’t believe how many of them keep giving things like this to me. They’re all so ridiculously fixated on disliking you that they don’t even realise what I am.” He laughed as he looked around at the faces in the bar. “They all think they’re in on it.”

“They do?” Felix asked in surprise, realising that he’d never quite understood the status Hendrix had in this bar. “No one is trying to stop you? At all?”

“Not one!” Hendrix smiled victoriously. “I’ve got free rein to do with you as I like,” he whispered, resuming his stroking of Felix’s oversized rear once more. “So I’m going to keep adding pounds and pounds and pounds of pure blubber to you. Then I’ll watch as it slowly dawns on them all how they all foolishly enabled and encouraged me…”

Felix looked around, clearly noticing how admired Hendrix was in here. “How long do you think that will take?” he asked, sceptically.

Hendrix smirked again. “Who knows?” he laughed. “Another one hundred pounds… two hundred… Hell, I might need to fatten you up forever in order for them to realise they invited an actual feeder into their circle of trust.”

“You really want to keep going that far?” Felix asked, stroking the back of his head nervously.

“Let me ask you, would you have ever stopped fattening your ex if he hadn’t wanted surgery?”

Felix looked a little sheepish. “No, I guess not,” he mumbled.

Hendrix nodded. “Exactly!” he declared. “Once you’ve sunk your claws into a fatty, there’s no letting go!”

Sometimes, there was a misty eyed look that Felix gave whenever Hendrix let out his most harsh and blunt thoughts. A lust would come over him that was so obvious to Hendrix. The guy became putty in his hand; ready to be pushed and cajoled in any direction Hendrix wanted. 

“How about we get out of here, Piggy?” Hendrix whispered into Felix’s ear. “I’m in the mood to watch you gorge yourself into oblivion tonight!”

Despite the kinkiness of their situation, Hendrix was genuinely delighted to have Felix in his life. Not only was he the guy who was the most sexually compatible with him, but he was also genuinely quite sweet and thoughtful once all his kinks were being managed. However, untamed, Hendrix could see what a nightmare the boy would have been to date previously. Just like Hendrix, he could get turned on at the drop of a hat, and Hendrix could imagine how slyly manipulative he would have been to push calories onto his former lovers. Now, whenever he got horny, he would take himself off to the well stocked kitchen cupboards and rip open a box of something tasty, feeding himself as Hendrix watched on with pleasure. It definitely helped that he too had once been a feeder. He had at least some understanding of how Hendrix’s brain worked. He knew how to dress himself to emphasise those gains and could wrap Hendrix’s fingers around those fleshier regions of his body that no feeder could resist touching.

“I never imagined I’d one day be over three hundred pounds!” Felix laughed to himself, admiring his fat body in the mirror as Hendrix climbed into the bed behind him.

“Well, believe it, buddy!” Hendrix laughed, enjoying the sight of Felix’s round, chubby glutes. For him, the boy was just entering the sweet stage, where even his hips were starting to pile on the pounds, altering his shape into that of a man of more extreme obesity. He was blowing up out of everything he had worn in the last few months; older stretch marks fading and newer ones coming in. There was something so comical about a guy with nipples drooping like Felix’s had started to do; the way the fat was spreading into his chest and bulging under his arms; those fat-filled upper arms and the complete domination of fat under his chin. “I’ve got plenty more pounds I want to add to you!” he grinned, smiling at the indestructible hardness that was straining from Felix’s body, even as a sizable pouch of fat pressed it down slightly in the guy’s groin. His body rippled and jiggled as he strutted over to the bed, the blubber spreading out onto the mattress once he finally lay down. He didn’t flinch as Hendrix reached across to his bedside table and picked up the nightly calorie shake, inserting the nozzle into Felix’s mouth.

Felix moaned, rubbing his little dick as he swallowed and swallowed. A lot of the time, he would simply gaze submissively into Hendrix’s eyes as he did this; adoring the muscular stud, freshly returned from his evening gym session, ready to play. It was the perfect lifestyle for him. Hendrix didn’t ask anything more of him than this: the blissful act of consuming and growing for him. And so he drank every last drop as if this was all he had ever wanted for himself.

One of the things that had bonded Hendrix and Felix together so much was their shared experience of growing up with undeniably crappy parents. The only major difference was that Hendrix had picked himself up and moved his entire life away from all that, whilst Felix had remained close by, keeping them at arm’s length. 

Not having to worry about impressing Felix’s super religious parents had certainly given Hendrix a freedom he would not have otherwise had as the date approached when he would have to meet them both. “You know what I love about you?” Hendrix smiled, watching his lover gorging his breakfast that morning. “You’re a great little stress eater!”

Felix smiled faintly. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous,” he shrugged.

“It’s the first time your parents have seen you since you turned into such a fatty,” Hendrix bluntly replied, stroking the broad back of his three hundred and fifty pound lover and already plotting how many extra calories he could get into Felix that morning whilst he was in this heightened state.

“Is my large black sweater out of the wash?” Felix asked.

Hendrix rolled his eyes. “You’re planning on wearing that?” he sighed disappointedly, knowing just as well as Felix did that it was the one item of clothing that best disguised that impeccable size of Felix’s stomach.

“What else would I wear today?” Felix shot back.

“The pink sweater?” Hendrix shrugged.

Felix couldn’t hold back his laughter. “No way!” he chuckled. “That thing stopped fitting weeks ago, You only like it because it makes me look enormous!”

“You are enormous,” Hendrix shrugged again. “What’s the point in trying to hide it? I’m proud of how fat you are. I want people to see it.”

Felix smiled back, feeling a closeness with Hendrix he had never experienced in a relationship before. Sometimes it seemed like it was the two of them versus the entire world. He nodded as Hendrix planted a loving kiss on the top of his head. “Alright then,” he sighed. “I guess we’re really doing this…”

A few hours later, the two men tumbled through the apartment door, wrapped around each other and desperately trying to remove their clothes in a fit of steamy lust. The meeting couldn’t have gone worse and, consequently, it could not have inflamed both their kinks more. Felix’s parents had been in complete shock at the size of their boy, referring to Felix as a ‘fat pig’ and a ‘fatty.’ They’d been disgusted at how much Felix had ordered to eat and had called Hendrix out as they could see him trying to slyly push more food onto their son. Hendrix had loved every second of it, agreeing with them that he enjoyed the shape of Felix’s body and even thanking them for raising a son with such a hearty appetite. For the first time, Felix had let himself go in front of them, feeling strong with Hendrix by his side. The shock and horror on the older couple’s faces when Hendrix had told them about their musing about getting married. It wasn’t enough that they staunchly disagreed with gay men getting married, but the idea of their boy tethering himself to a feeder had almost sent them into a blind panic, leaving the table just as the main course was arriving.

The two men had stayed behind, with Felix quietly coached into consuming both of his parents’ meals as they further discussed the idea of getting married should Hendrix get the dream job he wanted in Seattle. All that eating, the talk of commitment and the exciting plans; it had sent them both into a spiralling horniness that could not be undone. The failed catch-up with Felix’s folks had proven one thing: they needed to live their lives for themselves, and no one else.

Back at the bar a few weeks later, the distrust of Hendrix had never been more apparent. Despite throwing the rug from under them by announcing that he was leaving town, the fact that he was taking Felix with him, and had even become engaged to him had completely thrown them all. At last, they could see what they had been a part of. Hendrix had never really cared about the things that had gone on before he arrived, He’d simply been riding a wave that had allowed him complete freedom to get his kicks in exactly the same way Felix had in the past.

Everyone had been polite, despite the many things that they may have been muttering to themselves under their breath as Felix’s ass crack and underbelly became more and more visible as the beers went down. One thing was for certain: these two freaks deserved each other. 

“No regrets?” Hendrix asked, finally sitting himself down next to Felix on their new couch, overlooking the Seattle skyline from the large window.

“None,” beamed Felix back.

The pair kissed sweetly before Hendrix pulled out his cell phone. “Well then, I guess it’s time to start trying out some of these new take out places,” he chuckled. “Buckle up, Fat Boy! You’re in for a tough few weeks ahead!”

[touyaismycomfortboy]

♡ mr. aizawa's wife....

a/n: i'll probably most definitely write about husband aizawa with a wife who has a quirk, but for now here are some quirkless wife hcs <3 this is lowkey all over the place, all I've been thinking about is husband aizawa and what that would be like so i need to dump out all my thoughts and then I'll write smth more organized eventually

word count: 0.7k

synopsis: what it would be like to be aizawa's wife <3

pairing: shouta aizawa x fem!quirkless!reader

genre: headcanons? dump? i honestly dont know!! i'm just writing stuff fr <33

you're not a pro-hero so you don't work at UA, but you're still there all the time. the heroes truly love you, you oftentimes get bored after your own job and bring the faculty fresh baked goods, typically leaving a big tray in the teachers' lounge but delivering aizawa's to him since he's always so busy with class.

the first time you met his new first years they were doing some training outside, you had just come by the school with a tray of peanut butter chocolate cookies and were about to deliver some to aizawa and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek before heading home.

when the girls of the class saw you walk up to aizawa out of the corner of their eyes and give him a kiss they gasped and stopped whatever they were doing.

aizawa panicked when he realized they saw and told them to get back to training, but they were already immediately approaching you and showering you with questions.

"oh my god mister aizawa has a wife?!" "how long have you two been together?!" "how did you guys meet?!" "what is aizawa like at home?"

you would laugh nervously and brush off their questions, whispering something to them about how aizawa is secretly a snuggle bug or something of that nature and usher them back to training, watching as they giggle and whisper to each other as they walk back, looking at aizawa and giggling some more.

aizawa isn't sure what you told them, but he'll "glare" at you for a moment with no real anger behind his stare, then mumble a quick "love you" before returning to work.

if you get off of work before him, he loves coming home and crawling into your arms, collapsing on top of you if you're lying on the couch.

he feels like a classy man when he wants to be. he'll be the kind of man to tell you to be ready at 7pm and to wear a nice outfit, and tell you he got you both a reservation at a restaurant.

he'll never tell you where it'll be, but he'll make sure to vet the menu beforehand just to make sure it has food you like so you never have to pretend to like something around him.

it will never be an insanely popular place with a bunch of people, but it'll always be nice. he doesn't like loud, crowded restaurants that are so loud he can barely taste the food in front of him, he loves quiet and intimate spaces with you.

if you ever volunteer to chaperone at a UA camp or dance or any other event, he always secretly loves watching you work with his students. he loves the chemistry you build with each of them and the effort you put into building friendships with them.

izuku loves to talk to you, he's always running up to you with his notebook asking questions about what the personal life of a pro hero is like and seeing if you have any anecdotes or fun facts about his quirk.

you're also one of the people all might lets see his true form before it's revealed to the public. you're always worrying over him, and he always brushes it off and tells you that he's okay, but you still check on him every time you visit UA.

as seen with how he acts around his students when something traumatic happens to them, he's very good at talking you through whenever you're sad. he's not a man of many words, but the words he does say leave an impact, and he always knows what to say.

he's not much for PDA, most people don't even know he has a wife until you just show up since he's so private, he prefers his intimate affairs stay intimate, he doesn't like everyone in his business or knowing how he acts around his wife.

nothing makes him feel guiltier than all the times you're awake for days on end next to his hospital bed after protecting his students from a dangerous situation. you understand why he does it, how important his students are to him, but still... seeing how destroyed his body gets after a villain encounter always makes you sick to your stomach, and you never feel quite at ease when he's working.

you both love taking naps together, if naps could be a love language that would be your guys'. you're always snuggling when alone and one thing will lead to another and you both end up snoozing on the couch for 30 minutes or so, something about being in each other's presence is so relaxing.

[dark-konohagakure2]

Helloooo! This is my first time requesting something like this so im super nervous .. but do you think you could write something along the lines of madara niece getting married of to him and them consummating (getting freaky deaky) the wedding? Its okay if not, i love your work! ^_^

tw: incest, uncle/niece, noncon, forced marriage, age difference, misogyny, breeding, size difference, cumflation

All characters depicted are 18+

Madara doesn't care about romance in the slightest, much less marriage. He can appreciate taking a woman's body as a spoil of war, but other than that he couldn't care less about such tedious distractions such as women. But as little thought as he puts into the matter, the fact remains that Madara will need an heir soon as head of the Uchiha Clan, and there is only one suitable candidate for birthing his sons.

Madara isn't incredibly close with his niece, he doesn't hate her, but he isn't exactly a doting uncle either. Most of his memories of his niece are of her as a small and meek thing, hiding behind her father Izuna's leg and clinging to her mother's skirt, but now that she's grown older, she has become an attractive young woman, the spitting image of her late father, his precious younger brother, so Madara decides to kill two birds with one stone.

Forcing her hand in marriage is almost top easy, the girl's mother has been in disarray since her husband's death, so the woman sees her only daughter getting married as a good thing for the clan. Even if Madara is the girl's uncle, he is without a doubt the most suitable male for her out of every man in the Uchiha clan, or at least that's the point he'll hammer in.

His niece isn't terribly happy when she receives the news that she'll be getting married, what's worse is that she gets this shocking news at the very last minute, as Madara doesn't even think to tell her about their unconventional 'engagement' until the very day right before their so-called wedding, and he definitely won't be sympathetic to her hysterical woman tears.

"Enough or your shrieking, girl. I've already made my decision and it is final. If you can't even do something as simple as rearing a few children for our clan, then you don't deserve to be called an Uchiha."

The wedding isn't exactly a large one, it'd just the two of them, not even the mother is allowed to attend her own daughter's 'wedding', Madara doesn't need two crying women ruining his special day. The wedding kimono suits his adorably homely niece rather well, but Madara thinks it would suit her much better on his bed, so suffice to say that the marriage ceremony will be rather quick.

Once it's finally done, Madara will practically drag her to his chambers, his cock unbearably hard beneath his wedding robe, he never thought he'd ever be so excited about sinking his cock into a wet cunt, but his niece's tight little Uchiha pussy is just too much of a tempting forbidden fruit for him to resist sinking his teeth into. While his main goal is reproduction, Madara will also be after his own pleasure during this act of consummation.

Madara's cock is long and thick, stretching her virgin walls before he then gets it halfway inside, and when he finally rams his thick meat into her, his leaking tip will immediately and mercilessly bash into her cervix like a battering ram, it would be next to impossible for her to get thoroughly knocked up due to how deeply Madara is penetrating her fertile cunt.

Madara doesn't take any half measures, he wants her swollen with his seed, with his offspring, and he's not going to achieve that by just one measly orgasm inside of her, he's going to cum inside of her as much as possible, fucking his superior seed into her until her flat tummy becomes bloated with the sheer amount of cum that Madara has dumped into her, and even then he's not going to stop enjoying his niece-wife for quite some time.

"Stupid girl, don't pass out on me just yet, weakling. It's only been four rounds and you're already whining and leaking? Pathetic. How did I get burdened with such a weak niece..?"

Madara's opinion on sex won't change too much even after having his way with his new 'wife', but now he's able reach a conclusion; he doesn't have any need for other women and their holes now, since his niece is the only set of holes Madara can imagine himself using for the foreseeable future.

[revelboo]

Everything is Alright Pt1

Starscream adopting (kidnapping) a human headcanon

• Absolutely an accident. Scouting excursion gone wrong when he’s spotted and ambushed by quite possibly the two most obnoxious Autobots he’s ever had the displeasure to deal with, Jazz and Bumblebee. Damaged, he’s forced to fly low, darting down a far too narrow forested road in his alt mode with those persistent Autobots right on his aft.

• You’re just in the wrong place at the wrong time, taking a ride through the country in your little sedan. You just needed to get away, relax and destress from home and work. Music cranked as your mind wanders, you almost don’t hear the scream of the jet flying obscenely low, wingtips clipping and shattering tree limbs to rain down on the road.

• When you do notice, your eyes dart up to the rear view mirror and there’s a moment of just flat disbelief, because there’s no way. Then the jet screams over the top of your car so close you swear it scrapes the paint and you’re slamming on the brakes, hauling at the wheel as this bright yellow sports car tears past on your left, a white car right on its fender.

• You never were a fantastic driver, losing control and heading straight into the tree line, head bouncing off the wheel. There’s a sound of thunder, the pounding staccato drowning out the frantic drumming of your heart. No, not thunder. Weapons firing at the jet.

• It’s the saboteur not the scout that manages a direct hit, forcing Starscream to transform and hit the asphalt at a run, staggering and nearly pitching face first into the trees as he turns to return fire. Both Autobots already transformed and no doubt calling for backup.

• Outnumbered, but hardly out gunned. Still, this wasn’t how he had his day planned, baring his denta at the two Autobots and feeling energon dripping along his side. And once their backup showed?

• It’s almost serendipity when you stagger out of your car, concussed and shell shocked to blunder into the road. Between Starscream and the two nuisances. He’d seen the car go off the road, but hadn’t cared about whatever had been inside. Humans, ugh. But Jazz and Bumblebee both stop firing, staring in no small amount of shock at you.

• And there you are, staring up at him with wide eyes. Not screaming. Not running for your squishy, little life, because your brain is definitely shaken, not stirred. All you can do is gape up at the giant, alien robots with guns in dumb silence and wonder if you’re in fact still in the car bleeding out while your damaged brain spins sci-fi nonsense cotton candy in your last moments.

• And the Autobots are holding fire, because of you. To try and not accidentally kill your very unlucky self. Starscream only sees a get out of jail free card, lunging and closing his servos on you, arm extended to hold you out in front of him like a laughably pathetic shield. Except it works. Neither Autobot moves, weapons faltering.

• The panic kicks in, breaking through the pained fog and you struggle against his far too tight grip, but are ignored. Your heart’s hammering against your ribs, tangling with the pain pounding in your addled head. It’s too much, fear twisting inside you as he laughs. The other two alien robots still have their weapons drawn, but they’re pleading that you be let go.

• Starscream’s still laughing as he says, “No.” Injuries screaming at him, he grimaces as he tucks you to his chassis and transforms around you, trapping you inside while he tries very hard to not think about the fact that there’s a nasty, dripping little human inside him as he bolts.

• He keeps you trapped when he returns to base, pinned inside his canopy as he sneaks back to his quarters to dump you into an empty energon cube, because he has no idea what to do with you now. Squishing you to a paste is definitely an option, but as you stare dumbly up at him in shock, still not screaming, he wonders if he might keep you instead. Especially if you can be dangled in front of those idiot Autobots to save his own aft.

• Slowly self preservation shatters the numb terror, letting you look around and actually see your surroundings. You never were that athletic and there’s no climbing out of the clear box he’s dropped you in. But you’re alive. When the big alien that kidnapped you starts muttering and generally lamenting about you, the “Autobots,” and his life in general, you hesitantly agree with him in a hushed voice, because staying on his good side? Probably a good idea for your continued existence.

• He’s shocked, wings lifting slightly as he vents and stares. You… agreed with him? This mech craves validation and you offer it up freely and yes, he’s flustered, before straightening slightly. Because of course you agree, how could you not? So he rants, almost preening when you make little commiserating noises. You’re in turn shocked when he moves across the room to drop a polishing cloth as big as a queen sized sheet on top of you. You’re not sure if it’s an olive branch or not, but you seize upon it with both hands, wrapping the cloth around you to fight off the chill in the metal room and taking the time to run your fingers through your hair to catalog how badly beat up you are.

Next

[rogersideup]

I'd like to drop a prompt:

The avengers have a night off in Las Vegas after a mission. Thor makes sure Cap has his fair share of Asgardian liquor so Steve ends up drunk and wanders off alone. He meets our dear reader who just got dumped by her friend group and is equally drunk. They hit it off and decide to get married. The next morning both of them are confused but decide to make it work as memories of the night before come back to them. (Surprise surprise dear reader is from New York too)

‧₊˚✧⚁⁠♧777♤⚄✧˚₊‧

Steve Rogers X Reader

Masterlist

Summary: Steve gets himself into some trouble while having a night off in the city of sin.

Word Count: 4,717

Warning: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

"Miss?"

Flashing lights separated and splayed through the drying tears in your watery eyes, music and ringing from hundreds of slot machines overstimulated your senses as you simultaneously pulled your dress up and down in different places.

"Excuse me miss? Can I get you something to drink?"

Coming back to your senses, you turned around to face the bartender. "Yeah, uh..." really, you tried your hardest to think of something, literally anything to help move along the buzz you were already riding but no proper words made it to your brain. "Sorry. I'm not sure what I want. Can you just make it strong and fruity?"

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed, already grabbing bottles off the shelf.

Watching him masterfully work helped you zone out and relieved all of your overwhelmed senses. Pouring, shaking, more pouring, a garnish, then a fruity elixir of a bunch of liquids you most definitely could not pronounce was placed right in front of you atop a cocktail napkin. Not a single drop was spilled, even the ice was perfect.

Reaching into your purse, you handed the bartender your card and shouted to try and compete with the volume of drunken gamblers and rolling dice. "You can close the tab."

"Don't worry about it. This one's on the house, you look like you need it." He kindly denied your form of payment.

You chuckled to yourself. "That bad, huh?"

"No, but I know a sad chick when I see one." He noted. "Happens pretty often in Vegas."

"Well, thank you, I appreciate it." You raised the glass. "Cheers to you and all the bartenders making the world go round."

"Amen to that" He smiled before walking off to serve yet another drunken customer.

You sat at the bar on a little leather stool fully contemplating how you ended up in this situation as you looked out into the hotel casino and nursed your drink. It didn't take long for you to realize that the Vegas bartenders didn't take the word strong as a joke. Because every sip stung your throat and swirled your thoughts around in slow motion.

The speed at which your thoughts came at you didn't help the fact that every single one of them revolved around nothing but yourself.

What were you going to do now? Where should you go from here?

Drinking wasn't the answer, but not drinking wasn't the solution. Finding shelter in the Caesars Palace hotel was a good enough temporary fix to your problems, so you ignored that you were on the complete opposite side of the Las Vegas strip that you actually needed to be on.

However, getting to your hotel on the complete opposite side was the problem. Your shitty friends completely ditched you, or maybe you ditched them. The details were all so unclear, but the fact was they were all making stupid choices and you couldn't stand to stick around long enough to see the end results of them.

But now you were all done up in high heels and a small little dress in a city you had never been in before, notorious for sex, drugs and alcohol. Luckily, pepper spray in your purse and a back pocket full of self defense techniques that have been drilled into your head ever since you were a little girl were amongst some of the better choices you made tonight.

Then came along all of the dumber choices you would make tonight in the form of yet another fruity drink, and a tall, blonde man looking painfully confused at the roulette table right in front of you.

He was tall and broad, even more handsome than the massive statues of Roman men all around the hotel. But much like the statues around you, he looked like he was carved from marble. The muscles you could see sculpted through his suit jacket could've only been a result of a piece of fine art.

It was easy to pick up his wholesome sweetness behind his big blue eyes, that also did a lot to tell you how drunk the man was. He towered over the table and watched a few rounds, trying his hardest to understand what was happening. Much like him, you watched the ball spin round and round before landing in a slot.

Some of the players would moan and groan at their fate, while others would cheer happily and exchange loud laughter and high-fives.

Mesmerized by the game, you missed the glances the blonde man snuck of you. He really couldn't help it though. His friends had left him all alone while his capacity to make good decisions was at an all time low, and you were just so pretty and maybe a bit sad.

Another round was about to start, so the dealer started taking bets. Everyone around the table started placing their chips on a color and number, and the blonde was still confused.

He looked around again before his eyes met yours, and a stupid invasive smile smeared across your lips. When he noticed your friendly demeanor, he took a few stumbles over to you.

"Do you have any idea how to play this?" The man asked you.

Now you could smell the expensive yet deliciously pleasant cologne he was wearing, and you could take in all the details of his black suit.

Giggling at his cluelessness, you swallowed down the sip of cocktail in your mouth. "I do. Would you like some help?"

"I'm assuming you have to guess if the ball lands on red or black?" He asked as his lopsided smile and squinted eyes told you everything you needed to know about his sobriety... or lack there of.

"That's exactly it, good job." You nodded. "But you can also guess the number, or a group of numbers it'll land on. The payout at the end is based on how accurate your bet is."

"So what should I bet?" He asked you, having already built a strong sense of trust for you in the few minutes he had been observing.

"Oh no, that's not up to me." You shook your head before taking another sip of your drink. "You gotta trust your own gut."

The man's eyes darted around the table once more before his arms motioned to it. "But look around! All of these men have pretty girls telling them what to do, and that's why they're all winning money. You guys are so much smarter than us, and I'm alone so I need you to tell me. Red or black."

Usually, a statement like that from a man like him would have you rolling your eyes and cutting the conversation short. However, either your gut or the alcohol was telling you that he wasn't an asshole.

For some reason, you felt calm and comfortable in his presence all while being unable to wipe the dumb smile off your face. Something about his hair that was once perfectly styled now being a little jostled, and the twinge of pink in his cheeks made him seem so distantly familiar.

"Well thank you for that backhanded compliment." You laughed. "I think you should bet red."

He nodded, trusting your opinion far more than he trusted himself. "Should I place a more specific bet too?"

You thought for a moment, but you were in Vegas so... fuck it. "Yeah. Give me your chip"

The man happily placed the roulette chip into your hand, you stood up in one big sweep and started walking away from the bar. "Woah, don't leave your drink!"

Pleasantly surprised that he had your best interest in mind, you mumbled out a statement of gratitude as he handed the glass to you too. Approaching the table, looked at it for a few moments and tried your hardest to contemplate the best number to place a bet on, but once again no rational thoughts occupied the empty spaces of your brain.

So, you threw the chip on your favorite number, lucky 25.

"There ya go!" You used your free hand to pat the man's shoulder. "Good luck, Blondie."

"What happens if I win?" He asked you, smiling as you let your hand linger. Even with your highest heels on, you were nowhere near as tall as him.

"Then it's your lucky day, and you'll get a shit ton of money." You giggled at his question.

"And if I lose?"

"Then you're unlucky and you're about to lose some money." You snorted.

"That's not going to happen, you're my good luck charm." He declared.

"I don't think anything about my night tonight is radiating lucky energy, so I doubt that."

"What? No way! I feel like I've been the luckiest guy in the whole world today, so maybe I'm your good luck charm."

"I guess we will let the roulette wheel speak the truth of the universe tonight." You shrugged.

"Should we place our own bets on the bet?" The man asked.

"Like what?" You questioned, hoping this wasn't the moment the sweet stranger turned weird and pervy.

"I think if I lose I should probably call it a night and go back to my room because this is the drunkest I've been in probably 80 years." He stated. However, his words flew over your head figuring his drunken words were exaggerated, and you found yourself to be a little sad that your time with the stranger would be cut short so soon.

"I think if you win, you should stay out for a little while and have another drink with me." You smiled, going way out of your own comfort zone.

If you were sober, or maybe even drunk in a bar anywhere other than Las Vegas, you would've been caught dead before being caught to be so bold. But he was pulling you in faster than you've ever felt, and something about him felt so natural and warm.

"Deal." He agreed.

"Look, they're about to spin the wheel." You pointed at the table.

The dealer spun the wheel, and the ball was moving so fast that you could barely even follow it. Even as it slowed down and started to tease each individual slot, the motion of following the sphere going round and round was quite honestly making you a bit dizzy, so you squeezed your eyes shut in anticipation.

"No way." The blonde stated. "No fucking way!"

His arm wrapped around you from behind and his big warm hands very gently shook the tops of your arms. "Look! It's on red! I can't see the number, but it's on red!"

You giggled and tried your best to keep your balance as he shook you around. When you opened your eyes you could see that the drink in your hand was sloshing around and spilling over onto the impeccably maintained carpet beneath your feet. But the loss of some of your drink was a small price to pay when the dealer picked the ball up out of the wheel and announced "25 Red!"

Simultaneously, you and Blondie let out little screeches in surprise and joy when you realized you had actually placed a winning bet. In all your years on this planet, nothing like this had ever happened to you. You never even won $5 on a penny slot, let alone a fat wad of cash that was being placed into the man's hands.

After the cheering celebration and laughter died down, he turned to you. "See! I knew you were lucky!"

"You trusted your intuition, and you won!" You noted with a smile so big and long lasting it was starting to make your cheeks sore. "Good job."

"Here! This is yours." He placed the wad of cash in your hands.

"What? No. You bet your own money, it's yours." Not being able to accept it, especially when you saw it was all $100 bills.

"No it's yours! You placed the winning bet, you knew the magic number so I want you to have it." He explained kindly. "You said nothing about your night was lucky, so consider this your sign from the universe."

"I can't just accept all of this money from a complete stranger." You denied once more. "You're very sweet, I would feel so guilty taking this from you."

"Fine, if you can't accept the money for yourself, how about we go spend it together?" He offered. "I owe you another drink anyways, then after that the Las Vegas strip is our oyster!"

"That's a little better" You agreed with a smile. "I'm sorry, I didn't even get your name."

"O-oh!" The man seemed to be taken back by that statement for a second. A look of momentary confusion furrowed his eyebrows before a happy smile returned to his kind face. "Sorry, I'm Steve!"

You made a small mental note of his initial shock that you asked for his name, but your drunken brain didn't hold onto that for very long.

"Alright Steve, here's the plan." You rocked up on your tippy toes and kept yourself braced with a steady hand on his solid shoulder so he could hear you better in the loud and chaotic environment. "Half my drink just ended up on the floor when you won, so I'm going to order another one. Then after that, I somehow need to end the night at my hotel on the complete opposite end of the strip without getting taken or murdered. So if we can somehow make it from here to there while blowing through that money you just won, then I'd be more than happy to help you spend it."

Steve's eyes went wide in concern at your statement. "Where are you staying?"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "My gut is telling me not to tell a strange man where I'm staying."

"Smart girl, but I'm not letting you walk down the strip alone at night. The people here are crazy." He challenged. "No funny business. Pinky promise."

Steve raised his pinky for you with a genuine look of promise and concern on his face. "Do people often trust you to get them to safety?"

His cheeks turned pinker, and he let out an adorable giggle. "Yeah, I think most people find me to be very trustworthy."

"No funny business." You lifted your hand and wrapped your pinky around his with a quick handshake. "I'm staying at New York, New York."

"Oh wow, we have a long way to go with lots of chances to blow through that stack." He smiled. "What are you drinking? I'll order you another one."

"Honestly, I have no idea." You admitted, smile coming back to your face.

"Okay great! That helps me a lot" The blonde laughed.

"Excuse me" You politely flagged down the bartender. The same one from earlier coming back, you showed him your glass. "Can I get another one of these please? And whatever he wants?"

You looked to Steve who looked between you and the bartender. "Just two waters please."

"Sure thing." The bartender agreed.

"What? You're not going to have a drink?" You questioned.

He pulled a copper flask out of the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. "I'll drink more, but this is stronger."

"Oh, nothing here is strong enough for you?" You raised a brow, your smile growing just as lopsided as his.

"Nope. This stuff is special, it comes straight from another realm."

Laughing at his joke, as you handed the bartender cash straight from the wad Steve gave you. "That's funny, because I hope this is strong enough to make me feel like I'm no longer in this realm, so cheers to that!"

You and Steve sat at that bar for a solid two hours as conversation topics flew at the two of you unexpectedly fast. Each one new topic was short lived as an enthusiastic response would happily slip off one of your tongues, so excited that the two of you had so much in common.

Then, Steve decided to start the shopping spree. He offered you a hand to help you off the stool, which quickly turned into a protective arm around you, or ushering you the entirety of your time together. He knew that the men on the Vegas strip were pigs, but he underestimated how bad it really was.

But the cat calls, whistles, and lingering eyes were drowned out by the city sounds and the big flashing marquee lights that littered the sides of every building you passed. It was just as mesmerizing as the night before, skipping down the streets in a drunken haze with your best friends.

Now you were mesmerized by not only sin city, but the mysterious man you were following around as if you'd known him your whole life.

With a sense of childlike wonder the two of you ended up in silly places like the M&M's store, and the Coca-Cola store, but you also ventured into more classy designer establishments where you convinced him to buy a lovely new belt at Louis Vuitton.

It looked good, he looked good. You had to work really hard to contain the drool in your mouth as you watched him take off his old belt to replace it with the new one.

He tried to buy you a new bag, but once again you were being stubborn and were having a hard time accepting such a generous offer.

So, you suggested another drink. Just one more.

More sitting and chatting with Steve, you swallowed down the liquid in your cup while he shot the rest of the liquid in his flask.

That last drink was the worst of your poor decision making that night, or so you thought.

Because the last memory you had was sitting at that bar and really admiring him.

The alcohol had turned his cheeks and the tip of his nose a rosy pink color that somehow made his blue eyes shine even brighter, and add to the wholesome energy you felt radiating from him.

Sweet, silly, carefree, handsome, safe.

Then, you woke up.

Slowly at first. Your eyes opened and the dull pounding at the back of your skull wasn't nearly at bad as you deserved. The air conditioning did wonders keeping you comfortable, the light peaked through the black out curtains, and your belongings scattered across the room confirmed that you were definitely in the right place.

You looked around more. M&m's bag, Louis Vuitton bag... Converse bag? You didn't remember buying shoes. Wait... how did you get here?

Only then did you wake up FAST. You sat up, and your heart pounded as you realized that Blondie was in your bed. The sudden movement made your head pound even harder, but the good news was that he was fully clothed and was sleeping above the covers.

You were also asleep and fully clothed, but both of you were in different clothes than you had on last night. That's probably what those shopping bags in the corner were...

Carefully rolling out of bed to try and make yourself somewhat presentable and aid along trying to process what happened last night, you walked into the bathroom.

Wash your face, brush your teeth, fix your hair.

By the time you came out, Blondie was sitting up in bed with his legs on the floor, shooting you an apologetic look. He was apprehensive, scared to gauge how sick and unenthusiastic you would be by his presence this morning.

"Good morning." He said quietly, voice deep and raspy from inhaling the dry air and residual cigarette smoke.

"Morning." You tried to be polite, clutching the side of your head. "What happened? How did we- how did any of this-"

"Nothing happened." Steve reassured you. "I would never take advantage-"

"Okay, okay." You nodded slowly, feeling slightly relieved. "Advil. I have Advil."

Waking over to the table in the hotel room, you grabbed the bottle of painkillers and a water. You opened both and popped two little pills in your mouth, washing them down with water.

"I'm sorry, I don't remember much either. It's been a really long time since I've gotten drunk. This is really out of the ordinary for me." He explained.

"I guess we're on the same boat then." You agreed with him before a couple pieces of paper catch your eye.

"I guess I should probably go?" Steve stated, but it was more of a question. This was the first time he ever found himself waking up next to a stranger.

"No, you stay right there." You insisted frantically, picking up the piece of paper.

Certificate of marriage.

Your name signed at the bottom next to another signature that read Steven G Rogers.

Your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

You studied the signature, looked at his face, looked at the signature, then his face again.

In the table, there was a picture of the two of you kissing. Him in his suit, you in the dress you wore last night but also a veil.

"Oh my god" You exclaimed, so much information to process.

"What?" Steve questioned, furrowing his eyebrows.

"Oh my god!" You pinched the bridge of your nose and took a deep breath.

"What happened?"

"You didn't tell me..." You puffed out a breath, then an unexpected giggle left your throat. Of course, this would happen to you the one time in your life you didn't behave like a perfect angel. "Captain America?"

"Oh... Guilty?" Steve's shoulders sunk. "I introduced myself, no?"

"As Steve." You exaggerated.

"Yeah, I'm Steve." He agreed.

"Well, at least I was safe." Finding the benefit of the doubt. "Do you remember getting married last night, Steve?"

You passed the paper and the picture to him, and his face contorted into an expression you couldn't quite read. "...wow."

"Wow?" You questioned. "I unknowingly married Captain America last night and all you have for me is wow?"

"Holy shit." Steve looked up at you.

"That's better." You nodded.

"You don't look panicked" Steve noted.

"I'm not panicked because at least you're a superhero." You explained. "That counts for something right? Like people won't think I'm totally inane for marrying a stranger when they find out it's Captain America? And like... a superhero means you have people who come and clean up after you right? Someone can fix this right?"

You watched the gears turn in his head. "... I have to call Tony."

Tony. Who's Tony? Think. Superhero, avengers, Steve, Captain America. Tony... IRON MAN.

"Stark?" Your eyebrows raised. Steve nodded, pulling out his phone. "Now I'm freaking out. I'm really freaking out."

"It's okay, give me a second." Steve said calmly.

You nodded, the remembered you should check your phone too. As he spoke quietly to Tony, you looked around for your phone before finding it on the night stand, flooded with dozens of missed calls and texts from friends wondering where you were. You quickly sent off a text in a group chat saying you'd explain later, and that you were okay.

Eventually Steve ended the call. "He said he'll be here in a minute or two."

"Oh, okay great." You said exaggerating your nonchalance. "No biggie. Iron man coming over to read my marriage certificate to Captain America."

Steve giggled at the ridiculousness of the situation. "My mother would be over the moon to find out I'm married."

"My mom might have me 6 feet in a grave if she ever finds out about this." You sat back down on the bed next to him.

"When do you leave Vegas?" Steve questioned.

"My flight is at nine tonight. What about you?"

"Flying home at six thirty." He informed you. "Where do you live?"

"New York" You said simply. "Queens."

"We both live in New York and we’re staying in a New York themed hotel? What a small world." Steve noted. "Maybe we don't have to fit in a divorce before this evening."

"I mean... you are very handsome so I definitely wouldn't mind staying married to you for a few days until we get this figured out." You grinned.

A small blush stippled his cheeks at your compliment. “You’re so pretty I would’ve never had the courage to talk to you if I wasn’t drunk.”

Just like him, you blushed at his admission, and giggled at his words. “This doesn’t feel like real life.”

“Maybe I should’ve gotten you a ring instead of whatever the hell we bought last night.” Steve thought.

You looked down at your left hand, and sure enough, there was a pretty ring on your finger. You lifted it up to show him. “Looks like you were two steps ahead of yourself”

“Oh, good.” He chuckled. “At least there’s that.”

Then, there was a knock at the door.

You looked at Steve with wide eyes and nervousness building up in your tummy at the thought of being in the same room with one third of the Avengers.

“I’ll get it” He reassured you, standing up to answer the door.

Before you knew it, Tony Stark confidently barreled into the room. Firing some teasing words at Steve, you knew the poor guy would never hear the end of it.

“Oh look, here she is!” Tony announced.

“Nice to meet you Mr. Stark.” You shook his hand.

“Trust me, the pleasure is all mine Mrs. Rogers.” He smiled.

“Tony” Steve warned with a glare.

“Where’s the paper work?” Tony asked.

You quickly handed him the picture and the signed document that was on the table. Steve stood right next to you as you both watched him read over it, and evaluate the legitimacy.

Tony took out his phone snapped a few pictures, and made a weird face. Nervously, you his your face in Steve’s arm and he instinctively rubbed your back to comfort you.

Then, Tony started laughing. “Rogers you’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware, but what’s so funny?” Steve complained.

“It’s fake.” Tony said.

“What?” Your head popped up.

“Little white chapel, married by Elvis just for the gag type of thing. There’s no marriage license, it’s not a legal marriage.” He explained, handing you the papers back.

Both you and Steve let out a huge sigh of relief. “Maybe I’m not that much of an idiot after all.”

“No, you’re still stupid.” Tony denied. “Out of all the people in the world I would’ve never expected this from you, Cap.”

“This is Thor’s fault.” Steve pointed his finger.

You didn’t understand how the god of thunder had anything to do with this, but you had no mental capacity left to even ask.

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter. Just be on time for the flight home and stay out of trouble.” Tony told him. “Hope to see you around again soon, Mrs. Rogers.”

And just like that, he was out faster than he came in.

“I know Tony made it seem like everything is okay, but it’s not and I have a giant mess to clean up with the team.” Steve explained to you.

“Yeah, I’d assume so.” You smiled.

“Which means I really should go.” He let you down. “But regardless of this fiasco, and from what I do remember, I had a lot of fun with you last night. Would you want to exchange phone numbers and maybe hang out again when we get home?”

“I would love that, Steve.” You agreed.

He handed you his phone and you handed him yours. Both putting in your phone numbers and names before swapping them back.

At the same time, you both burst out laughing at the contact names.

Unplanned, he put his name as Husband, and you put yours as Wife.

“Ridiculous!” You laughed, walking him to the door.

“Maybe we really were meant to be.” Steve pondered.

“Maybe.” You agreed. “But in all seriousness, thank you for getting me home safe last night. I was really lucky to run into the right person at the right time.”

“Of course.” Steve grinned. “Travel safe, and let me know when you get home so we can set something up.”

“You got it.” Rocking up on your tippy toes, you kissed his cheek. “Have fun cleaning up that mess, Husband.”

“Don’t tell your Mom about this, Wife.”

You locked your lips and threw away the key. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧⚂♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧‎‧₊˚✧⚀♡⚁⁠♧⚂♤⚄♢⚅✧˚₊‧

[savanir]

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

Part 3

prev and OG prompt

Dick was just about finished with his preparations in the Batjet when one of his brothers barged in and dumped some of their stuff inside as well.

“I’m coming with you” Tim straps down the case he brought and plants his ass in the copilot seat.

Dick looks at him with a slight frown, “Tim…”

“no I want to see the murder scenes with my own eyes and it’s good for you to have some backup-”

“I’ll be just fine on my own babybird-”

“-cause we don’t know if this is just one assassin or a whole organization”

“ok. and now you can tell me the real reason you want to come along”

Tim gives Dick a side-eye before slumping down“... Alf has been talking with Bruce about me needing fresh air again and I rather do that preemptively and on my own terms so you’re just gonna have to accept you’re stuck with me on this one now”

Dick sighs, and ruffles Tim’s hair before strapping himself in the pilot seat and ignoring the indignant squawk from his brother, “sure, fine, Oracle we’re heading out now”

“have a safe trip Nightwing”

and they are off

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Amity Park is about what they expected, outwardly nothing remarkable, somewhat sleepy. But upon closer inspection the signs of multiple battles are quite clear.

Though apparently it’s been quite a while now since the last “ghost” battle. There is a lot of speculation as to why among the town folks which could be important to look into some other time, but for now the boys put a pin in it and get to breaking and entering the old Fenton household for their investigation.

Things seem to be normal inside the house but… ahem, well...

Tim inspects all the strange tech that looks just haphazardly slapped on the walls with a critical eye while Dick lifts one of the family photos to have a better look.

“looks like a normal average american household to me, even with mom and dad preferring to wear hazmat suits everywhere apparently” there really aren’t any pictures where they aren’t wearing the orange and teal suits. Madeline Fenton wasn’t wearing one at the Gala though, she looks a lot more comfortable in these pictures.

Dick looks around some more, “is it just me or does this place just feel… depressing?”

“yeah no I get what you mean, there is nobody here but I also feel a lot like I’m intruding” Tim hums, “more than normal that is”

“Red…” 

Tim elects to ignore that tone of voice completely, “there is no way any of this stuff is even remotely up to code” he then peeks at the picture as well, he of course already knew what the murdered father and missing son looked like, he’s done his homework, but this is a casual happy family picture, that always drives home the fact that these were- are real people. 

but how did they all get dragged into this situation, this mess that is slowly turning into something a lot more complicated… maybe… well that’s why he’s here. To figure it out.

The stairs that lead to the basement lab are in the kitchen for some reason, and once down there they both need a moment to take the whole place in.

The entire house is rather abandoned but this place looks as if it hasn't been touched since the police did their own investigation.

There is some tape and markers that were left behind but overall it looks a lot like a hurricane went through it, exploded, and then everything got covered in a fine layer of dust.

Tim opens the case he brought with him and begins setting up the holo scanners to make a copy of the whole place that they’ll be able to project in the batcave later, in case they miss something now.

It's only after that’s done that they start to have a look themselves.

“Even this badly wrecked it definitely looks like some sort of evil lair” Tim mutters as he inspects the nearest vaguely firearm shaped object, or maybe it’s a hair blower he’s not sure, it’s got Fenton Works™ stamped on it though.

“is that a portal” Dick meant it as a question but it ends up sounding like a statement.

It gets Tim’s attention though, “I… maybe?” it kinda looks like one potentially, busted up to hell though.

Dick carefully approaches it but doesn’t for a second think about going in there,“Mostly looks like a hole in the wall now though, I’m not going in there to check with all those wires on the ground, talk about a trip hazard. Not to mention the threat of electrocution, has nobody here heard about cable management?!”

“where is your sense of adventure Wingster, besides I am pretty sure this place is cut off from electricity now” 

“yeah, I’m not taking the risk with sketchy evil lair portals today” 

Dick lets Tim do his own detective work while he takes out a little device Batman made to alert him to Deadman. He figures it would be interesting to get a read on the place and see if it's really ghosts that have been causing a mess in Amity Park or if it is something else that just appears paranormal.

The ecto-detection goes completely wild however. “Alright well… uhh”

"What's that?”

“I was just curious if something occult was going on around here what with everyone blaming the past attacks on ghosts and thinking that whatever happened here probably has something to do with them as well… but I'll be honest, Boston never registered anywhere near this high. And it's just - everywhere”

“So any further investigation into Amity Park itself is gonna have to be done by Dark?”

“probably” though Tim is also fully planning on doing a full investigation himself.

Either way, they put a pin in that too.

They have a good look at the areas where bullets made an impact, scorch marks and the broken examination tables. They are about done when Tim asks if it would be worth it to break into the local police department and have a lot at (steal) whatever evidence they might still have on the case.

They could have something useful, unless it is who Dick really hopes it’s not. 

They leave the basement and are greeted with the sight of two teens in the kitchen.

hm…

Dick decides to just go with a cheery hello,

“Holy shit it’s Nightwing and Red Robin!” Tucker basically has stars in his eyes.

“After the message we got from Jazz I kinda expected the big bat”

“That's not true, you said after all this time you didn’t think they were actually gonna come at all- ow!” Sam doesn’t hesitate to  hit him in the shoulder. 

“Didn't think we'd show up” Tim says.

“Well am I wrong?” Sam sneers, “the only reason you guys are here is cause it’s a Gotham thing now. Otherwise someone actually competent would have looked into this months ago”

Tucker shrugs sheepishly and looks a little pained, “perhaps we shouldn't antagonize the Justice League heroes?”

Sam looks about ready to start hissing, it reminds Tim somewhat of the demon brat when he's particularly upset. “whatever” she says.

Tucker now has a strained smile, “uh, if you guys were wondering how we knew you were in here, that's because Jazz asked us to keep an eye on the place”

they tripped an alarm? how… Everything in here is cut off and disabled. some sort of battery based system maybe? but they would have surely picked up on that…

Dick figures he might as well just go ahead and ask some questions so he takes a seat and the other two follow suit more at ease than the two birds expected. Tim decides to wander a bit more around the kitchen. Maybe there is something he missed here.

“so, I'm just gonna go out on a limb here and assume that you two also think Daniel-”

“Danny” Sam corrects immediatly 

“-yes Danny, you two also think he's still alive?”

The question is immediately answered by a, “yes” and a, “he is”

“Jazz also seemed very certain of this despite the fact that a body was found. what makes you all so sure?”

Sam looks ready to spring into another tirade, Dick is starting to suspect that she has a serious issue with ‘not being taken seriously’

“Jazz told you guys already about the clone thing right? just go to Vlad's estate and it's all there in his evil basement laboratory”

“and we also know someone who can check deaths through occult stuff, and they confirmed that he has not… you know, crossed over”

“occult like magic?”

“or something, they were never wrong before. we do realize this isn't hard evidence obviously but they are a friend and not the type to just tell us what we want to hear” this is the easiest way to explain that they got in contact with the ghosts to have them look through the realms for Danny.

“I'd like to speak with-”

“that's gonna be hard, they don't show up with all the government people crawling about”

“so that individual with proof cannot be reached so we can’t verify their claims”

“nope”

unfortunate, but they did already say it wasn't hard evidence. It seems that these two aren’t going to budge on it which seems a little odd to Dick, there are known magic users in the League. Someone being able to check into the afterlife or whatever to see if someone is truly dead isn’t completely out of left field, it should be fine to meet with that person and at least hear them out… so why are ‘’government people’’ an issue? are they possibly wanted for some crime? oh well…

“when we went to them it was mostly just to know. you know? like… mr. Fenton got murdered and Danny went missing, and nobody knew anything or could find anything. Everyone suspected ghosts of course. and we just wanted to know if our best friend was dead or not, if searching was even worth it”

“and now the fruitloop got assassinated. to us it basically also confirms it you know. he's still alive, and it would absolutely be best to shut up the one guy who knows about the whole thing”

But why smear Masters? Why not do it quietly? And what makes Daniel so special?

Tim just knows he's going to end up with more sleepless nights because of this.

In the end the two teens aren’t actually all that cooperative. It seems they actually have mostly shown up to check what was going on inside the Fenton household, Tim and Dick decide not to push them too much then and there, figuring they could visit Master’s estate first, verify the clone allegations, and after that get back to these two, perhaps when they get more intel and have something more substantial to work these then Sam and Tucker will be a bit more forthcoming as well.

Only time will tell.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

Slade had to go on some solo mission and at this point he's okay with leaving the boys to handle themselves, Danny eagerly takes the opportunity to do his own thing. 

Aka, going after politicians to get the acts repealed. Making deals with the ones who value their lives and can see a good opportunity when they are presented with one and getting his name out there. If he’s an actual threat people will be forced to listen. 

This day though he lands a hit that the supers in Metropolis somehow know about…

someone somewhere snitched, or… they are compromised. A worry for later.

"Memento Mori, they say you're trained by the Deathstroke and that you have an absolute success rate. And that you only kill your target and no one else on one of your assignments... but today all of it is coming to an end because with my tactile telekinesis I-" 

"If I had known that all I had to do to meet a real life alien was to act up a little I would have gone down this road a lot sooner" Danny leans against the AC unit on top of the apartment building they are currently on.

Kon splutters, "what?"

"Alright, okay, clone of an alien, which to me is still basically the same thing. Very cool, honestly, if you ask me, even better"

Kon puffs up, "well I am pretty awesome if I say so myself"

"Absolutely, out of this world some would say"

Kon snorts, then remembers what's actually going on here, "are you trying to distract me?"

"Maybe? Is it working?" Kon pouts and makes a so-so gesture. "I do mean it though. You're easily in my top five favorite aliens"

Kon blushes quite prettily "Uhm, well I... oh wait aliens? Not heroes?"

"Ah, yeah well about that, I guess I'm not a fan of that? Especially not currently. What with you being in my way and all that"

"Oh so if I were to politely ask to not kill the lady"

"Yeah I'm still gonna do that, sorry"

Kon sighs, "well in that case I'll-" 

He promptly gets knocked back by an impressive punch to the face. Mostly stunned by the fact that it properly hurts and then realizing Danny can move at all.

"You got distracted" and gives him a wink.

Kon rubs his jaw, "Oh you think you're cute"

"not just cute, I am adorable" and Kon just knows this smug bastard is grinning at him under the mask he can’t see through.

He really wishes he didn't have a thing for dark haired spunky dangerous people.

"... it- it doesn't matter, even with your freaky assassin skills there is no way-"

"You're a bit of a terrible match up against me though, no offense" Danny is trying to not overuse his abilities. He doesn't want the justice league to know about all of them. but it'll turn into a messy and long fight where neither come out on top if he sticks with the regular stuff. And that would allow backup to arrive and make things even more complicated... 

"Damn... I just don't have time for this"

Kon makes sure he's prepared to intercept anything Danny might throw at him now.

"If you go invisible I'll just follow the sound of your heartbeat"

"Oh" Danny turns his heart off. He can't do that indefinitely while in human form though, but this will do for this fight. "How about now"

"What the-? Are you alright!?"

"Awww you’re worried? That's sweet. Supersweet one could say," Danny turns invisible, "you should really be more worried about yourself though Superboy"

Kon tries if he can keep visual with his X-ray vision, he thinks about trying to do a sweep for even the slightest disturbance with his TTK field when a freezing cold shiver shoots up his spine.  

There is a moment of silence where nothing and nobody moves and then Kon can hear Superman in the distance. 

"Kon! What's going on!"

"That little- he slipped away!" 

"That's unfortunate... meet up with Kara at Miss Holloway’s location. Together we'll be able to stop him there"

"No I think I can-" Kon tries to argue

"Superboy" superman sounds stern 

"... fine, I'm going"

Kon makes a direct beeline for the target location and a grin can't help but spread over his face. He pushes his sunglasses up a bit more to hide the glowing green eyes. 

Now that he got to this point he’s getting back to wondering who tipped the supers off though. Having to switch to plan B was rather annoying. 

And he still absolutely doesn't like overshadowing people but what can you do… mission first, personal and ethical little hang ups second.

Superboy went under so smoothly though, Danny wondered why that was until he did a careful skim of the surface and sensed the roiling self hatred. He suspects that'll do it.

Danny feels sorta bad though, Superboy really is up there in his list of coolest things this world has to offer. He'll have to make it up to him after this is all over somehow. In a way that won’t compromise himself, and also avoid the old man knowing. 

It's then that he realizes he's arrived at the target location, it's showtime!

"Here I am"

Kara gives him a wave and he smoothly touches down, it really is a good thing he already knows how to fly and stuff, makes the whole pretending to be a Kryptonian thing a bit easier. "Got away huh?"

He huffs, "he can just turn his heartbeat off, how was I supposed to know that?"

"Deathstroke's protégé's are on a different level for sure. But even they have a limit"

Right... sure... underestimate him, very smart...

Not that he can really blame them. They probably think he's a baseline human with maybe some meta abilities or just a new upgraded Ikon suit.

"Can I see the tip off?

"Again? Sure. Though I doubt you'll see anything in it that we haven't seen yet. Oracle is trying to trace it but..."

"Hm, what if..." yeah some of this was very familiar, "what if it's Deathstroke and he's treating this whole thing as a screwed up training exercise?"

"That... I sure hope not"

"He's insane enough for that though"

"I hate that you could be right"

The silence stretches. 

"Are you alright Kon?"

Danny startles a little, "Yeah! I'm just, frustrated"

"Ah, don't worry. With the three of us standing ready it'll be fine. We'll catch him" she presses her fist in her open palm.

Danny feels a careful smile spread on Kon's face. 

"Hey, you check up on the lady and I'll make it look like I'm not involved in all this. Kal is close by and after that we'll try that thing with you spreading your TTK field super far"

Using Superboy's ability as a net? Interesting. "Gotcha"

Supergirl nods and then takes off and Danny figures he might as well just get this whole thing over with now. 

The lady is right there, she barely acknowledges him when he politely greets her. Rude…

And then he snaps her neck. 

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

"Youuuu" Danny storms up to Slade with vicious green overtaking his usual blue, “you fucking motherf-”

"Boy-"

"Don't you boy me. You sabotaged my assignment!"

"False accusations?"

Danny gives him a look that screams ‘are you for real…’ "Of course I took a moment to investigate. I had to know if we had a leak. But you tipping off the supers you absolute-"

Slade nods, satisfied that Danny looked into the matter, "You were fine, you need to be challenged to learn how to adapt to any situation. The moment things become complicated you resort to your abilities"

"Get off it old man I'm only half human of course I'm using my damn abilities, they are a fucking part of me! You though- You're the biggest dick in the universe and-"

Any civilized conversation quickly ends after that as it gradually devolves into a physical fight.

"Bastard" Danny mutters as he focuses his healing to fix his black eye first. 

"Cool down brat” Slade says, looking no worse for wear, “We'll go over the whole thing in more depth later" and the veteran assassin leaves the room. 

Danny fumes as he handles his patch up himself. While doing so he allows himself a moment of self loathing. 

He hates that he's making progress getting the ecto acts removed. "working" with the people who are happily removing the thing and getting rid of those that ignorantly want to keep it in place. 

He hates that the G.I.W are easier to handle with his new skillset.

He really hates how easy this is getting. 

And he really really hates how there was zero hesitation to overshadow Superboy and use him. 

He can't wait till this is over, one way or another.

[featherandferns]

day 2/24 - obx christmas countdown

‘I just want you for my own; more than you could ever know’ - Mariah Carey, All I Want for Christmas is You | fluff

The twinkling lights and perky music and the rather rude demanding pillow on the sofa that says “JOY” do little to raise your spirits. You’re aware how much of a grump you must seem, slumped in the corner of the pull-out, staring longingly into your glass of mulled wine, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. 

“Hey, grinch.” A Santa hat smacks you in the face. You glare at Kiara. 

“Cheer up. It’s girls’ night,” she tells you. 

“What’s got you so down-in-the-dumps, eh?” Cleo asks. 

“She’s pining,” Sarah says knowingly, grinning slyly at you. 

“I do not pine,” you reply firmly. Then, taking a pause for thought, you tag on, “very often.”

“This about that Maybank boy, huh?” Cleo checks. 

Sighing, you rock your head back and pinch the bridge of your nose. “Does everybody know?”

“Yep,” Sarah brightly replies. “Probably including JJ.”

“No way,” Kiara argues. She’s lounging in the armchair, a Santa hat sat wonky on her head. “That boy is blind as a bat. Lucky for you.”

At your quirked eyebrow in question, Kie puts on quite the show of a puppy-dog, yearning, lovesick idiot. You suppose that’s meant to be you. Charming. You toss the Santa hat back at her and she catches it effortlessly. 

“Kie has a point though. Why don’t you just tell him? He’s definitely whipped for you, too,” Sarah says. 

“Yeah right,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. 

“Girl, you don’t see the way he looks at you.”

“Mhm - because there isn’t a way he looks at me,” you deflect. You stare into your glass of mulled wine, transfixed by the swirling maroon and purple of the liquid; the herbal and fruity tones tangy as they hit your nose and linger on your tongue. 

You’d known JJ since the two of you were in diapers. Growing up, side by side, you felt as though you knew enough about him to know he didn’t love you as anything more than a friend. Seen him chase after enough girls and woo enough chicks at Keggars to believe that if something was meant to happen between the two of you, it would have by now. That didn’t stop your feelings from spiralling and, at a certain point, at a certain age, he suddenly seemed different to you. The treasure hunting only solidified this more, like sealing your feelings in ice. Seeing someone almost die more times than you can count has a magical way of bringing every emotion you have about them to the surface. In fact, you remember the night that you realised that the only thing you’ll ever need in life is JJ. But if that meant as a friend, then that was how it would be. After all, you couldn’t risk losing him. 

Sighing, you come back to the room and find your smile. “It’s not fair to feed my delusions,” you tell your friends, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“Well, y’know what’s a good remedy for boy problems?” Sarah wonders. She gets to her feet, dressed in reindeer pyjamas which match yours, Kie’s and Cleo’s. 

“What?”

“Mulled wine and spiked eggnog,” she grins, grabbing the bottle of plum-purple liquor. Of course. Laughing, shaking your head, you hold out your glass for a top-up. 

“Tis the season.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ came home late. He’d been out on the boat with John B fishing, and the two of them got to sharing a joint and talking, and lost track of time. What were they talking about? Oh, nothing important. Apart from how JJ needed to maybe get a grip sometime soon (John B’s words) and suck it up (also John B’s words) and just tell you how he felt about you already because it’s starting to get pathetic (you guessed it - John B). After JJ threatened to throw him overboard, the matter was dropped rather promptly. That isn’t to say JJ didn’t contemplate it the entire boat ride home. 

He knew it was a risky play. You were the most important thing in his life. You were more valuable than all the gold in the world and more perfect than all the jewels. He wasn’t sure when he started falling for you; all he knew was that the ground was getting nearer. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. Drinking was like rolling the dice. JJ worried that if he had one too many shots, he might sound a bit too genuine when telling you how much he loved you. 

“There’ll still awake?” John B thinks aloud as the two guys walk back towards the house. The boat was now docked and the catch stored in the fridge at the Tackle and Bait shop. The house is illuminated through the windows with Christmas lights of red and gold. A garland hangs around the frame and on the door is a homemade wreath, complete with seashells. 

“Guess so.”

As John B pushes open the door, they’re met with the deafeningly loud Christmas music and a chorus of giggles. Drunk giggles. The two boys share a look, amused, mildly concerned, before venturing into the living room. Cleo and Kie are sitting on the sofa, wine glasses in hand, watching you and Sarah dance in front of the tree. You look adorable in your pyjamas, matching the other three girls like a collectors doll. Your skin sparkles under the twinkling tree lights; hair swaying as you swing and swoop with Sarah. JJ’s heart does that annoying tugging-lurch that it usually does when he sees you. 

Sarah spots the two guys first and her eyes light up like Rudolph’s nose at the sight of John B. 

“Baby!” she grins, hurrying over to him and throwing herself into his arms. JJ’s distracted by watching the reunion that he doesn’t see you coming. You collide into him with a huff, tossing your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

“Hey,” he chuckles, easing a hand onto your back to hold you near. His heart is close to beating out of his chest. 

“I missed you,” you hum into his sweater. 

His heart beats even faster. Stop it, he warns himself. She doesn’t mean it like that. 

“You two better get those girls to bed,” Kiara chuckles, no less drunk herself. 

“No funny business, eh? We’ve got eyes!” Cleo warns with a wagging finger, making herself and Kie break into more giggles. 

“Yes! Bed!” you whoop. You grab JJ’s hand and practically drag him through the hallways to your shared bedroom. There’s a queen bed and a single, with the former claimed by you despite JJ’s bartering. Since the two of you grew up together, it made sense to the Pogues to pair you up in the house. Now JJ was starting to wish that wasn’t the case; it made it harder to ignore how cute you are. 

“Oh my God, JJ, you missed it! We started talking and playing games and listening to music. Oh! And there was drinks.”

“You don’t say,” JJ quips, raising his brows. 

You sit yourself down on the bed and tug him down beside you by his arm. He laughs and indulges. 

“You had a good night, then?” he checks. Your eyes are wide and shining; pupils telling of your intoxication. The smile on your face could battle that of all the Christmas lights in Kildare with how it glows. 

“The best night! Just wish you were there,” you tell him sincerely. 

“Me too,” he smiles. 

As he holds your gaze, something sombre comes over you, and your smile begins to falter. Before he can fixate, you’re resting your head against his shoulder and sighing. 

“JJ?”

“Yeah?”

“What do you want for Christmas?” you wonder, interrupting yourself with a yawn. It seems now that you're away from the spiked eggnog and blaring tunes, the tiredness has begun to seep in. 

“What’d I want for Christmas?” JJ echoes. He hums as he thinks long and hard. He knows the obvious answer - the want of all his wishes - but that one is a no-go. “I don’t know. Maybe a new board? That’d be sweet.”

“Mm. That would be pretty dope,” you agree sleepily. 

JJ can smell your perfume and shampoo so close and it’s physically painful. “What about you? What’d you want?”

“Just one thing, really,” you murmur. “S’really important though.”

JJ glances down and sees your eyelids beginning to sag. Your breath smells like wine and cherry and custard and sugar. It’s sweet like you. “Makin’ me nervous.”

“I guess the only thing I want for Christmas,” you say, yawning again, “is you.”

JJ’s smile is wiped clear from his face like snow washed away in a morning shower. No. Surely…He definitely must have misheard. 

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. A smile starts to tickle his skin, giddy like a boy on his first Christmas. He scans the room and finds a picture of the two of you pinned to the wall, and he smiles brighter. Because John B was right, and his wish came true, and you want him the way he wants you. Hell, he might be lucky enough that you love him too. 

“Wait, do you–”

But before JJ can go on to question, he looks down to find you’re already asleep. Barely-there snores slip through your lips. He smiles to himself and sweeps a finger across your forehead, brushing back some of your hair. Your nose scrunches and it’s so adorable, it takes everything in JJ not to shake you awake and kiss you. 

Not tonight, though. 

After he’s eased you under the covers, JJ lingers by the side of your bed. Then, he dips down and presses a kiss to your forehead. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll tell you how he feels. 

“You’re all I want for Christmas, too,” JJ whispers against your skin. 

[burnthatbridge]

8x03 coda

buck being melodramatic about gerrard 'taking him under his wing' also on ao3 if you prefer

Buck spends an age in the shower at the end of their shift. He’s sooty, yes, sweaty, definitely, but no worse than usual, a lot cleaner than he has been on certain occasions — like after trying to dig Eddie out of forty feet of mud, for example. But, even when the water has long run clear, he can’t shake the sensation of being covered with dirt. 

In fact, when he finally shuts off the water, wraps a towel about his hips, his skin scrubbed pink, he almost feels worse, dirtier than when he got in. The surface layer of grime gone, uncovering the muck at the core of him. 

The locker room is almost empty, A-shift long departed: Chim home to Jee and Mara, Maddie heading out for her own shift; Hen meeting Karen for dinner, Denny at a friend’s. And Buck’s been trying to wash himself clean for long enough that B-shift have passed through, all changed from their civvies to their uniforms and headed out into the station, some away on a call. 

The locker room is almost empty. It would be completely so if it weren’t for Eddie. He’s seated on the bench, fully dressed in his street clothes and shoes, hair almost completely dry from his own — significantly shorter — shower, scrolling through his phone. But he looks up as Buck shuffles into the room, eyes on him as Buck opens their locker, hefts out his bundle of clothes and dumps them on the bench, a couple of feet along from where Eddie is sitting. 

“You okay?” he asks, locking his phone, tucking it away in his pocket, entire focus shifted now that Buck’s there. 

Buck nods, reflexively. “’M fine,” he states, aiming to sound it. As he tugs on his boxers, he tries to change the subject, “Thought you’d be out of here by now.”

He and Eddie don’t have plans this evening, and Buck had mentioned at the start of their shift — back in the inverse of this moment, when he’d been sitting on the bench, ready, but chatting to Eddie while he got changed — that he was probably going to see Tommy tonight, so Eddie can’t be expecting them to make any impromptu ones. But there’s no denying that Eddie’s been waiting for him, all the way through his endless, hopeless shower. 

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, but doesn’t say anything further. 

Buck towels his hair furiously, then rubs his shoulders, his chest, his arms down, hard. He feels itchy, like there’s a film over his skin, a coating of filth. He tugs his t-shirt over his head, slides his sweatpants up his thighs. Collapses down on the bench and reaches for his socks, pulls on one, then the other. 

The clothes are clean: the tee, socks, and underwear fresh, and the sweats only donned for an hour that morning, for his trip to work. And yet, he still feels unclean, tainted. 

Buck looks over at Eddie, finds him slouched on the bench, arms braced behind himself, already looking back. 

Buck looks away. Plucks at the fabric of his pant leg, scuffs one socked foot against the other, shrugs his shoulders against the scratch of his shirt tag at the back of his neck. Sighs. Glances over at Eddie again. Finds warm brown eyes still watching him, waiting for him, soft and open. 

“I hate him,” Buck says, low, even though Gerrard has absolutely already left for the day, isn’t around to hear his words, and turns his eyes to the concrete of the floor. 

“I know you do.” Eddie’s voice is as gentle as his gaze. “You’re not alone in that.”

And that’s true, but it’s also not, because– Because Buck has been singled out. And he knows what that means. Has heard all the stories of Gerrard’s first reign of terror, from Hen, from Chim, from Tommy. Knows about the people Gerrard had it out for back then, and the people he had on his side. 

“No,” Buck says, hears how frustrated it comes out, but also how plaintive, “I really, really hate him.”

Eddie doesn’t reply, waits Buck out, while he tries to work the tangle of his thoughts into something resembling a coherent statement that he can say out loud. 

Because he does, he hates Gerrard, who has been so awful to them all, Buck included, but especially the people Buck loves most. Hates him for holding nothing but contempt for them being the thing Buck loves most about them: themselves. 

“He’s– he’s so fucking horrible to everyone.” Buck says, needlessly, because of course Eddie knows this, has been both the subject of Gerrard’s disdain and witness to him turning it on the rest of them. 

Only now, since Buck attempted to murder him and inadvertently ended up saving his life, Buck isn’t included with the rest of them, isn’t subject to Gerrard’s terrible treatment anymore. 

“But, now, he’s being nice to me. Taking me ‘under his wing’.” Just quoting Gerrard’s horrifying pronouncement from that morning makes Buck feel sick, nausea turning his stomach, climbing his throat. He can still feel the ghost touch of Gerrard’s arms around him, poison leaching into him at all the points Gerrard’s body touched his own. “It’s like he wants to mold me into someone just like him.”

Gerrard has seen something in him, recognized the same rot in Buck that resides in his own core. Like calling to like. 

“It’s like I already am.” Buck shivers, scrubbing his hands up and down his own arms, trying, fruitlessly to slough off this feeling, to shed his own skin. The first shower didn’t work, and he could hold out a futile hope that if he takes a second once he gets home it will finally work, but he fears no amount of water can wash him clean of this. The stain on him Gerrard has spotted and identified as kin permeated too deep, sunk too far, into his soul to ever be cleansed. 

“Hey.” Eddie grabs for one of his wrists, squeezes and pulls Buck’s arm down, holds on as he says, “You are nothing like him. And you never could be.”

“But,” Buck argues, clenching his free hand into a fist, taking the pain of his fingernails piercing his palm as penance, “If he wants to– to mentor me, he has to think he can turn me into the sort of man he is. He– he must think I’m like him.”

Eddie snatches Buck’s other wrist, puts pressure into his grip until Buck relaxes his fist, fingers no longer biting into his flesh. “Even if he thinks that, he’s wrong.” Eddie’s tone is vehement, but turns to a scoff as he goes on, “And if that’s his idea of mentorship, he’s as bad at it as he is at being captain. You’re not supposed to coach someone into a version of yourself, you’re supposed to help them become the best they can be.”

“He definitely wants to coach me in his evil ways.” Of that Buck is sure. And it feels like certain doom. 

But Eddie snorts, amused at Buck’s phrasing, not seeming to believe that Buck is standing on the edge, about to fall into an irredeemable version of himself. “I’m sure. But he’s not going to have any success in that, Buck.”

“He’s not?”

“Definitely not. Sure, he’s going to give you terrible advice and you might have to go play golf with him, and do whatever other horrific bonding activities he wants, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to turn you into him. That’s impossible.”

“Really?”

Eddie nods. “He’d have more luck getting Chimney to agree you should always be allowed the clipboard during stock checks, and we all know how likely that is to happen.”

“Chim would never,” Buck says because, really, Chim would never.

“Exactly.” Eddie releases Buck’s wrists, lifts one hand to grip his shoulder instead. “I know it sucks right now but we will be rid of him eventually. And we’ll get Bobby back, your real mentor.” Eddie smiles at Buck then, a tilted, lopsided curling of one half of his mouth. “Not that I think you need mentorship. You’re pretty excellent just the way you are.”

Buck nods, hoping so hard that eventually will come quickly, that they get Bobby back sooner rather than later, and trying to believe in himself. He kind of has to when Eddie believes in him, because he will always believe in Eddie, trust in what he says. But he still feels the cling of Gerrard to him. He scrubs at his bare arms once more. 

“You’re cold,” Eddie says, misinterpreting the motion, perhaps purposefully so. “Here.” He tugs the hoodie he’s wearing up and off, holds it out to Buck. “Take this, you’ll feel better.”

“You don’t need to give me that,” Buck protests.

“Well, I am,” Eddie says, shaking the garment slightly, coaxing Buck to take it. He grins. “Besides, it’s yours anyway.”

It is, Buck realizes as he lets Eddie hand it over, the fabric familiar to the touch, soft and comforting. 

Eddie stands from the bench, shoulders his bag, smiles at him. “Have a nice time tonight. Tell Tommy I said ‘hi’.”

Buck nods as Eddie crosses to the door and leaves, calling a see you tomorrow back over his shoulder. Buck watches his progress out of the station through the glass wall. 

Once Eddie passes out the bay doors, out of sight, Buck pulls the hoodie on. And in it, still warm from the heat of Eddie’s body and smelling like a mix of both of them and the laundry detergent they use at the Diaz house, he finally feels clean. 

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (I)

Chapter 1 : For the Best

Hello!! Here is a new series! I’ve already finished writing and proofreading it, and I’ll be posting two chapters per week! I hope you’ll like it!

Please, tell me what you think!

*************************************

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2739

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

It was a logical decision.

That’s what Andrew kept telling himself. As he watched you pick up your clothes, scattered across his bedroom floor, he forced his mind to form the same thought over and over again.

This is for the best. There’s no choice.

It was part of the deal. You never stayed for the entire night, and he didn’t linger long enough to fall asleep in your arms. Made it easier. Avoiding getting attached, avoiding stepping into any type of complication. You had sex, and then you were gone. On the side, you were good friends.

Best friends.

Something like that. Something in between good and best, he would say. Good didn’t sound strong enough to describe your friendship. It explained why it all happened in the first place, why you started casually hooking up about three months ago. After your first kiss, you decided to establish a simple rule.

If we do this, it can’t be anything but sex. We can’t get attached like this.

Romantically, that’s what you meant by this. And Andrew got it, of course. He spent most of his time abroad, it was the only logical decision. Besides, he had tried before to have serious relationships, but every time the same scheme repeated itself: he would leave for tour, and everything would fall apart. The distance always extinguished the flame. That and the fact that he was so busy he barely had time to sleep, let alone dedicate quality time to anyone. And he understood, of course, he couldn’t complain about being dumped when he spent a grand total of 20 minutes on the phone with his partner in the span of a day, when he got lucky. He got it, the ghostly presence, the lingering pain of being apart, the estrangement that came with the oblivion of the other’s life. He knew what it felt like, and he understood that others were not ready to go through that for him. He wasn’t worthy of it. It was alright…

And he understood that you didn’t want to get dragged into his mess of a life. To be fair, he didn’t want to drag you into this either, and he agreed when you offered this arrangement. He didn’t feel like he had a choice that day, when you made him this offer so casually, in front of a cup of tea. He could have said no, but his feelings for you were way too strong for that. Better have a little bit of you than nothing at all…

Friends by day, sex by night, no romantic feelings. Sounded simple enough.

“Damn… where’s my other sock?”

You looked around frantically, searching for the tiny piece of garment. Andrew spotted it by the door. He didn’t say anything about it.

“You’re coming to Alex’s party tomorrow?” he asked instead, voice a little hoarse after the sounds you had torn from him tonight.

“Hmm… yeah, probably. He’ll have my head if I don’t, anyway.”

“Perhaps not your head, but definitely your sanity.”

“He does hold grudges like no one else…”

Andrew stared as you buttoned your jeans, still searching the room for your lost sock, the one he didn’t help you to find. He readjusted the blanket higher on his torso, feeling self-conscious now that he was the only one left naked.

“Want me to pick you up?” he offered, and you nodded with a grin.

“Yeah, that would be nice! That way I can get properly sloshed.”

He chuckled at that, bathing into the warmth of your laughter, smiling without a thought.

“Oh, and I need to go to your mother’s tomorrow!” you informed him, readjusting your shirt.

His shirt, as a matter of fact. His heart stumbled at the sight…

“Really?”

“Hmm… she wants to take pictures of several objects for her artwork. I’ve volunteered to go around Dublin with her tomorrow afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

“We both know I like Raine better than you. I’m only keeping you around to have her,” you teased, throwing Andrew a mischievous wink.

He tightened his hold on the sheets.

“Oh, I see. You’re only using me to get to her… and I thought you only used me for sex.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” but he noticed the way you bit your lip, refraining a smile, and how you averted your eyes in shyness, and he loved the sight…

Your eyes fell on the lost item, and you let out a victorious cry picking up your sock, while Andrew swallowed back the lump in his throat.

You sat down on the edge of the bed to put your socks on, and he didn’t think as he sat up, leaning into your form. He didn’t wrap his arms around you, merely rested his shoulder against yours, revelling in the warmth escaping your body.

He pressed his lips to your hair, felt you tensing, saw you stopping your movements.

“Ring me when you’re home, okay? It’s late. Are you too tired to drive?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not that tired,” you answered, voice weaker than before, but he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because the night was quiet but for the branches of trees singing in the wind outside, and it felt like the world had slowed down, like it was more peaceful than usual. Perhaps because you were uncomfortable. Hard to tell.

He moved away, just in case. Distance cutting your edges and his with cold. And yet Andrew remained but centimetres away.

“Alright. Still, tell me when you’re home, okay? Just to be safe.”

You seemed to relax, he didn’t know if he liked that reaction or not.

“I like it when you do that.”

It sounded like a confession, the words on your lips quiet and velvety, soft to the touch.

“Do what?” he questioned, tilting his head to the side a little.

“Get all worried about me.”

You gave him a smile, one that he offered back with ease.

“Hmm… don’t have a choice. You’re a menace behind the wheel.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! You almost killed us last month!”

“It wasn’t even my fault, there was a fucking sheep running across the road, coming out of nowhere!”

“Can’t believe you’re blaming the fauna for this…”

You both laughed at that, and when you grew quiet again, smile still lingering on your lips, you let your head fall to rest onto his shoulder, and it was Andrew’s time to relax. You lifted your hand to rest upon his chest, right over his heart. For a second, he felt embarrassed at the thought that you would feel how fast his heart was beating, but your palm was too warm against his skin, and he soon couldn’t care enough to worry.

He wrapped an arm around you, holding you close, but not too much, not as much as he would have wanted, too afraid you would push him away.

“I know that… that’s what friends are made for, but still… it’s nice. Thank you, Andy.”

He closed his eyes as he rested his lips against your hair; closed them too tightly, until it hurt.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” he whispered into your skin, mouth drifting to press against your forehead. “You don’t ever have to thank me for that. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You hummed, leaning into him even more, and he felt all your muscles relaxing as he rubbed your back, palm flat against your spine, the curve so familiar under his hand by now.

You heaved a sigh.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Andrew answered without a second thought, not thinking about what he had planned. He would move his schedule around for you anyway.

You looked up at him again, blinked a few times, as if to fall back onto earth. There was something dreamy in your smile.

“Good night, Andy.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

That was another one of your rules: no affectionate pet names.

He leaned down to kiss you, but you turned your cheek to his lips instead, and acted like it was nothing, like he had never been aiming for your mouth in the first place.

Third rule: no kissing without sex.

The next second, you were standing, walking towards the door. He stared as you walked out, listened to the padding of your feet on the tiles, the creaking of his staircase. He waited until the front door closed, and he let himself fall back into his pillows.

It was a logical decision, he didn’t have a choice.

Andrew, you absolute fool…

His mother was worried, which meant that Andrew was worried.

She was smiling at you as if nothing was wrong, as if the sunny afternoon truly was as bright as the beams coming across the green leaves of his parents’ garden trees.

Andrew was not fooled though. He knew his mother too well not to see the signs, to be blind to her slight frown, to the drifting downwards of her gaze, to the worried lip she kept biting on.

Raine didn’t say a word while you were here though, and it only worried Andrew more. You were a friend of the family; almost part of the family at this point. You were close enough to Andrew’s parents and brother to spend time with them on your own, just to see them. And they invited you often as well. If Raine wasn’t saying anything in front of you, it ought to mean that this was serious, that something terrible was happening. His thoughts drifted to his father…

“Andy? You’re okay?”

He blinked up at you, soothing the frown he had not noticed across his brow. He gave you a reassuring smile.

“Sure, why?”

“I don’t know… you look… worried. Is there something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong. I was just lost in thought.”

You narrowed your eyes a little at him, clearly unconvinced, but Andrew shot you a smile, asked a question to draw the conversation back to you, and you yielded.

It was such a sweet afternoon, after all. You had spent some time taking pictures for Raine, and somehow had found your way to her garden, with tea and biscuits, a little high on sunlight and laughter. It was lovely. It almost felt like you and Andrew were not friends, almost like you were in your own family home. He pushed that thought away quickly though, taking a sip of tea and regretting that there was no burning effect of alcohol when he swallowed.

When you left to go home, Andrew was aware that he held you too tightly, for too long, that he let his lips linger against your cheek for more than a mere peck. But you didn’t push him away, and so he leaned further, allowed himself to be close, just for a moment.

You hugged Raine, promising to come back the following week for an artsy afternoon, and left as the sun abandoned the sky.

Andrew was washing the teacups when he finally asked his mother what was bothering her.

“Nothing, honey,” she reassured him, but he shook his head and gave her a hard look.

“Come on. Don’t lie to me. I know there’s something on your mind. Are dad and you okay?”

“Oh, darling… of course, we are. Don’t worry about us, we’re both fine. No, it’s… it’s you I’m worried about.”

Andrew couldn’t refrain a laugh, a mixture of relief and surprise.

“Me? Why would you be worried about me? I’m good.”

“Are you, though?”

She gave him that look, the one that pierced him to his soul, the one he couldn’t run away from. The one he knew would claim the truth, in the end. He felt like a child when she looked at him like that, like he had just stolen a cookie from the jar and was caught red-handed as he tried to hide the proof of his crime.

“I’m fine, mom. Don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I really am.”

But her gaze only hardened. Not in a cold way, on the contrary. It was a gaze of steel in its firmness, but that held all the love she had for him. His heart sank at the sight.

“Don’t lie. I know there’s something off between you and Y/N.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fleeing. He stared at his hands still holding a teacup, and he noticed it was yours. There were traces of your lipstick on the edge of the pale porcelain. He traced it with his fingers absent-mindedly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied, but his lie was obvious, his voice too low, too weak. In the sink, his fingers pushed the cup into the water, disappearing under soapy bubbles, and he left them there, in the warmth of the water, staring at the flesh that had disappeared, at your trace that was gone but that he hadn’t erased yet.

“Andy… you know that you can tell me anything. I’m your mother. You can always tell me anything that bothers you. That’s my job to help you. And I’m great at it.”

Her joke made them both chuckle, but he didn’t look at her. He rubbed at the stained spot on the cup instead, but blindly so, unable to see the destruction of your lips over the edge of the porcelain.

“I don’t know… it’s a little weird,” he whispered, struggling to find the right words and hating that about himself. How it was so much easier to write things down than to speak out words. They felt heavy on his tongue, had a wrong taste in his mouth.

“Why? What happened? Did you two fight?”

“No… no, we didn’t fight.”

“What is it, then?”

“We… We’re sleeping together.”

Raine stared at her son with wide eyes, her mouth dropping open. He chuckled at her reaction; clearly, she hadn’t been expecting that…

“What? When? How? What?”

“You’ve asked that one twice.”

“Wait, I don’t understand… if you two are finally being intelligent and are together, why do you look so sad?”

“I’m not sad.”

She gave him a look that was silently saying ‘I’ve birthed you, do not lie to me’.

He looked away again, tried to ignore the finally part of her question.

“We’re sleeping together. We aren’t together.”

“Oh…”

She seemed disappointed, leaned her back against the counter.

“How long?” she asked, after a heavy and lingering silence.

“A few months.”

“And you’re not dating her?”

“No, we’re not dating.”

“But you’re hanging out with her during the day, and sleeping with her at night.”

“Yeah.”

He struggled to swallow, cheeks turned crimson.

“Why on earth would you want that?”

She was blunt, as usual, but there was so much love in her question. So much worry for her son. Andrew wasn’t fooled, she was direct because she cared too much to circle around the issue.

“I’ve never said that I wanted that,” Andrew admitted in a whisper, feeling tears rise to his eyes, but he blinked them away, clenching his jaw to hold them in check.

“Oh, honey…”

She rubbed his back, her movement soothing. He rolled his eyes.

“Mom, don’t… I’m okay.”

“Casually sleeping with your friend… that’s not a good idea, Andy. Of course, you’re free to do whatever you want. This is your life. And I’ll always be here to support you, no matter what. Still…”

She heaved a sigh, but her son remained silent, and so she went on.

“You are too generous when you love, Andy. Be careful. Take care of yourself. For once, take care of yourself, before you take care of her. Can you do that for me?”

He finally pulled your cup out of the water. Your lipstick was gone, there was only the perfect white of the porcelain left under his thumb.

“Don’t worry about me, mom. I’m okay.”

“I know how you feel for her. This kind of… arrangement… it won’t end well for you.”

“Don’t be dramatic. I agreed to this. I’m okay with us just being casual, with nothing serious happening between us.”

But one did not fool a mother so easily. She gave him a look that let him know she understood him better than he did himself. And he had no doubt she was right about that.

Still, he put down the cup by the side of the sink to dry, picked up another, and washed the tea away again.

[luneengene2]

omg, can you please do something like the &team Harry Potter world for enhypen? that's so good

They Found Out You're Not Pureblood

Pureblood!Enha Hyung Line x Non-pureblood!Fem!Reader

• Warnings : Angst content, discrimination (?), glorification of blood status, unethical words, insults, mention of death, Grammar errors.

• Note : If you are sensitive about your feelings, please don't read this one of my works. I don't want any comments that will ruin my mood. Thank you (Anon, sorry to keep you waiting. My busyness was really unexpected, but fortunately my project is finished, I can relax well).

// Heeseung (Gryffindor) //

"Why did you have to lie to me all this time? Why, Y/N?! Why?!" Heeseung shook your body, making you cry even harder. All this time, you lied to him because he was a pureblood. Dating Heeseung had been your dream, even since your first year at Hogwarts. At that age, you already had a huge crush on Heeseung. But, you realized one thing. You and him have a strong blood status difference, his family is part of a pure-blood family that has maintained its purity for centuries. You know that his family has a good reputation and also an attitude of mutual respect, even towards non-purebloods. However, that does not rule out the possibility that they will marry and have a serious relationship with a non-pureblood.

Heeseung found out that you were half-blood because of that bastard Pansy Parkinson who taunted him and led him to your true background.

"I'm just afraid that you'll dump me, Hee! Your family is a respectable pure-blood family that definitely wouldn't accept a half-blood like me," You said while squealing a little at him, maybe he would kick you right away when he found out everything.

"You think I'm that cruel?" A tear fell from the eye of the boy surnamed Lee. He was devastated. Devastated not because he felt lied to, devastated because you felt that he had such bad thoughts about him.

Heeseung pulled you closer, pressing your foreheads together. You were both crying, only you were the worst.

"Listen to me, my beloved angel. For Merlin's sake, I will not abandon you just because of your blood status, my parents never taught me to do things that hurt women. I still love you, more than anything,"

// Park Jongseong (Slytherin) //

"A Slytherin like me actually fell into a mudblood trap? My grandfather could rise from the grave," Jay smiled bitterly looking at the girl who was shaking, crying silently. Not daring to look at him. You. Now he knows that you are not a pureblood.

"I have to admit, you really have the guts to make me fall into your love. But when I found out this truth, I really didn't want to see your face again forever," You looked up with tears in your eyes. Your gaze is full of pleading.

"Jay I love you, I just want happiness, and my happiness is in you," You tried to grab his hand, hoping he was just mad but considering what he was going to do to you, at least he accepted you.

"But my happiness is not for a mudblood," Jay said coldly, pushing away your hand that was about to grab his arm.

His gaze that was once full of affection and love for you, has now turned into a cold gaze, hatred and maybe even disgust. He completely changed just because of the difference and dignity that his family had built up over hundreds of years. Love can't even 'penetrate' his ego and dignity.

Deep in his heart he can't let you go, because a feeling of love grows deep in his heart. But, all of that will be defeated because of prestige, childhood doctrine, and his family's dignity. He doesn't want to destroy that for love. In fact, the thing he is so guarded about could backfire on him.

// Sim Jaeyun (Ravenclaw) //

Even though you've told him everything about your background, his hug doesn't loosen or slowly let go. Instead, he tightens it even more. He was lied to, but there was one thing that hurt him even more. Seeing you cry like this.

It's been almost an hour that you've been in the same position. Crying in Jake's arms while continuing to express several requests not to be left and to apologize.

When you started to stop crying from exhaustion, Jake kissed your forehead softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. ""By God, I'll kill myself if I leave you, Y/N," he kissed your palm for a long time, he wiped away your tears. Cupping your cheeks.

"That damn blood status won't change the fact that my love for you is much greater. Blood status will not be able to defeat my love, because basically my love will win,"

// Park Sunghoon (Slytherin) //

"You're lucky I didn't immediately put a death curse on you, Y/L/N," Sunghoon smiled bitterly, looking at you who was hugging his legs while crying. You begged him, not to leave you because he already knew everything. Sunghoon hates Muggleborns, because of an incident centuries ago about the massacre of wizards by humans. He couldn't believe that his lover was part of the element he disliked so much.

"Hoonie ple-"

"Don't call me Hoonie! It makes me sick to hear it! By the Great Salazar, I don't know what I did to fall in love with you who deceived me. What a great manipulation. You beat a Slytherin, Y/N," Sunghoon smiled bitterly again, he pushed you gently. Don't want to hurt your body by hitting the ground.

He was sick, very sick because he was lied to this much. Not only that, it turned out that the girl he loved so much had blood from an element he didn't like in the history of magic. He doesn't deny the fact that he loves you so much (of course), but when he finds out this big fact, it's like stabbing him with a katana.

Indirectly, his love was defeated by his ego.

[islandofsages]

Hey, I wanted to ask for the housewardens with a male!reader from their dorm that have the same name as the Seven's sidekicks (?).

Example : Cerberus for Idia, Diaval for Malleus, FlotSam for Azul, ect...

And people (*cough* Yuu *cough*) always compared the reader with the housewarden and always say things like : "oh yeah, the new Diaval and the new Maleficent.." *looking at Reader and Malleus talking about Briar Valley.*

characters: the housewardens x male reader

tags: platonic, fluff + crack, imagines + scenario format; yuu is there, mentions of ruggie and jack in leona's, mentions of the leech twins in azul's, mentions of jamil in kalim's, mentions of ortho in idia's, mentions of sebek in malleus'

warnings: nothing

author's notes: i tried to choose characters that aren't already inspirations for the characters in the game so some of them end up being from the second movie and stuff LOL sorry if this isnt what you want anon but honestly i did have a lot of fun writing this

Riddle Rosehearts — The King of Hearts

You’re not sure why and how but you’re dubbed as The King of Hearts of your dorm, alongside Riddle who is the Queen

Unsure of what to make of this, you ignore it and continue to devote yourself to the Queen just as any normal person would sorry this is kinda satire

Riddle is simply your friend. You cherish him a lot and you respect him and his beliefs. Even when he overblotted, your faith in him is unwavering

Speaking of the overblot, after the whole catastrophe, you’ve grown a lot closer with the other card soldiers, along with the magicless kid named Yuu and their pet (Grim was his name?)

They would greet you from time to time, stop by to have a chat when they’re free and check up on the dorm

One day, they made an offhand comment about you and Riddle

“You guys are paving the way for the new generation of the Queen of Hearts and the King of Hearts. Though, I guess the King of Hearts didn’t really do anything anyway.”

First of all, what the hell are you talking about?

Second of all, you’d say you contribute much to the dorm. For Yuu to assume such a thing for you simply because some “past King of Hearts” didn’t do so is ridiculous

You don’t voice these things out loud and shrug it off as them saying random things again, or making some kind of reference you don’t get

And because, third of all, you realize they broke rule 228: they definitely picked a rose in your garden. So you go to kick them out before Riddle could find out.

All in the day’s work for the King of Hearts.

Leona Kingscholar — Zira

You could say you and Leona are tight - maybe not Ruggie and Leona tight, but almost

And part of that can be attributed to the fact that you may or may not idolize Leona. But hey, it’s not strange. If Jack can do it, why can’t you? At least it’s not on Sebek’s level

Plus, you deserve to have some pride in yourself for being one of the only people Leona confidently calls a friend of his

Though, one person has been persistent about being Leona’s friend - Yuu, the person who just spawned out of nowhere apparently

You’d catch them talking to Leona sometimes and to be frank, there are times where Leona is less annoyed than usual at their presence

One day in particular, the three of you are hanging around Savanaclaw’s lounge, when Yuu drops a bombshell

“Ah yes, of course, you two are exactly like Scar and his creepily-devout follower, Zira.”

??? Yes, Zira is (a variation) of your name but you wouldn’t call yourself “creepily-devout”. Also, who even is Scar?

Leona’s ears twitch in annoyance, either because he doesn’t understand what Yuu means or that he’s put off by their phrasing

You sit in silence, deciding if this is a topic worth asking more about or not

Curiosity gets the best of you - you ask them. They basically dump all the information they could onto you

Yeah, you still don’t get it. But whoever this other Zira is, they’re kinda cool honestly.

Azul Ashengrotto — Morgan(a)

A lot of people consider you one of Azul’s henchmen alongside Jade and Floyd - God forbid working to the bone every day for the Mostro Lounge, right?

But you don’t take it as an insult. It’s no compliment to be so loyal to such a capitalistic bastard (said affectionately) but it’s just another part of your life

Plus. You’re friends with the dude. His cunning nature is what you’re here for

Maybe sometimes you feel a little inferior to him since everyone lauds him as some powerful mage but you tell yourself you don’t need such prestige

Though even outside of work, sometimes you see that Yuu person loiter around the Mostro Lounge in search of Azul (and the Leech siblings occasionally)

So you decide to sit down with them one day and have a nice little chat when-

“So you’re the Morgana dude right? You definitely give off the vibes. Let me guess: you have a love-hate relationship with your stronger, superior boss?”

You have to do a double take at what they just spouted - where are these assumptions coming from suddenly?

Also your name is Morgan.

They laugh and assure you it’s only a joke and a reference to a movie they like since Azul and you have an uncanny resemblance to the characters in that movie

Even still, you can’t help but feel confused… no way they just go up to people and reference things they enjoy right…?

You try to work on your vibes starting the very next day.

Kalim Al-Asim — Aladdin

You’re somewhat of an enabler for Kalim’s party animal and reckless tendencies which Jamil doesn’t really appreciate but also you don’t give a shit

Who can say no to free food and music? Well, a specific amount of people but you’re definitely not one of them

Kalim is friends with everyone; or rather, he considers everyone a friend and that considerately counts you too

But you two really are though - after the party’s died down, the two of you would chat late into the night about everything and anything. And it works because he’s such a good listener

At one of his many parties, the Yuu person who’s apparently from another world comes to party along with you

And so you eat and dance as one usually would under Kalim’s rule, learning bits of information about Yuu along the way

As per usual, the party dies down so you, Kalim and Yuu take the chance to relax and have a concrete conversation

At some point, Yuu comments on your name (and apparent namesake…?)

“Wait, so your name is Aladdin? Like the thief guy who fell in love with the Sultan’s daughter? Feels kinda weird since Kalim kinda reminds me of the Sultan himself…”

Well, yes, your name is Aladdin although you just tell people to call you Ali but everything else they just said is completely false

You all laugh it off because the mood is appropriate for an elaborate joke as such but the next day, when you think over the whole interaction, you have to wonder what was going on through their head at the time

You make a mental note to see if you’ll ever fall in love with a sultan’s daughter.

Vil Schoenheit — Raven

You’re a little intimidated by Vil but you have as much respect for him as anyone does

And somehow, you manage to gain his respect too, though you are a mere spudling…

You try not to let it get to your head (especially considering he has more respect for some other spuds than you) but it’s no easy feat to get a compliment from Vil Schoenheit himself

One person in particular has been getting a lot of attention from Vil lately, you’ve noticed

This Yuu person has been stopping by Pomefiore a lot lately, ever since the weird invasion at school where a bunch of robot people broke into the school grounds

You don’t question it because they’ve been interacting with Vil since the VDC but the thing is Yuu has been trying to get to know more of the dorm members

And one day, they get to you finally

They seem normal enough once you two sit down to chat in the lounge—

“Hm, so your name is Raven? I think I vaguely remember a raven being in Snow White…”

You have no idea what that means and before you could change the topic yourself, Yuu dismisses it; but then the next day, when you were thinking about the exchange again, you get curious as to what a Snow White is 

So you start to scour the Internet for this “Snow White” and it manages to consume you for a few days until Yuu tells you that it’s just a movie from their world

You don’t talk to them for a few days.

Idia Shroud — Meg

You and the Shroud brothers are more like frenemies than anything - you three banter like old friends who know too much about each other

Other than Ortho, Idia does ask you for some favors a lot and you like joking that he’s drowning in debt when it comes to you

Sometimes he pays back by gaming with you, sometimes he pays with actual money. Good money at that. You don’t complain either way

One day you run another favor for him (which he promises more good money for) to send some stuff to Ramshackle

A person named Yuu and their only other dorm member Grim had sent stuff to Idia for repairing and maintenance - not that you care about the details. You’re just gonna get it over with

Once you reach their dorm, the first thing you’re met with are the two dorm members bickering over something. You chuckle; it reminds you of your conversations with Idia

You excuse yourself for interrupting and go to drop off their things on the table in the middle of the lounge

They stop bickering then and Yuu greets you momentarily before muttering something under their breath

“Of course the new Meg to the new Hades dropped off our stuff.”

You assume they don’t know that you heard what they said and quite frankly you don’t want to care much but you admit you’re a bit curious of what they mean

When you get back to Idia, you ask him to decipher that cryptic message

He admits he has no idea what they mean by that, simply tells you not to think about it and pays you with some good old cash - and some fun gaming time so you forget all about it later anyway.

Malleus Draconia — Diaval

You are one of Malleus’ loyal retainers - you were bestowed the honor of being his “wings” even whatever that means

But Malleus sees you as an equal almost. You are no servant and you have your own wings to tend to; it’s the stuff that would move Sebek to tears

You do see him as a friend mostly, even if at first you started doing so out of pity

But now you see him making more friends around campus and you can’t help but feel happy for and proud of him

There’s one friend who he seems to be around a lot - the magicless human named Yuu

It makes sense since he does enjoy taking walks around their dorm, even before they came to occupy it

One day, you three make the time to have tea together and simply talk. It’s all very pleasant when Yuu says-

“You know, don’t you think it’s weird how your name is Diaval and you’re serving someone who’s strangely reminiscent of Maleficent?”

Well, you don’t think it’s weird because you have no idea what they’re referencing and who Maleficent is - and Malleus seems to think the same, with the confused look on his face and all

Also as true as it is that you’re Malleus’ retainer, you don’t appreciate someone phrasing it as you “serving” him

Yuu apologizes for the comment and explains what they mean by it. You both still don’t get it but it’s enough to make you shrug it off

Sometimes Yuu would still make such comments, thinking you don’t hear it but knowing it’s not that deep, it doesn’t affect the three of you’s friendship whatsoever.

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Left at the Altar - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / (Ex-Girlfriend) Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Light Angst; Drama; Getting Left at the Altar (Not by Hangman); Asshole Ex (Not Hangman); Second Person POV ("You"), No Y/N, No Physical Description for the Reader

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Summary: When you get left at the altar, a familiar face swoops in to save the day.

Edit: Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

Master List

Ever hit rock bottom? Well, you thought you did. And then you got stood up at your own wedding.

Staring up at the altar, you slowly sat down in the front pew. You sat your bouquet down beside you and reached up to pull out the pins holding your veil in place. You definitely weren’t going to need them. Not after the text message that you received from your ex-fiancé.

That’s right. You got dumped on your wedding day through a text message.

And frankly, the part about the whole situation that annoyed you the most was the fact that you should have been the one to dump him. You were the one who threatened to call the wedding off months ago when you found some suspicious text messages between your fiancé and a woman labelled as ‘Domino’s’ in his phone.

As if anyone texted Domino’s about their secluded lake house.

You should have just pulled the plug on the whole thing when you had the chance. Instead, you let him dump and humiliate you publicly.

Taking a deep breath, you glanced around the small church. Most of the guests filed out when it became apparent that there was a runaway groom. All of the people that remained in the church were a few close friends and immediate family members.

Your ex-fiancé’s family stood awkwardly in the corner, not really sure what to do. There wasn’t a really good or efficient way to apologize for their cowardly bastard of a son without suffering some rather intense glares from your family and friends. You already gave the engagement ring back to your ex-fiancé’s mom, since it was supposedly a family heirloom.

Maybe you should have just flushed it down the toilet instead.

You looked forward again when your mom walked over to you. She gave you a small, comforting smile as she pushed your veil and bouquet to the side and sat down beside you. Your mom stared up at the altar for a moment, seemingly walking through what she was going to say to you. She reached out and grabbed your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay, sweetie,” she whispered to you. “You’ll get past this.”

“I know,” you replied, nodding slowly. “I know, Mom.”

“Do you need anything?”

“No,” you replied softly, shaking your head. Letting out a breath, you turned back to your mom with a composed expression. “Why don’t you and everyone else go and eat at the venue? It’d be stupid to let all of that food go to waste. We already paid for it.”

“Actually, his family offered to pay for everything. Even your dress,” your mom explained, glancing over at your supposed-to-be in laws. “They were extremely embarrassed.”

“Can’t imagine why,” you drawled sarcastically, shaking your head. You let out a breath before you turned back to your mom. “Has Dad calmed down?”

“Somewhat. He calmed down a lot when they offered to pay for everything. But I worry for your ex if he ever crosses paths with your father again.”

“If he’s smart—which he’s not—he’ll avoid the entire county,” you replied, pursing your lips together. “He’s probably sitting at his lake house with ‘Domino’s’ right now.”

“That’s unfortunate for him,” your mom told you, causing you to nod in return.

“Damn straight.”

You and your mom shared a small smile before you sobered up for a moment. Glancing around the church, you leaned back in your pew. You turned to your mom and suddenly felt like you were a teenager again and needed her to help you with a situation that you got yourself in.

“Do you think that I could be alone for a bit?” you asked softly, folding your arms across your lap.

“Are you sure? I don’t think that you should be alone right now, sweetheart,” your mom replied, grabbing your hand. “Why don’t you just come to the venue with the rest of us? You can burn the dress if you want to, but just come with us.”

“I will, Mom, but I just need some time by myself for a little bit.”

Albeit reluctantly, your mom got up and ushered everyone else out of the church to give you some time alone. The venue was only ten minutes down the road, so your mom told you to just text her when you wanted to be picked up. You thanked her again for all of her help and support before she left with everyone else.

You slowly got to your feet after you thought that everyone else was gone. You let out a breath to calm yourself down and simply worked through some thoughts. Eventually turning for the aisle, you paused when you spotted a familiar figure walking through the church doorway.

Jake Seresin. Or Jacob Michael Seresin III, if you were going by his birth name. Or Hangman, as he supposedly went by these days. Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

The boy that you fell in love with when you were fifteen. Your high school boyfriend, your first love, your first everything, really. The man that, had he stayed in Texas and taken over his family’s business like he was expected to do, you probably would have already married.

But life wasn’t a fairytale. And certainly not your life.

Jake slowly walked further into the church, pulling off his dress white cap as he stepped forward. He tucked it under his arm and offered you a small smile as he stopped in front of you. His hair was perfectly gelled and styled and his dress whites were absolutely pristine. And that genuine smile, the one that he seemed to use less and less as he aged, was just like you remembered.

He looked like he stepped straight out of a dream. Out of your dream.

“I’m not too late, am I?” he asked, looking around the otherwise empty church.

“No,” you scoffed, shaking your head. You glanced up at the rafters before turning back to him. “I got left at the altar.”

Instantly, the kind, genuine smile dropped from Jake’s face. His whole demeanor changed in an instant. He frowned and opened his mouth before pausing, most likely trying to not just blurt out the first words that came to mind in a church. But his entire stance looked like he was ready to storm out of the church to drag your fiancé out of whatever hole he was hiding in.

“He didn’t show up?” Jake asked with his voice dangerously low.

“No, he sent me a text,” you explained quietly. Letting out a laugh that was meant to be humorous, but was really rather pathetic in reality, you looked away from Jake for a moment. “I mean, at least I didn’t marry him. It could be worse.”

“Where is he then?”

“Somewhere, anywhere,” you replied honestly, pursing your lips together. “Frankly, I never want to see him or hear his name ever again, so I could care less.”

“Still, he shouldn’t get away with doing this to you,” Jake stated seriously.

It had a level of force behind it that you knew wasn’t directed towards you. More like on your behalf than anything else.

Hell, Jake had always been protective over you and more than willing to fight for you. He wasn’t someone who kept a lot of close friends, but when anyone was within Jake Seresin’s inner circle, he would fight for them with everything that he had. And you knew that the state of your relationship didn’t impact that.

“He’s not worth the trouble,” you stated, waving your hand to the side. “And besides, I’d really just like to move on from all of this. If I can.”

“Of course, you can,” Jake spoke softly, reaching out to take your hand. “He’s just a . . . I can’t say the word that I want to say because we’re standing in a church.” You laughed and shook your head at Jake. “But either way, it’s his loss.”

“Thanks Jake.”

“I’m serious. I mean, any guy who looks at you, especially when you’re in that dress . . .” Jake trailed off, letting his eyes rake over your form, “. . . and doesn’t hope to be the guy standing there, waiting for you at the altar . . . he’s not worth your time.”

You felt your heart flutter in your chest, just like it used to whenever he would wave to you in the hallway between classes when you two were teenagers. And staring into Jake’s bright green eyes, you knew that he meant every word that he spoke. Rocking your joined hands back and forth, you tried to settle the wobble in your lips.

“I didn’t want it to be him,” you stated honestly, causing Jake to noticeably pick his head up. “He . . . I gave into the pressure that I should be married and moving into that stage of my life by now and . . . I should have never agreed to marry him in the first place.”

Jake nodded slowly and turned to look at the ground. A moment passed where he seemed to be trying to compose himself before he slowly picked his head up again.

“Who did you want it to be?” Jake asked softly, so softly that you didn’t hear it the first time.

“What?”

“Who did you want it to be?” he repeated, picking his head up and staring deeply into your eyes. “Waiting for you at the altar, I mean.”

Your breathing subtly picked up and your lips parted a bit at Jake’s question. And the intensity of his stare that made your entire body feel like it was on fire. Slowly and tentatively reaching out, you gently cupped Jake’s cheek with your hand and rubbed your thumb across his soft skin.

“My answer hasn’t changed,” you stated quietly as emotion started to clog your throat. “It never has.”

The two of you naturally leaned towards each other. Your bodies seemed to naturally fit together as you pressed up together. The two of you slowly leaned in until your foreheads rested together. And when he was standing this close, you could pick out all of the different colors in his eyes, which were staring down at your lips.

Gently cupping the back of your neck, Jake pulled you in for a soft kiss. Your lips moved together like they had never been parted in the first place. Not by school or deployments or life in general. For much of your adult lives, the issue was never your feelings for each other but everything else getting in the way. But right there, in that small little church in rural Texas, life wasn’t in the way.

Nothing and no one were in the way. Not anymore.

Jake dropped his hat and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and cupped his cheek once again, guiding your lips together. It probably would have gotten you disapproving looks if anyone else was around, but for that perfect little moment, it was just the two of you.

Pulling away a few moments later, you rested your foreheads against each other’s and smiled to yourselves. Breathing a bit heavily, you trailed your fingers down Jake’s cheeks as he brushed his nose against your own.

“When do you have to leave?” you asked quietly.

“Tomorrow morning,” Jake sighed, clearly sounding disappointed. “I could barely get any time off. I actually owe Coyote a laundry list of things because he covered for me.”

“Then we shouldn’t waste any time,” you replied, trying to look on the positive side.

About ten seconds later, you and Jake hurried out of the church hand-in-hand. Jake’s rented truck was the only car in the parking lot and you both quickly made a beeline for it. Jake unlocked and opened the door for you to climb inside. You sat down and Jake hurried to push the rest of your dress inside before shutting the door.

You pulled him in for another excited kiss as he slid into the driver’s seat before Jake started his rented truck to drive the two of you to the hotel. As Jake backed out of the parking lot, you sent your mom a quick text, which was just a simple photo of Jake.

“Do you have the directions to the hotel?” Jake asked, turning back around and heading for the road.

“Yeah and the confirmation, so we can actually check in,” you mused, smiling over at him.

As Jake pulled out onto the road, you got a text back from your mom. You let out an amused noise and shook your head when you read her message.

Don’t forget protection. Or do. I wouldn’t mind a grandbaby if you two agreed on one. Love you!

You sent your mom a quick ‘love you’ text back before turning off your notifications. Jake reached out and grabbed your hand, threading your fingers together. Jake pulled your hand up to his lips and pressed a kiss to the back of your hand.

And even though this wasn’t how you expected your wedding day to go, you had to admit that this outcome was actually far better than the one you that had in mind.

Part 2 Part 3 Epilogue

[redgoldblue]

sell your fear and leave me standing here

buck/tommy, 12.9k, T, triple pov (Buck; Tommy; Eddie). yet another 8x06 fix-it, featuring gay bingo, firefam input, and bonus Lucy Donato

The first Eddie hears of the breakup is, “Eddie, what the fuck just happened?”

Eddie’s finished his beer and is still basking in a post-Risky Business glow, and for a moment he thinks Buck’s talking about the fact that he’s not wearing pants.

“I don’t know, Buck,” he replies, just for fun. “You tell me.”

“Eddie,” he repeats. That makes Eddie sit up straighter, except that his shirt is way slipperier than he thought and his legs are stuck to the couch, and the combination somehow leads to him half-sliding half-falling off the couch as Buck continues, “I think Tommy just dumped me.”

It also mean his initial response is, “Ow!”

Buck peers down at him. “Yeah. Want a hand up?”

“I got it.” He pushes himself back up and collapses back on the couch. “You think?” he asks.

“No, he definitely did. I checked.”

“What the fuck?”

“That’s what I said!”

“That’s-” Well, the glow is abating now. If the fall hadn’t done it already. “Okay, tell me what happened.”

“It was great. We were great. And I scared him off. I think. Maybe. We were going to a movie. And then he called me Buck.”

Eddie bites back on his first response of ‘that’s your name’, because after a few seconds considering it he does get how that would seem weird after six months of ‘Evan’. Instead, he makes a ‘go on’ gesture.

“I told him about Abby. And I’d talked to Josh. I didn’t tell him that, that happened before, but Josh talked to me.”

“Hang on, hang on, rewind,” Eddie says. At this rate it might take him until tomorrow’s shift to get the full story, but he needs to clarify something here. “What about Abby?”

“Oh, right, I only told Maddie. Yeah, he was engaged to Abby. And I didn’t tell him that was my Abby when he told me, because, I mean-”

“What the fuck,” Eddie supplies. It seems to be the phrase of the moment.

“Yeah,” Buck agrees. He’d emptied his beer bottle about a minute after sitting down, and rather than reaching for another one he’s just been turning it round and round in his hands. He stops, now, and starts picking at the corner of the label instead. “And I talked to Josh about it, because I was talking to Maddie about it and he was there, and he- he gave me a speech about Glee, and it made me think, I guess, so then before we went to the movie I told Tommy-”

“Oh, god, Buck,” Eddie interrupts, because there’s so much happening here and it’s all heading in a truly terrible direction, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they started work before he has to hear the end of it. “Did you tell him you love him? Before he broke up with you?”

“I mean, no,” Buck says, but it’s completely unconvincing and he’s drooped even further into the couch. “Worse.”

“Worse?”

Buck’s next words are mumbled under his breath, and it genuinely takes Eddie a moment to figure out what they are. “I-asked-him-to-move-in.”

Eddie blinks, processes that, then reaches over to grab another beer bottle. He gently pulls the now thoroughly de-labelled one from Buck’s hands and replaces it with good hard alcohol. Then he says, “So just to be clear, you asked him to move in with you after six months, and he dumped you for it? Do you want me to kick his ass? I absolutely can, he’s not as good at Muay Thai as he thinks he is.”

Buck chuckles. It sounds a little like a dying frog. “No. He said- I don’t know, I went too fast. He didn’t say that. He said he wasn’t going to be my last.”

“Dick,” Eddie says, because Tommy is his friend and he’s sure there was more going on, but Buck is his best friend who just got dumped, and that requires a little name-calling.

Buck’s face scrunches up, eyes closed, as he says, “He said I was going to break his heart.”

“So he broke yours first?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and it sounds strained enough that Eddie slips closer on instinct. It’s a good thing he did, because Buck continues, “I guess so,” then turns towards him, and suddenly there’s the weight of a Buck against him and a wet feeling on his shoulder. “Oh, fuck, Eddie,” and the next words come out on a whole-hearted sob, “I loved him.”

~

The second thing Eddie hears about the breakup is, “Eddie, what the fuck happened, man?”

keep reading on ao3

[joontroverted]

thinking about sweet single dad satoru who you could never tell is a single dad. 

this is HELLA unedited and just a brain dump lol. 

you probably should not be out tonight, especially not this late. but that's the beauty of being your own employer right, you have no boss! the only person who's gonna be holding you responsible is yourself but that's not tonight's problem. that's tomorrow you's problem.

so you're out the house too damn late, spinning on the bar stool, waiting for the bartender to fix your drink, and you spin right into the chest of someone tall. soft hands gently hold your shoulders, lifting you off of him with a melodious laugh, and you turn to see such a pretty man. just stupidly pretty. pale skin standing out in the darkness of the club and white hair slightly spiky with sweat, with his blue eyes trained on yours.

“whoa there, are you okay?” he leans in to your ear to ask.

you apologize immediately, and you see that you've made him spill his drink, causing you to apologize even more, offering up your concoction in exchange. he laughs and says that it's not even alcohol, just sprite. he even pays for your drink! you still insist on him having your drink because of how mortified you are, and after a second of consideration, he gulps it down.  

if that wasn't enough, he spend the entire night with you, hovering around you, tucking your hair behind you ear, and when you finally hit the dance floor, he dances with you like he's drunk, spinning you about and dipping you every chance he gets, no real semblance of coordination, but his charm and earnest have you beaming and blushing. 

he's flirting right? he's definitely flirting.

you ask if he's drunk once you see the pink flush spreading across his face, to which he responds saying that he’s a lightweight and doesn't even enjoy drinking. when you ask him why he accepted your drink and why he's in the club alone at all, he giggles and says he just wanted to keep talking to the pretty woman who bumped into him, silly! also it's been a long day, and he's had some family trouble, which he just wants to cool off from.

you nod, rubbing his back and out of nowhere he blurts out “my son told me i'm both clingy and avoidant at the same time, like a teenager that never developed so i better start acting like my millennial age.”

you have no idea what to say to that. 

“and funnily enough we have a father son bonding activity planned tomorrow morning and i don't even know how the fuck to go about it after that.”

“today morning,” you supply unhelpfully.

“what?” 

“it's almost 3 am, it's already tomorrow.”

“what?” he repeats, incredulously, staring into his chunky sparkly watch that looks too expensive to be here in the trenches with you. “it's fucking three am? what the fuck?? i am a stupid teenager who never grew up!” 

and in under a minute, he's up and gone.

you uber yourself home, completely sober, wondering what the fuck you just bumped into. as you near home, as pretty and charming as he was, you're glad you’re not messing with that train wreck. a dad with a whole son old enough to roast him like that? let alone the fact that he probably has some poor woman or significant other waiting at home for him as he makes poor decisions with you of all people. you really dodged a bullet with that one, you chuckle. 

***

you smile at the newest student and direct them to their seat. it's a beautiful morning, and you truly love your job. the sun is out, the birds are chirping and the flowers are fresh! you don't have even a drop of tipsiness in your body and you are well rested and excited for the class. you look up with a smile as the bell tinkles and the door opens, to welcome in the last of the students, and you see a familiar tall man's white head of hair accompanied by a sulky black haired teenager, arguing. 

“now if you could just talk to me and let us bond over these fucking flowers, that would be great! and we're already late, which is- “ his eyes meet yours. “oh.”

the teenager doesn't even bother being surprised, as he looks between the two of you with a flat look. 

“hello! good morning!” you say, trying not to sound odd.

“hi,” replies the man, blinking at you.

the teenager looks at him, and then at you again. “he has a wife,” he says before walking in and taking a seat.

“no i don't!” sputters the man. “i don't!” he insists to you, and you can't be fucked to deal with this nonsense. taking a deep breath, you gather your composure and push into the class. 

the art of flower arrangement is not something to be taken lightly. it is an art, something soothing yet there is a system to it. it's important to find your style and flow as you go through it, and you've mastered it over the years, and you hope that your students take something they can cherish from your 1 day work shop. or at least fix their father son bond. in silence.

you learn that his name is gojo satoru, and his son is megumi. you can't lie, they're good students. quiet and dedicated, listening to you explain and following your every step and instructions. you catch them helping each other out here and there and you're glad that this cheating man can actually create some beauty, despite his flaws. 

the class draws to an end in a few hours, and you’re glad to see that everyone's had a good time, from all the pictures they're taking and how almost each of them personally came up to you and commended you, some even taking your business cards. you look up and see that megumi has made his way up to you.

“he's single. no wife. just me.” 

“did he ask you to tell me that?” you snort.

“yeah. but i said i wouldn't do it.” he shrugs. “he’s a good guy. and i really enjoyed the class. thank you,” he adds awkwardly, before turning and rushing out.

that leaves you with just gojo satoru.

he's sheepish, but the boyish charm from last night is still present and as you break the ice with what megumi said, the conversation moves rather smoothly. smooth enough that even though the environment in your shop is vastly different from that of the club last night, the energy between you is the same. light and flirty at first, but he doesn't show any signs of leaving, helping, no doing most of the cleaning up of the set up, his blue eyes following and lingering on you as you flit around him. he takes every opportunity to abuse his height privilidge in helping you put things away and is surprisingly strong despite his slim build. 

you can't help but look at the strip of stomach that shows as he lifts his arms and how his forearms flex as he moves about. 

by the time you've cleared everything up, both of your stomachs are growling in hunger for lunch. he has both his and megumi's flower arrangement to take home, and you're leaning into each other's personal space and that's not even talking about how he has a large hand placed on your waist, blue eyes piercing into yours.

you're barely done eating the ramen he's cooked before you're on his lap, his hands coming up from under your shirt, kissing sloppily. he picks you up and takes you to his bedroom in his too big apartment that is neat but sparse save for the flower arrangements set at the table.

the two of you roll around in his bed, him seemingly obsessed with mapping out every inch of your body from the crook of your neck to the cushion of your soft thighs. it's not in your nature to ever move this quickly with a man, especially one that has an entire son, but soon enough you are rid of your panties as he is sinking into your heat. long and hard, he pumps into you, slowly eyes never leaving each other as he whimpers when he settles into you. what started out as slow soon becomes hurried and desperate, the cool sheets clinging to you as he buries his head in your shoulder, biting it in frustration as he has to pull out and come on your stomach. 

he’s not done with you though. mouth latched onto your clit, he sucks and sucks, pulling two orgasms out of you in quick succession till you have to push him off of your pussy, causing him to whine. 

after he cleans you up and your snuggling, he has his head on your chest 

you giggle. “megumi's not wrong. you are clingy.”

“forgive me for wanting to rest on your tits,” he grumbles, only snuggling in closer. “can we not talk about my son after we've fucked?”

you laugh and nod. “okay.”

there's some silence between you as you run your fingers up and down his spine, scritching his scalp and ruffling his hair. he almost purrs like a big happy cat.

“you know megumi's not biologically mine, right?”

“hmm, i figured,” you reply, thinking about how they more or less look nothing alike except for their hairstyle, and even that was a reach. 

“his father dumped him on me when i was eighteen and fucked off. megumi was like barely four. his father was a distant cousin. which would make megumi my distant nephew. i tried telling megumi that, so i could be like… his cool uncle. most unhelpful thing ever. i could have told him i was jesus christ himself and that wouldn't have stopped him from launching his school bag at my head at every minor inconvenience.”

the thought of anyone let alone a small angry kid you had no urge to care for throwing a school bag at your head at a whim sounds like actual hell, but satoru (what a beautiful name) has a fond smile on his face as he recalls the memory.

“you think he's moody now? oh this is nothing in comparison to what he had going on back then. he was such an angry baby. so sulky. so moody. and so unwilling to speak to me. and i had no patience for him either. we used to have these screaming matches and it's crazy to think about now. i was screaming back to an actual kid who had completed only a grand total of four trips around the sun. and here i was. eighteen and looming over him, also moody and fresh off of a break up, wondering how the hell this kid had the audacity to hate me so much.”

you press a little kiss on his forehead. “aww, you were an angsty little teenager too! like father like son!”

he pouts, pushing his nose further into your soft breast. “that's why i was so annoyed with what he said last night. i'd like to think i've gotten better. and megumi actually took it back and we did bond today. thanks to your class.”

that makes you feel warm and happy. people don't usually, well ever, see the importance in your craft, invalidating and degrading it too often. you're glad that both satoru and megumi not only enjoyed the class and did well, but also could make a good memory out of it.

“you're welcome.” you whisper, pressing a kiss on his hair.

“we've gotten through much worse without any flowers to help us through it, me and gumi. you know once he took a hammer to school and threatened to smash some kid's head in because he kept pulling the local stray dog's tail. and that was the day i was elbow deep in work and decided to put my phone on silent, and i forgot to pick him up from school. imagine the screaming match we had when we got home after i checked my phone to see 24 missed calls and had to get yet yelled at by his principal. and mid way through it he just burst into tears. and then so did i. and then we cried together as he told me that the stray was his only friend and he missed his family… that's when i finally saw that he wasn't just some annoying kid dropped off on my doorstep. he was just a baby.”

you pull back to look at him. his big doe eyes and unblemished skin, his hand kneading your breast as he thinks back fondly. you think of how gentle he was with megumi in class and how sweetly he speaks of him. you think of the past, a younger, gangly, angsty version of him.

“so were you” you say softly, brushing his hair back. you can feel him breathe in and out against your body.

“huh?” he says, looking up at you.

“you were just a baby. and you're not even thirty now. people have kids when they're past thirty and they still think they're too young. and here you are doing an amazing job! but... you're still just a baby,” you tell him gently, holding him against you.

satoru feels naked under your caring, thorough gaze. vulnerable and safe. his eyes widen as he feels comfort spreading through his body, tangling his legs with yours even more. he continues watching you as the room darkens and your eyes shut, drowsiness taking over you. 

he feels like he’s been given a miracle in hands, not for the first time in his life. and as he snuggles into your warm embrace, he decides not to resist falling this time. 

[winniefrezcomics]

ELAD INFO DUMP

Anonymous asked: If dale is even worse in this au, does that mean that elad is a really good parent? Did ved have a super healthy upbringing?

(Accidentally deleted the question SORRY 😭😭) You’re definitely on the right track, but there’s one big reason I don’t think Ved’s upbringing could be called “healthy”; Ved’s father is, and always has been, utterly TERRIFIED of him. 🙃 (which I figured made sense as a polar opposite to Dale’s not giving af about his son ☠️)

In contrast to Dale, Elad is a timid, skittish anti-fairy, who prefers to live a quiet life on his own, tending his nightshade gardens and generally living a humble, almost ‘cottagecore’ lifestyle. He’s always been the kind of person who HATES to make a fuss or be the center of attention, and despite belonging to the awkwardly-human-proportioned species of anti-fairies, has done his best to remain completely invisible for most of his life.

Part of the reason for this is that, by all accounts, Elad is VERY nice for an anti-fairy, and grew up ostracized and bullied for it- not to mention the fact that he’s actually not all that powerful magically-speaking. He can USE magic of course, but tends to prefer doing things by hand, especially things like knitting and gardening.

(More Elad info under the cut!! CW ⚠️for unexpected pregnancy, a kinda unhealthy father/son dynamic, and a VERY brief reference to Dale’s trauma at the end) 🫶

While MOST anti-faries got at least SOME heads up that their fairy counterparts were expecting children, fairy Dale keeping his pregnancy a secret from the general public means that Elad- his anti-fairy with whom he has absolutely NO RELATION- gets BLINDSIDED by suddenly finding himself with a child. At first he did what he always did when something felt wrong with him: (as it OFTEN did in his teenage years- more on that at the bottom) ignore it and hope it goes away!! 🎉

Needless to say, it did NOT go away, and since no anti fairies had been born in ten thousand years (i believe the last was Ymmit), his pregnancy symptoms actually DIDN’T make it obvious what was wrong with him and why he felt so sick all the time. No matter how bad it got, though, Elad just leaned harder into home remedies and refused to see a doctor.

Then, the nightmares started.

Every night, Elad would get tormented by visions of horrible nightmare worlds, frightening him deeply despite the fact that he’s an anti fairy, due to his timid and cowardly nature. Every night the visions became clearer, and every day his symptoms worsened, and all the while Elad could do nothing to shake the terrifying sensation that, no matter where he went, he was no longer ALONE.

And then, in an explosive burst of magic, there he was.

A million thoughts ran through Elad’s head as he held his son for the first time, buuuuut Because he IS Dale’s opposite, at first Elad tries to put aside how terrified he is, and promises Ved he’s going to do his best to raise his “Miracle baby” right.

…until he looks Ved in the eyes, sees a familiar flash of gore, and realizes with horror that THIS was the cause of his nightmares.

See, while Dev has the ability to see into the future, and imparted that ability into his father pre-birth- VED has the ability to see into ALTERNATE UNIVERSES- usually those where things have gone horribly wrong in nightmarish ways! (His skills aren’t as honed as Dev’s are, due to not having the targeted lessons Dev has been reciving since birth, so it’s an ability he utilizes pretty infrequently tbh, but really piss him off and he’ll look you dead in your shit like “hey, wanna experience every gruesome death you’ve ever narrowly avoided simultaneously? 🤓” and then beam PURE NIGHTMARES into your head for like a fraction of a second ☠️☠️)

ANYWAY, by the time Ved was a toddler, Elad had pretty much already convinced himself the damn thing was going to bring about the end of the world, tho he WAS relieved the nightmares stopped upon Ved’s birth.

Visions of horrible alternate timelines or not, though- raising an anti fairy baby BY HIMSELF was a harrowing challenge, especially with Ved’s sheer power level- Elad had himself, his home, and most of his neighborhood transformed, destroyed, or otherwise warped COUNTLESS times when Ved was a newborn/ toddler.

I think ELAD’s surpirze child is actually probably what tips the general public off that Dale must have had one too tbh… as much as Elad would have TRIED to keep a low profile, that’s really not possible when you have an anti fairy baby, and Elad didn’t have a giant mansion for Ved to stay isolated in like Dev, so word got out pretty fast.

Elad would continue to try his best to raise Ved in a healthy home, but the fact that the man could not LOOK HIS CHILD IN THE EYES without experiencing some sort of horrible vision made it difficult not to jump whenever his pup would so much as move too abruptly.

While I think there IS some part of Ved that loves his father, I think more than anything he pities Elad, and secretly thinks his dad is a spineless, pathetic excuse for an anti-fairy (even if it IS indirectly veds fault that the poor man is so damn jumpy ☠️☠️) tho with most people Ved will usually hide behind fake niceness to get what he wants, (an incredibly believable act, since his father actually IS nice) Due to his unique upbringing, one of Ved’s personality traits is that he actively ENJOYS instilling fear in people and creeping them out, ESPECIALLY when it comes to his father and his fairy counterpart- because in a way, thier fear IS what he wants.

If I had to summarize what thier current relationship is like, I’d probably go with “father who generally attempts to be healthy and supportive, but with a constant undertone of unease, and an unhealthy power imbalance with his son” 😅

Short Drabble to give an example of what I mean:

Elad, tentatively leaning into his son’s room with a bowl of spiders in hand: “heyyy, Veddy- kins! I brought you some lun- EEK!!”

Ved’s claws ABRUPTLY scrape down the chalkboard he was scribbling on, interrupting Elad mid-sentence

“Eheh- Daddy? WHEN have I asked you NOT to disturb me?”

Elad, swallowing heavily: “wh-when you’re um- scheming, son?”

Ved slowly turns to his father with a sarcastic grin- “that’s riiiight! Aaaand WHAT am I doing right now?” He gestures at the chalkboard

Elad, cautiously setting the bowl on a table without taking his eyes off of Ved, starting to visibly sweat: “sh-scheming?”

“Mm-hmm!”

Ved abruptly TELEPORTS into his fathers personal space, nose-to-nose with him, causing Elad to SHRIEK with alarm

“And what, Daddy, are YOU doing right now?” Ved hisses through his teeth, eyes wide and manic

“LEAVING! I- I was- just leaving!” Elad FLEES from the room, covering his eyes fearfully to not make eye contact

“L-love you son, s-sorry to Interrupt!!” Elad stutters, zipping out of the room

“Don’t let it happen ag-ian! Love you Daddy!” Ved sing-songs down the hallway, before his face hardens, and he mutters under his breath- “even if you ARE a sniveling coward.”

As Ved floats back to his chalk schematics, he absent mindedly plucks a spider from the bowl and pops it in his mouth, giggling to himself- “mm, brown recluse!” 😊

Don’t have much else to say abt Elad tbh! But I HAVE done some more thinking about Veds childhood in general hehe >:3c fun fact, he and the other anti-fairy kids actually all met the fairy kids once! (Hazel facilitated it, but ALL the parents were there to supervise) With the exception of Dev, whose father and Au pairs FORBADE him from so much as being in the same room as ANY anti fairy , let alone his own ☠️ lemme know if yall would like to hear more about this encounter, or Veds childhood in general! Tbh I’ve kinda put a lot of thought into why he’s ✨like that™️✨)

Oh, and one more thing about Elad! In his teenage years, he suffered from chronic wing, eye, wrist and ankle pain- eventually it just went away, so Elad never discovered that the reason for it was the horrible conditions his fairy counterpart was being subjected to during the decades he was trapped by Vicky and forced to make bootleg wands in the secret caverns beneath the star-fall valley 🙃

….yeeeaaahhh, the lemonade stand equivalent in this AU is pretty messed up, not that Dales traumatic backstory wasn’t already ☠️