#anyways good god. i have to wrap up this chapter.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 11

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that���s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

Lizzie barely had time to take in the Quadrant studio before a guy launched himself across the room like he was personally greeting a royal dignitary.

“Oh my god, you actually brought her,” he gushed, stopping just short of throwing himself at Mara’s paws. “Lando never lets us meet his friends—”

Lando sighed theatrically, rolling his eyes as he led Lizzie inside. "Because you're all lunatics."

The man grinned, unfazed by Lando's comment. "Yeah, but we're your lunatics.”

Max Fewtrell, already grinning, lifted his phone. “Right, formal introduction time. Lizzie, welcome to Quadrant chaos. You already know me—”

“Tragically,” Lando mumbled.

“—but this is Ethan, who thinks he runs things, Ria, who actually runs things, and Steve, the only adult in the room.”

Lizzie grinned. “Nice to finally meet you all.”

“Oh, we’re making this official,” Ria said, practically vibrating as she rummaged through a box on the table.

Lando groaned. “I already hate this.”

Ethan smirked. “Oh, you will.”

With a dramatic flourish, Ria pulled out a small fabric bundle and unfolded it.

Lizzie blinked.

It was a Quadrant dog bandana. Black with neon streaks, the brand’s logo stitched neatly in the corner.

“You made her merch?” Lizzie asked, trying to hold back a laugh.

Lando let out a long-suffering sigh. “Okay, listen. I can’t be seen walking a dog wearing Ferrari merch—”

"You could just walk her," Max chimed in.

"Shut up. Anyway.” Lando picked up the bandana. “And I highly doubt Lizzie would let me put McLaren papaya on her—”

“Not happening,” Lizzie confirmed.

“So this is a compromise.” Lando gestured at the bandana like it was the only logical solution. "I thought she’d want a little Quadrant flair too.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone seemed to process his logic.

Then, everyone started laughing. Loudly.

"Oh my god." Ethan shook his head, grinning. "Lando Norris, dog-walking fashion expert. Who would have thought?”

Max snorted. “Honestly, I get it. The internet would never let you live it down.”

Lando shot him a look. "Exactly. Have you checked Twitter lately? They already think I'm the biggest Ferrari fan in the history of ever. I don't need to give them any more ammunition."

Everyone else laughed harder. Ria was trying to catch her breath. "Oh my god, Lando, you're such a drama queen."

Steve, the supposed only adult in the room, was the only one who didn’t laugh. Instead, he studied the bandana with a considering expression. “Honestly, it is a good look. The orange would have clashed with her coat anyway.”

That set off another round of laughter, but Lando looked oddly appeased by Steve’s assessment.

Max clapped his hands together, grinning. “Right, Mara needs to try it on. Lando. Do your thing.”

Lando rolled his eyes, yet he knelt next to Mara. The Labrador seemed to realize this was important, because she sat perfectly still, her eyes trained on the bandana.

Lando wrapped the bandana around her neck, adjusting it until it fit snugly.

“There we go. She’s a Quadrant girl now,” he said, ruffling Mara’s ears.

 Lizzie crouched beside her.

“What do you think, girl?” she asked. “You like it?”

Mara gave a single wag of her tail.

“Oh, that’s a yes,” Ria confirmed, nodding sagely.

“100%,” Max agreed.

Lando stood, hands on his hips. "Of course she likes it. I have good taste."

Lizzie suppressed a smirk, trying (and failing) to hide her amusement at the ridiculous scene unfolding before her.

"And he's modest too," she joked.

Lando shot her a look, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Hey, I'm just stating facts."

Max snickered. "Lando Norris, humble as always."

"You all just wish you were as humble as I am," Lando shot back, rolling his eyes.

Ethan gave an exaggerated sigh. "I know. It's tragic really. If only we could be as modest as the great Lando 'I'm a better driver than everyone in this room' Norris."

Lando flicked him off in response.

"So, this is where the magic is gonna happen?" Lizzie asked curiously, staring around the warehouse. "It looks..."

"Like an abandoned warehouse?" Max suggested drily. "It's for the aesthetic of the photoshoot."

"And what is that aesthetic?" Lizzie asked. "Where to dump a body?"

Lando shot her an amused glance. "Dark, edgy, abandoned industrial-chic, I think."

"Yeah, it's our 'we're really cool and don't care' vibe," Ethan chimed in.

Ria nodded. "And it's cheaper than renting out an actual studio."

"Not to mention we have the freedom to set everything up exactly the way we want," Steve added.

"You know...for the vibe," Max said, wiggling his fingers in the air.

"I think the aesthetic choice is very 'Lando','" Lizzie mused, eyeing Lando, who looked offended.

"What does that mean?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Hmm..." Lizzie tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to think. "Rich, edgy, slightly obnoxious..."

"I am none of those things," Lando protested.

Lizzie stared at him. "Lando, you literally bought a Range Rover on a whim. Now you are sitting here,  in front of the dog, whose bandana you had custom designed as we debate the 'aesthetic' of your photoshoot in a warehouse."

Max snickered, while Ria and Ethan tried to hide their smiles. 

Lando huffed. "Fine, I see your point. But it's still a cool aesthetic."

"It's definitely unique," Lizzie conceded.

Max's grin widened as he turned to Mara, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange. "And what do you think, Mara? Do you think Lando has a cool aesthetic?"

The Labrador simply sat there, with her tongue lolling out, blissfully unaware of the debate about Lando's cool factor.

Lizzie smiled. "I think that's a solid 'yes' in dog language."

"Alright, alright. Enough making fun of me," Lando complained, though he didn't look particularly bothered. 

Steve, who'd been watching the whole exchange, finally spoke up.

"You know, I have to say, this is already more fun than most photoshoots."

Granted, Lizzie had managed to get through her life with literally only three photoshoots unless one counted random selfies with fans, so she tended to agree.

It was quite fun that she got to watch the whole thing go down though, shooting Lando's newest merch collection, while Mara happily took a nap on her feet. It was...interesting to see this side of him. 

Lando, as it turned out, had a knack for modeling. He effortlessly fell into different poses, morphing from nonchalant cool to charming casual without breaking a sweat. Lizzie couldn't help but admire him.

Ethan, as the photographer, seemed to be having the time of his life. He directed the shoot with enthusiasm, barking instructions like the self-proclaimed art director. "Okay, Lando, give me intense stare. Yeah, that's it. Now, throw in some smolder."

Max, playing the role of the hype man, didn't hesitate to boost up Lando's ego.  "Damn, mate. You were made for this. When are you gonna ditch racing and become a professional model?"

"Never," Lando shot back, without even pausing in his poses. "I have too much dignity for that."

"Dignity? You?" Max laughed. "That ship sailed years ago."

"Oh, shut up," Lando retorted, but he couldn't quite hide his smile.

Lizzie watched all of this with amusement, her eyes fixated on Lando as he moved in front of the camera.

He was a different person in front of the lens.

Confident, charismatic, almost...intoxicating.

It was easy to lose herself in the view, especially as his gaze frequently met hers, his smug smirk sending tingles down her spine.

God, he was handsome.

After what felt like hours, the shoot was over.

The lights were shut off, the equipment packed away, and the warehouse slowly returned from a makeshift photoshoot studio back to an abandoned warehouse.

Lando, as if waking from a trance, wandered over to Lizzie, his gaze roaming over her in a way that she could only describe as hungry.

"You’re staring," Lizzie pointed out, fighting down a shiver as his gaze continued to linger on her.

Lando gave her a lazy smile, not bothering to look away. "Can you blame me?"

Lizzie’s heart did a little flip, her cheeks warming under his gaze. She was still getting used to this — the casual intimacy between them, the easy banter, the way he looked at her like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing.

She could hear the others packing up and chattering in the background, their voices a soft, background hum. But right now, her attention was laser-focused on Lando, his eyes still holding hers captive.

"We need to get going," she said, kinda hating herself fo having to say that. "Tasha will kill me if I am late to my own reading."

Lando nodded, reluctantly tearing his gaze away from her.

“Right, right. Can’t have Tasha coming after you with a pitchfork,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still holding that intense look.

She gave him a smile, but she promised herself that tonight…tonight she was going to take advantage of that massive bed in their hotel room. 

***

"We banned all flash photography and we'll had somebody tell them to just ignore Mara multiple times," Tasha said seriously.

Lando hadn't known that Lizzies best friend slash pseudo-sister also had the role as personal assistant slash point of contact for everybody that was involved in Lizzie's actual job...but he had learned that over the last few weeks.

Lando leaned back in his seat, watching Tasha as she talked. She was a force to be reckoned with, that much was obvious. He couldn't help but respect her dedication to making sure everything ran smoothly.

And he was also very glad that Lizzie had somebody with her at all times that knew the ins and outs of her epilepsy better than anybody else.

Tasha was a godsend, both a best friend and a safety net for Lizzie.

As Tasha continued briefing them on the night's schedule, Lando let his gaze drift to Lizzie, who was listening intently to her friend.

She was an absolute star to look at as always, but there was something different about tonight. There was a spark in her eyes, a hint of excitement, and a faint smile on her lips he really liked.

Lando was not the type to sit and listen to people gushing over books for hours, but given the way Lizzie looked, he was sure he could put up with it...

He had been to his fair share of movie premieres and gallery openings, but those were easy. He took a few pictures, flashed a charming smile...he was the center of attention. 

But tonight…Lando Norris was completely ignored. Because he was uninteresting. 

Elizabeth Treshton was the star. 

Lando Norris got to sit backstage and follow along from the shadows. 

And quite frankly, he found the whole experience fascinating, just because he got to see Lizzie's world.

The world of books, of words and imagination. It was utterly foreign to him, and yet he couldn't help but find it fascinating...especially with Lizzie in the middle of it.

She was the star here. She was the one people wanted to see. The world she had created, the characters that had been born out of her words on a page...millions of people had read these words.

And they loved them.

Lando found, to his surprise, that he couldn't take his eyes off her as she walked on stage, as she read a few pages, as the hall clapped, and as she answered the first few questions. It wasn't even about the words anymore, it was about the way she talked, about the way her eyes shined. About the way she was fully in her element.

He wasn't looking at a different woman...but he was looking at a facet of hers...that he hadn't yet gotten to completely see.

And he found himself wondering how many there were. How many layers he still had to uncover, how many things he still needed to discover.

He was a race car driver, speed and competition were his domain. He was living the life he'd always wanted.

But sitting here in this venue, watching Lizzie take the stage and make an audience of strangers hang onto her every word like the last light in a dark cave...he knew he was only scratching the surface here.

The rest of the reading, the Q&A and the signing went by in a bit of a blur. He was too busy watching Lizzie and the way her face lit up when fans came up to her and told her how her writing had moved or inspired them. And when she was finally finished, making her way towards him with a tired smile on her face, he couldn't help but reach out and grab her by the hand to pull her closer.

Her steps faltered for a second as he pulled her closer, but when she looked at him, her expression melted into a soft, tired smile. "You held out pretty well," she teased lightly.

Lando shrugged nonchalantly, his grip on her hand tightening. "I had a pretty good view to keep me entertained," he replied, his gaze drifting over her face with an intensity that belied his casual tone.

"Oh? And what exactly was so entertaining about the view?" Lizzie asked, amusement sparkling in her eyes despite her obvious tiredness.

Lando's smile widened into a lazy smirk. "Just taking in the show, Miss Treshton," he said, his thumb tracing circles against her wrist. "You were quite the spectacle up there."

Lizzie arched an eyebrow. "Spectacle, huh? Are you just trying to butter me up, Mr. Norris?"

"You are incredible, you know that?" he told her seriously.

She stared at him wide-eyed.

"And not just tonight," he continued, unable to keep the admiration out of his voice. "You've built a whole world with your words, Lizzie. And you've got millions of people wrapped around your little finger, myself included.”

[volfoss]

i cant even like post about the horrors that are going on currently because im gonna get too mad but oh my god. like i would give her really good credit for writing a character like marius that has 0 self awareness about his insanely disgusting behavior bc like. that CAN work. you can make the reader feel disgust and see things through the eyes of someone who is horrible while not romanticizing the behavior. clearly anne did not get the memo for this one.

[coldilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 6

This had like a huge timeskip

___________________________

It's been 3 months Since you decided to stay at camp

It's been so good, the camp is quiet, since it's school year right now, it's currently October, the weather outside doesn't really affect the camp but it's chilly, the good kind

Percy and Annabeth have been sending you photographs of their schools, since you can't go to school anymore

Because you're "dead"

Still even if you're not studying, no way you're gonna let them get ahead of you, so you spent an entire day carving an Athena statue

You got a bunch of food from the Cornucopia as offerings

Then you pray "Lady Athena, may you please guide me, I need books on grade 6 studies.... Please?"

For good measure you decided to place a drachma on the statue

"I- I want to study... And uhhh, I've never really prayed to a god before- I mean what kind of god would - okay going off topic, I want to learn because I don't want to feel helpless anymore, I've been there, never again, so if- you could help me... I'd appreciate it, but you don't have to if you don't want- sooo... Yeah I guess, do I say amen? Um bye"

"didn't think a child of Aphrodite would ever be interested in learning"

"AH!" You yelp as a voice appears behind you

" 'Thena can you not sneak up on children, that's fucking creepy"

You tilt your head "Mr. D???"

"kid next time you want to study just bother Chiron, there's legal procedures to this kinds of things" he groaned

You were about to apologize but then Athena spoke up for you "Nonsense, if she wants an education is it not reasonable to get it from the best?"

She turns to you "kid, what do you want to know about?"

With great determination you say "I want to know everything I can manage to learn"

"really?" She smirked

"Yes. Whatever you can teach me, how to use an abacus, what body part do you stab someone to kill them in an instant, how to crochet, whatever you can teach"

"yeah while you two are at it can you teach her how to undo my punishment" Mr D opens another new diet coke

______________________________

"Gods- Wait crap" you collapse on the floor

4 fucking hours now, she's been training you for four hours, Mr D had finished 55 diet cokes watching and laughing at you

Out of every fight, she wins, of course she does, out of every train, sparring, archery and everything she made you try

"new rule, all you have to do is make sure this cloth touches me, whether it be a momentary graze or wrap it around me, it just needs to make contact, and I will try to push you out of bounds" she says pulling out a blue cloth and a bunch of rocks and twigs form a square

You didn't think it'd be easy, at all, she'd dodge and dodge and dodge

You lunge at her and change direction to where she's going, but she flies instead

The sun is going down, and Athena flies down and kicks you near the bounds

"AHHH! ow! Shit!" Your form looks disfigured, your arm is under your body and it doesn't look good

You cry, tears coming out as you try to not scream "I fell the wrong way, I-" you sob on the ground

"Shit, Thena what did you do?!?" Mr D stands up

"I'm sorry- I didn't, help please...." You scream in pain

Athena teleports to you and kneels, she turns to Mr D "I'll call on Apollo to heal her arm and-" she stops talking

She stops talking as she feels a silky texture on her cheeck

With wide eyes she looks at you, and your smug smile, that stupid smile

"I finally won against you" you stand up and dust yourself off

You can't beat the goddess of wisdom, but- you can trick her

"huh..." She says

Mr D spikes his diet coke on the ground "(name) go fuck yourself"

___________________________

I'm about to take a test rn, it's mathematics 😀

Anyways enjoy the chapter:3

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven

[s-awturn]

Day Off || F1 Grid

cw: nothing but superficiality, cuteness, intimate but not obscene moments, sharing moments, mention of gossip. Just pilots resting

starring: LH44, CS55, CL16, LN4, OP81, MV1

a/n: I had this written a couple of days ago, but Tumblr just "ate" the only file I had and I lost everything. I was so mad I didn't even want to write anymore, but damn, This is too good a HC to waste, so okay, let's try again (remembering to save periodically this time 🫡

LEWIS HAMILTON:

You and Lewis had created a reading list to complete throughout the year, you bet there were about a hundred books on the list, titles ranging from classic literature, biographies, poems, and contemporary literature. Books that you and Lewis wanted to read together or the books you thought the other should read.

So it was common for the two of you to spend the pilot's day off reading in bed while listening to blues or jazz on the speakers. You read together, wrote reviews of the books you read and discussed them.

He was reading Percy Jackson and the Mark of Athena and you were reading Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka.

"So? What did you think?" He asked, marking the page he was on, Lewis had just started the last chapter and you had already finished reading.

"He does go through a metamorphosis and it's extremely unpleasant to imagine, but I've read more unpleasant books," you confessed, putting the book on the bedside table. "Four stars, and you?"

He snorted "Piper is so boring, damn she only knows how to think about Jason and how she doesn't like being the daughter of Aphrodite, so boring"

"God, yes! I don't like her either... Anyway, I'll wait for you to finish, and then we can choose the next one."

"Sure, honey," he kissed her temple and returned to reading just as Etta James began to sing "At Last." You settled into it, petting Roscoe as he lay beside you. This is the best way to enjoy your day off.

CARLOS SAINZ:

Carlos was at a stage where he wanted you to learn golf to play with him, after all the sport was a tradition for him and the Spaniard wanted you to be part of it, but you were terrible. You were really bad at golf, but that didn't make he want to teach you any less.

And well, you didn't like golf either, you didn't understand the sport, the scoring was weird, there were at least half a dozen different clubs and you couldn't even cheer.

But at least the clothes were cute and the cars were cool.

"Let's go, amor, I'll teach you," he said, going to pick you up in the golf cart. Lando, who was accompanying them this time, leaned his body on the golf club, waiting.

"Carlos, I'm terrible at this, you know," you grumbled, taking the bat he offered you. Carlos was a persevering man, you had to admit. He stood behind you, teaching you again how to perform the shot, instructing you to separate your legs and take a deep breath.

"I bet you five bucks she'll throw the ball in the lake"

"Shut up, Lando," you both said.

You followed his instructions and hit the ball...

...that fell into the lake.

"I knew"

"Shut up, Lando"

CHARLES LECLERC:

A day off for Charles meant you would get to visit his favorite spots, from a famous restaurant to a little coffee shop tucked away in a city alley. Sometimes he would take you to the south of France to see some chateau, other times he would just rent a chalet for you to be together in privacy, and you had lost count of how many times they had gone to Italy to see the vineyards and villas on the border with Monaco.

This time, you were preparing for a slightly longer itinerary, you had suggested visiting the Grace Kelly exhibit before heading to the cottage he had rented for the weekend.

"Got everything you need, mon cher?" He asked, wrapping his arms around her waist in a sweet hug.

"It depends, I know we're going to see the Grace Kelly exhibit, but I have no idea where we're going after, you say a cottage and I don't know whether to bring a bikini or coats" you mumbled, looking at her handbag.

"Take both just in case, you know spring can have unpredictable weather"

"Are you saying that so you don't give me a hint about where we're going?" You turned in his arms, facing the pilot. "That's not fair."

"You'll like it, mon ange, I promise"

"At least tell me if it's still in Monaco..." You tried to persuade him, sliding your nails lovingly along his chin, making the Monegasque shiver and let out a heavy breath.

"You're not taking me to the siren song, pretty girl." He gave you a quick kiss and a light slap on your ass before leaving. "We'll leave in fifteen minutes."

LANDO NORRIS:

Lando's downtime with you was spent playing games, you thought it was counterproductive to fuel his competitiveness when he should have been resting, but this routine of games with you made him much calmer and more relaxed when he returned to work. Ironic? Yes, but it worked.

You two played anything, Monopoly, Naval Battle, Game of Life, Detective, W.A.R, Uno, even checkers or cards. Any game was fair game.

The problem is that you got really competitive, your friends even gave up trying to play with you because the game turned into a battlefield.

"You lowlife cheater, did you really throw a +4 at your fiancée?!" You yelled at him, Lando laughed and blew you a kiss before dodging the pillow you threw at him.

"You know how things work, honey. Just because I love you doesn't mean I'm going to let you beat me."

"This will come back!" You bought the four cards he forced you to. "I really hate you."

"And you are the love of my life"

"Die, you jerk," you snapped and he laughed.

Lando could feel all the tension leaving his shoulders, playing with you always made him relax, no matter how aggressive and passionate you became in the game.

OSCAR PIASTRI:

Considering that Oscar was always traveling and there were few really usable pages in his schedule, any time the two of you could have together should be taken full advantage of, and For both of them, there's nothing better than an afternoon of movies.

You two had created a list of movies on Letterboxd and the chosen one of the day would be Interstellar.

Oscar was making popcorn while you were arranging the blankets and pillows on the couch, so what if it was the height of summer in Australia? There in the apartment, the air conditioning was hovering below fifteen degrees, keeping the room at a favorable climate for you and your boyfriend to cuddle while watching astronauts lost in space.

"I thought you were going to choose Anatomy of a Fall," he muttered, placing the food on the coffee table, popcorn with cheese, assorted snacks, chocolates and ice cream and of course, lemon soda.

"I was dubious, but you know I love any movie that has Matthew McConaughey in it," you said, getting under the covers, accompanied by Oscar, "and of course, The movie's soundtrack is perfect, I use it to study..."

"Have you watched it?"

"No, I was waiting for you, but I discovered the playlist... I'll send you the link, you'll love it"

He hummed in agreement and you pressed play on the movie, Many times you paused the film to comment on something or express your theories. It made the movie session better, Oscar didn't mind listening to you talk about it and you loved his theories.

It was, without a doubt, the best way to enjoy the break.

MAX VERSTAPPEN:

He would rather be playing, sleeping or, I don't know, watering the plants, but you always dragged him to a skin care session. You spread different creams on his face, plucked some extra hairs from his eyebrows, trimmed his beard.

As much as he denied it, Max learned to enjoy it, being taken care of by you was one of his guilty pleasures. And it all got better when you started gossiping without any trace of shame. He talked about what went on behind the scenes in F1 and you shared news about work and your condominium.

"I'm still sad that Logan was let go, he had a lot of future," you said, sliding the massage stone across his face, spreading the serum into his skin.

"He's a good kid, unfortunately he wasn't ready for Formula One yet, he came in too early and couldn't adapt well... I hope he can find his place" he grumbled, sighing at the gentle massage on his cheekbones.

"Yes... Williams was very ungrateful to him and I won't elaborate on that" you said a little bitterly and Max laughed, you always positioned yourself as a defender of the poor and oppressed.

"Yes... I won't elaborate on that either... It's better"

You both were silent until you clicked your tongue.

"Uh, I almost forgot to tell you, last week there was a horrible fight at the condominium meeting.

He opened his curious eyes "You can tell me everything, dear"

"The neighbor at 1165 caught her husband with the building manager and the building manager's husband in her bed"

"What the fuck?! Are you kidding?!"

You laughed, putting away the massage stone and sliding your fingers firmly over Max's face "you had to see it, she put together a PowerPoint with photos and screenshots of the conversations"

Max laughed out loud "damn, I wish I had seen..."

"It was a real fight, they argued and everything, it was really fun to watch"

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"I will definitely go to the next condo meeting"

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO S-AWTURN™ 🪐. I do not allow copying or republication. Any unauthorized publication will be reported.

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[hivemuthur]

Nothing's New - Ch.1.

viktorxfemale!reader explicit!

AU modern era, lovers to enemies to lovers, getting back together, a lot of angst, smut to come somewhere mid-way through

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6.

word count: 5,7K

tag: #nothings new

summary: It's a bit late, but I had to touch some grass. This is an expository chapter that puts almost all pawns on the table. It's mostly angst and it's a very experimental thing for me, I will be updating warnings as we go. Updated probably every week or sooner!

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Hey,” he says in a warm tone, a gentle nudge on your elbow as a cold glass is placed bottom-flat on your palm. A very much welcomed chill in the suffocating, wet, soggy heat on Jayce’s balcony, which still isn’t as bad as the inside of his apartment. Then, a pair of strong hands, their warmth equal to that of the voice, wraps around your biceps. A pair of blue eyes looks deeply into yours, analysing, searching the inside of your head.

“It’s okay. I love you.”

A layer of moist cotton brushes your face before the mass of a broad chest squishes your nose in an embrace.

“What?” you muffle into the material, tasting salt against your lips, the smell of sweat—the good kind, the strong, manly kind—and pine hitting your nostrils, your arms hanging idly by your sides, one of them gripping the cold glass tighter. “Why would you say it now?”

That is a first. A love confession thrown casually between the two of you, like a lifebelt for your sanity, waggling desperately in a muddle. He moves away, and you down the whiskey along with the ice cube, which you shove into your cheek.

His palms still cradle your arms as he leans in, his head hanging pensively from his neck. A wonderful, beautiful, reassuring smile paints his lips as he says, “I just felt like saying it. And it’s alright.”

Hot, very hot, very honest lips press themselves to your sweaty forehead, leaving a lingering kiss. The embrace resumes, this time your face pressed to the side of his neck, as he murmurs, “I don’t need you to say it back. I don’t need you to do anything, just… try to relax.”

Absurd. No one just throws their heart out like that to be eaten. No one with any common sense or self-respect.

You push yourself back from his chest, letting his hands fall, entwined, on your lower back. God, the heat is unbearable. “This is a big thing to say so casually. Why now?”

“Alright, you got me,” he chuckles. “I wanted to ask you something.” He scratches his neck and looks at you with timid hope.

His tone is playful, expectant to the point of twisting your guts. When all he’s confronted with is a pair of eyebrows raised into two inquisitive arches, he relents, “I want you to move in with me.”

You swallow your ice cube. With a painful gulp, it travels down your throat, and you can feel it passing your heart, your lungs, all the way down to your stomach. You can hear it dropping into the pool of acid with an echoing plop sound. Shit.

“Is this because he is here?”

“What? No—” his grossly hot hands cradle your cheeks, and you feel your skin warming up even more under his calloused fingers.

“Of course not. I have planned it, and I have proof,” he says calmly, pulling a set of extra keys from his back pocket and dangling them between your faces. “See?”

When no reaction comes from your side, just a stunned expression, he starts jangling them furiously and laughing.

His smile is blinding. Imperfect, teeth almost too big for his face, it makes his cheeks rise up, his eyes crinkle heavily, and he looks gorgeous.

“You are around all the time anyway. But fine—just promise you will think about it.”

Wordlessly, you take the keys from his hand and put them in your pocket. “This is not a yes. But I will think about it,” you shoot him a warning look, which softens immediately when you see him resist an expression of relief crawling up his face.

“And thank you,” you say with a tiny hint of a smile, placing a sweaty hand on his cheek and running your knuckles through his stubble.

“You should mingle. These are your friends, after all.”

Yes. These are your friends. Who, against their better judgement, haven’t ostracised you, as you were sure they would. Who have greeted you wholeheartedly at the doorstep with real, joyful hugs and expressions of relief upon seeing you. Jayce grabbed you tightly and lifted you off the floor, and Mel gave you a massive, loud smooch on the cheek, very aunt-worthy.

“What are you going to do? Just air out all evening?”

You relax into his touch, pushing your hands down his jeans’ back pockets.

“Oh, I’ll mingle. Just… later,” he smiles and kisses you lovingly.

His kisses are nice, though stressful. Like he is thanking you for existing and allowing him to stand by and maybe hijack your act of being. Even though he assures you there are none, the invisible, deniable mass of expectations makes you walk on wonky legs around him.

His hands cradle your shoulders, rubbing them so tenderly, you almost don’t mind the heat. Almost. Slowly, very slowly, his touch has crawled into your memory and become the default touch you expect whenever feeling the sensation of someone’s skin resting on yours, and sadly, a little part of your soul usually whines in disappointment at being touched at all. A good, uncomplicated man with enough insecurities to keep you relatively safe and complacent.

You give him one last lingering peck and head inside, letting the wave of inhumane temperature and the scent of sweat mixed with alcohol breath wash over you. Mel and Jayce live in an old building; no artificial air allowed. It reminds you of your previous place, where, against all odds, you slept naked, covered only by a thin sheet of cotton, just so you could wrap yourself around your skinny love. You push the memory away, as it twists your stomach.

A sea of teeth greets you indoors, one smile after the other, as you squeeze yourself through the crowd toward the kitchen. You march straight to the freezer to pour yourself another drink filled with ice cubes and sigh with relief when a cold gush fans your face.

“Good evening,” a voice startles you so hard you gasp.

Fuck.

You look to your right beyond your shield of the freezer door, and there they are—two slim calves draped over each other and a cane in front of them.

Still crouched, you take a fistful of ice from the drawer, stand up, and say only a stupid, “Hi.”

Viktor is studying you, like an owl would study a rodent. His eyes glint in the dusk, blinking slowly as if he is waiting for you to say anything that has more than one syllable.

He saw you coming in, and his heart skipped a beat. After a quick analysis of all the options he had, he chose the cowardly hideout in the bathroom, a splash of water onto his neck swollen from grinding teeth, and a couple of deep breaths stolen while sitting on the closed toilet.

You alone are enough to make his skin crawl, and yet, to ensure his ruin, you brought your ‘new project’ with you.

Tall, taller than Jayce, broad, broader than Jayce, a man who steals the gasps from the crowd wearing only a white t-shirt and a pair of blue jeans. A complete embodiment of everything Viktor isn’t. A slap on the face, a shoe sole grinding it into his pride.

And now you are here, scrambling up from the floor, melting ice dripping through your fingers.

“How… are you?” you ask dumbly, before cringing at your own obsequious tone. You know exactly how he is. Mel has sneaked in a few text messages before you cut her off and changed the subject. Jayce has tried to contact you at the beginning but eventually stopped—possibly at Viktor’s request.

He looks like a man who has just recovered from a long, devastating disease and has managed to crawl his body into the outside world for the first time in months. And judging by the way you felt in the first two months, that might have been true.

But after the first two months, you met Paul. And Paul is warm and gentle, good at mending broken objects and skittish animals, so you are an obvious perfect fit. He also lies a lot about his life, films he’s seen, and books he’s read, but to peel that entire truth out from its shell you would have to spend more time with him.

He made the first step after buying a book from you. His hands were rough, his fingertips hardened from the heavy strings of a double bass, but his soul seemed clean, and he smelled nice.

He is a teacher by day and a musician by night, chasing his passion with a steady pace, happy to have two good hands that allow him to play, hug you, cook for you, and dance with you. He fixed his eyes on you as you carefully wrapped Coming Through Slaughter for him, while he threw silly remarks in your direction.

“You’re really good at this,” he said with a dumbfounded grin.

“Wrapping books?” You looked at him from underneath your glasses, but the contagion of his smile bled into you, and the quip held no power whatsoever.

He chuckled and slid you a flyer with a 20-dollar bill, brushing your fingers. “Come see my band tonight. I’ll buy you a drink.”

You took it but said nothing. With a teasing smile, you handed over his book and chanted the shop’s slogan, “Thank you for shopping at the Bookhounds of Brooklyn.”

He smiled back, tucked the package under his armpit, and gave you one last look. “See you tonight.”

You shook your head. But you went. And then you got stuck in the tight wrap of his arms holding you through the night. And then before you could stop it from getting serious, he met Mel and Jayce and pried them about your quirky behaviours between drinks and snacks. Before you could stop anything, Paul glued himself to your life and became a needy sticker you carried with you everywhere. Sometimes you caught yourself thinking awful things, like if Viktor felt the same around you when you probed him for chunks of words after he came back from work utterly defeated and worn out.

And now, while your chunk of beautiful meat is airing his arse outside, you are stuck in the kitchen with your ex. Three years flash behind your eyeballs as you wait for him to reply to your stupid question. “I’m… fine.”

The words come out choked, and Viktor scowls internally. He can feel the scrutiny of your stare and clears his throat. He is far from fine. He is beyond pissed with Jayce for not telling him you were bringing a plus one. He is pissed that your plus one is his exact opposite. He is absolutely livid with Jayce for telling him to act civil and try to rebuild the friendship—for Jayce’s sake. “Please, try, for me,” Jayce had pleaded, and Viktor could only scoff in his face.

But above all this, he feels a wave of white-hot anger anytime he thinks of you. The sight of you surges a blinding hatred through his veins, and he pictures your spine snapping in half. And above even this, he hates himself, because the sordid, unspoken truth is staring him in the face. He misses you with every bone in his body.

He misses your face. He misses your half-drunken cups of tea everywhere to the point where he has started doing it himself. He misses the weight of you on the mattress next to him. He misses your whining about the heat in his apartment in the summer and the chill in winter. He misses word wrestling with you. He misses your jokes. He misses fucking you. He misses your snoring.

He misses your hand at the nape of his neck late at night when he sits hunched over the desk, and he scolds himself for ever brushing it off, because there is a strong possibility that nobody will ever touch him like that again. That he will never want anyone to even try to mimic your touch.

“I can see that your new project proves successful?” Don’t sound so hurt. He shifts his weight on the cane and looks down at your hand, holding the ice out like an offering.

“Don’t call him that,” you scoff. This was such a bad idea. But if you were ever to emerge from your cave of love, where you have lived happily with Paul for the last four months, Mel’s birthday is the perfect occasion. And Jayce would probably give an arm and a leg to get his friends back.

“Forgive me. Your new affair goes well then,” he corrects himself with less emotion but an equal amount of venom as earlier. He feels like stabbing you with his shoulder blade.

“Viktor,” you sigh, defeated. “This isn’t an affair. It’s… serious.” Wrong word, very wrong, but unretrievable now. It sounds like an apology, your brows furrowing, your face twisting into an upside-down smile. It seems serious enough to be said out loud.

“Oh? Working fast. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Viktor turns away, but it takes him merely a beat to pick up what you were putting down. Serious. His lungs begin to burn. He wants to rub sand into his eyes and cover them with bleach, so he never has to look at you again.

“Viktor, it just happened. Please, let’s not do this here.”

Seeing him turning on his heel, you drop the remaining ice in the sink and reach out for him. Before you can grab his arm, he pauses.

“Apologies. We don’t have to do any of that, in fact, ever,” he throws over his shoulder.

You didn’t give him the benefit of the last conversation, so why would he? His lizard brain screams at him to flee and hide, away from your touch, from your eyes, from your ice-cold hand, from your hot mouth. But he isn’t fast enough.

Your hand lands on his forearm, and he freezes. He speaks your name softly, a plea to let him go as your touch burns him, even though your hand is wet and cold.

Part of him wants to grab it and lick the ice-cold water off your fingers. To choke on your tongue and beg you to come back to him. But this part of him is weak, and the stronger, wounded part wins. The one that shrugs your hand off in a familiar gesture, this time less painful, more anticipated than in the confines of Viktor’s apartment in the heat of last summer.

“I know you are hurting,” you say carefully. You know him well enough to recognize when his defences become ridiculous in their concentration of venom. If he were a cat, he would hiss at you and bend his spine into a banana.

“You know nothing,” he scoffs. “You cannot possibly know. Hiding away in shame for six months. How would you know? If you are happy and serious with someone else?”

Careful. He is inching toward saying too much. It feels like having open-heart surgery in front of a live studio audience, and no one even laughs. He wants to die and never be born again. He wants to disappear from the face of this sorry planet, just as you have disappeared from his life. He wants to kill Paul and wear his skin like a pelt, even though he doesn’t even know if the guy deserves it.

You feel the anger stirring somewhere within you at his behaviour. He is not the only person whose three-year relationship has fallen apart. He’s not the only one who mourned it and cried for it. It sounds great in your head, so:

“Viktor, you are not the only one—”

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare tell me that you are hurting. It was fixable, and you—” he snarls, accentuating each sentence with a thump of his cane.

“If it were fixable, we would have fixed it. Viktor, please,” you plead quietly, trying not to drag anyone’s attention. You were supposed to be civil; Mel has asked you to.

“No. Just… stop. There was time for this, now it’s… it’s not the time. Enjoy your evening.” His voice strangles; his face paints in resignation as he leaves you alone in the kitchen.

How different this is to your first, to your second encounter, to all the encounters between your first and this one.

You remember it so well. Jayce was fuming when you told him what had gotten into your hands. The first English edition of Geometry and Experience by Albert Einstein. He wouldn’t be able to buy it, of course, but he really wanted to see it. He begged you to let him steal a glance and to let him bring a friend.

And so he brought his friend. You led them to the basement of the shop, where the book was resting on its plinth, in a special dust-free room with perfect temperature and perfect humidity. You took them to the shrine for books, and it felt almost religious.

And you remember the first time you laid your eyes on Viktor and blushed instantly at how his name rolled off his accented tongue when he introduced himself.

You remember how you thought this man was effortlessly everything. How you stole a glimpse of the column of his throat when he hummed in awe over the book and how you wondered if he would ever be willing to hum like that straight into your ear. How strangely erotic his hands were when you pictured them cradling your neck. How in this shrine, you would pray to him so he would do that in a sign of benediction.

Oh God, you wanted to take him home and just keep him there until he was out of breath.

And you remember how beautiful his face was when he first came into your mouth and how he immediately leaned in to kiss you, even before you could swallow. How you thought this was the most sensual thing anyone had ever done for you, with you, drinking his own cum from your tongue. The unity of bodies sealed with a kiss so grateful you almost fell apart.

The images of Viktor flood your mind’s eye: him drinking coffee on the windowsill, naked in the scorching summer sun as he warms his bones; his eyes observing you from between your thighs; him licking your face in a gross act of affection; slumped against the desk, asleep halfway through writing down his notes; sneaking behind you to warm his hands under your armpits; his face when he is sleeping, his hair scattered on the pillow; singular strands on the bathroom floor even though he always accuses you of losing hair; him pinning you down playfully when you win a banter over something and immediately groping your ass; him imitating trumpet sounds from your jazz records with his mouth; him drinking soup straight from the bowl; his glistening lips, his clean nails, his freckled chest.

You sink your teeth into your lip, feeling a rush of tears pooling in the corners of your eyes when Paul enters the kitchen. Always on time.

“Everything alright?” The way Paul hangs himself from the doorframe and immediately lights up when he sees you. The way he walks up and hugs your head to his chest, saying your name softly and making soothing sounds straight into your ear. Ah, yes, he is exactly what you need.

“Nothing, just… you know,” you sigh, relaxing into his touch.

“It’s okay,” he hums softly. “Do you want to scram?” He pulls away from you to lay a lifeboat at your feet.

“Oh God, yes, please,” you let out a breath you’ve been holding, and it feels so good your eyes roll. Anything but another encounter with the ghost of the love of your life. Of the former love of your life.

“Let’s go then,” he says, taking your hand and leading you discreetly to the hallway.

Mel stops the two of you in your tracks. “You cannot be serious right now,” she hisses, though not unkindly. Big, comical eyes accompany the hiss, so you know she isn’t really angry. “Viktor left; you don’t have to run away, guys,” she adds, a plea in her voice evident.

“Mel, I’ll meet you for coffee? This has been... lovely, I’m just—” You are just so utterly devastated that even if Viktor disappeared from the face of this planet, you wouldn’t want to stay.

“Oh, please, do not try to bullshit me. I’m sorry about this, Paul, but I need to speak some sense into this fool.” She waves a mass of your man away from you to grab your forearms. “Nobody is angry with you. We miss you. Please, you guys have to work this out. Jayce is still heartbroken, and I can’t do anything about it,” she says quietly, her voice laced with sincerity and helplessness.

Jayce was really heartbroken about your heartbreak. On the night of the event, Jayce found Viktor struggling to breathe in his apartment, so he took him home and kept him on his couch for a week, to Mel’s initial disapproval. But when she saw Viktor on the doorstep of her flat—when he clung to her and sobbed with a dry cry, repeating, “She’s gone,” over and over again; when she saw the marks on his palms where his nails had dug into the skin—she was ready to give him her own bed.

Mel felt bad in that moment because she knew it would happen. You had told her how hopeless everything had turned. That Viktor wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t try, and how the two of you had grown estranged, guarded, distant, and how you couldn’t pinpoint the moment when things had started to fall apart. How he would flinch away from your touch and sleep miles away from you, a vast, uncaring space between the two of you in your tiny bed.

So she held him, soothing his cries. She made him a cup of tea, gave him her favourite blanket, and kissed his forehead before turning off the coffee table lamp in their lounge. Then she went to slump her body next to Jayce, whose face had never been more worried. He asked her how Viktor was, and all she could do was shake her head in resignation.

“For now, it looks bad,” she said, cradling Jayce’s head to her chest and running her fingers through his hair. “But these things pass, you know,” she mused gently, not believing herself, and she was sure Jayce didn’t believe it either.

“I don’t get it. I know there were… issues, but this—” His voice got lost somewhere between his throat and mouth. Jayce only knew this much. He only knew what Viktor had told him, and Viktor said only that there were issues.

He didn’t tell Jayce how you had asked him if he was having an affair. How he had outright laughed in your face. How he had said, “That’s rich,” laced with venom. How he had hissed that you should get some help if the first thing you assumed was that. How egocentric you were if you didn’t see the stress he was under, presuming the long hours spent fighting for his—your—future were spent in someone else’s arms. How shitty you were for even suggesting it, after all his past love confessions. How you wouldn’t give him any time. And how you had said a year is a long time—how, within a year, millions of people are born and die, and he had barely touched you twice.

He didn’t tell Jayce how annoyed he was with your half-empty cups leaving pale rings on his wooden furniture. How annoyed he was that you couldn’t even take care of plants, and he had to come back home just to water them; otherwise, he could just spend all his time at work. How your dusty books spilling out of a bookshelf he had bought for you had annoyed him. How utterly pissed off he was when you would open the windows in the summer, letting the scorching heat inside. How it had started to make his skin crawl when you would whine along to the scratched records of Robert Johnson—and how they were scratched because you had no respect for the hardworking needle of your turntable.

And he didn’t tell Jayce how annoying your hair on the bathroom floor was, or how it drove him mad that you would move objects around into illogical spaces, only for your convenience, completely disrespectful of his previous order. How he hated the dusty pink wall you had painted together. And he didn’t tell Jayce how he wanted to slap you, to touch you, to make love to you when he was sad—but he couldn’t, because everything felt overwhelming, and nothing had felt right. And the only certain thing in his life was that when he came back home to water the plants, you would be there—sad, but you would be there—still wanting him, waiting for a moment when he would be ready to come back to you.

And later, he didn’t tell Jayce how he had discovered that the hair on the bathroom floor was, in fact, his, and how stupid he had felt about collecting it and putting it in an envelope, and the envelope in the box, alongside commemorative trinkets that you had left behind.

But once Jayce rushed to his aid, he instantly knew. When he saw Viktor curled up on the couch, holding your scarf in one hand and a crumpled note in the other, gasping for air, crying, he knew.

“Oh, there was more than issues, Jayce. I just… hoped they would finally talk,” Mel sighed. She had given you all the advice she could think of, but Viktor repelled every seductive technique she had sold to you in secrecy under girl’s code.

“You didn’t see him, Mel. He couldn’t breathe, I—”

“I know. I should probably check on her, though. I only got the voicemail, and then Viktor called,” she referred to your sobby message. Mel, I can’t breathe. I left, and I feel like I’ve died. After that, your phone was off—for a week. Utterly neurotic and dramatic.

But your undoing was relatively peaceful. Numbing, almost. Quiet, save for the constant wail of Sinead O’Connor. And no, not Nothing Compares To You. Drink Before The War.

It felt like being shot through a cannon into space—weightless and hopeless. The infected wound, previously festering, was now being painfully cleaned; remnants of rotten tissue pulled away, sewn up with a crude needle, leaving an empty spot under the skin to create an ingrown scar that would always remind you of him.

Your stuff was still in boxes, hanging in limbo between going back and moving forward. The number of times you had written a text, deleted it, written it again, deleted it, written it again, deleted it to write only a “hi,” and deleted that as well. The number of times your hand had hovered over the button and never pressed it. The number of times your feet had carried you to check if the light was on, and the way your heart hurt when it wasn’t. That was your bargaining phase. It lasted three days until it bloomed into depression.

You found yourself warming up the same cup of coffee six times a day. And you drank it from your least favourite cup. You were making food that you ended up not eating after all. You were confessing your sins to objects around the apartment. A lot of tears, very few showers, hair greasy for weeks.

Until, one day, you woke up with complete clarity—that when your eyes opened, you would find yourself in your own apartment, not Viktor’s. With a certainty that, beside you, your bed would be empty. And it would no longer be a shock that struck you like a slap. And you would no longer wake up from a dream in which you talked to him and be confused that he wasn’t there by your side. The derealisation would leave you, to settle in the grimmest phase of grief—bitter, heart-wrenching acceptance.

The last time you had tried to call him was three months ago. Barely two weeks after meeting Paul. Only to sigh and discover you were still blocked. There was one more time when you tried sending an email, but you cringed at the thought. How utterly crude, sending an email to his work mailbox. How utterly impersonal, how disrespectful.

And you thought you had been cured. That the only side effect of your three-year affliction would be an everlasting discomfort. The rest of it was something you had refused to touch. And now it had touched you. It had touched you through Viktor’s sad eyes, through his disappointed voice, through his hunch, through the crinkle in his shirt indicating that he debated whether to come to Mel’s birthday until the very last minute. And you were sure he wished he hadn’t come.

“I… I tried, Mel. He doesn’t want to talk to me,” you sigh heavily, an apology written all over your face. But Mel wouldn’t have it.

“Try harder. He was a friend before this. You were. We were all friends, and now Viktor barely says a word to Jayce because he thinks we’re taking sides.” Mel’s inquisitive eyes linger on you, and seeing you flinch at her last words, she adds, “Which we are not. We get it. Just… please.”

“Mel, he blocked me everywhere. For all I know, he’s also changed the locks.” Your voice cracks, and the thought of Paul lingering nearby and possibly hearing every word makes your face hot with shame.

Your friend sighs, her eyes softening. “Alright. Okay, I shouldn’t do this,” she says, glancing around to check if anyone could hear you. She leans in closer and hushes into your ear, “Jayce is meeting him next Friday at noon at the second-hand furniture shop. Viktor asked for help with transport.”

“And I’m supposed to crash their date? You think this will fix things?” You scoff, bewildered. It sounds like a particularly bad plot.

“I’m leaving the decision to you. And if something is stupid but it works, then it wasn’t stupid in the first place,” she states, placing two kisses on your cheeks. “Please don’t be a stranger anymore.”

“That I can do. The other… well, I can try,” you whisper, shielding it from Paul’s ears. Seeing you exchange goodbyes, he walks over and asks if you are ready. When you nod, he takes your hand and leans in to kiss Mel’s cheek. “Happy birthday.” Which also meant, “I know what it’s like to be in the drama and not be part of the drama.”

“My place or yours?” he asks as you walk sluggishly in the still unbearable heat of the night. “Uh… could we do both tonight? I’m… shattered.” What you mean is, “My mind is unsound. I’m afraid I’ll be crying all night, and I don’t want you to see it. I don’t want to make you feel horrible. Please let me be alone.”

Paul pauses momentarily, gives you a heavy sigh, though his tone remains warm. “Don’t you think it’s better to just… move on?”

You take a moment to stare. “Yes, um… that would be ideal. Though not so easy to do.” Your tone is very matter-of-fact since you used up most of your self-control to not shoot back, “You don’t fucking say.”

“Well, are you intending to? At some point at least?” he muses, playing with your fingers, his eyes low, fixed on his shoes.

“Paul, I mean—” you sigh, dropping your hand from his. “If there is a chance I can fix the friendship, I will cling onto it, you know this.” Your arms cross on your chest as you take one step away from him.

“No, I get it—I am friends with my exes,” he smiles, scratching the nape of his neck. “I just don’t think that little guy will make it so easy for you, is all.”

“Please don’t call him that,” you scoff again, growing annoyed and uncomfortable in the corner he’s trying to lure you into. “He is just hurt,” you manage to say, and it is mercy.

“I know what it’s like to break up, you know,” Paul says, having no idea what it was like to break up with Viktor. “And I get that it hurts. All I’m saying is that we only hurt as long as we don’t move on,” says Paul, having no idea how much love can hurt.

You sigh, shaking your head. Your mouth opens and closes into a fake smile as you give him a cold kiss on the cheek and whisper, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”

Only when the door to your apartment slams shut do you allow yourself to breathe again. A couple of shuddering breaths, despite the heat. Cold hands and feet. Viktor’s arm beneath your palm. A millisecond in which it felt familiar to touch him. You feel the burn in your sinuses, and your mouth goes dry. Suddenly, you notice the agonising cold of your stuffy flat.

And when you finally manage to throw yourself into bed with a punched-out gasp, you keep lingering around Viktor. A harrowing thought blights your brain—one that you don’t dare speak aloud; you can only scream it into the void.

And you have no idea that Viktor is thinking about you as well, as he comes undone in someone else’s arms. And he imagines it’s your hands that bring him over the edge. And that it’s your hair he breathes in when he falls asleep. And he has the same harrowing thought that you have, but he doesn’t dare speak it aloud either.

[aureatchi]

⋆ ✦ ˚｡⋆ THIS SUMMER NIGHT WE FIND SCATTERED DREAMS, I ONCE AGAIN RUN IN THE STARLIGHT ft. dazai, chuuya, fyodor, sigma.

— what it’s like to stargaze with them. (& more)

a/n. sadly, i have yet to see the aurora borealis and in general, seldom get to see the stars. (light pollution my no.1 enemy !!) but a girl can dream :) (& distract herself from the latest bsd chapters..)

info. fem!reader. fluff. soft everyone lol. some of them are nerds & ramble abt stars. :) + a little poetic. mentions of greek mythology. kissing. buildup to actual topic. profanities in chuuya’s & he may or may not use sskk to help. bsd manga/ability spoilers in fyodor’s.

DAZAI : so in this instance, i’d be perseus, and you’d be andromeda. — he listens to everything you have to say.

Your palm in his, the brunette’s pretty fingers wrapped around yours. He softly massaged your hand as you began telling him, your starstruck lover a story under the show of constellations. It had formed into a little routine since the first time you stargazed with him as a date.

“There was this princess,” you started. “Princess Andromeda. She was a very beautiful woma-”

“You’re more beautiful, though,” Dazai interrupted. You didn’t even get in two complete sentences without his commentary. You sat a bit awestruck while he delivered a kiss to your hand.

“Continue, bella,” big brown eyes teased you.

You hastily recovered. “…She was beautiful. And her mother—Queen Cassiopeia—who was very prideful, decided to brag to Poseidon, the Greek god of the seas, that she was prettier than his daughters.”

“I mean, that’s understandable. I brag about you all the time! Why shouldn’t the pretty girl be shown off?”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, reminiscing over the times the detective had shown you off. Whenever you decided to visit the Armed Detective Agency’s office with Dazai, Kunikida would never hear the end of it. When you two went out to eat, he would flatter your name away. “This gorgeous girl would like to order…” “May I please get a table for the angelic lady and I?”

He never failed to fluster you.

“Anyway, Poseidon got angry and decided to send a sea monster to destroy their kingdom. The only way the monster could be pacified was if it could devour Andromeda.”

“A damsel in distress,” Dazai nodded and then dramatically pretended like he was the helpless princess on the ocean. He completely pulled over the blanket the two of you were sharing, using it as a cape—“Someone save me! I’m going to be eaten by a sea monster!”

“‘Samu! I’m cold!”

“Ah, sorry. Perhaps you are the princess, and you need saving from this icy night!” He rewrapped the blanket over your shoulder.

“Stop interrupting me; I’m trying to tell you something!” It was nowhere near icy, but your lover proved his dramaticism even further when a tuft of brown hair grazed your shoulder. He had rested his head on you.

“Oka-ay—sorry, continue!”

“Meanwhile, Perseus—I told you last time, the man who killed Medusa—found Andromeda while flying over with his horse, Pegasus. He immediately fell in love with her, so he slayed the sea monster and rescued her from the rock she was chained to.”

“What a hero,” Dazai said. “So they lived happily ever after?”

“Not yet. Perseus asked Andromeda’s father for permission to marry her but discovered she was already set to marry someone else. And the man she was engaged to got angry that Perseus wanted to marry her.”

“Of course,” he sighed, which puzzled you a bit, but you’d return to his comment later. “I’m rooting for Perseus, though.”

“Well, good for you because the two fought, and Perseus won by showing the other guy Medusa’s head.”

Dazai chuckled. “Nice move! He turned his enemy into his trophy. Imagine if we did that to all our enemies!”

“I think then we’d have a whole army of statues,” you laughed. “But now, he and Andromeda married, and they were able to live happily ever after.

“The gods placed them in the sky so their story would be remembered eternally.” Finished with your recount, you gazed up at the stars.

“The North Star,” you pointed, and when you saw the brunette’s bronze eyes squint, trying to see what you were talking about, you moved closer until you were halfway on his lap.

You took his palm in yours and guided it to a single star.

“That one. All the characters’ constellations I mentioned in the story revolve around that star. Perseus with his sword, Andromeda flying on Pegasus...”

“Huh? That’s the North Star? Isn’t it supposed to be the brightest in the sky or something?” It didn’t stand out from the rest as much as he thought.

You giggled. “That’s a myth, ‘samu. It’s funny you didn’t know that.”

He shrugged. “I never really had time to appreciate and learn about something so peaceful like nature until now.” He turned to you.

“Until you.”

You weren’t sure how, but it was almost as if the moonlight had carved out his pretty face. Ethereal, you had called the moon, and it reflected in your lover’s features. His eyes took in the charm of the millions of lights in the night and synthesized the feeling to bring it back to you.

“If I were one of the gods, I would’ve created a whole galaxy reflecting your soul.”

In the midst of terror and chaos, the detective’s eyes revolved around humans and their violence rather than around the sun and the planets. Eyes and soul—how else could he focus on anything else when that’s all life showed him?

“Because I see the constellations in you—Andromeda, Pegasus, Carina, Orion…” it had been a few months, and throughout you had shown and told him all the stories behind the stars in the sky.

“And now I can stop to smell the flowers, love. I can watch the Ursa Minor, even if I still find it hard to sleep.” You were the bridge to his bronze gaze and iron marrow—you showed him that you were human, but that a heart could really exist without violence or malice.

I see a reason why the nebulas are placed as they are, even if stories are just stories. I see a reason I’m here. With you.

He sealed the thought with a kiss to your lips, under the celestial moon and the heavens’ watch.

You always wondered why Dazai paid such close attention whenever you started rambling—initially, you didn’t think he’d care that much about tales of space. But you understood him a bit better now, his complex heart. You held onto him a bit tighter to him as you kissed him back.

…

“Oh yeah. What did you mean when you said ‘of course,’ when I started talking about Perseus having to fight over another guy for Andromeda?”

And Dazai was his lighthearted self once again.

“We’re definitely Andromeda and Perseus in another universe,” Dazai winked. “You’ve always deserved to be treated like a princess! I would totally save you from a sea monster. And I’d be an equestrian if I could too—even better, a flying one!”

“Sure…”

“C’mon, bella, you see me at those horse-racing events all the time! Anyway, most important of all, I had to fight for you. Such a tough world when every other man is also at your feet.” He crossed his arms. “Having Medusa’s head would’ve made things so much easier! I really would’ve had a whole army of stone statues if I did.”

“No, you really didn’t need it at all,” you replied, laughing at Dazai, who was now pouting.

“Osamu the demigod: slayer of monsters or not, I only have eyes for you.” You kissed him on the cheek.

“Unlike Andromeda, I wouldn’t let two men fight over me and marry the one who wins.

“I would just choose you right away.”

CHUUYA : babydoll, you’re worth more than all those stars combined. — he only gives you the best.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. Thank you for informing me, though,” you said before hanging up the phone.

You didn’t sue them on the line, albeit irritated. Tonight, you were supposed to have a date with Chuuya at one of the fancy restaurants he somehow discovered more of in the city when you thought you finally visited them all, but your reservations were cancelled last minute.

“Hey, princess,” the handsome ginger said when you phoned him next. You could sense a smile through his words on the other end.

“What’s up?”

“Weird-ass restaurant cancelled our plans,” you said. “Not even a refund.”

Chuuya quickly picked up on the disappointment in your voice, and he knew it wasn’t because he didn’t get his money back. Money was nothing—he was a Port Mafia executive. Stacks of bills piled into his hands every day, and he quietly flexed on it through his collection of wine in the cellar, his clothes, and gifts to you.

What he wasn’t wealthy in was time. It had been almost a month since Chuuya had any free time—the boss had been overworking him amidst never-ending Yokohama mayhem. His large penthouse actually proved to be a disadvantage when you were the only one staying in it. It was too empty; it was too quiet for a home, there was an awkward gap in the bed you slept in.

“It’s okay, baby,” came Chuuya’s voice reassuringly. “Don’t worry ‘bout some shitty-ass restaurant.

“Meet me home at the rooftop at the time we originally planned.”

“…Alright,” you replied, unsure of what he was going to do, but you were grateful anyway that you’d get to spend time with him.

“And get ready too, like we originally planned,” he added, and this time, you could imagine the smugness in his smile. “See ya soon.”

…

The bell chimed as the elevator approached the top of Chuuya’s apartment, signaling that you reached the rooftop.

“Chuu?” you called out as the doors opened. He was nowhere to be found—instead a pathway of candles and a trail of rose petals leading to the other side.

Your heels clicked on the ground as you slowly followed the course. It was dark towards the back of the rooftop, but the front overlooked the entire city of Yokohama.

Another quiet flex.

“Hey, beautiful.” You noticed him before the lively city behind him, before the romantic scene he had set up—the path of petals expanded into scattering around the table Chuuya was sitting at. He was dressed up too—looking as attractive as ever.

“The Nakahara Restaurant,” you hummed, taking a seat in front of him. “Not bad.”

Chuuya smirked. “Not bad? We get Michelin stars, baby. Trust me.”

You giggled. “I don’t know about that, Chuu. You’ll have to prove it to me.” It was like you had turned the tables on him. Usually, he only deemed a restaurant good if you were pleased with the food.

“Alright.” Now, you were going to rate his. You could tell he was going to enjoy this.

“You hungry?”

You nodded.

With a snap of Chuuya’s fingers, you immediately heard footsteps scurrying toward the two of you.

Two young men, one with raven hair until silver tips and the other with an entirely silver head—you realized they were waiters from who knows where—approached you with a dish.

“Appetizers by Executive Nakahara,” the first one said.

“Wait—did you cook everything too?”

“Duuh, you take this for a fraud or something?” Chuuya failed to hide the pride on his face.

…

The appetizer, entrée, and dessert proved delicious, and you were forced to eat your previous words.

He was talented in just about everything.

Chuuya kicked the two ‘waiters’ out of his house after dessert was served, leaving the two of you finally alone. The candlelight amid the dark sky enveloped your figures in an intimate glow.

“I would’ve been fine with even just takeout,” you laughed after taking a sip out of your wine glass.

He smiled. “As if. It’s a special night, doll, we finally have time to see each other again.”

“Exactly! Seeing you is what matters most,” you said.

“Anyway, thank you, Chuu. I appreciate this so much. And I guess you’re right—you earn a Michelin Star from me.”

Chuuya looked towards the city below you and back. “Didn’t doubt it one bit. But that’s not the only stars we’re getting tonight.”

You looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get shocked.”

Your lover snapped again—you picked up a slight difference in it this time compared to the previous times he signaled—and suddenly, Yokohama went dark.

You didn’t know how, but the city’s electricity had completely cut off at the mafia executive’s command.

“Chuu—?”

“You’re not looking the right way.”

You had been staring at the pitch-black buildings below in fazed awe, but it seemed to have switched places with the skies as now, small scattered lights began to fade in when you looked up, your eyes adjusting to the dark.

“Chuu!” You stood up in excitement. “We can see stars! In Yokohama!”

The ginger chuckled before pulling out a folded comforter from under the table. “Here, it’s better this way. Now this is what the wine was really for.”

…

Chuuya had fixed the comforter on the rooftop and pulled out a few pillows so that you were able to lie down and watch above more comfortably.

“I did this a lot when I stayed in Paris for a bit,” he said, explaining how he got the idea. “But the lights stayed on 24/7 there, too, so I had to use a telescope.”

You looked at him thoughtfully. “We could’ve done that too. You really startled everyone just for this.”

As if on cue, you suddenly heard someone shout in the distance, going “Hey! Who the hell turned off all the lights?!” You and Chuuya both snorted.

“Just for you,” he corrected. “I think this is better anyway. They can handle one night without power. And I made sure the hospitals and other important establishments stayed untouched.”

It was crazy how much power the man had. “Not entirely evil then,” you said.

“Yeah, plus I was also really aiming at that restaurant that tried ruining our plans,” Chuuya smirked.

You looked back at the stars and then Chuuya again, who hadn’t taken his cerulean eyes off your face.

You lay together to gaze at the stars. But instead of those, he was looking at you.

You couldn’t stop the flurry of coyness you got. He looked absolutely stunning under the heavens—it was almost unfair. It would be if you weren’t the one who got to see him in such a state. He looked mesmerized—mesmerized with you?

“Hey, you’re going to miss it if you keep staring at me,” you said.

“I’m seeing you and those galaxies for the first time in a while,” Chuuya replied. “I think I’d rather watch you.”

He kissed you while you were still smiling, causing him to grin, too. You felt light and safe around him and the blankets, and he felt the same. All aggression and stress ceased from his head, healed by you and the moonlight.

“Y’can name stars after people too, right?” he asked when you pulled back. “I swear, I’m going to make the next scientist who discovers one name it after you. It’d be way better than those random shitty names they give nowadays.”

FYODOR : i have the cosmos mapped out, likewise your soul. — you alone, he adores.

There was not a word said as you got into the passenger seat of the car that Fyodor was driving. He had left a note earlier that day—Zolotse, you’re coming with me on a mission tonight. Prepare what you need and bring the sleeping bags, and you had done so with little hesitation.

The sun had already gone down, but you were used to this. Initially, you had thought his job the opposite of himself—the demon was called to bizarre places sporadically and had to adapt to their settings in a short amount of time. You only realized after being with him for a while that he planned these things beforehand, and he planned them long ago.

The job was made for him—his little game of fate and chess.

He drove for around four hours straight. In that time, you had put on your favorite music, and talked with him about the usual—your latest philosophical obsession, anything interesting about his latest endeavors—you hadn’t realized you had gotten so far away from civilization.

Fyodor must’ve become nocturnal from all the time he’d spent in the dark, because it was pitch-black in all directions when he finally parked the car and you stepped out.

And only then you finally asked him. “Fedya, where are we?”

He didn’t respond, instead going to the back of the car and opening the trunk, handing you your sleeping bag and a flashlight.

You flipped the switch on, trying to scan the surroundings for any hint of where this journey took you.

“Darling, you’re quite naïve,” Fyodor said as you looked down at rocks and twigs below your shoes. “I’m concerned about how easily you agreed to let someone drive you hours out into the wilderness.”

“I’d do it only for you,” you replied, giggling. “I trust you.” Alas, he had answered your question, though you still didn’t know what he was here for.

“Follow me. We have a bit of hiking to do.”

…

A secret hideout? Meeting spot? Something valuable hidden here? Your mind came up with countless reasons why your lover’s current mission took place on a mountain and how he could even navigate without a map. The entire thing was strange—you hadn’t even seen him take any valuables of some kind besides a tent and his own sleeping bag.

The walk-up was a bit tedious. Thankfully, you wore the right shoes and had eaten well beforehand, but you still didn’t expect you would be partaking in exercise so late at night. It was also hard to see, the flashlights scarcely making a difference.

You came across a very steep hill; it was almost like you had to climb rather than hike up.

“Apologies for the inconvenience,” you heard Fyodor from above as he went first to ensure each step was safe. “It’ll be worth it later.”

“Ah-” You hardly had time to ponder his statement when you misstepped on a loose twig, causing you to slip. However, a hand reached to tightly grab you before you slid down.

“Careful, milaya.”

Fyodor kept your hand clasped in his throughout the rest of the trek. You finally reached a large clearing by the edge of a cliff—devoid of trees and hard bedrock.

“We’re here.”

He began setting up the tent while you looked around. There was nothing at all out of the ordinary—nothing suspicious for the demon to use. Were you really here just to camp?

“The goal: your eyes to adjust.”

Fyodor had finished and had been looking at you for some time—smiling, at the way your brows furrowed and how you were still lost with this entire night.

“What-?” you asked as he walked over to take your sleeping bag. You followed him as he set it right next to his.

“Sit next to me, lyubov,” he said, guiding you down. “I’ll tell you the secret to getting directions up here.”

He tilted his head up, and for the first time, you noticed an entire galaxy before you.

…

Drenched under the vastness of the dark skies and lights of the stars, Fyodor began to speak.

“We’ve used star navigation for thousands of years,” he said. “Fifty-eight stars and thirty-eight constellations that we’re able to use, but you only need to locate the Ursa Major to find north and Orion to find west.”

You nodded. Perhaps this is what he had come here to do—find directions to something that no GPS or technology recorded. He had probably taken you along just because he thought you’d admire the view and how you did. Fyodor was right—the walk-up was worth this view.

It was like you were in a trance. You had seen stars, but nothing like this before. The entire Milky Way galaxy was visible to your eyes, countless little suns that seemed barely out of your grasp, even though they were millions of miles away.

“Fedya, how many of them do you recognize by name?”

“By now, I have them all memorized because I’ve found it helpful. If an apocalypse surged the earth, they would still be there. If the world ended, they would still be there. The cosmos remain untouched by us—they watch humanity dance from afar. The nomads knew this the best—when we traveled, we relied on nothing but nature.”

You wondered how many body transfers it took for him to retain them all. There were so many little lights in the sky, it seemed near impossible to be able to gather even half in a mind’s jar. You guessed tens of years at the least, and even with that time, you knew only he could do it.

“You commend them too, don’t you?” you spoke, taking a risk in guessing his views.

“Elaborate for me.” You made eye contact with him, and amethyst eyes fawned over by the night almost enticed you even more than the entire view of the universe afore you.

“You appreciate them, and everything else that lays on the earth after the sun sets because they hold no flaw. They aren’t blemished by the foolishness of people.

“You can be at peace with them because they are perfect, unlike us.”

“You’re right. The perfect mankind would be as pure as the sun and the stars—untainted by something as unnatural as abilities. That’s how I see it, but why group yourself in such faults?”

“Hm?” was the only sound you were able to get out, when he grazed his fingers along your face, cupping your cheek.

“Printsessa, you are perfect.” He spoke smoothly, rich accent making his words sound like a lullaby.

“Your soul dances with the kosmos. Something so divine—you are the harmony of something as beautiful as what we see tonight.

“You are the only one who matches the heavens; my love, you surpass the heavens.”

He captured your lips in a kiss, and you only registered then that it was you two alone. It felt like you two were the only ones in the world with the witnesses to your love being the ends of the horizons, and that the universe who put on a show in the sky instead turned to watch you.

…

“Fedya…what was the mission?” you asked softly as you cuddled with him, your hands reaching for his silky hair as you lay on his chest.

You felt his smile. “You’re still so naïve, darling; you didn’t have to think so much. The mission was to bring you here. It’s been a while since we’ve gone out, has it not?”

SIGMA : i’ve never seen it before! (the aurora borealis) — he learns what love is through you.

“Sigma, baby, let’s go!”

The man had a slightly puzzled face as he let you eagerly lead him outside, past your home’s backyard—into the hills beyond. Other than the Sky Casino, it was your favorite spot, especially when you wanted some peace away from the rest of humanity and its industry.

Your lover was utterly confused why you made sure he did not fall asleep this evening. He always went to bed far earlier than you and rose while you were still lost in dream—perhaps snoring—but tonight you insisted.

And Sigma followed, even though he was at the verge of passing out from exhaustion—managing a casino was hard. He let you take his hand and direct him, even without a clue of where you were going.

Maybe that was what love was—blindly following another.

“I have a surprise.” You slightly turned your head back to look at him, and he swore he would remember this scene forever. His hand still clasped around yours, the warm glow of the back porch’s bistro lights cast upon your face, and your sweet smile—though it was dark outside, he felt that your smile lit up his world more than all the stars combined in the night sky.

The cosmos were a new thing for him. You had introduced watching the stars to him, in this special place beyond your backyard.

Immediately after his first time learning what the Big Dipper was, and that the little lights in the sky were actually much farther than they seemed, he called for a viewing deck to be created for the Sky Casino.

That way, even on nights away from you and home, he could still gaze at the same stars, and for you as well if you wanted to visit.

“Are we stargazing?” Sigma asked as you ran up one of the hills with him. He held a chuckle to himself. You didn’t bother to change out of your pajamas. You were so cute.

“It’s a little different this time,” you giggled, setting down a blanket for the two of you to sit. Before, you would bring foldable chairs, but you realized that they made it a bit difficult for you to cling onto Sigma when you wanted to cuddle with him.

“We should start to see it in just a few minutes,” you said, looking up.

“Okay…”

The stars were there as usual. Sigma had never thought that something as pretty as your heart could exist in something physical, but that was how he saw those small lights in the sky.

If only you knew that whenever you decided to talk about how beautiful the skies were at night, he wanted to say they were literally just a reflection of you.

As soon as the clock on your watch hit the next hour, you immediately grabbed Sigma’s arm in enthusiasm.

Now he was really starting to wonder what got you so jumpy.

“Hey! Do you see it?!”

Sigma caught himself so distracted by you that he was watching your face instead of where your eyes were looking at.

He blushed when you looked at him, but thankfully you remained oblivious to his embarrassment.

“The green light! Do you see it?”

Sigma looked up, and he saw what looked like sliver of green contrast the dusky sky.

“That’s natural,” you began to explain. “It works through the earth’s magnetic field colliding with the atmosphere.

“Watch how it dances.”

A show started to unfold before the two of you. Sigma watched as the small touch of light became even brighter, transforming into a ribbon. He watched as the ribbon began to travel across the sky, overtaking the darkness. He watched in awe as it was joined by another green stream, traversing the horizons together.

“Wow,” you both said in awe.

“It’s called the aurora borealis,” you spoke.

“You can see it regularly if you travel way up north, but it’s a rare event here.

“I wanted to experience it with you.”

Sigma turned to look back at you, butterflies in his tummy and a surge of warmth overflowing his heart when he met your face—cheeks glowing from the reflection of the chasma and your eyes full of adoration.

“With me?” Sigma asked.

“Of course,” you replied, pulling him up. “Look Sigma—a new color joined.”

He glanced up, seeing that a new hue had appeared, aligning itself with the green. A pinkish light had mixed itself in, creating a swirl of paints on the sky’s pallete.

It really seemed like the lights were dancing. And Sigma thought to himself—like me and her.

You seemed to have the same idea because you had taken his hands in yours and started to whirl him around. It was messy—a bit chaotic, but he let himself be dragged along for a bit until he got dizzy, because maybe love was blindly following someone.

Eventually, Sigma started laughing, and couldn’t be thrown around any longer. “Calm down, love!” He took control of the dance, guiding your steps so that it turned into a more organized waltz.

He became captivated when he twirled you around—even though you were in your pajamas, you couldn’t look any less beautiful. He had danced with you in ballrooms, in gardens, but this unrehearsed night was the most enchanting of all.

…

You two danced until your feet started to hurt and Sigma’s exhaustion finally got the best of him. Now, you lay together, watching the rest of the night’s act play out.

“Whenever I look at the nebulas, I only think of you now, you know,” you confessed. “Because even if you’re up there, and I’m down on earth, we’re still looking at the same stars together.”

“I think the same,” Sigma replied. “It’s like we’re always connected in some way.”

You nodded with a smile, but you realized Sigma wasn’t finished yet.

“Actually, it’s more than that. I can only think of you when I see those things because all beauty leads back to you. I see your kindness in the sun and your energy in these colorful lights. I see your perseverance in the moon and most importantly, how many hearts you’ve made shine in the stars.

“And whatever ends up the brightest at night is mine, because you’ve warmed my heart the most.”

Your own heart was beating fast, by how your lover had spoken so tenderly to you and by the way he had rolled over towards you so that he was so close now—his lips just shy of yours.

“Sigma,” you whispered, and then you pulled him into a kiss.

It was then he finally understood: love wasn’t about blindly following another, he followed you because you were a blessing of trust, carrying the stars of devotion on your hands.

i heard if you rb, u’ll be able to watch the stars w/ ur fav tn !! reblogs are cherished; they are what support me the most. <3

this fic wouldn’t have ever seen the light, weren’t for @cheriiyaya (hi); thank u bby for encouraging me start to finish. <3 a lil prompt inspo for dazai & fyodor from her. ^_^

p.s. did i imply a past!love triangle in dazai’s scenario? yes. was i referring to the fyozai ‘til death we do art love triangle? maybe..! actually, for some rzn, i included many things here that foreshadow other fics coming soon. stay tuned :)

© AUREATCHI 2024. no reposts or translations. do not steal. support banner by cafekitsune.

[surielstea]

A Sudden Elopement

Based on this request.

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: After Reader and Azriel suddenly get married without telling any of the others, the silently watch while every one figures it out for themselves.

Warnings: just fluff.

A. Note: just a short fic because I feel bad for being inactive as of late :c but the good news is, is that I’ll be very active for Eris week!! So keep an eye out for more Vanserra content 😻🙏

1.7k words

My eyes drooped with exhaustion as I attempted to keep my focus on the book I was reading. I was seated between my mate's legs in his lap, leaning back against his chest while he combed his scarred fingers through my hair. I sighed and closed my book, deciding I didn't have enough energy to read another chapter. I tossed it to the side of the bed and shifted lazily, flipping around to meet his hazel eyes gazing down at me.

"How was your book?" He hummed and I mumbled something he couldn't decipher while pulling myself up and stuffing my nose into the crook of his neck.

"That good, huh?" He teased, his arms moving to wrap around my waist.

I nod, tightening my grasp on him, needing him closer, lazily clinging to him like moss to a damp wall, infectious and dependent. But he didn't seem to care, only returned my embrace with the same tenderness "We should get married," He said softly and my eyes widened, now fully awake.

"What?"

"We should get married," He repeated with a casual tone.

"As in, right now?" I tilt my head, raising a brow at him.

"Well," He gave me an incredulous look. "Not right now, eventually, I want to marry you," He reiterated. A soft smile pulls at my lips.

"We've only been dating for a few months," I argue and even in the dim lighting I can see him blush.

"Yes, and we've been best friends for a decade," He argues and my smile widens, I straddle over his hips, sitting up and debating it.

"Don't get me wrong, I'd marry you now if I could, but do you really want to go through the hassle of planning one?" I speak logically but it's as if he only heard the first half of my sentence.

"Let's get married, right now," He grinned wildly and I flushed pink. "We don't have to do the hassle, you hate parties anyway. It can be just us, somewhere far or close I don't care. I just want to marry you," He expressed, intertwining our hands as I debated the irrational and sudden decision.

"Though I love how eager you are, I don't have a dress— much less, we don't have rings," I explain. "And as rich as you are, your funds are not bottomless," I say but he remains looking at me with the same loving look.

"Tell me exactly how you want to do it, and that's how it'll be done," He prompts and lets go of my hands, favoring placing them on my waist as I leaned down on my elbow, propped up against his chest.

"Well, it being just us doesn't sound too bad," I say, tracing shapes on his bicep with my free hand. "And I'd want to have a pretty gown, and I'd want to have our ceremony somewhere beautiful." I flick my eyes up to meet his unfaltering gaze. "And rings, I want everyone to know we belong to each other," I add quickly and his smile grows.

"Anything else?" He tilts his head but I shake mine, cupping his face and leaning down, kissing his lips softly. "I think, I just want to be your wife," I finalized and that seemed to have pleased him because the next thing I know he's flipping me over and kissing down my neck. And despite my exhaustion, I knew sleep wouldn't come until dawn.

—————

"So, how was your trip?" Feyre said excitedly, settling into the barstool beside me.

Azriel and I had gotten back after a month's vacation only a day ago, but everyone was eager to catch up. So we landed ourselves at Rita's, a local bar beloved by the citizens of Velaris. "As romantic as it sounds," I say with a soft blush, propping my head into my hands.

"Gods, I wish Rhys would take me on a surprise trip like that," She sighed dramatically and my smile grew. We hadn't told anyone why we actually went, that our trip was more of a honeymoon, less of a vacation.

"I know," I turned back in my stool to look at my husband who was surrounded by his two brothers. "It's all still such a daze," I smile dreamily, looking back to my friend who was frozen in her seat, staring directly at the cut sapphire on my fourth finger.

"Are you engaged?!" She practically shouted and I giggled, shaking my head.

"Az and I decided to get married while we were gone," I shrug as if it was a casual thing. I didn't want it to be a big deal, because it wasn't really, we were the last of the group to tie the knot.

She just stares at me, slowly, she shifts her head back to the three males at the other end of the room, right at that chain around Azriel's neck, a silver ring hanging from it. He couldn’t wear rings because of his scars, but he still wanted to have that physical element of our marriage, as if to display how taken he was.

She nearly fell out of her chair at the realization, then tackled me into a hug, holding me tight as I giggled at her antics. "My gods, congratulations, I would have been sending gifts all week!" Feyre claimed and I shook my head at her nonsense while she pulled away.

"It's not a big deal Fey, if they haven't figured it out yet— you're the only one who knows," I smile broadly, looking back at Azriel, who happened to already be staring at me.

I brought my hand up, gesturing to the ring on my finger, then to his brothers. Silently asking if they notched yet. Azriel shook his head with a mischievous smile and I turned back to Feyre with a smirk. "I can't believe you guys didn't tell us," She huffed as if she'd failed me as a friend.

"As much as I would've loved for you to be there, it was hilarious watching how clueless you all were," I claim and she gives me a sidelong glare.

"Oh cmon," I lean over in my stool and bump her shoulder with mine. "Now you can be in on it. Who do you think is going to be last to figure it out?" I ask, gesturing to the group behind us who were all mingling with Azriel.

Feyre turned to look, the three-winged Illyrians all chatting with Morrigan, Nesta, Lucien, and Elain all accompanying them. "Cassian," She bets and I smirk, narrowing my eyes on the group.

"I think Rhys," I say, crossing my arms over my chest. Feyre cracks a smile. "Whoever's right pays the tab," She says, slipping out of her barstool and I nod, agreeing to the challenge even though I knew damn well Rhys would be covering the tab regardless.

We saunter over to the group, wicked smiles on our faces. Feyre goes to Rhys, intertwining their hands while I come to stand between Cassian and Azriel, my husband putting his arm around my shoulders. "What's that look for?" Azriel asked me, noticing the mischievous glint in my eyes.

"Feyre and I have a bet going, and that's all you need to know," I shrug and he arches a dark brow but doesn't say anything more while silky shadows swirl up my calves as if they were trying to beckon more information out of me but I didn't budge, just leaned into his side and watched Feyre as she tried her hardest to get her mate to realize the wings on me and Azriel's fingers, eager to win our bet.

It took much longer than I thought it would for them to realize. Lucien and Elain had spotted it that night, pulling me to the side to ask about it. Morrigan and Nesta had done the same one night later, interrogating me and Azriel as if we'd committed a crime, they seemed to think not telling them was against some friendship code.

But Rhys and Cassian hadn't noticed that night, or the next, or the next. It wasn't until I was training with Cassian and punched him square in the jaw that he caught sight of the ring on my finger. He brought his fingers to his cheek, wincing as he saw blood when pulling his hand away.

I cringed. "Sorry, I forgot to take my ring off," I murmured shamefully, taking the sapphire off my fourth finger. He paused, staring at me curiously, with no malice in his eyes despite the fact that I just drew blood.

"Where did you get that?" He tilted his head. I froze. Would it be considered cheating me and Feyre’s bet if I told him Az gave it to me?

"I'll give you one guess," I sent him a wink and his brows shot up.

"No way," He whispered. "He proposed?" His arms went out wide and shock. I fought back a laugh. "Well, yes, but we got married already, when we took that month off to go to the Summer Court? That was our honeymoon," I shrug and his eyes nearly bulge from their sockets.

"He didn't tell me!?" Cassian exclaimed as if he was the one to be married.

"We didn't tell anyone, everyone else already figured it out." I chuckled and his eye twitched. "Rhys doesn't know, me and Fey had a bet going to see how long it'd take," I shrug. "Turns out longer than expected." I hummed and he scowled.

"Well, you think you know someone," He huffs pathetically and I laugh.

"It's not like that Cass," I roll my eyes while walking over to my water and placing my wedding ring down beside it. If he was actually upset I don't know what I'd do, and I found myself thanking the gods when he cracked a smile, unable to keep the facade up for too long.

"Me and Az are going to have a long talk about this," He warned and I chuckled, getting back into my fighting stance on the mats.

"All I ask is that you return my husband in one piece," I say, smiling at the sound of calling Azriel my husband.

"Fine, but only if I get to be the one to tell Rhys he lost the bet." He hummed, getting into his own stance.

I grinned wildly, Feyre was going to rage. "Deal."

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[mayrose713]

Beautifully Cruel World-Chapter 18

Series Masterlist | Previous | Next

ABO Non-Idol Stray Kids Universe Poly OT8 x Reader 18+ MDNI

Warnings in the Series Masterlist as well as any other information needed

I have a question for you guys. How do you guys read Innie? Because I saw someone on TikTok read it as I.N-ie where I've always read it as in-ie, like Jeonginnie. I'm just curious as to how people read it.

Chapter 18

“Are you sure you guys don’t need any help?” Y/n asks as she watches Minho and Felix move around the kitchen making dinner. 

“We’ve got it, baby.” Felix smiles at her before booping her nose causing her to scrunch it up. “Go relax a little.” 

The omega sighs before turning to see where everyone else is. She knows Jisung and Jeongin are out walking in the neighborhood. She then spots Changbin standing outside the back door and walks out to join him. 

“Hey pretty girl.” He smiles looking up from his phone.

“Is that your omega?” A female voice asks from his call.

“Oh, sorry Binnie.” Y/n frowns a little for interrupting his phone call. “I didn’t realize you were talking to someone.” 

“It’s okay baby, it’s just my sister.” He holds his hand out for her to join him. “She’s been wanting to meet you anyways.” 

She takes his hand and he brings her close to his side, wrapping an arm around her waist as she looks at the phone seeing his sister on a video call.

“Hi Y/n, it’s so good to finally meet you.” The older girl beams on the phone. “I’m Jaehee.”

“Hi.” Y/n waves shyly. “I didn’t know Changbin had an older sister.”

“That's just like him, not to mention me.” Jaehee rolls her eyes. “He’s told us a lot about you though. You’re even cuter than he described. Not sure how you ended up with someone like my brother though.” 

“Yah!!” Changbin yells, causing the girl to lean away from him a little at his loud voice. 

“Don’t make the poor girl deaf, Changbinnie.” Jaehee scolds. “God you’re so loud.”

“If I had known you were just going to make fun of me the whole time I wouldn’t have answered your call.” He grumbles causing his sister to laugh.

“I’ll be nice.” Jaehee smiles then looks at the omega through the camera. “So Y/n, how are you liking Jeju Island? Changbin said it’s your first time being there. Do you like our beach house?”

“It’s very beautiful here. And the house is amazing.” Y/n smiles. “I can understand why Jisung and Felix wanted to come here so badly.”

“What have you guys been up to so far?”

“All together we’ve only done a beach day. Though I think we’re all going to the drive-in theatre tonight since Felix and Minho are making an early dinner.” She looks at her mate for confirmation who nods yes. “And they’ve each paired up and have been taking me on dates as proper courting.”

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” The older female gushes. “What did my brother do for his date?”

“We haven't gone yet. He and Ji are my last date tomorrow.”

“Changbin, you better treat this girl right on your guys date tomorrow.” She scolds. “I expect princess treatment, you hear me?”

“Trust me, all she knows at this point is princess treatment.” The alpha defends making the girl next to him blush as he pulls her closer to him and nuzzles her cheek.

“Y/n, if he ever does anything to upset you, call me okay?”

“Will do, Jaehee.”

“So what did the others do for your dates?” Jaehee places her chin in her hand. 

“Chan and Seungmin took me to some shops to get a swimsuit and we got desserts.” Y/n smiles as she thinks about her dates. “Felix and Jeongin took me to a gaming cafe and Minho and Hyunjin took me to the farmers market and craft fair.”

“Ooh Changbinnie, you’ve got some competition.” 

“It isn’t about which pair takes her on a better date Jaehee.” Changbin looks annoyed with his sister now. “This trip is about all of us bonding and getting to know our girl better.”

“Alright, alright.” She puts her hands up in surrender. “I’ll stop being a pest and let you guys go. Have fun on the rest of your vacation. And Y/n, we’ll have to figure out sometime when you and Changbin can come over to our parents so we can meet in person.”

“Sounds good.” The omega smiles. “I know we’ll have to figure that out for everyone's families.”

“Tell everyone else I said hi. And we’ll talk again soon.”

“Bye.” Y/n and Changbin say at the same time before hanging up the video call. 

“Sorry about her, pretty girl.” 

“Don’t worry about it, I like her.” Y/n smiles up at him. “I can’t wait to meet her and your parents in person.”

“We’ll definitely have to figure out with everyone when we can finally introduce you to all of our families.” 

“Do you think all of your guy’s family will like me?” The omega scent starts to sour as she starts to get into her head.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” He places a finger under her chin to lift her head up so they are making eye contact. “Our families will love you. They’ll have no reasons not to.”

“You sure?” 

“I’m positive.”

“Dinners ready.” Jeongin pokes his head out from the sliding glass door but then frowns when he sees the alpha and omega. “Jagiya, you okay?”

“She’s good, pup.” Changbin grabs her hand and leads her into the house and ruffles his hair as they walk past. “Let's eat so we can get ready to head out.”

Minho and Felix place the last of the food on the table as they all start taking seats. Jeongin quickly takes one of the seats next to Y/n. He’s been worried about her since she had asked him to help her slip into subspace, hovering around her a little more. 

“So there are two movies playing tonight.” Chan says as everyone starts eating. “One screen will be playing Jurassic World. And the other screen will be playing Five Feet Apart.”

“We have to see Five Feet Apart.” Felix sits up straight, eyes wide with excitement. 

“Isn’t it a sad sappy movie?” Seungmin scrunches his nose. “At least Jurassic World has action.”

“Like always, we’ll put it to a vote.” Changbin eyes the two in warning not to start arguing. “If you want to see Jurassic World, raise your hand.” Changbin raises his hand along with Seungmin, Jeongin and Chan. “And Five Feet Apart.” Felix, Jisung, Hyunjin and Minho raise theirs.

“Y/n, you didn’t vote.” Chan looks at her with a frown. 

“Why do I have to be the one to decide?” She looks at all of them, scared that depending on which one she picks, the four who picked the other movie will be upset and grouchy the whole time. 

“You get to have a choice in this too, babygirl.”

“And now that we have nine people we actually have a better voting system unlike before.” Jeongin places his hand on her thigh. “We would have so many ties with there being an even number of us that we would have to flip a coin to decide most of the time.”

“What if we see both?” She mumbles not looking at any of them. “We’re already planning to take two of the three cars right? So everyone that wants to see Jurassic world goes in one and everyone who wants to see Five Feet Apart goes in the other and everyone is happy.”

“No we’re not.” Minho shakes his head. “We’re supposed to be doing this as a pack, so we all see one movie, not split up to see different ones, it’s not how it works.”

“But I don’t want anyone who was wanting to see the other movie than the one I pick be upset and unhappy the whole time.”

“That won’t happen, pup, I promise.” Seungmin gives her a reassuring smile. “As long as we’re all together we’ll enjoy it.”

“Yeah, the plan is to put all the pillows and blankets in the bed of the trunk and we all get in it to watch the movie and cuddle.” Jisung smiles brightly, already excited for what's to come. 

“So which do you pick, princess?” Hyunjin folds his hands together and rests his chin on them while waiting for her answer.

“Ummm…” She looks at all of them for a moment before taking a deep breath reminding herself that she actually has a say in things now and that no one will be upset with her for what she chooses. “I wanna see Five Feet Apart if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay.” Changbins eyes soften at her. “Five votes for it makes it the winner.”

“Yes.” Felix and Jisung high five each other. 

“Kitten, why don’t you go change into something comfier and grab whatever extra pillows and blankets are in the closest that we can set up in the bed of the truck.” Minho stands up to start cleaning. “We’ll get everything cleaned up so we can head on out as quickly as possible.”

“Okay.” The omega stands and quickly goes to her room to change as she hears the sounds of plates and dishes being handled. 

“Why’d you send her off like that?” Jisung frowns as Minho takes his and Felix’s plates. “I thought what she was wearing was just fine.”

“Because I wanted your guys' opinions on something I had bought at the craft fair.” Minho places the plates in the sink before pulling the collar with the amethyst compass rose pendant out of his pocket showing it to all of them.

“Is that?” Chan moves closer to look at it while everyone sits there gapping at it. 

“The booth was run by a nice alpha and omega couple, everything is handmade.” Minho gives Chan the collar so he can look at it and they can all pass it around. “I just felt that the compass rose was a good symbol for us and the omega said that amethysts is a symbol of faithful loves and a popular choice for those seeking a soulmate. Or something like that.” 

“I think you put more thought into this than you did for my collar.” Felix says as he looks at the pendant. 

“Lixie, you were determined to pick out your own collar, you didn’t give us a choice.” Chan nudges the omega.

“Because I’m picky with what I wear.” Felix pouts, handing the collar to Jisung before placing his hand on his own collar around his neck. “But I do love mine and I think Y/n will love this one.”

“So is this the one we’re gonna collar her with?” Hyunjin admires the pendant. 

“Does everyone agree?” Chan asks and they all nod in excitement.

“I think it’s perfect.” Changbin hands the collar back to Minho.

“Chan, as pack alpha it’s only right that you give it to her.” He hands it back to the oldest male.

“But you were the one who found it.”

“And Felix found his own collar but you were still the one to collar him.” Jeongin speaks up.

“We all agree as pack alpha you should do it, Channie.” Seungmin forces him to fold his fingers around the collar before moving his hand to his pocket. 

“I’ll do it tonight while we’re all in the bed of the truck. That way everyone is there.” Chan nods as he places it safely in his pocket. 

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Felix, Y/n and Jisung move around the bed of the truck situating the pillows and blankets almost making a form of nest for everyone. Chan and Jeongin watch over the three of them as Minho, Changbin, Seungmin and Hyunjin went to the snack bar to get drinks and snacks. The second car is parked right next to the truck, the trunk open, back seats down and also set up with some blankets and pillows in case anyone gets too cold and wants to move inside the vehicle. 

“You guys are just so cute.” Jeongin gawks at them which results in him getting hit in the head with a pillow by Jisung gaining a laugh from the omegas.

Jeongin grunts and his eyes show that he’s about to put the beta in his place but Chan stops the young alpha. “Not in public, Innie.”

“But hyung, he started it.” 

“Don’t give me that tone, pup.” Chan asserts his dominance causing Jeongin to pout a little, making Jisung laugh. “Ji, you have no room to laugh, you did start it, don’t push it.”

“Alright, we’re done.” Felix announces hoping to defuse the situation between the three of them.

“And just in time.” Changbin calls out as he rounds the truck holding popcorn and a drink carrier, Minho, Hyunjin and Seungmin following behind with more drink carriers and popcorn or candy. “We’ve got the food.”

Jeongin gets in the truck and takes the food from them to place around. Felix and Jisung claim a corner of the truck and start cuddling as Minho gets into the bed of the truck and grabs their snacks and drinks, handing it to them. Changbin and Chan help Seungmin and Hyunjin get up into the truck before climbing up themselves.

Chan moves over near the two already cuddling and pulls Y/n along so she can lay against him. Hyunjin follows wanting cuddles from his alpha too. Changbin sits down before manhandling Seungmin into his lap and the beta allows it. And Minho moves over to pull Jeongin to him from where he’s kneeled, still watching the female omega like he’s been doing since their date. 

“She’s okay, pup, relax.” Minho whispers into the youngest alphas hair as he’s pulled to his chest. “I’m proud of you for being observant of her but you’re hovering too much. Has she seemed to be actining any differently or on edge, more than normal?”

“No.” Jeongin shakes his head.

“Exactly. I know we were all worried because of her asking you to scent her into subspace but I genuinely think she was just wanting to experience it after she and Felix talked about it.” Minho reassures him. “You should be proud that she trusts you to do that for her. Be happy, okay.”

“Hey, babygirl, we’ve got something for you.” Chan says pushing on Y/n and Hyunjin a little so he can sit up.

The omega looks at him confused before looking at everyone else who are watching with excitement before turning back to Chan as he pulls something out of his pocket. Her eyes widen as she gasps when she sees the pendant necklace.

“Is that?” She covers her mouth in disbelief.

“We want to collar you if you’ll let us.” Chan smiles at her, his eyes filled with nothing but love. “Even though we all haven’t claimed you yet, we wanted something to show to you that we’ll be yours forever.”

“We know that not all omegas enjoy being collared, and it’s okay if you don’t want to be.” Hyunjin speaks up when she still hasn’t said anything. 

“But we still wanted to give you one just like we did with Felix when he came out to us.” Changbin explains and Y/n looks over at the other omega and he shows off his collar he’s wearing. 

She takes it from Chan to get a closer look. “It’s beautiful.”

“Minho hyung picked it out.” Jisung nudges her leg with his foot and the girl looks over at the second oldest alpha whose ears are burning red. 

“I felt that the compass rose was a good representation of how we came to be.” The alpha watches her lovingly. “We were lost without you, you were lost on your own, and we managed to find each other, as if you were meant to run out of gas at that park because your true north was there or something.”

“Hyung, you’re getting sappy on us.” Seungmins groans, gaining a pinch to the side from Changbin who's still holding the beta in his lap. 

Y/n starts to tear up and she quickly wipes her cheeks. “I love you guys.” She finally admits to all of them, her lip still trembling a little with overwhelming emotions, and her tears just keep coming.

She gets a chorus of “we love you too” as they all sit up to give her a group hug and they tell her not to cry. 

“It’s happy tears.” She tries to laugh a little as they all hold her. When they all eventually pull away, she turns to Chan and gives him the collar. “Can you help me put it on?”

“Of course baby girl.” He kneels behind her and puts it around her neck as she holds her hair out of the way. 

Once it's clasped in place she puts her hand over it and smiles before showing it off, everyone admiring her. They all still can’t believe that the beautiful omega in front of them is theirs.

______________________________________________________________

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[illbegottenfaith]

hey!! i loved ur handwritten fic with the notes it was absolutely amazing, do u think u could make a pt 2 of that or just another fic with that format? thank u!! <3

handwritten pt 2 - theo nott x reader

yours and theo's story as told through notes passed in class

Part 1 | Part 2

a/n - thank you so much for this lovely!! it gave me the motivation I needed to clean up the dribs and drabs I had drafted out so here it is <3 I have plans/ideas for future chapters too (similar format but might not be restricted to just notes 👀) but I'm not sure how long of a series it'll actually end up being. enjoy!

tropes/warnings - fluff, a little more angst than the last chapter, newstudent!theo, estranged friends to lovers

word count - 1.9k

Saturday, 9.48 pm, The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade

You okay?

Yeah, why?

You’re awfully quiet. And you’ve been staring into your empty butterbeer for the past ten minutes, so either it was terrible or you’re plotting something.

Ha-ha.

You hate this, don’t you?

They’re just not the kind of people I hang out with.

Let’s get out of here.

Are you kidding? This party is for you, Theo.

Look at them. They’re drunk off their tits. No one’s going to mind.

No, stay. I might call it a night soon, though.

Are you sure?

Yeah. Don't worry about me, I’m just not used to hanging out with these kinds of people.

What kind?

I don’t know. Quidditch players. Hooligans. It’s not really my scene.

I didn’t know you felt that way.

I didn’t want to spoil your night.

Listen, it’s getting late. I should probably head back.

Okay. Get your coat, I'll settle the bill.

No, it’s fine, I can pay for my drink. Besides, you should stay.

At least let me walk you back.

Stay. I mean it.

Fine, but I’m paying for your drink. And before you say anything, it’s one lousy butterbeer. Consider it compensation for ruining your evening.

You didn’t ruin my evening. I liked the part when we walked here together. I don’t mind this too much either - scribbling on napkins.

Let me walk you back. Please.

Saturday, 10.19 pm, Ravenclaw Dormitories, Hogwarts

What's with the notebook?

Sorry, Ivan's finally passed out and I don't want to wake him. He hasn't been able to sleep all week, can you imagine? It's that stupid Herbology project - y'know, the one that Katie's been simmering those mandrakes for - I swear, he's so tense in the shoulders. I finally got him to nod off after dinner and it just seems cruel to wake him up and make him go allll the way down to his dorm :(

Fine, but Merlin help you when Katie wakes up and finds him still here. I still can't wrap my head around how much he lets you baby him. He's a Slytherin, for God's sake.

Please, he knew what he was getting himself into. If anything, I think the babying might have been a motivating factor. Anyway, how was the party?

Okay, I think. I kissed him. On the cheek.

YOU'RE going to wake Ivan. Have some goddamn self-control.

OH I KNEW ITTT I knew it the moment he walked into Charms class and you looked up and your eyes met and you lost your tongue and when you looked back he had that shy sort of smile I just KNEW he was going to be so good for you. Because he is, Y/N. He might be the best thing that's happened to you.

Gosh, relax. It's not like it meant anything. What's a little friendly peck between friends here and there? I just did it so he wouldn't follow me back to the castle like a lost puppy. Besides, he's not that perfect.

A real human being with real human flaws? You don't say.

It's hard to explain. He's only being this nice because he knows what he's done.

What has he done?

Some pretty hard-to-forgive stuff. I don't want to get into it right now.

Have you?

Have I what?

Forgiven him.

I don't know. I mean, I see him trying to reach out, but every time, even now, with the party - something stops me from...fully connecting. Something holds me back.

I don't think I have.

Monday, 9.13 am, Charms

Did you get back alright?

Yup.

I wanted to come check, but the guys...

I told you they weren't going to let their guest of honour run off. So how was the rest of the night?

Middling. They started up a game of strip poker when we got back.

Oh.

Allegedly, normal poker was too ordinary for a night as special as that.

You're kidding, right?

Oh my fucking god, you gamble??

Who said the poker had anything to do with gambling?

So you don’t gamble?

I didn’t say that.

Theo.

OUCH enough with the pinching! I've already had ten years too many of it.

I can't help that it's the only way to get you to behave.

I don’t see what the problem is. It’s my money to use as I see fit. Plus, I'm very careful about the people I play with. Merlin knows we have too much anyway.

Unbelievable. Gambling, really? Why not just drop out of Hogwarts and live slot machine to slot machine, huh? Why don't you just set up shop at some casino in Las Vegas?

I'm very confused. Do you want to go to Vegas?

You have the attention span of a fruit fly.

Because that's not a half-bad idea. We could make a whole trip out of it over the summer.

Your friends need to introduce you to more legal forms of recreation. What are you doing Wednesday night?

Nothing yet.

Good. I'm teaching you Exploding Snap.

Isn't that a kid's game?

FUCK I'm SORRY but DO NOT pinch me in the same place twice.

Oh, quit whining. You'll live.

Barely. If you keep this up, I'm going to start sitting far far away from you and those PINCERS you call fingers.

Wednesday, 1.02 pm, Potions

I ran into Katie on the way here and Merlin, she was in hysterics. I'm out of the room for one night and I miss you making out with Loverboy in our dorm??? Geez, at least put a sock on the door.

We were not making out!!! Katie just walked in at an unfortunate time.

Uh-huh.

Look, he was the one who showed up at the window on his broom, drunk out of his mind.

Drunk??

I know! What was he thinking, risking his neck all the way up there at the Ravenclaw dorms?? It was like he didn't even notice too. I thought I was hallucinating at first, but then I opened the window and nope, that was him, and then I screamed and he nearly fell off his broom so I hauled him inside. He practically faceplanted on the floor. I was terrified - I thought he was poisoned or something, but then I tried to prop him up and he had this dopey look on his face and he reeked of firewhiskey. Ugh, it was so annoying. I don’t want to talk about it.

You know what he said to me? After all that?

I thought you didn’t want to talk about this?

Uh-oh.

Uh-oh?

Uh-oh. Like a goddamn Looney Tunes character.

Looney Tunes?

Never mind. He was all ‘uh-oh, you’re mad at me’ while I was trying to get him to drink some coffee and I was like yeah, no shit, you look like you’re seconds away from puking all over my dorm. And then he started…he started talking about the party, and me leaving, and how sorry he was he brought me in the first place.

Aww.

I know, right? I felt like crap. I didn’t think it would be such a big deal to him.

Of course it was a big deal. That was him introducing you to his new friends.

Exactly, new friends. What does he want with me?

Y/N, are you daft? Do you not see the way he looks at you? He so clearly cares what you think about his friends.

What on earth are you talking about?

Ivan's on the team so they hang out together sometimes and he says Theo's a lot different around you. He doesn't swear as much, he drops his voice a little and he's extra attentive. Hell, he nearly got into a fight with some dunce in our year over the way that guy was talking about you. Y/N, he obviously cares about you so, so much. Please tell me you didn’t say anything too harsh.

I called the whole lot of them hooligans.

NOOOOO

But t's true!! Have you seen their matches? How they don't rip each other to shreds is beyond me. But I didn't mean that he was like that. Theo could never be like them. He'd play a good, fair, clean game.

Yeah. Sure.

What's that supposed to mean?

You haven't watched a single one of his practices, have you?

No. Should I?

Never mind. What happened next?

That's when things started going downhill. He started trying to remove his shirt because it was so hot from Katie’s blasted simmering pot of mandrakes. I was trying to stop him, only he wasn’t listening, and apparently he gets rather clingy and touchy when he’s, y’know, tipsy, and then…Katie walked in.

Damn.

Of course that's when he decides to sober up, so I look like an idiot while everyone in the room - yes! even him!!! - wants to know what I’m doing in his lap. He was sooooo polite too, as if he hadn’t just rudely breaking-and-entering’d his way into my room. ‘Oh, hello, Y/N. What a tastefully decorated room you have, Y/N. Is there a reason we’re sitting so close, Y/N?’ As if I want to be sitting in his lap!

Right.

Because I don’t.

Okay.

‘Cause that would be so weird.

Mhm.

Like…ew.

Okay, okay. I get it. I believe you.

He wouldn’t even let me get up or anything. Just kept talking to Katie about the weather with his hand on my thigh, casual as ever. I swear, if that teammate of his - what's his name, Mattheo? - hadn't come looking for him, I don't know how I would have gotten him down to his dorm.

What a thriller of a story, from start to finish.

Yeah, well, I could do it with a little less thrill in my life.

Aw, I think it was sweet. That disaster of a party was clearly eating at him.

Yeah. I mean, we're friends. It should bother him if I've had a shitty night, right? But also...we're just friends.

For the record, you're a different person around him too.

Psh. Yeah right.

Different how?

Ivyyyy

Thursday, 3.07 pm, Defence Against the Dark Arts

How’s your hand?

Doing very badly, thank you very much.

I have to say, I didn’t take you to be this sore of a loser.

My fingertips have been singed off. Forgive me if I seem a little sulky.

Aww. Was the kid's game a little too hard for the big, manly, Quidditch player?

You tricked me. You didn't even tell me all of the rules before we started playing.

Oh, come on. You knew enough to play.

But not to win!

Yes, well, I wasn't about to hand you a victory on a silver platter. I thought Slytherins were supposed to be clever, or something. Maybe you're the 'something.'

Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. We'll see who's laughing after next week's chess match.

Does it hurt a lot? Your fingers?

For a lesser man? Perhaps. I think I'm dealing with the pain quite well, actually.

So if we didn't have class, you'd be -?

Writhing on the floor of my dorm.

Ah, I see. Poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?

Promises, promises.

But you still had fun, didn’t you?

It is quite the adrenaline rush.

I knew it.

Alas, my fingertips…

Oh, sod off. You always were the biggest drama queen.

[azzifuddslover]

༯ OFF THE COURT — CHAPTER SIX 𝜗𝜚

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

themes: angst, pining, possession, jealousy

tw: swearing, light injury

word count: 3.8k

a/n: i liked writing this one but it’s kinda all over the place lol. azzi is really in her oblivious era 🙄 and please ignore how everything in this chapter has already happened.. anyway please please lemme know how y’all like it! enjoyyy

azzi strolls into her and caroline’s shared dorm, still out of it from everything that went down in paige’s room just hours prior.

caroline rests on her bed, curled up in a ball with a book in her hands. her eyes snap to azzi as she makes her entrance, prepared and willing to apologize profusely.

azzi lets out a quiet sigh, not quite ready to talk with caroline just yet. instead, she goes into their small kitchen, opens the fridge and grabs an unopened water, taking a few sips. she also spots leftover chocolate chip muffins that her and caroline had baked recently, and snatches one of those to snack on as well.

azzi makes her way into their bedroom eventually, finally deciding to talk to her best friend. she hates fighting with her— can’t stand it, actually.

“hey,” azzi waves at carol, taking a bite of the muffin.

“azzi, i’m so sorry,” caroline apologizes, shutting her book to give her undivided attention to her friend. “i promise i was going to tell you eventually, i just figured i’d let you and paige work things out before getting involved. you have to know that.”

azzi’s lips tug into a small smile, “i understand, babe. it’s already forgotten.”

she wasn’t lying, either. it was forgotten— something, someone took her mind straight off it.

caroline lets out a breath of relief, touching her hand to her heart. “oh, that’s good. i truly am sorry.”

azzi just laughs at the brunette’s reaction while continuing to snack on her muffin.

“so, how’s the book? i’ve been dying to read that one,” azzi asks, changing the subject.

“it’s so good, you’ll love—“ caroline cuts herself off, “azzi fudd, look at me right now.”

azzi’s head snaps to caroline, “what?” she questions, genuinely confused.

caroline gasps, covering at mouth with both hands, “oh my god! i can’t believe this!” she stands up, approaching the curly headed girl, “who am i kidding, i totally can believe this.”

“what are you talking about?”

“look in the fucking mirror, az!” caroline exclaims.

azzi’s eyes widen as it clicks in her brain. she rushes into the bathroom and instantly covers her mouth in shock. fucking paige.

a trail of hickeys are scattered along her neck, all down her collarbone. heat reaches her cheeks as she shakes her head in disbelief.

“oh jesus,” azzi murmurs.

caroline appears behind her, looking directly in the mirror, making eye contact with her friend. a loud laugh leaves her lips, unable to hold it together.

azzi turns around, finding it extremely unfunny. she gives carol a shove, “it’s not fucking funny, asshole!”

caroline plants a hand over her mouth in hopes to control her chuckle, “i’m sorry, babe. but seriously? we were just talking about this yesterday and it happened overnight?”

azzi opens her mouth to explain herself, but closes it when she can’t find the words.

“tell me everything that happened,” caroline smiles, excitement buzzing off her.

azzi and carol leave the bathroom, entering their shared bedroom and sitting on the two beds, facing one another.

“where do i even start,” azzi quietly asks herself, before beginning to go over everything that went down between paige and her from the night before.

“no, az, you said to forget about it? why would you do that?” caroline questions after azzi wraps up the explanation of her trail of hickeys.

azzi shakes her head as regret sets in. “i panicked, okay? i didn’t wanna screw things up.”

“but what’s wrong with changing how things are between you two? you clearly like one another, so what’s the big deal?”

azzi looks at her friend, “that’s the thing, carol. she doesn’t like me. i mean, maybe a little, but not like that. she never wanted to kiss me to begin with— i was the one to initiate it.”

caroline smirks while shaking her head at azzi’s comment, “babe, i love you and all, but you’re being dumb.”

azzi scrunches her eyebrows at her friend, “what? why?”

“paige loves you, idiot! i know it, everyone knows it; she knows it, even if she doesn’t wanna admit it,” carol begins, “she always makes little glances at you during practices, she practically glows when someone mentions you around her. and on top of all of that, she always finds a way to be near you whenever you’re around!”

azzi gapes at caroline’s reasoning, shock crashing onto her features. unsure how to respond, she stays silent, letting a comfortable silence settle between the two freshmen.

“you’re wrong, carol,” azzi finally responds, shaking her head. she has to be wrong.

“like hell i am!” caroline shouts. “and do you really think she’d fuck you without any feelings involved?”

azzi’s lips curl into a line, “i’ve heard she’s done it before.”

“azzi, everyone has casual hookups. i’m not talking about that. it’s different with you.”

“you don’t know that,” azzi responds.

“we’ll see in practice tomorrow,” caroline says to her friend.

“we sure will,” azzi folds her arms over her chest in challenge.

the following day, azzi immediately forces all the paige’s thoughts away, at least for a little while so she can focus on doing better in practice.

she rolls out of bed, rubbing her eyes and letting out a soft yawn. she washes her face, follows her short and simple skincare routine before applying concealer to the marks paige left behind on her neck, trying her best to hide them. even after three layers, they’re still slightly noticeable.

she throws on practice clothes before heading out the door with caroline by her side.

“did you make sure to cover your little love bites?” carol snickers from beside azzi.

azzi rolls her eyes, “yes, caroline. not like it’s gonna last, though.”

caroline nods in agreement. once azzi starts to sweat, the concealer will definitely wear off, leaving azzi’s neck exposed.

a flash of panic runs through azzi, “you don’t think paige told anyone, right?”

carol slugs her arm around the freshmen’s shoulders, tugging her close. “nah, not yet, at least. it’ll be fine, az.”

“i hope you’re right.”

azzi’s performance is definitely an improvement from yesterday; her shots falls in almost everytime, she completes simple layups with a grin on her face.

paige notices this, and decides to approach the younger girl, despite her brain screaming not to.

“i see you’re doing better,” paige notes, a tiny smirk on her lips as she stares at azzi.

azzi locks eyes with paige and takes a small step backwards. she figured paige would keep her distance, considering what she told her yesterday, but apparently, paige has other plans.

“yeah, guess so,” azzi mutters, taking her attention off paige and back onto shooting.

paige continues to stare at her, awkwardly standing with a basketball in her hands.

“do you need something?” azzi asks, arching a brow.

“uh,” paige begins but her words soon trail off as she catches sight of the faint marks on azzi’s neck, scattered along her neck and collarbone area.

azzi glances at paige, confusion setting in at paige’s wandering eyes. “what?”

paige blinks, her lips pressing into a thin line as she clears her throat. “um, guess i got a little carried away earlier,” she mutters as she shallows dryly. “didn’t realize i left marks.”

azzi’s cheeks flush, unconsciously grabbing her neck. “yeah, you did.”

“sorry about that,” paige attempts a small smile at azzi, who doesn’t return it. instead, she stares at paige with an unreadable expression on her face.

“it’s fine,” azzi whispers, going back to shooting, subtly hinting for paige to leave.

paige takes the hint and soon backs away from the curly haired brunette, going back to her own dibbling drills she was previously doing with jana and aubrey. she can’t help but feel embarrassed that azzi can shut what happened between them down. it clearly wasn’t that easily for paige.

paige feels for azzi, whether she was ready to admit it or not. that night they shared together meant something to her— meant everything to her. how was she supposed to forget it happened when every time she saw azzi, it all came rushing back?

days went by with azzi and paige keeping their distance from each other. the two barely interacted during practices, barely even glanced in the others direction.

regardless of their little contact, paige still yearned for azzi. she physically couldn’t get their shared night out of her head; the feel of azzi’s lips on hers, her tongue against hers, her taste. she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t late nights where her fingers didn’t end up in her pants at the memory of azzi. there most definitely was.

but today was game day, so the blonde tried her best to focus her attention on basketball, and not the brunette that wouldn’t even glance her way anymore.

the uconn women’s basketball team, along with iowa state, the opponent, took their time getting warmed up and stretched. by the time both teams were ready to start, paige was relaxed and confident in her game.

the girls are playing well— paige has 15 points and azzi equips 17 before halftime arrives.

30 seconds until the halftime buzzer goes off. the whistle blew sharply, cutting through the noise of the crowd. paige has her hands on the ball, scanning her surroundings for any open teammates. azzi is planted in the corner, setting up for a 3 shot she could easily make. out of the corner of her eye, azzi spots a player from iowa state approaching her, in attempts to guard the freshmen. paige throws the ball to azzi after noticing she’s open. azzi scans the court, waiting for the perfect moment to take the shot. she dribbles once, then twice, pivoting to create space between the defender and herself. the player belonging to iowa state closes in, aggressive and quick. azzi shifts to her right, trying to get the open shot, but as she plants her foot to push off, the defender lungs at her— her elbow unintentionally catching azzi in the ribs.

azzi lets out a sharp gasp when she stumbles backwards. her ankle twists slightly as she tries to catch herself, but ultimately loses her balance and crashes hard to the floor. the air leaves her lungs in a painful rush.

“azzi!” paige’s voice breaks through the noise of the game, full of concern and worry. one minute she was on the other side of the court, and in an instant, she was sprinting towards where azzi’s lays. she reaches azzi, who attempts to sit up, hand clutching her ribs, wincing in pain.

“hey, hey, you okay?” paige kneels beside her, placing both hands on azzi’s face, eyes wide and mouth ajar. there was a noticeable anger in her tone, and before azzi knew it, paige turns her head at the iowa state defender, who was standing there, oblivious. “what the hell was that?”

the defender, a bit stunned at paige’s outburst, takes a gentle, cautious step back. “i didn’t mean to—“

“i don’t care if you meant to or not!” paige snaps, her eyes narrow.

the ref was already approaching the commotion, but paige ignores him, attention fixed on azzi. she reaches out to once again cup the younger girls face in her hands. “azzi, look at me. are you okay? can you breathe?”

azzi, still dazed at her fall, pulls her eyes to paige’s. her body almost instantly relaxes with paige’s hands on her face and eyes fixated solely on azzi. “i think i twisted my ankle a bit. and my ribs hurt.. but i’m okay.”

paige takes a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. she removes her hands off azzi’s figure, placing them restlessly at her sides.

suddenly, aubrey, nika as well as coach auriemma appear behind paige— coach looking pissed.

“oh my god, azzi, are you okay?” nika questions, concerned for her teammate.

“i’m all good, nik,” azzi replies, attempting a small smile for reassurance.

“paige,” coach auriemma says, eyes flaming with anger.

paige flicks her eyes at coach as nerves set in for the sophomore. oh well, she thought. defending azzi was more important than a lecture she’ll receive later on.

azzi tries to get up on her own, struggles a little before the blonde offers both hands out to azzi. paige helps azzi to her feet, still clutching her ribs in pain. paige lets go of azzi’s hands, only to move one arm loosely around her waist and position herself at the brunettes side.

the two girls head into the locker room, paige’s arm never moves from azzi’s frame. for support, she repeats to herself. the other players follow as well, all concerned for the freshmen. azzi is a big part of their teams success— she had to be okay.

azzi lowers herself onto the bench once they make it to the locker room for halftime, carefully and cautiously. paige continues to linger close to her.

before paige could get a word out, coach auriemma shouts her name, calling the sophomore over. paige groans as azzi quietly chuckles, already expecting a long lecture.

the game eventually ended, uconn winning by a landslide. azzi, for the last two quarters, rested on the bench, not wanting to risk getting further injured.

azzi is sprawled out in her bed, caroline sitting in hers with her nose in her current read, when a text from the team group chat comes through.

azzi reaches for her phone�� wanna go to ted’s at 8? nika’s text read.

azzi mentally groans, not wanting to leave her room, much less leave her bed. she lets out a soft sigh, knowing caroline will drag her there regardless of her answer.

me and azzi are in! caroline quickly sends, not even bothering to ask azzi prior. typical, azzi thinks to herself.

each teammate, besides ashlynn, who was crammed with studying and said she couldn’t make it, agrees to ted’s.

caroline practically throws her book down, rushing to get up and get herself ready for the night at the bar. azzi closes her eyes in defeat, pulling her blanket over her face to capture her annoyance.

carol yanks the blanket out of azzi’s grip, not having it with azzi’s stubborn pleas. “get up,” she says firmly at her friend.

azzi rolls her eyes, groaning again for good measure. she takes her time getting up from the bed, not wanting to push her ankle. it remains sore, but she’s able to walk decent. her ribs, however, have a large bruise from the iowa state player’s elbow.

azzi and caroline get dressed with music playing in the background from carol’s phone. azzi picks out a pink tank top, long enough to cover her noticeable bruise, and a pair of jean shirts: her go-to going out outfit.

around 7:50 pm, the two roommates make their way to the bar, azzi still buzzing with frustration from being forced out of her comfortable state. all she wanted was a chill night in, or maybe binge watch her favorite tv series again.

the door creaks as it swings open, the sound of loud chants makes azzi take a cautious step back. ted’s, as usual, is packed with uconn students. there was a faint clink of glass on glass cutting through the air, mingling with the deeper thud of bottles being slammed onto the counter. somewhere in the background, a jukebox crackles, its song barely audible over the noise of the overlapping voices.

azzi’s eyes wander, trying to find any of her teammates she planned to meet up with, coming up with none. her and caroline stood close, not wanting to lose one another in the buzzing crowd.

they sat themselves in open seats along the bar, after what felt like ages searching for. behind the bar, a male bartender’s rag swishes against a dirty glass as he glances at the two girls. laughter erupts at one end of the room, loud and brash, before it falters into a sputtering cough.

“what can i get you ladies?” the bartenders smiles kindly at them.

“i’ll just take a margarita,” azzi returns the smile.

“me too,” carol agrees, making it easier for the bartender, since he’s clearly overwhelmed with the crowd.

“coming right up,” the man throws his rag over his shoulder as he reaches for a clean glass.

out of the corner of azzi’s eye, she catches a glimpse of nika, with paige and kk right on her heels.

the three didn’t notice the two freshmen quite yet, however. they sat themselves at a nearby table, navigating their way through the packed bar, before going up and ordering their own drinks of choice.

paige’s eyes lock on azzi’s once she reaches the bar, their distance closing in. a smirk lingers on her lips, yet azzi looks away, embarrassed and confused from their interaction earlier that day.

the two don’t speak. paige is deeply engrossed in a conversation with kk, waiting for her drink to be made, and rushes back to their table without a glance back at the younger girl. not that azzi cares, that is.

azzi grips her drink, taking sips, wanting to savor it for the moment.

“i’m going to the bathroom,” carol says with urgency, getting up out of her chair. azzi responds with a simple nod in acknowledgment.

minutes pass; azzi stays firmly planted in her seat, glancing at paige ever so often, before focusing on her phone.

azzi’s gaze flickers around the room, idle but alert, until a woman around her age suddenly slides into the now empty seat caroline was sitting in previously.

“i couldn’t help but notice you from across the room,” the woman smiles at the brunette, “i’m talia.”

“azzi, and thanks, i guess,” azzi stumbles over her words, nervous at the attention she typically never gets.

azzi’s smile is polite, but her eyes flash with hesitation. she didn’t come here to flirt— especially with a complete stranger.

“what are you drinking? i’ll buy you another,” talia says, determination laced in her tone.

azzi is hesitant, “you really don’t have to.”

“i insist.”

azzi smirks at her, before agreeing, “alright then. a margarita, thanks.”

talia, a pretty blonde with loose curls, just like azzi’s, resting on her shoulders. her eyes were olive green, eyelashes long in length, perky breasts sitting nicely in her tank top. azzi definitely didn’t hate looking at her.

an unnecessarily loud chuckle interrupts the two girl’s conversation. azzi turns her head, eyes immediately landing on paige who stands at her table, clutching her glass tightly. she’s staring—she focuses on the woman in front of her, choosing to ignore the fuming blonde. they discuss their interests, azzi mentions she plays basketball for uconn, and what not.

paige’s gaze lingers on azzi longer than intended: an unreadable expression on her face. the sophomore gives them a couple minutes as she silently watches, hoping and praying the woman will leave her azzi alone.

but when she sees azzi outburst with loud laughter is when she loses it. she slams her glass down, hard enough to rattle the wooden table, and struts over there, anger buzzing off her skin.

azzi immediately sees the blonde coming her way, but chooses to ignore her until she reaches her and talia’s spots at the bar.

paige doesn’t bother looking in talia’s direction- she focuses solely on azzi, and azzi only. her hand impulsively moves to grip azzi’s arm, firm but gentle enough so it won’t hurt her.

“i need to talk to you,” paige says darkly, “now, azzi.”

azzi scrunches her eyebrows, shock running through her veins at paige’s urgency.

“i’ll be right back,” azzi points to talia, offering a small smile as paige pulls her away. paige’s hand lingers on her back, holding her close as they walk towards the exit door for a more quiet, private area to talk.

“no, you won’t,” paige whispers against azzi’s curls.

the haunting tension hangs in the air as azzi follows paige outside, the frigid wind hitting her bare arms. the night is quiet, only the sound of the their footsteps fills the space as they head to the parking lot. neither paige nor azzi says anything at first, the energy between them is thick.

“where are we going?” azzi questions suddenly, annoyance laced in her tone.

“to your room, or mine, it doesn’t matter. somewhere we can talk without the freezing fucking weather.”

azzi remains behind the blonde the whole walk back to campus, letting out multiple angry huffs to capture how unpleased she is with paige.

“are you going to tell me why the hell you did that?” azzi says as soon as they enter azzi’s dorm, arms crossing over her chest as she tilts her head.

paige’s jaw clenches, her eyes fixed straight ahead.

“you really don’t get it, don’t you?” the blonde’s voice is tight, barely under control, as she turns to look at azzi.

azzi raises an eyebrow, “get what?”

paige’s eyes flash, a mix of frustration and anger edging in her tone. “you were all over her, azzi. you didn’t even care that i was right there.”

azzi’s shoulders tense, a frown pulling at the corners of her lips. “what are you talking about? it was just a conversation, paige.”

the sophomore scoffs, taking a small step towards the girl. “you were practically flirting with her! laughing, leaning in, making it obvious you were interested.”

“you’re being ridiculous! it wasn’t flirting, and if anything, she was the one flirting with me! and why the fuck would you care?” azzi shouts, throwing her arms up.

“god, azzi!” paige shouts back, mouth ajar at azzi’s complete obliviousness.

azzi lets out a small, defeated sigh as she sits down on her bed. paige lowers herself onto caroline’s made one, eyes focusing on the floor.

what feels like minutes pass without either one of them talking. it wasn’t until paige looks up at the brunette, anger washing away into sadness.

“i was jealous,” paige quietly admits, locking eyes with azzi.

“why?” azzi whispers back, her heart racing.

paige closes her eyes for a moment before getting up from her sitting position on carol’s bed, walking closer and closer to the door. she turns to azzi, only able to offer a few quick, quiet words— “you know why.” paige walks out without giving azzi a chance to respond.

azzi swears her heart skips a beat at paige’s choice of words, yet is unable to process how or why paige left so quickly.

minutes later, azzi is curled up into a ball underneath layers of blankets, head still whirling from her and paige’s conversation.

throughout the night, azzi couldn’t sleep. her mind was on repeat of paige’s words, uncontrollably playing in her head.

you know why.

[leighsartworks216]

What's In A Name

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

Today has been rough, but I still wanted to get out this chapter since it's already written up

Warnings: injuries, pain, banter

Word Count: 1,005

Main Masterlist

AO3

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You hiss as you carefully pour the medicine over your palm. The bottle clatters against the floor, unintentionally. The pain is all you can think about, willing the sting to fade so you can keep working. As soon as it becomes bearable, you pick up the roll of cloth from your lap and work through feel alone to line it over your hand and start wrapping it. It’s not the best job ever, but it’ll do. Hopefully.

You repeat the actions on the other side. Soon enough, your hands are as well treated as you can manage. You feel the ends of the cloth, checking that they’re secure and won’t come unraveling.

Something almost giddy wafts up in your chest. You giggle dumbly as you open and close your hands, testing the limits of the wraps. “Hey, not bad!” you say to yourself. “Hah! I knew I could do it!”

Your cheering voice echoes back to you, slowly petering off into nothing. The silence sours the glee. You sigh and wrap your arms around yourself.

You have no idea what time it is, no idea where you actually are, and no idea where the stranger went off to. All you do know is that the longer you sit here on the thin sheet meant to be your bed, the more aware of your exhaustion you become.

You try to set everything where you can find it again. The room is small, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

You feel out how long the sheet is. It’s not even half as wide as you are tall, but you’ll have to make do. You wrap it tightly around your shoulders and lay down slowly on the rock floor with your arm acting as a pillow. You wrap your cold feet tightly in whatever excess blanket you have left.

With a quiet prayer to Astra, you let yourself be consumed by a restless sleep. Visions of darkness, blood, and flowers, and a story that spans hundreds of years.

-

“Has your god seen fit to answer my prayer, yet?”

“He has, actually.” You walk alongside the edge of what you can only fathom to be a pile of gold. The metal coins dig into your feet, but that you can handle just fine. It’s when a gem is suddenly underfoot that you’re cursing and trying to brush it aside. You can feel his smug look every single time it happens.

You hear metal clinking against metal a short ways behind you. “And?”

You shoot a sly grin in that direction. “Why should I tell you? What would I get in return?”

He huffs an amused laugh. “What do you want in return?”

“Fresh food and water, and new clothes. It’s freezing in here, you know? And I haven’t eaten anything since…” You trail off, thinking. “What time is it, anyway?”

“You’re demanding a lot for a simple prophecy, pet.”

“Oh?” You turn away, walking along the mounds of treasure again. “Then I guess you’re not interested in what your future holds? Pity. I found it quite interesting.”

He sighs. Good. Serves the bastard right for kidnapping you. You hope he regrets it every single day. Though… whether he’d kill you over it is definitely a risk.

“I’ll get you some food. There’s a spring in the tunnels that you can get your water from. As for clothes…” You turn to listen better as you hear furniture creaking. Heavy footfalls approach, rounding you. “I have some tucked away. Whether they’ll fit you or not is questionable.”

“Are they good quality?”

“They’re better than your tattered rags. Does that suffice?”

You hum, considering. “Your destiny is going to be intertwined with someone else’s.”

He scoffs. “That’s it?”

“Until I’ve had a proper meal, yeah! Besides, I’m still trying to decipher some of what the prophecy is saying.” You cross your arms over your chest with a frown. “It’s like it spans millennia, but that shouldn’t be possible.”

He’s blessedly silent for a minute, giving you time to consider this predicament, before something hard nudges at your back. “Come on, pet. I’ll show you where the clothes are.”

You follow the clinking of metal under his shoes out of the chamber. “Stop calling me that! My name is Y/N, I’m not a pet, least of all yours, and I’m not some helpless ‘little thing’ for you to toy with!”

He tests your name on his tongue. It’s startling to hear it said in your captor’s voice. Perhaps you should have held your tongue and let him continue insulting you. A name can be a dangerous thing, after all.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What?!” you balk. “You must have one! What am I supposed to call you?”

You run into something solid and warm. The heat of his breath brushes your skin again as he whispers teasingly into your ear. “You can always call me master.”

You try to shove his face away with no luck. He laughs at your efforts, but gives you space once more. “Not in a million years. What about…” You wrack your brain for any semblance of something he liked from what little you could piece together. “Silver? Or Gold, or something?”

He chuckles. “I’m a bit more precious than that.”

“Okay, fine, then how about, um, Jewel? Jewels are better than silver and gold, aren’t they?” You hear him sigh, long and drawn out. The clinking of coins follows his footsteps. You trail after. “Look, give me something to work with here!”

“Jewel is fine. I don’t need a mortal’s name anyway.”

“That’s the second time you’ve specifically called out mortals,” you point out. The airflow in the cave changes as you step from the grand treasure chamber (this guy has some weird hobbies) to the closed-in tunnels. You’re grateful when you hear him bypass the stairs. “What are you if not a mortal, too?”

“Like I said before, maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

You sigh. “Jewel, you are one strange guy.”

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[godmadeaterribleerror]

Dreams of Love - A No Love Lost Bonus Chapter

Series Masterlist

Read on A03!

Author's Note: Made it a Hughie and Annie baby. Named it Joel because I’m hilarious and Annie would sooner eat glass than name her son Billy.

Chapter Title from She’s Got A Way by Billy Joel

Word Count: 7.5k

Summary/Warnings: Request from my love @deansbbyx ! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, canon divergence, tooth-rotting fluff, Ben being old, Dad Ben, pre-established relationship, so much horniness (would we expect anything less?)

“Where the hell did Annie get a baby from.”

You sigh, giving Ben a flat look. “Her vagina, Benjamin. That’s where most of them pop out, you know.” 

Ben scowls, shooting you a glare that really only makes your whole body warm and soft. “Shut the fuck up, brat, you know what I meant-“

“I don’t think I did, Pretty Boy. I think you need to start explaining where you think babies come from-“

You’re cut off as Ben pulls you right to his chest, dropping his brow to yours with a smirk.

“You know damn well that I know where babies come from, Sunshine.” He drawls, and he’s really warm, and he smells so good, and his muscles are flexing around you, and his keeping his mouth just far enough away that you can’t kiss him but God you want to-

Ben-

You need something, darling? Need me to fuck you dumb right here, fill you up with my cock and remind you how fucking good we are at baby making? 

You swallow, unable to tear your gaze away from his darkened, lust-blown eyes. He’s starving for you, and you can feel it everywhere—you can’t even tell where your own thirst for him begins and his hunger for you ends—but you cannot have sex right now. There just isn’t the time, and it’s not like Ben’s going anywhere, but fuck, he’s so handsome and he’ll taste like strawberries and maple syrup from breakfast, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against your thigh-

“MM’s going to be here soon,” you whisper, fidgeting with the collar of Ben’s shirt to give your fingers something to do that isn’t wrapping around Ben’s dick. “And Ryan needs to go to school. I can drive him if you-“

Ben rolls his eyes, pressing a quick kiss to your brow before rising back up to his full height. “You’re not fucking driving. I’ll take Ryan, you get the Campbell baby.”

“But-“

He drawls your name, raising his brows. “You really fucking think MM is going to leave a fucking baby with me.”

“Yeah, I do.” You raise your chin slightly, holding Ben’s vaguely amused gaze. “He doesn’t hate you anymore-“

“Doesn’t matter if he still wanted to cut my fucking dick off or not, you’re the only one he’s leaving it with.”

 “It had a name, Ben.” You say, wrapping your arms around his torso and leaning your chin on his chest. “And I’m sure MM would leave Joel with you if I ask him to.”

“But you’re not going to ask,” Ben says your name with a shrug, half picking you off the floor and cradling your head with one hand. “I’m bringing Ryan to school, you’re taking the baby. That’s it.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “What if I promise you a blowjob to trade?”

He snorts, the radiance in his body bursting along your ribs. I’d get that blowjob anyway. 

What if I promise breeding kink sex?

His eyes narrow. You think you’re real fucking smart.

I do. You smile at him, playing with the hair on his beard as you sway slightly in his arms. You say I am all the time. You call me clever, and beautiful, and perfect. And if you like me now, imagine how amazing I’d be when you fucked me good enough for to put a baby-

You win. Ben’s hand tightens on your waist, his eyes flash, his hunger almost explodes through his body, and it’s all the warning you get before his mouth is crashing down to yours. Your silent words are cut off with a deep growl from Ben’s chest as he walks you backwards to the kitchen counter, his hand tugging at your hair to deepen the kiss. Your lips part with a moan that Ben swallows, and you’re scratching at his back as he shoves a knee between your legs, and fuck, he’s so good-

Such a needy fucking brat. He mutters in your head, and you can only grind against him. You are fucking perfect, you’re a goddamn miracle, but that smart fucking mouth, Ben hums against your lips, starting to kiss a wet, sloppy line down your neck. It’s a fucking marvel, Sunshine. Going to fucking kill me, how goddamn beautiful you are, all fucking dumb and pretty when I touch you-

Fuck- You whine when he starts to suck on that one spot near your throat, and he chuckles against your skin. God, Ben-

Words, darling, use that smart mouth to beg-

Please, Benjamin, you ass-

You squeak as his hand pins you against his knee, and he draws back, scanning over your open, desperate expression with a wide smirk. 

“Hi, Sunshine.” He drawls, tipping your chin back with a careful hand, and you might be drooling. 

He’s so fucking handsome. It’s really not fair. This life looks painfully good on him, where all his love is still hot and bloody and focused in your body, but the resolve to hold you is just to hold you. There are no threats that you’d need protection from, but Ben’s still shielding you just a little all the time because that’s what he does. He loves and cares about you so violently you’d be worried he offers you too much, but all he’s ever asked for in return is this. Is you, already a little dazed from his hand dragging circles on the skin of your hips, your mouth hanging open as you take in his messy hair and relaxed expression. Everything in him glows when he presses his thumb on your lower lip and you moan, and when he leaves a small, almost chaste kiss on the space between your eyes the fire under your skin starts to push up, and you’re smoking, and he’s just grinning at you like a dick-

“You’re so fucking perfect, beautiful.” He mutters, and you don’t know why he’s not just fucking you. “When I get you alone again, you’re going to cum on my hands, then my face, then my cock when I fill you up. You’re going to feel me for fucking days, darling, and everyone will know that I always fuck you properly when you sit down at a meeting and fucking whine like a goddamn brat.”

You have a small, breathless speech in your head that’s mostly a plea of you are alone, right now, and it’s not possible for Ben to make you feel it for days, but God, you’d like to see him try, but you don’t get the chance to say it. You stare at Ben’s smug grin for a long second, taking steady breaths to try and regain just a little bit of control over your brain—which right now seems to only remember how to say Benjamin, please—and Ryan walks into the kitchen with his backpack and nervous, quick words.

“Ben, I lost my notebook-“ Ryan’s eyes widen at the scene before him—Ben still holding you on his knee, your whole body slack under his touch and very obvious, slightly glowing smoke rising from your skin—and he freezes in the doorway. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to- I’ll just go wait in the car-“

“Stay here, kid.” Ben helps you down, pressing one last, gentle kiss to your brow before turning his attention to Ryan. “Car’s not started yet, and your notebook’s under the couch.”

Ryan frowns. “How did it-“

“Shoved it there last night.” Ben grunts. His voice is really deep. His arm is still around you. He smells like pine and coffee and that earthy, salty thing that’s just Ben-

“Oh.” Ryan nods slowly. “Was it- I’m-“

“Don’t fucking apologize. It wasn’t in the way, I just had to do all the damn baby proofing-“

That snaps you out of it.

“You were baby proofing?”

Ben frowns down at you, something slightly sore wrapping over his skin. “Of course I was fucking baby proofing, I’m not going to let the damn thing just fuck around the house and die-“

You let just a little bit of your own, raw and infinite love leak into Ben’s body, rising up to press a kiss right over his beard and humming against his skin. Thank you, Benjamin. That was sweet.

I am not fucking sweet-

Of course not, Pretty Boy. What was I thinking. Your smile is wide and unrestrained as you lean back, holding Ben’s face between your hands. I love you.

I love you too, Sunshine. He rolls his eyes, dragging one of your hands to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I’ll get your notebook, Ryan. Go put on your shoes.”

“Okay.” Ryan bounces on his feet, looking between you and Ben with an open, anxious expression. “Is- Are Hughie and Annie bringing Joey here?”

“They’re on their honeymoon,” you explain, Ben scowls, and you shoot him a flat look. “Which someone is being a grumpy asshole about.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.” Ben grumbles, guiding you out of the kitchen. “We’ve been married for ten goddamn month and haven’t gone on our honeymoon. Why the hell do those pussies get to go first.”

“They’re not going first, Ben, they just actually planned their wedding instead of doing it spontaneously in a field-“

Ben rolls his eyes. “If we do that proper wedding shit, will you finally take some time off so I can fuck you on a beach?”

You flush, whacking Ben’s chest as Ryan looks around absent-mindedly, pretending not to hear. Benjamin-

The kid is used to it, Sunshine-

He shouldn’t be- 

He’s fine. I think he’s got bigger fucking problems than me loving you like you deserve-

But-

“Ryan.” Ben grunts, tucking you a little further into his side and ignoring your death glare. He’s lucky you can’t burn his face off anymore. “You got an issue with me telling her I’m going to fuck her?”

“I, um- no?” Ryan shrugs, frowning at the air. “I guess I tune it out now, just because you do it kind of a lot and I- I dunno, I just expect it. Sorry-“

“Don’t say sorry, kid. You did good.” Ben shoots you a smug look, bright, hot pride inflating in his chest. You’re going to strangle him, then make out with his stupid, handsome, cocky face. “Shoes.”

Ryan nods and wanders to the door, and Ben looks so fucking proud of himself.

Benjamin William- 

You barely get out your shared last name before Ben’s squeezing your hips, pulling you up into a long, open-mouth kiss that makes you moan loud and soft, your body molding right into his. Never should’ve told you my middle name, brat. 

Could be worse. You mumble, smiling against his lips. I could tell Butcher. 

He pulls back with narrowed eyes. You won’t.

Test me, Benjamin-

You tell Butcher, I’ll… Ben trails off between your heads, and you can feel a wired spike in his heart when he realizes he doesn’t have any believable threats anymore. 

You’ll what? You raise your brows, giving him an overly sweet pout. Fuck me dumb? Make me beg? Throw me around until I’m a whiny, horny mess for your cock-

He slams back into you, hauling your body into his arms without even a stuttered breath and carrying you to the couch. 

Christ on a fucking cross, Ben mutters your name between your heads, lowering himself to his knees before you as he kisses you back into the cushions. You’re so fucking perfect.

His tone is entirely reverent, so sincere it might kill you, and the pure devotion and fervor of his love in your body is enough to drive you mad.

Ben- His hand trails up your thigh, and you’d be embarrassed by your loud moan if it didn’t make Ben groan into your mouth, everything in him sparking and flaring. Fuck-

Later, Sunshine. He tips your chin back slightly, pressing a small kiss to the corner of your mouth right before he pulls away. “Stay here until I get home.”

You hum, taking his hand from your cheek and twisting his wedding ring around his finger with a small smile. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He chuckles, leaning into one last, soft kiss before rising to his feet. “Wouldn’t fucking dream of it, darling. Tell me when MM drops off the kid.”

Tell you on the what, Benjamin?

I’m not fucking saying it.

Please?

You give him your sweetest smile, squeezing your hand on his knee and leaning into his touch, and he groans.

Smart fucking brat. He mutters, moving his hand back to tangle in your hair and tugging slightly, just enough to make your head tip back. Tell me on the Ben’o’phone, and I’ll fuck your mouth and cunt real good when I get home.

Deal. Thank you.

Don’t. He grumbles between your heads, but even as his hand leaves yours you can feel the power of his love, the rough affection that’s settled deeply and comfortably into his chest. “You think we’ve got all the shit-“

“MM’s going to bring most of it. And,” you nod to the floor, and Ben turns with a frown. “I bought a play pen. We can keep it after. For later. When I get that promised fucking.”

You see Ben’s hands curl into fists, he stands a little taller, and fuck, you’re right at eye level with his bulge but Ryan really does need to go to school-

“I can’t believe Annie and Hughie got a fucking baby before we did.” He mutters, glaring at the play pen. “It’s a goddamn travesty-“

“Travesty.” You hum, looking up at him with a wide, teasing smile. “Big word, Pretty Boy-“

“Shut up.” 

Ben turns back to you, taking your face between big, warm hands and scanning over your features with a narrowed gaze. You can feel something wound tightly in his chest—slightly molding and almost painful—so you grab his wrists to keep him against you, and give him your widest, realest smile. The smile that’s for Ben, and Ben only.

It’s always really just Ben.

You know I fucking adore you. He says between your heads, his voice low and rough. Love you more than the goddamn universe, Sunshine, you’re my whole goddamn life. You know that.

I think you’ve mentioned it. You hum, leaning into his touch. And I love you too, you massive cunt, so say what the fuck you mean.

Ben lets out a dry snort as you drop your voice into a mocking impression of him on those last words, shaking his head slightly. Christ, darling. You’re fucking-

Perfect, I’m aware. Please, Ben-

You don’t need to ever do anything you fucking hate with me. He grunts, his body suddenly made only of fervorish, protective stone. I got you and Ryan, and that can be my world for the rest of my goddamn life, and I’d be good. If that caped fucking pussy knocked the idea of a baby out of your head forever, I’m not going to-

Ben. You cut him off with soft but firm words, holding his gaze. We don’t lie to each other.

Of course we fucking don’t-

So when I say that one day soon, I want to do this, you nod to the play pen. With you, believe me. Please.

His jaw twitches, and the wrathful care in his body doesn’t vanish, but it never does. It only moves back peacefully into your bones as Ben slowly nods. You’re sure.

Positive. Go bring Ryan to school before I do.

Ben rolls his eyes, leans down to kiss the top of your head, and half-stomps out the door.

He’ll be back soon. And—though he’ll never get you to say it aloud—you’ll wait right here until he does. Where everything still smells like pine, and you’re molded into the couch right where Ben put you, and you can smile at the play pen like a dumbass until the doorbell rings. 

You know it MM before you open it, because Ben just walks in wherever he wants—including into offices he definitely should not be walking into and meetings you’re supposed to be focusing on—and everyone in the neighborhood seems to know that’s Soldier Boy and the Anomaly’s house, so after the Homeowners Association incident, nobody really bothers you that much. 

It would be lonely if you didn’t already have a Ben, a Ryan, a Butcher—friend was too generous for the asshole, but he was unfortunately an indisputable part of your life—and friends.

Because when you open the door, it is MM on the other side, and he looks tire and pissed but still happy to see you. You can feel it—during your brief, tight hug—that there’s a heavy exhaustion under his skin and over his muscles, but there’s nothing but relieved affection for you to be here. 

“This kid,” MM mutters as you pull apart. “Has fucking lungs.”

You smile, following him out to the still-running car. “I know, I’ve heard them. Annie told me to buy Ryan earplugs.”

“Smart.” MM leans into the car door, pulling out the car seat and probably saying more things, but you don’t really hear them because that’s a baby. A baby baby. A barely popped, wispy haired baby that looks so much like a shrunken down version of Hughie it’s a little disturbing.

And you’ve met him before. You were there when Annie had her pre-mature birth, doing what Ben had called more work than the damn nurses and stopping Annie’s bleeding with a press of your hand to her legs a brief rush of pain between your thighs. 

MM had told you Ben had doubled over with a roar in the lobby, and you’d seen the evidence of it when you’d rejoined him and there was a large hole in the wall. But Annie had been okay, Hughie had given you a tight hug that could’ve left a bruise if that was something your body could do, and the baby had been healthy. 

You hadn’t wanted to hold him, nerves building in your throat about what feeling the emotions of a baby could even do. Annie had told you that it would be fine, and half-shoved Joey into your arms.

And now—just like then—you can feel nothing but soft, humming peace from tiny Joel Campbell in your arms. There’s no bloodied pain or freezing fear, nothing rotten in his chest or throat or head. He’s just a little fuzzy because you’re not Annie, but it’s a brief distress that fades when you start to hum and the whole world grows perfectly warm.

They’re here. Your words are soft down your connection to Ben, and he flares slightly in your chest.

Good. Ryan’s off, I’ll be back soon. Don’t fucking move.

You smile to yourself, and MM must realize that you’ve moved yourself into a trance, because he doesn’t try to talk to you until you’re settled back inside with Joey carefully in your arms, and all of Annie’s baby supplies are piled near the door.

“You think your old motherfucker is ready for this?”

You snort. Ben’s so ready you’re probably going to spend the next month after this trying to pry him off of you. “He is. He baby-proofed the house.”

MM grunts, scanning around the living room. “I’m guessing the asshole wants one?”

You might be smiling like an idiot. “You have no idea.”

“I think I can live with that.” MM mutters, giving you an odd look. “And- If I’m out of line tell me to shut it and I will, but can you even do that?”

You sigh, trailing one finger softly over Joey’s cheek. There’s something in that silent, happy hum you feel from him that really seems like Annie.

You wonder if your baby would look like Ben and feel like you, or look like you and feel like Ben. 

“I can if I want.” You say, shaking your head at MM’s look of confusion. “Don’t ask.”

He raises his hands in agreement, nodding to Joey in your arms. “Do you? Want one?”

“I do.” You whisper. “I always did, before, and then Home-“ You swallow. You still don’t like saying his name. He doesn’t deserve for his name to be said, not where Joey can hear it. “Then he, he did everything, and it didn’t seem like a thing I could ever do. But now...”

You trail off, and MM nods.

“What changed?”

You look up with a soft smile. “Do you really want me to say it?”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “That old asshole must have a fucking genie who owes him one or something.”

You only hum, because it’s not really useful to explain that Ben doesn’t need a genie. He’s just Ben, and he’s everything, and you love him. “Maybe. I think he’s going to be amazing at this.”

“Of course you do.” MM mutters. “Where the hell is he?”

“Dropping Ryan at school.” You say, lowering your voice to whisper to Joey. “He’s bringing us back chocolate.”

“How the hell do you know-“

“He always brings me back something. And he’s that way,” you wave a vague hand over your shoulder, where you can sense Ben moving around miles away. “So he’s getting chocolate.”

When you look up, MM’s gaping slightly. “He always brings you something?”

“Of course he does. He thinks it’s an apology for leaving me.”

“Leaving- Motherfucker.” MM sighs, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing you two idiots can’t die without each other. You’re already so goddamn annoying.”

You can’t disagree with that. Not when—a few hours after MM leaves—Ben pushes through the door with a box of those fancy fucking chocolates you love, Sunshine, and lowers to his knees before you, staring at Joey in your arms.

“Hughie makes a tiny fucking baby.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Don’t bully the infant, Ben-“

“I’m not bullying him, I’m bullying his father. Hughie’s a fucking adult, he’ll live.” Ben rises up to kiss your brow. “You look real damn good with a baby in your arms, darling.”

You smile at him, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. Keep it in your pants, old man.

For the damn baby I will, but I promised you a proper fucking, Ben drawls your name between your heads, shooting you a wink. Going to have you begging for my cum in your mouth, on your tits, in that pretty fucking pussy-

Benjamin. You give him a stern look, even as the deep sound of his voice in your mind, the sight of him grinning at you, and the hunger in his body settle deep in your stomach. Not when I’m actively holding the child.

He rolls his eyes, but drops at your side on the couch and kisses your temple. Fine.

Thank you. You lean your head on Ben’s shoulder, letting him tuck you against his side, his hand tracing slow patterns on your arm as you start to hum, soothing Joey fully to sleep.

And you could’ve stayed like this for a lifetime. Ben’s content—you can feel it, feel how deeply and easily settled he is at your side—this is so simply peaceful, and you have no desire to disturb the static, colorful feeling you get from Joey, so you could’ve died here.

But Joey shits his pants, because that’s what babies do.

And You really don’t want to move. 

MM left some things by the door, can you please-

You don’t need to finish the sentence before Ben’s moving, marching to the hall to grab the diapers and pushing the coffee table to your knees when he returns. You change Joey there—it’s a flat surface, you cleaned it that morning, and Ben had laid out a towel—before settling back onto the couch, and that’s most of the day. Joey’s hungry, Ben grabs the bottle and you feed him. Joey’s never cold—you and Ben are walking furnaces—but he seems a little uncomfortable, so Ben grabs a blanket Annie left and you swaddle. Joey shits himself again, and Ben marches upstairs to run a sink bath.

He hangs over your shoulder every second. And there are no grumbled suggestions or thoughts about Joey, only normal conversations about work and TV and Ryan and dinner. Nothing feels different, and the solid, pious care and love you feel from Ben is no stronger than normal. It’s aimed right at your heart and golden and warm in your body, but that’s just Ben. That’s how he loves you. 

The only change is something softer—lining over his head and lungs—that glows when you catch him glancing at Joey in your arms. When you settle back on the couch with a sleepy, clean baby, and Ben pulls you half into his lap, resting his chin on the top of your head. You waste the afternoon like this. Watching TV with Ben everywhere around you, Joey asleep in your arms and nothing really that worrying in the world.

When your phone rings, you almost don’t want to answer it. But it’s Butcher, and if you ignore him he’ll come to your house, so you sigh and pick up the call.

“Butcher,” you whisper, and Ben’s arms tighten around your body. “Please tell me this is important.”

“You wound me.” Butcher’s voice is filled with mock offense through the speaker as he says your name. “I ain’t ever bothered you for no reason-“

“One time you called me to say Ben lost his pen.”

“And he was tearin’ up the bloody office, so I needed you to work your fuckin’ sex magic on the Gov before he hurt ‘imself. Always got a reason, love, you should well fuckin’ know that.”

I can’t hurt myself. Ben grumbles in your ear, obviously eavesdropping. Only person who can hurt me is you-

Romantic, my love. Shut up. “Butcher, if this is a work thing you have to call MM, Ben and I both have the day off-“

“‘Fraid MM ain’t able to help with this one, love. I got Secretary Campbell ‘ere, and he ain’t leavin’ until he speaks to Mr. and Mrs. American Dream.”

“Stop calling us that, it doesn’t even make sense.” You sigh, glancing at Joey in your arms. “What does he want?”

Apparently, Singer’s Defense Secretary is trying to get you and Ben to donate some DNA again. And you’d send Ben to deal with him, but you’re pretty sure that would end with a dead Campbell and another year half on the lam for you. So you sigh, tell Butcher you’ll be there soon, and hang up.

Ben mutters your name, keeping you steady in his lap. “I can fucking handle this-“

“No, Ben, it’s okay.” You lean back on his shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “You watch Joey, and I’ll pick up Ryan on my way back.”

“You shouldn’t fucking drive-“

“I’ll go slow. And be careful-“

Ben scoffs. “You’re never fucking careful-“

“Yes, I am. I will be. Just take Joey-“

“No, I’ll fucking deal with Singer’s lapdog, and you’ll keep the baby-“

“Benjamin.” You snap, and he shuts his mouth with a glower. There’s something sore over his whole body, but it’s rooted in his hands. Itching and heavy and tense, tight around his throat-

You frown, tilting your head at him, and softening your voice between your heads.

Are you okay?

I-

And remember I can feel you, Ben. You raise your brows, shifting in his lap to fully face him. Are you worried about the baby?

I’m not fucking worried, he grunts your name, hands tightening on your body. I don’t want to you leave, Sunshine, is that a goddamn crime-

No. You kiss him, quick and sweet, and rise from his hold. But I do have to go. I’ll put Joey in the travel crib, and you can Ben’o’phone me if you need help.

Or you could fucking stay-

You’ll be fine, my love. I’ll be back soon.

——————

Ben wasn’t watching TV. It was on, in the background, but he couldn’t goddamn focus on it. 

There was a fucking baby in the room. It wasn’t bigger than his forearm, it kept making small baby sounds, and if Ben looked away from the crib for one goddamn second he was pretty fucking certain something would go wrong. The ceiling would fall and Ben wouldn’t be quick enough to throw his body over it. He would be quick enough, but he wouldn’t be careful and he’d crush the baby. The baby would shit, and he’d have to change the diaper. It would start throwing lightning bolts like its mother, and Ben would have to figure out what the fuck to do. It would be hungry, and Ben didn’t have tits. 

The ceiling would not fall. This whole house had been supe-proofed, because all of them still had nightmares that set off their powers, when Ryan and Ben it could—according to Her—cause permanent structural damage, and Ben needed to be able to fuck Her however he pleased without worrying about everything breaking around them.

Ben would not crush the baby. He wasn’t some weak fucking pussy who couldn’t control his strength after damn near 80 years.

If the baby took another shit, Ben could change a diaper. He wouldn’t fucking like it, but it was just shit and piss. He’d been covered in guts and blood and brains, shit and piss was nothing. Even if that thing took some of the biggest shits Ben had seen in his very long life.

According to Her and Frenchie, mainstreamed V wasn’t hereditary. It didn’t fundamentally change the users DNA or some shit, so Annie and Hughie’s baby would always just be a normal person. Ben wasn’t really sure, because somewhere in the conversation someone had said what if they had a baby and pointed to Her and Ben, and he’d gotten distracted. 

If it got hungry, She’d shown Ben how formula worked, and he’d figure it out. He’d do whatever the hell he needed to in order to prove to Her that they could have a baby. If they had a baby, Ben would fucking kill it.

Not the baby. He’d kill taking care of a baby. He’d feed and change and tend to it—just like he did with Her and Ryan—and it would be fucking disgusting and boring as shit, but he’d goddamn do it if he could have a baby. 

And he didn’t know exactly what the hell had changed in forty years that men were expected to change diapers, but he’d change a million diapers for Her. He’d throw himself into the Sun and bury himself alive for Her. He’d watch something called How to Train You Dragon for Her. He’d fucking cook for Her—she sure as hell couldn’t do it herself, and Ben would be damned if he let his wife starve—and he’d read a fucking book just to make Her smile. 

Changing a diaper—if that made Her happy as well—was fucking nothing.

So when Joey started wailing—about twenty minutes after She’d left—Ben was fucking ready. He’d been studying all the shit She’d been doing, and this kid wasn’t going to know what the fuck hit him. Annie and Hughie would get him back in better condition, and Ben would be a goddamn hero.

But the baby didn’t want food. And its diaper was clean. 

The only thing that seemed to make it stop was when Ben held it. Cradled it in his arms and rocked it back and forth, sitting back on the couch because every time he tried to put the little fucker down, it would start screaming again. 

Ben didn’t remember the last time he’d been this close to a real baby. He’d seen this one in the hospital after Annie popped it, and a few times after, but he’d never really held it. Annie had offered once, and he’d taken it, but it hadn’t been like this. Where Joey was curled into Ben’s chest and Annie wasn’t bouncing on her feet to take it back. 

This was peaceful. Quiet. The TV humming in the background and Ben just fucking holding a baby. A baby that was happy to be in his arms, and didn’t fit perfectly because it wasn’t Ben’s baby, but was still a damn baby.

Happy. With him holding it.

Something became clear in his head. It had never been fogged or covered, but it was sharp now. Right in reach and touchable, more than just a fantasy or daydream. 

Ben fucking wanted this. And he could really fucking have it. He’d seen Her look at Joey, and She’d sworn she’d want this as well. She’d said She’d want it with Ben.

And he could see it. Ben could almost physically fucking see a baby that had Her eyes and hair and whole perfect face, and would grab Ben’s nose and fucking break it. Any kid She and Ben had would be a supe—as far as Ben understood it—and they would be the strongest one yet. Ryan would help them learn to control the strength, and he’d never fucking worry about being loved less, because as far as the baby would know, Ryan would be their damn brother.

It would be smart like Her and Ryan. The kid would be talking in three months—or something, Ben didn’t know when babies usually started talking—and do all the fucking school shit, then chose to do good things because they would be Her kid, and everything She did and touched became fucking good.

And She’d be the best goddamn mother. She already was, with Ryan, and this would just be more. More annoying parents for Her to threaten, another person for Her to teach shit to, and another piece of evidence for Her to have that Ben couldn’t love Her more if he tried. Another way for Ben to show Her that She, Ryan, and now the baby were the only things in the whole damn universe that mattered.

He could see it. Her padding around the house in Ben’s shirt, holding their baby in one arm and a phone in the other. Hissing incredibly graphic threats at a congressman while smiling at the baby, sometimes dropping Her voice to coo to the kid when She was between calls.

“You know.” She said, swaying slightly in place as she mumbled to the child. Their child. That was Ben’s fucking child. “If that asshole doesn’t listen to Mommy, she’s going to let Daddy yell at them. And Daddy can be scary.”

Ben frowned, but he couldn’t quite move or speak, She didn’t see him there, and when She kept talking any protests of him being ‘scary’ vanished into the air.

“I know that crazy to you, because Daddy isn’t scary.” She set Her phone down on the counter, devoting Her entire attention to the infant in her arms. “He’s just big and grumpy. Like an ancient teddy bear.”

The kid made a soft, babbling sound, and Ben really wanted to hear it again. Especially as a tiny fist shot up, wrapped around Her finger, and she smiled as it babbled again.

“You’re right, he can be a bit of an asshole. Isn’t that right, my love?” 

Ben could suddenly move, and he was walking forwards. Moving to Her side and pressing a kiss to Her brow. “Smart fucking mouth, brat.”

“You love it.” She hummed, leaning into him as She kept speaking to the baby. “He loves it.”

Ben did love it. He loved how fucking happy She was, how easy this felt, and how—when Ryan called from upstairs for homework help—She passed the baby into Ben’s arms without a thought and walked away. 

And that was their fucking kid. And it had sharp eyes that were scanning over Ben’s face a little hazily, realizing that Ben wasn’t Her, and then almost squealing as it realized that he was Ben.

It reached up for him, and fucking Christ, the thing was happy to see him. It was making cute fucking sounds and squeezing his finger, and not a single fucking pussy would ever be allowed to hurt it. Ben would do whatever the hell it took to keep the kid this peaceful, to make it always this happy to see him, to make it so that She and Ryan would have the family they deserved, and Ben could just fucking love them for the rest of goddamn time-

“Ben. Wake up.” A gentle, perfect hand trailed over his face, and he’d fallen asleep. 

He blinked his eyes open to find Her standing between his knees above him, and soft smile playing on Her lips.

“Good dream?”

Ben caught Her hand in his own, pressing a kiss to Her knuckles as he blinked away a little more sleep. “You don’t have a fucking clue.”

She hummed, glancing at Joey, still in his arms. “I think he likes you.”

“He likes that I’m warm-“

“The blanket was warm.” She shrugs. “He likes you.”

Ben grunted. He wouldn’t win this argument, and he knew better than to try. “Where’s Ryan?”

“In his room.” She said, dropping at Ben’s side and smiling at Joey. “We’ve been home for a few hours.”

“A few- You’ve been home hours-“

“Voice down, Benjamin.” She mumbled, leaning Her head against his arm. “And you both looked peaceful. I liked it.”

Ben smirked. Were you watching me sleep, Sunshine-

Yes, I was. And you watch me sleep all the fucking time, Pretty Boy, so shut it.

He chuckled, kissing the side of Her head, and they stayed there until Ryan shuffled down the stairs, stopping behind the couch and staring at Joey in Ben’s arms.

“He’s really small.” Ryan whispered, and Ben coughed to cover his laugh.

“He’s a baby, Ry.” She said, kicking Ben’s shin as She smiled up at Ryan. “We were all that small once.”

“I was never this small.” Ben muttered. “I was a big fucking baby, and you probably were as well, kid.”

Ryan’s eyes widened, and She scoffed.

“How big were you, Benjamin.” She narrowed Her eyes. And don’t say you’re still big now.

Don’t need to say it, Sunshine, you know better than damn anyone that I’m big. Ben winked at Her, smirking at her pretty flush as he continued.  “I don’t fucking remember exactly, brat, it was a hundred goddamn years ago-“

She snorted. “So you might have been this tiny-“

“I fucking wasn’t-“

“You could’ve been.” She stuck Her tongue out at him, light dancing in Her eyes. “We’ll never know.”

Ben rolled his eyes, brat, and pulled Her into a long, slow kiss with his free hand, going until She was sighing into his mouth and slumping over his body-

She pushed off Ben’s chest, and something was radiant and zealous in his chest when She leaned back to look at Ryan, and there was an almost drunken smile on Her face.

“Do you need help with more homework-“

“No,” Ryan shook his head, glancing back to Joey. “I- I’m just hungry, but if you’re busy-“

Ben’s brow furrowed. “We look fucking busy, kid?”

“Uh, no?”

“Then it’s dinner.” Ben grunted Her name. “You want ravioli.”

She gave him a wide, toothy smile, Her voice oddly soft. “Yes, please.”

“Ryan-“

“That sounds good.” Ryan nodded slowly, taking a nervous step back. “I- I’ll go wait in my room- And-“

Ben frowned. “You finished your homework?”

Ryan nodded again, and Ben moved to his feet with Joey still carefully in his arms. 

“Stay in here, kid. It’ll be easier to get you.”

“No- I- It’s okay-“

“Ryan?” She twisted fully in Her seat, a gentle frown on Her face. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay, I just- I don’t-“ Ryan swallowed, bowing his head slightly. “Joey looks really fragile. I don’t- What if I break him?”

She tensed at Ben’s side, and Ben could fucking feel Her aching distress. Feel the presence of Her around his head tightening and spinning, see the sadness all over Her pretty face—almost perfectly matching Ryan’s—and Ben needed to fucking fix this.

“Hold the baby.” 

Ben walked around the couch to put Joey into Ryan’s arms, and the kid just fucking gaped at him.

“But- But I could-“

“You won’t.” Ben snapped, and Ryan shook his head.

“He’s so small, Ben.” He whispered. “And I- I could hurt him.”

“When was the last time you broke something.”

Ryan blinked at him. “What?”

“The last thing you broke on accident, kid.” Ben raised his brows. “When did you break it.”

“I-“ Ryan glanced at Her, but she was just leaning over the back of the couch, tapping Her fingers on the pillows as she watched. “I don’t remember-“

“November.” Ben grunted. “You freaked out during a team dinner and snapped Butcher’s table in half. You’ve had a fuck ton of freak-outs since then, holding shit a lot more delicate than a table, and not a single damn thing has broken. Hold the baby.”

Ryan still didn’t move, only staring between Ben and Joey, and Ben let out a long breath.

“Ryan, do you really fucking think I’d hand you a damn baby if I thought you’d hurt it.”

“N- No-“

“You trust me, kid?”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “Of course I do-“

“Take the fucking baby.”

Ryan finally got it, and took Joey from Ben’s arms with slow, careful hands.

Nothing exploded. The sky didn’t fall. 

And Ryan smiled, his voice filled with awe. “He looks like Hughie.”

Ben smirked. “He really fucking does. Poor kid.”

She frowned from the couch. “Benjamin-“

“Sunshine.” Ben mocked Her tone as he bent down, picking Her up with a grin and laughing when she squeaked. “You’re hungry, beautiful.”

She wrinkled Her nose at him, whacking his chest. “Don’t fucking do that, you asshole-“

I didn’t do a fucking thing. Ben drawled Her name between their heads, his eyes never leaving Her’s as he moved them out of the room. “We’ll be in the kitchen if you need us, kid.”

“Okay!” Ryan called after them. “I’ll stay with Joey!”

All the mock anger in Her eyes dissolved in a second, Ben leaned down to kiss Her—long and sloppy and heavy—as he set Her on the counter, and when he pulled away, Her smile was fucking perfect.

She was hanging off of Ben’s arm the entire time he made dinner, smiling at Ben like he’d handed Her the fucking moon when it was only damn pasta.

What-

I love you, Benjamin. She whispered between their minds. So much.

Ben kissed Her brow, tracing his thumb over Her cheekbone. Love you too, Sunshine.

You’re really good at this. With Ryan and Joey.

He shrugged. I’ll be even fucking better with Ryan and our kid.

And that was the damn truth. Because Ben could finish dinner and help Her serve, and he could eat around the table with Her and Ryan, but when the baby cried it wasn’t his baby. And there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with Joey—he was adorable, seemed alright for a baby, and Ben would never fucking tell Her, but while She’d been gone Joey had been chewing toothlessly on Ben’s finger and it had been the cutest thing he’d seen in his fucking life—but Ben wanted the kid to be theirs. 

He wanted to set up the TV while She and Ryan cleared the plates, let Ryan chose what they were watching for family movie, and have Her sitting on Ben’s lap with their kid in Her arms. Ben wanted to lean over Her shoulder and see sharp eyes blinking up at him, to hear the baby make a bubbly little noise and for it to sound like Her voice.

He wanted Ryan to help put his sibling to bed before shuffling off to his own room, and he wanted to be standing here with Her over the crib—wrapping his arms around Her stomach and swaying back and forth in the dark—as they looked at their baby.

Joey looked so fucking peaceful in there, and Ben could see it again. A future where She’d be just like this, and the baby was really fucking theirs. It’s in a sturdier, bomb-proof crib built by Frenchie, and reaching for Her—because who fucking wouldn’t—and when it made a noise, Ben’s whole fucking world would get a little bigger.

I want one. Ben muttered between their heads, pressing a kiss to the side of Her head, and She hummed.

I know, my love. She smiled up at him, and Ben was going to fucking explode. In the dim light—with sleepy eyes and raw fucking love written all over Her perfect features—She’s was always the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. I’m sure I can find one for you.

End Note: Finally gave Ben a middle name. I don’t care what kripke and any future spinoffs say. That’s his middle name now, because it’s the funniest possible option.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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Taglist

@manicjk @lordofthunderthr @artemys-ackles @brtodd @sthefferrete

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@youdontknowe @nyrtopia @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @panicking-outside-the-disco @Ambiguous-avery

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@woaheasytig3r @lovelywebber @salemslostwitch @winchester-whiskey @and-i-wish

@jsudsgf

[janitetsu]

Househusband Kureishi Headcanons!

wc: 1,550 Happy birthday, Mitsuyo!! The more I see of him, the more I swoon and fall in love. One of the newest additions to my Kengan Husbands tier. ^0^ Who are the rest? Well...you will find out soon.

WARNINGS: - mostly gender-neutral s/o, mentions of pussy, gendered spousal terms, creampie mention, breeding mention

As per Strike it Rich chapter 39, this man is a smooth talker. If he can freely call other ladies beautiful, what more with the person he’s decided to spend the rest of his life with? Gives you compliments anytime, anywhere. He is so shameless about it, too

Gives you cute nicknames (sweetie, sweetheart, darling, wifey), and said nickname is also your name in his contacts list. When you’re calling, he will definitely make some buzz about it, whether he’s massaging someone’s joints in his orthopedic clinic, training Cosmo and Adam (or Nozomi, Nozomin as he calls her, from ISSK) in his dojo, or just hanging out with Joji.

Kureishi: Oho, what’s this? My sweetheart is calling me, excuse me~ (He earns eye rolls from Adam and chuckles from Cosmo and Nozomi)

Joji: Your wife/husband/partner never hits you. I’m jealous, Kureishi.

Maybe I’m too woke but I HATE how Joji’s domestic abuse and eye-scratch scar are played for laughs because it’s done by his wife each time he comes home from drinking T.T Anyway…

He WILL help out with all the household chores and offer to do them for you. His favorite chore is ironing clothes. 

When he sees you already doing chores, he will always offer to take over. Afterwards, he gives you a massage: his expertise! This man canonically has many certificates not just for being a great martial artist, but also for being a skilled chiropractor. You get Japan’s best chiropractor to give you massages…for free!

If you put him in charge of cooking, he’s going to have a bias towards cooking and serving his own favorite food: curry. After a while of just curry rice, though, he learns to cook different varieties of curry like Thai Curry and Filipino Curry (Kare-Kare), among others.

Compared to his gladiator/fighting arena days in Fist of the Seeker, he’s really mellowed out and will continue to be just as chill in marriage. His “bone-breaking fetish” is purely towards opponents and people he deems dangerous to his loved ones (though he *does* feel some tingles when massaging you and hearing some joints or bones crack. Don’t worry. Unlike before where he’d just “rub one out” in the shower, he’ll kindly ask you to help him with his “problem”, should it get “bigger and harder”.)

 Will only “revert” back to his old ways when he has to beat up someone who wronged you. He was protective of Koga, again, what more with his life partner?

Loves wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and resting his chin on your head (or shoulder if you’re taller) and barraging you with compliments while doing so.

“You smell so good, as always.”, “You’re so cute, so beautiful/handsome.”, “How’d I get so lucky?”, “God, I love you so much.”

Never really thought he’d settle down, given his gladiator past and current background (famous national mixed martial artist/coach and awarded chiropractor). Many have tried, but he either found them shallow, or he just didn’t have the time due to his busy schedule given that he’s got two jobs.

Bought a house after you two got engaged. His apartment days were over the moment you passed 2 years of dating. He was already looking to buy a house and just never told you.

Money was and will never be a problem. Years after the events of FOTS, he’s likely earned quite a bit of cash given that he’s now famous all over Japan as a martial artist and chiropractor. Never had anything else to spend on besides equipment and maintenance of his dojo and clinic, which are in adjacent buildings (to maximize the space and minimize the cost of maintenance and travel). Because of this, he loves spoiling you and getting you little trinkets that you mentioned in passing liking, or outright expensive things you request for. A Rilakkuma teddy bear? Noted. Vivienne Westwood designer goods? Noted as well. Be careful what you randomly say, he WILL end up buying it later. (“Hey, this one looks cool/cute!”, pretends to not notice). 

He (most likely) lives in TOKYO! His dojo and clinic are canonically located in Ochanomizu and he most likely lives within the area, too. Living expenses in Tokyo are insane, a rough estimate being 158,000 yen (over 1000 USD, or 60,000 PHP in my currency). Trust me when I say your future is secure with Mitsuyo.

Not really much of a drinker and only drinks on occasion, unlike his old pal Joji. Perhaps during anniversaries, special holidays, or birthdays. He always advises his orthopedic clinic patients to not drink booze and opt for water instead (Danberu Chapter 21), so you bet he’ll do his best to apply the advice he always gives them to himself.

Will ease off the teasing in the honeymoon stages of your marriage (he’s in the “Swooning, I can’t believe this is my reality now”-rose-tinted shades phase) but goes back to it after a few months or so.

Being the youngest of five siblings, he’s probably gotten tasked with looking after nieces and nephews. I like to think this is one of the reasons he’s a natural at teaching. Because of this, he has never-ending patience. Need help with improving at any chore? He’s got you covered. Prepare for a lot of teasing when he’s teaching you, though. He loves getting a rise out of you. When you’ve reached a “boiling” point, he kisses you on the forehead, cheek, or lips, depending on the severity.

“My sweetheart, so cute, even when you’re angry. Even when your brows are almost one because of how much you’re scowling ♡. I love you so much ♥. (PUNCH HIM!!! You try; he catches your fist and chuckles before kissing it. HE IS INSUFFERABLE!!!)

Related to above, is experienced with kids. Definitely wants lots of them. Proposes to outdo his older siblings and have four or five children. Is excited to get to the point of your married life where you get to call each other “Mama”, “Papa”, “Mommy”, or “Daddy”.

“How is Mama doing today, hmmm ♥?”, “Mitsu…really…?” “No, no, you should be saying “Papa” ♥”

Your kid: “Papa, Papa! I want—” Kureishi: “Hmmhmm, ask Mama/Daddy/Mommy ♡”

Your kid: “Papa, can I go outside to play?” Kureishi: “Mm, I don’t know, can you?”

Teases his kids too, but his favorite person to tease will always be you.

If you can have biological children, they will have his natural pink hair. Sorry. (I refuse!! the anime’s color choice!!! PINK-HAIRED KUREISHI is the only valid Kureishi!)

NSFW

Has gotten around before dating you, mostly short flings, never anything too long-term because of his busy schedule.

Sex…in his chiropractor uniform. Have you SEEN how tightly snug that damn uniform is on him? It’s like he’s doing it on purpose. His muscles and chest are ready to burst out at the seams. He’s definitely closed up shop early or heck, spontaneously to fuck you on his massage table.

Sometimes (around a 50/50 chance. THAT kind of sometimes), massages can lead to sex, it’s up to you if you want to stop his advances or let him continue. He can’t help himself—he loves you too much.

You’re lying on your chest, eyes closed and smiling, thinking today is a normal Mitsuyo Massage Day…and then as he’s massaging your back, he snakes his arm under and fondles your chest, his calloused fingers playing with your nipples. Well. Looks like you were wrong today.

HATES being belittled. Ask him “Is that all you got?”, “Can you go any slower?”, “Is this it?”, “Are you really a martial artist?” and you will open the (white) flood gates. You WILL get folded in half, you WILL get creampied many times, and you WILL not walk for weeks. He will NOT massage you afterwards to teach you a lesson. During these times, aftercare will mostly consist of kisses and praises.

“Hmm?? It hurts? Well, that’s what brats like you get ♡.” *kisses u*

Holds your hand during sex and loves brushing his thumb over your wedding ring. It’s mark and proof that you’re his. (though he does love marking you inside, too)

I WILL make everyone have breeding kinks and LOVE the mating press!!!

Can go for many rounds. He’s a martial artist, what do you expect? Him being in his mid-thirties isn’t an obstacle, either.

A good 6.5-7 inches, not too girthy, but can give you a good stretch. Cum taste ranges from nothing to just a bit salty, making it easy to swallow despite the slight thick texture.

His crushing grip on your thighs, legs, waist, or hips leaves bruises. He does that on purpose. He doesn’t want to break his beloved’s bones, but he does want to leave marks.

Pussy-eating expert!!! Never gets exhausted and will never complain about his tongue being tired or numb. RIDE HIS FACE and he will be a happy man. No such thing as too heavy for this martial artist.

Overall: amazing husband, amazing sex skills, ALWAYS knows what he’s saying and doing. 1000/10

[iid-smile]

can't get rid of me , fushiguro toji

a strong legacy to be left behind , chapter one

the series masterlist. | previous | next

cw: profanity, mentions of pregnancy (pills) but filtered for megumi's sake, mentions of violence in prison, you're broke, smoking cigarettes

author's note: sigh... im out of my fluff era 😞 (sorry guys) kinda wanted to write something that i think would actually happen in some sort of alternate jjk universe and um idk how far to go because this kind of stuff does happen in the manga, but writing it feels illegal??? idk...

"mom?" megumi peeks out from around the corner in the hallway. "who was calling?"

another groan escapes your lips, around the fifth one in the last three minutes, and you silence your phone once again. "your— excuse my language, shitty deadbeat dad keeps wanting to call me." you slap your hand across your forehead and lean back on the couch, a small creak coming from somewhere below. "apparently he's getting aggressive in prison. shut off the house phone, but they still found my number..."

your son comes closer to you, and you scoop him up, placing him by your side. he glances up at you, and you swear your fight or flight instincts nearly kicked in, (not that you'd be able to fight of a guy as big as toji anyways) flinching slightly from his sharp gaze. it sucks how he looks so much like his dad, because you loved megumi so much. but the image of that guy was almost too much to bear, and he's the spitting image.

"shitty?" he repeats. for a well-behaved kid, he really doesn't respect your words.

"don't say that megs, it's bad language." you swear around him all of the time, so what's the point in scolding him? "only your mama can say it."

"don't tell me what to do."

wow. okay. why do you feel threatened by a six year old? "damn, you've got his attitude too." you mutter, but you've only got yourself to blame for that. you knew you were never cut out to be a mother, so your ways of parenting weren't the best.

he snuggles closer to you, and you openly accept, moving your free hand to his hair to rub over it. "why can't i see toji?"

ah, this lovely story again. "because he left me as soon as you were born, love." really, you couldn't and didn't want to stop yourself from wrapping him up in your arms, feeling the need to protect him. "at this point, he's dead to me. seems like he doesn't feel the same though... i'm so sick of his ass." you also knew it wasn't good parenting to rant to your child about adult issues, but you've only got him to talk to.

that hug was out of comfort then. why are you lying to yourself?

he looks up at you with an irritatingly cute but blank face. "why?"

"god, i hate how many questions you ask." you speak under your breath once again, looking up at the ceiling from any sort of help from a higher being. the amount of times you've had to family-friendly-ify things that have happened isn't even funny. you're not naturally rated u for universal. it's more embarrassing when he recites those same stories to his teachers, and you get called into the school for a little talk.

yikes... here we go. "he lied when he said he gave me the right magical candy after we visited the stork. tried to make it drop you off back to where babies are made in heaven, but i wanted it to deliver you to me, whether he liked that or not." the story's got to be a little filtered somehow. you'd rather not get yourself in the principal's office again. "you're my little hero; a miracle to me. i would've given up on myself ages ago. your dad is a bad, bad man."

the type that would kill. if he found where you lived, or perhaps where megumi goes to school...

"and now i'm left broke in an apartment that barely functions, yet i still spoil my little hero." you sing-song, leaning your head back. "and with what money? i'm broke as hell, megs. can't even make both of us breakfast in the morning cuz your elementary school is too damn expensive."

"is this my fault?"

"...no. no, baby, of course not." you furrow your eyebrows more, a small pout in your lips. "if anything, you made my situation a bit more fortunate."

it's a selfish way of thinking, using your child to avoid solving your problems, using your child to wail and complain about how much you hate your life, but you've got nothing to lose. nothing to lose except for the one person you love.

you can feel your phone buzzing again.

"you stay here and watch tv, okay? mama's gonna go to the kitchen and talk to her friend." he seems a bit relieved as you let go of him, and you stand up.

you hear him mutter. "it's only playing the news though..." no shit it only plays the news, you can't afford to get a good television company that has any kids shows. that is, unless you wanna get scammed out of all of your money.

begrudgingly, you make your way to the kitchen, confirm that you closed the door completely, and answer the vibrating device. "hello?" you sigh, placing the device over your ear.

the other person on the call replies quickly. "is this miss—"

"yeah, yeah, it is. what the hell do you want?"

"um... we apologise, but we strongly suggest that you come to the prison building. he—" the guy's voice cracks. must be really nervous. "pardon me. he's been physically assaulting other inmates and guards, he doesn't follow orders, he never leaves his cell unless it's to visit the closed visits room. you know, in hopes that you'll come..."

obsessed much? where was this energy six years ago? "that's got nothing to do with me."

"please, ma'am. he won't listen to anyone, and we are unable to place him into special facilities as he doesn't emit any cursed energy." ah, he's begging? that's a first. you never would've thought you'd hear a person who works at a prison begging.

cursed energy, cursed energy, this talk again and again and again. "urgh..." you take a deep breath. your options are limited, and they won't stop calling until they can get that lunatic to calm down... surprise, surprise, you really don't want to go.

but if you were really uninterested in him, wouldn't you have already spent the bail money that's been sat on the counter for ages, neatly concealed in an envelope? wouldn't you have paid off all of your debts already? "will i— hm..." choose your words carefully, goddamn it. "can i get a reward of some sort if i go? money?"

"yes, yes! please do visit. there's nothing we can legally do to him in check anymore." ...you think this guy sounds a little too eager.

damn toji and his "supernatural powers", or else you wouldn't get yourself into this mess. finally, after your moment of silence, you respond. "okay. i'll visit."

"thank you—!" you cut off the line.

"fucking bastard..." you drop your phone on the counter, running your hands through your hair and over your face. "stressing me out for what? you don't even love me." your words turn into whispers. with haste, you rummage through your back pocket, trying to find those last few cigarettes, but as your hands were occupied, your eyes moved over to the ashtray that was collecting dust on top of the microwave. oh, right... you don't smoke anymore because there's no ventilation indoors.

you'd have to head out if you wanted to, but then megumi would be in the apartment on his own. and nobody can babysit, because you don't have anybody to ask to babysit. great, you can't smoke until monday. it's a friday afternoon. you have two whole days to get through!

you know for a fact your addiction won't hold out for that long.

[deadsetobsessions]

Listen, I know it’s not my usual thing, but I just re-read Dark Matter by mysterycyclone (iconic, so good, incredible, I’ve reread this at least ten times) and this newer work, Help Me, I Don’t Feel Like Myself Anymore by Astra_Nova_Kat (it’s off to a really good and fleshed out, very long start- it’s like 20k for the first chapter omg).

I just. Love?? Them??? They’re both, urg, so good. The writing style, the way the story moves, the natural progression of plot and their usage of tropes are so well done that rarely does it feel awkward. Amazing. Anyways, they inspired me to put my two cents into the proverbial offering hat and while this might not ever be a realized fanfic, here it is? This will have multiple parts.

Uh, I’m basing Peter’s personality off of the really tired millennial energy Tobey Maguire gives, the awkward but well meaning disaster vibes of Andrew Garfield, and the sassy acrobatic chaos gremlin of Tom Holland. All kind of mushed together with the hyper competence and maturity of both the PS4 spidey and pretty much most spider people. He’s 22, or something but that doesn’t really matter?? Background doesn’t really matter because I’m basically making my own spider-verse. Spider… past? Eh. New Peter!

Spider in Gotham AU- Pt.1

[Pt.2]

——

Spider-Man swung through the skyscrapers of his city, enjoying the winds and sounds of New York as he kept a sharp eye out for crime.

He remembered doing this without any of the fancy tech his suit had now, when he was dressed in less protective clothing. God, 100% cotton while crime fighting? The spandex was better but god ugly.

His spider-sense blared. Spider-man quickly shot a web to the top of the building, going towards the danger instead of away from it.

He goes in feet first, years of knocking common thugs to legitimate gods to the ground making short work of the people on the roof top. He flips out of the way, dodging a blast of crackling green energy.

“Heyyyy, common robbers! What’s up with shiny lasers, huh? Breaking and entering not doing enough for ya?”

Spider-Man dodges a couple more shots, flipping again to knee a guy in the face, gently. The man goes down in one shot.

“Stay still, you motherfucker!”

“Does that actually work for you guys?? Like I’m down to get killed but, man, I’m not gonna stay still to get downed by some two bit thugs?” Spider-Man kept his words light and mocking, webbing up a laser gun and yanking it out of the woman’s hands. He punches her in the face and knocks her out, using the laser gun like a mildly bulky baton.

“Eat shit, Spider-bitch!”

“Ouch! Oh no, my feelings! You’ve hurt them!” Spider-Man shoots a web at the lady who’d shouted and yanked, before smacking her straight down to the concrete of the rooftop. His hearing picked up two people coming up the stairway and Spider-Man tossed two web bombs, the metal mechanism attached itself to the wall, waiting for their unknowing victims.

Spider-Man ducked and weaved, downing goons as they piled on him while shooting bullets, lasers, and just charging at him with a bat or a crowbar. After eight years of pretty much this exact thing, Spider-Man had gotten the science of breaking up goon dog piles without hurting them too much to an exact measurement. He quipped at them until they got annoyed, which made them sloppy. Spider-Man sighed as another guy came at him with a crow bar and a gun that he was pretty sure was still stuck on safety. He crouched, kicking out their legs and dodging a swipe of a bat where his ribs would have been and webbed the guy to the floor. Yeah, he’ll wrap this up and end patrol. Maybe he still had Mac n’ Cheese at home, or he could stop by Angelo’s for a sub?

Huh. His options for dinner was limited.

“Take this!”

Even without the forewarning of his spidey-sense, Spider-Man would have ducked out of the way regardless.

“Shouting your sneak attacks isn’t actually all that sneaky, you know!” Spider-Man kept his voice cheery and mocking.

“Get him!”

God, why were there so many people trying to break into an insurance company? This definitely doesn’t smell like a regular B&E. With the shit he’s seen in New York, if it smells like a plot, acts like a plot, then it’s probably a villain with a tragic backstory with big, annoying plans.

Great.

Oh, speak of the devil!

“Spider-Man.” His senses blared.

He couldn’t move out of the way fast enough, not without risking the life of the goon he was currently fighting, so Spider-Man took the blast the punched the breath out of his lungs. The wide eyes of the goon made up for some of the pain.

“Ugh!” Spider-Man slammed into an HVAC, denting the metal. His suit, made special polymer blend from Wakanda that he saved for months to get, absorbed some of the shock. Shit, he hoped it didn’t tear. It would be a bitch and a half to dip into the back up stock he had in his hammer space.

The goons left standing quickly rushed him and held him down to face the new boss.

“You’ve been getting on my nerves, Spider.”

“Yeah,” Spider-Man coughed out, letting the two goons think they could hold him down on his knees as he recovered his breath. “I have that effect on people.”

“But you could be an asset, if you’d join me?”

“Uh, I don’t join or sign things without knowing what I’m joining or signing, my guy. My lawyer said so.”

The villain paused, helmeted head cocking to the side.

“You have a lawyer?”

“Yeah. Kind of? He does pro-bono work for the helpless cases. You know, like, a well meaning, crime fighting vigilante?”

“…Does he do cases against insurance companies?”

“Oh man, you too? Dude, this place sucks,” Spider-Man sighed.

“You’ve had trouble too? Then you must see why I’m doing this!”

This was a bit weird, but if there’s anything that brings people together, it’d be corrupt insurance companies. He’s almost tempted to let them break in, just to be extra petty.

“Nah, my neighbor? Sweet old lady. They’re screwing her out of her entire place. I totally get it, man. Hey, if you need a referral, you can tell my lawyer that Spider sent you. He’s real good.”

“How good?” The goons release him and Spider-Man stood up, stretching his limbs.

“Like, Dare Devil good.”

“You know Matt Murdock??”

“Sure do.”

“He… he’ll take on our cases?”

“Dang, all of you?”

“Yes. We can pool enough money to pay him for one or two.”

“Nah, I’m pretty sure he’ll take you guys on for free. But it wouldn’t hurt if you all went to meet him, just so he can decide which one of you has a higher chance to win in court?”

“We will. Uh.” The villain paused sheepishly. Well, not a villain, more like an unfortunately angry and poor decision making citizen. “Sorry about… you know, the blast.”

“It’s cool. I mean,” Spider-Man gestured to the rooftop, the bodies of unconscious people kind of laying around where he knocked them down. “You guys might wanna check on them, yeah? I’ll let you go for now, but if you commit a B&E again, I’ll leave you webbed up for GCPD to find.”

“Got it. Sorry.”

Feeling good about himself, and plotting corporate espionage, Spider-Man went to help pry some people from his webs.

And of course, because Parker Luck kicks in only when Spider-Man felt like life was looking up for himself, Spider-Man’s senses blared once more as he knelt down to pull at some webbing.

“Oh, shit!” He heard, right before a cold blast of something slammed right into his head, knocking him out.

And Spider-Man

F

E

L

L.

——

Larry looked at the the empty space where Spider-Man, the guy who took a hit from his boss’ blaster so he wouldn’t get hurt, used to be.

He twisted.

“Boss, what the fuck?!”

“Shit! That was accident!” Boss pulled herself up from the concrete, where she just ate dirt.

“Where did he go?”

“I don’t know, Larry! That was the experimental warped mode! Crap!” His boss scrambled with the controls, desperately trying to see if the magic gun her magician friend had handed her years ago had a reverse button. It didn’t.

“Why would you bring a test weapon into the field?!”

“I gave you all of my other ones!” She threw up her hands. “Fuck, I feel so bad.”

Larry paled. “Dude, Dare Devil’s gonna kill us.”

“He doesn’t kill!” His boss hesitated. “I think.”

Larry pointed to the empty space. “Yeah? He might start with us. Spidey was a cool guy and you just disappeared him!”

“I know!”

Larry buried his head into his hands and tried not to hate himself for the entire situation.

——

Spider-man woke up, laid flat on the grimy ground of an alleyway.

“Ugh. Just my luck.” He kept his eyes closed for just a beat longer to allow himself time before having to pull his shit together. Why was his voice high? And a bit squeaky? He pulled himself together.

“Okay.” He whispered to himself, before sitting up and taking stock of the situation.

First thing that hit him was that it stunk to high heavens. Gagging, Spider-Man looked to the right and- yeah, that’ll do it. He stood up on wobbly legs to try to move away from the overflowing dumpster.

That’s when the second, more important and decidedly more troublesome, observation hit him.

He’s short. Shorter. And his suit was hanging off of him.

He could tell he still had his normal by now physiology, with the speeding heartbeat and the feeling of super strength. But he’s shorter. With a mounting sense of equal parts dread and resignation, he pulled at the hidden seam by his nape, relying on his both his enhanced senses and spidey-sense to tell if anyone was nearby or looking at him. He pulled the Spider-Man suit off, blankly folding it neatly as he stared dumbly at his hands. They’re small too. Shit. He stumbled to a nearby mud puddle and stared down, seeing his younger face in the contaminated water. Double shit.

He’s starting to loose his composure. He’d gone through a lot of bizarre things over the last eight years. But getting accidentally Detective Conan’ed by a person he just helped was a new low.

The black under layer of his suit, a slash proof and fire resistant polymer Peter had designed himself in MIT’s lab, was in a similar state.

With one hand, Peter Parker numbly rolled up his sleeves and pant hems. Great. Okay. Now what?

Ah. Shoes. He did not want to walk around in his too-big Spider-Man boots. He looked around. Well, there’s the laces of what looked to be like a pair of dumpster shoes. “Yeah, no.”

Shit. Does he still have access to his hammer space?

Peter reached into his pocket, and tried to reach for a pair of normal sneakers. His shoulder slumped as he produced a pair. Fuck yes. He still has access! And shoes! They’re ones he took off of a power line for a well off kid who didn’t want it anymore. He was going to donate them to F. E. A. S. T. but he’s thanking the stars he procrastinated a bit on swinging by the center. He put them on. They’re a bit big, but it’s better than the giant-in-comparison ones he normally wears. You know, as an adult.

He hesitated with his mask. He should at least figure out where he is. He hoped it was still in the states. His mask blinked, the HUD in his lenses informing him that it was trying to find a connection. “That’s weird.” He paused, grimacing at the sound of his voice. But it is weird, because he had his mask automatically connected to the world wide satellites Tony Stark had sent circling the globe for citizens without internet access as a back up option. So either he was somewhere even the Stark Satellites couldn’t reach or…

Peter swallowed, his mask pinging as it found a connection to piggy back on. He clicked his tongue twice to activate the voice controls.

“Connect to the local maps. Where am I?”

His masked followed the order. [Gotham. New Jersey.]

Peter stared at the words, gut churning.

Good news, he was still in the States. Bad news? He’s shrunk, in a totally different state, and possibly in a different world because he’s not connected to the Stark Satellites he knew operated in New Jersey.

Peter Parker tilted his head back and allowed himself one verbal, panic level six and up, curse word.

“Fuck.”

He took off his mask and leaned against a slightly cleaner part of the wall before hyperventilating.

——

Half an hour later, Peter smacked himself on the cheeks and pulled himself together.

“You’re Spider-Man,” he hissed to himself. “Have a mental breakdown somewhere warm, you dumbass.”

Peter Parker was a champion, world class expert at compartmentalization.

He slipped his mask back on, and pulled up his “So You’re Stuck in an Alternate Universe” list he had made with Ned so many years ago when they were high school kids and going through comic books to make contingencies because Peter was a little idiot vigilante hero.

“I didn’t think I’d actually ever need this kind of thing.” Peter muttered. He slipped his black back up gloves on to connect to his mask’s display in order to type.

“Okay,” he glanced at the side by side screens in his lenses. “Money.”

Five things.

1) The emergency cash he’d stashed on him thankfull matched the pictures of cash he’d found on this world’s internet. Yay!

2) He had $1000 tucked away. Not yay. Not if this might be a long term stay before he got back to his own dimension. Not if he wanted a place to sleep.

3) Luckily, thanks to his earlier search of where the hell he was, Peter figured out that due to the high crime rates- “Dang, that’s worse than New York on New Year’s Eve,” he had marveled- Gotham was dirt cheap and that that meant 1k dollars could actually last him a while and he could afford a room for a month on $250. A whole ass apartment for $550. Peter seriously considered staying in this universe just for the rent prices. So what if there’s rampant crimes? He’d deal with it if the rent was that cheap.

4) Problem? He’s fucking tiny. Who would rent to a person that looked like child? Not anyone upstanding, that’s for sure. He’s more likely to get mugged. Counterpoint: he’s in a city where apparently shady people are all around. Also? He doesn’t have an identity.

5) If the fact that he couldn’t connect to the Stark Satellites didn’t convince him he was either in another universe or an alternate dimension, the visual graphics of the websites he visited would. It was like looking at Windows in the early way before Stark Co. bought them out and improved the design. Nauseating.

Okay, so, money’s not too urgent of an issue. Next on Ned’s list: Places of Interest.

Namely, libraries, homeless shelters, crime hotspots, and the like.

Peter snorted when he came across an opinions article talking about how Park Row became Crime Alley. And then he frowned, because that story was not painting this place to be even remotely nice. Then again, considering the crime rates and the various Rogues this place seemed to have in spades, that wasn’t much of a surprise. Peter marks the place in his new mental map of Gotham as a potential area he could either disappear to or get a new identity at. He then marked the libraries, Gotham City Public Library and its many branches all funded by generous donations from a Bruce Wayne, the Martha Wayne foundations’ shelters and charities, two supermarkets near the library, and a coffee shop he thought looked warm and cozy from the shitty pictures they have uploaded online. He needed coffee, dammit, and he needed it hours ago. Alas, he probably wouldn’t get to go to one until he secured his finances.

Well, it’s not like he doesn’t have practice being poor.

3) Which brings him up to Ned’s next, surprisingly reasonable for a teenager hoped up on a mountain load of sugar, point. Level of Tech.

Peter hid next to the dumpster, melding in with the shadows, as he continued his research.

Tech here was… well, he probably wouldn’t have to worry. The thought of not having a Starkphone, even his older model, was painful considering the new versions of these WaynePhones were really… behind. Peter doesn’t remember the last time he had buttons on his phone or let alone a touch screen that didn’t use facial tracking and biometrics or even have a holographic display mode.

“Ugh. Okay. Not the end of the world, Parker.” Peter muttered.

Now… People of Interest.

This was underlined three times with Ned’s red pens, with extensive subcategories.

Subcategory A? Villains, because “what if they put out a warning for a known villain and you get your butt kicked because you didn’t know about them, Peter? Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

He had replied, half focused on the list and the other on savoring the Millennium Falcon Lego set May had saved up for months to get him for his birthday, “I feel like if I was getting my butt kicked by a villain, I’d probably have better things to worry about than my utter humiliation, Ned.”

“True that,” Ned had snicked and jotted it down anyways.

And… well, Gotham had a lot of villains. The Joker (ew, that’s a crusty man in crustier face paint. This guy could learn so much from the cool mimes busking in Central Park. Like, how to do face paint. Or how not to be a massive murderous jerk. There’s Clayface, Two-Face, a bald guy in “Metropolis” (a name Peter couldn’t help but snort at because a city named city? That’s like na’an bread being bread bread. Or chai tea being tea tea) named Lex Luthor, and Scarecrow. He tabbed all of them and marked them for further perusal at a later date. From experience, he knew villains with a prominent M.O. and themes usually did more damage. Case in point: Rhino, and the million dollars of property damage the guy did everytime he escaped the Raft. Peter was seriously considering petitioning for the Raft to be placed further out just so he could have more warning the next time some assholes decided to free the prisoners and helped them escape.

He narrowed his eyes at the screen, his mask’s lenses following the movement. He’ll have to pick up a gas mask. Apparently bio-weapons are just a regular thing here and he really didn’t want to get dosed with this “fear toxin.” It’d be dangerous for everyone involved. Maybe if he gets his hands on a sample, he could build up tolerance and see how his immune system and metabolic rates affected the normal progression of the toxin. Ah, off topic. He’s gotta focus.

Subcategory B: Local celebrities.

“Why would I need to know local celebrities?” He’d asked.

“If someone came up to you and asked “Who’s Tony Stark?”, wouldn’t you clock that as super weird? You gotta blend in, Peter. Plus, you gotta keep up with the pop culture, dude. It’s important.”

“You just want alternate universe memes,” Peter grinned.

“That too. If you ever go to an alternate universe and come back, you’d better bring me a truckload of memes or I’ll never forgive you.”

Yeah. So. Wayne? Super important. Like Tony Stark levels of important. He found threads about them and the local vigilantes and their charity works. Peter’s brain instantly catalogued the info, all but memorizing the deluge of pictures he found of Bruce Wayne and his kids. Maybe the man had an adoption problem? Conspiracy threads and memes popped up alongside his research. He tabbed one on secret societies, because as Spiderman, he had fought a disturbing amount of secret societies that, on hindsight, had been theorized about on threads he’s read on his free time. Somehow, somewhere, somewhen, a conspiracy theorist could be right. Peter’s not about to dismiss that. He also saved like thirty different memes to send to Ned when he got back. If he got back.

Peter smacked that thought away. He’ll get back to his city or die trying.

Subcategory C, underlined and starred: Other Superheroes and Vigilantes.

Yeah, Peter’s excited about this one too. After Matt stopped being Dare Devil (but did he actually ever stop?) and Wade dipping in and out of NY, Peter’s gotten lonely as Spider-Man. He missed training with them. Of course, the fantastic four were still operating, but he doesn’t actually interact with them or the Avengers at all. Miles hasn’t been cleared (by his mom) to go out as Spiderman with near as many hours as Peter cleared a night. Peter stood behind that because he remembered how horrible it was to work as Spiderman and try to balance school on top of it. Also, he was terrified of Mrs. Morales and would never endanger her son more than he already does. He did wave to Black Widow from a rooftop once, spider to spider, and that was pretty much the coolest moment of his life.

So. Uh. The amount of vigilantes and heroes in this world? Amazing. In Gotham? There’s like, a whole team of them.

Batman, Nightwing (who, Username: Draken Draken had theorized, was the first iteration of Batman’s sidekick Robin), Red Hood, Black Canary, Huntress, Red Robin, Spoiler, the “day vigilante” Signal, the current Robin, and whispers of a “Black Bat.”

And their unfortunate “No Meta” rule with the singular exception of Signal. Peter figured their term of Meta was essentially the same thing as his world’s mutants. He’s not sure which term he liked more. Eh, he’ll worry about that later.

And there’s a Justice League! Which, to Peter, is just a bigger Avengers. There’s aliens on this world too. Superman. Martian Manhunter.

Peter grinned from his place crouched next to the dumpster. Yeah, this is awesome. He quickly memorized everything he could find, cross referencing posts and picking out the nuggets of truth or at least popular truth from the posts he viewed. Like, Red Hood operated in Crime Alley and was a crime boss with morals. Cool.

He’ll go down the spiral later. He mentally thanked Ned who was the best guy in the chair a teenage vigilante could ask for. He should really text his friend when he got back.

For now, he’ll head to the library and see if he could use their computers. He might need a card though… Peter quickly pulled up the search engine and found an Internet cafe. Ah, 24 hour internet cafes, the savior of his college days. There first, and then library, Peter decided. He memorized the instructions and pulled his mask off, tucking it away in the hammer space.

He walked out the alley and turned left, only to double take at his reflection in a shop window that was partially boarded up. Holy shit, he’s a baby. He’s like. 10!

Oh my god.

Peter twitched, tearing himself away from the window before the shop owner decided he was less curious and more potential mugger before promptly remembering that he looked less of a threat than ever. Mixed feelings.

Peter hurried his way to the internet cafe, paying the guy at the front a little extra so he’d ignore the obvious minor without a guardian thing Peter hasn’t gotten used to. Ugh. That was going to be annoying. He only paid for two hours and pulled up as many listings for a room as possible. By the end of it, he came out with $1 worth of fliers printed out and having funneled some billionaire’s offshore accounts into a new bank account he’d made by hacking into the bank servers. Does he feel bad about stealing? Yeah. But Peter’s a vigilante. He’s done worse than nabbing a monthly sum of a couple of hundreds from Lex Luthor’s off shore accounts. He’s not gonna get caught, and considering the guy’s rants on meta humans, Peter’s not feeling particularly guilty about it. He’ll do something good later to make up for it. Once he gets his footholds and can prepare his way back, he’ll even return to the rest of the money. Probably.

Peter left the cafe with his sheaf of flyers, stopping by an informational stand with free tourist maps and plucked one quickly from its plastic holder. He’ll pick something up from the food vendors on his way to the apartments. Peter began walking, taking in the sights of the gargoyles and-

“Nope!” He caught the wrist of a pickpocket. It’s a kid and he immediately felt bad.

“Lemme go. I ain’t done nothing to ya, ya Yorker tourist.”

“Okay,” Peter shrugged. “Don’t get caught the next time?”

The kid gaped at him. “Shi’, you must be really good at it. I’ve never been caught before.”

Peter wisely refrained from telling the kid it was due to his spidey-sense. He let go of the kid’s wrist and let a bit more of his accent out. “Why’d you need money anyways?”

“Food, duh.”

“Dude, I’m starving. Tell you what. You show me the best sub shop nearby and I’ll pay for your food. Deal?”

The kid stared at him, wide eyed. “You’re fuckin’ nuts. Why’re you being nice?”

“I’m hungry? Do we have a deal, kid?”

“… Fuck it. Fine. And don’t call me kid, shrimp. You’re like what, eight?”

Oh. Yeah. Peter’s a kid now. He shrugged.

“I’m older than you. I’m twelve.”

Peter blinked, frowning at how thin the kid’s wrists were.

“I’m Peter!”

“… Frank.”

He let Frank lead the way. Stranger danger doesn’t apply to him, he’s a grown ass man. In the body of a ten year old him, but still. A couple of minutes, four sandwiches and a load of chips later, Frank was watching wide eyed as he demolished three four dollar subs.

“Holy shit. Where are you packing that away? You’re a stick!”

Peter took a big bite of the sandwich as an answer. Frank looked down at his meal.

“Uh. Hey.”

Peter made a muffled noise of question, mouth stuffed full of steak and cheese.

“Sorry about. Uh. Trynna nick from ya.”

Peter chewed faster.

Frank continued, looking like he hated himself. “I wouldn’t… normally steal from shrimps like you but I was desperate and… really hungry, so. My bad.”

Peter finished chewing. “All good, dude. Eat your sandwich.”

Peter had the sudden urge to adopt Frank. Unlike Wayne, he’s not a billionaire, so he smacked that urge down. He could use a friend though. Now… how to be friends with a literal child!

“If you feel that bad about it, you could… be my friend?”

Peter took in the wide eyed gaze from the twelve year old in front of him. Abort! Abort! That was too direct!

“You’re fucking weird. But… okay.”

“That was easy.”

Frank scowled, kicking Peter’s shin.

“Ow!”

“Whatever, shrimp.”

Peter scowled. On his baby face, it came out as a pout.

Do not start beef with a twelve year old, Peter. You’re a grown ass adult.

“Hey, you know I’m new here, right?”

“Duh.” Frank took a bite of his food.

“Can you tell me which one of these are legit?” Peter handed Frank the flyers. He took them, an odd look passing his face.

“You’re looking for a place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

Frank stared at him. Looked back down. He instantly got rid of four listings out of the ten. “These are too close to the Alley. They’re probably traffickers.”

Peter hummed in agreement. Frank paused.

“You’re just gonna trust me on that?”

“Yeah? I can tell when people are lying.” Well, his spidey sense could, when he cared enough about the subject.

“What the fuck.” Frank shoved the rest the papers at him and guiltily munched on his food. “Are Yorkers all just like you?”

“Dunno? Probably not.”

“… Whatever. The rest of the places should work. They probably won’t ask questions.” Frank flapped a hand at Peter’s new situation. Yeah, the shortness was getting to him too.

Peter nodded. Obviously, they were the more expensive places, but considering the new found resources he’d… acquired during his time at the cafe, it doesn’t really matter.

“Cool! Wanna go see it with me?”

Frank immediately took on a suspicious glare. “Why?”

“I dunno? You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just thought since you know your way around…”

“Ugh. Fine. But if there’s anything shady, I’m fucking dipping out.”

“Okay!” Peter grinned for the first time the couple of hours he’d been trapped in this new world.

——

They’d found an apartment with a landlord that got a weird, sad face when she was talking to them about the apartment. After like, an hour of walking around and Peter’s spidey sense screaming at him not to even go near the places Frank had left in the pile of maybe’s.

“We walked all the way here. Ya not even gonna go in?”

“The vibes are off. It’s a no.”

And because Peter’s a genius idiot with no self preservation, he’d marked the places to investigate later.

Frank had blinked at him, mildly offended and nonplussed. After a while of spluttering, he just gave up. Eventually, they got here.

“I don’t normally rent to kids,” the landlord lady said. Peter immediately liked her. “But I’ll make an exception if you’ve got the cash.”

“I’d like to see the unit first, please” Peter said. He’s not stupid, and Gotham’s renting scene is both easier and harder than New York.

They toured it. Peter? He’d seen worse. He’d lived worse. Also, it had two bedroom and was $620. Yeah, Peter was really considering just staying here full time and commuting to his New York when he wanted to be a vigilante.

“I’ll take it, ma’am.” The landlord and Frank both snorted, sharing a Gothamite look.

“It’s Georgie, to you, brat. You just need the first month’s rent, since I’ll wave the deposit for you shrimps. Utilities included. Your friend stayin’?”

“No-” Frank had started.

“Yep!” Peter beamed, interrupting his new friend.

“What?” Frank turned, gaping again at this weird little kid who had enough money to rent a place and then invited a whole ass street kid he just met to live with him. “Are you stupid?! What if I rob you? Huh? I don’t need charity!”

Peter slowly looked around the empty unit.

“Uh.”

“No, that’s not the point!” Frank pointed a finger at Peter. “That’s how you get yourself killed!”

“But that’s why you should stay! I don’t know my way around Gotham so…”

Peter looked up at Frank, using his shortness for maximum devastation. “Please?”

Georgie leaned back on the heels of her feet, silently laughing. It’s not every day she sees a Gothamite street kid get out stubborned by an outsider, but she knows better than anyone that Gotham is weak to genuine kindness. And this Peter kid, the one that reminds her so much of her own? He’s practically filled with it.

“Yeah, kid,” she said to Frank, snickering. “Look at him. He’s gonna get mugged two steps into the Alley. Or anywhere.”

Frank flailed, but eventually, Peter handed over the money to an amused Georgie who gave them two keys in return and a move in gift of a pot pie.

“I gotta. Uh. Go get my stuff.” Frank had mumbled, dazed at whatever the hell just happened.

“Okay! I’ll see if I can go get furniture!”

“And lift them with your shrimpy arm? You wish.”

“I can use a cart.”

And really, he could, because Gotham had a lot of abandoned carts laying around. Like a concerning amount.

“Can you even reach the handle?”

“I’m not that short!”

Frank snorted, Georgie’s own chuckles following a beat after. Peter scowled at them.

“Be right back,” Frank promised, holding the key like it was treasure. He had been homeless for two and a half years now, so in his eyes, that key was as good as gold. He had somewhere warm to stay. Trying to pickpocket Peter was the best mistake he’s ever made in his short life. But he didn’t want to take advantage of that, well, no, he did want to, but he doesn’t want to take the genuine kindness for granted so he’ll see if there’s any street furniture he could haul back on his way.

“Okay!”

Georgie watched him go and turned to Peter.

“If you need stuff, there’s a thrift store and a grocery store that way.” She gave him the directions.

——

As soon as Frank and Georgie left, Peter immediately left his new place (and holy shit, he really didn’t expect things to be this easy. In New York, he had to spend at least a week checking out places because he had to figure out whether the problem that cause subtle twinges with his spider sense was worth living with. Here? It’s too obvious.) to buy supplies. He had $400. Until his new card came in, at least. He’d put his new address into that bank account addressed to a “Anthony Benjamin” before ordering a “replacement card.”

Peter ran to the thrift store, hurrying before the last traces of the sun dipped below the smog of Gotham. A frankly absurd amount of blankets, towels, pillows, clothes, packaged boxers, socks and shoes around his size went into the cart. To his chagrin, Peter couldn’t actually see much over the cart. Why the hell was he such a short ten year old? He blasted through the store, also guesstimating Frank’s sizes. He tossed in curtains, a used set of glow in the dark stars, and a lamp.

He also grabbed mismatched mugs, bowls, a bundle of cutlery, and a dented microwave he casually pretended to struggle getting onto the bottom part of the cart. It’s like lifting grapes for him, but he looks like a ten year old so…

He, guiltily, bought a mildly fancy camera in a set, with two separate lenses, even if one was cracked.

Not bad, for $150 total. Peter is going to definitely seriously consider commuting to New York. They didn’t even care when he walked out with the cart! Well, that might be because of the cashier who gave him a pitying glance.

He stopped by a general store on the way back, parking his cart in a rapidly shadowy alleyway. He swung by the new section of the store that reminded him of a Dollar Tree and got cleaning supplies, toiletries, and two pans and a pot. He grabbed some canned food and a couple of frozen meals in the back. Seasonings, ramen, general pantry staples went in. A role of paper towel. Nice. Venom would have loved this store. With half of his budget blown for essentials, Peter quickly cut his spending off and

He quickly gathered his stuff and went back to the apartment, using his strength a bit to lift the full cart up the stairs at the front doors and into the elevator. It creaked like the first time they used it to go see the apartment, but it worked. Peter set everything up in the living room, pillow and blanket wise, and put everything in its proper place. The lamp was put up, giving more light than the old bulb in the ceiling light.

All Peter wanted to do was pass out, but since his dumbass took in a child, he couldn’t sleep until this place was relatively fit for a kid to live in. He also wanted to wait for

So, that’s what he did. Taking a sponge and the cleaning supplies he’d picked up earlier, Peter tackled the living room, scrubbing away at old stains and spraying mildew. He marked trouble spots- like that splinter worthy piece of floor next to the doorway leading to the hall between the bedrooms. Then the kitchen. By the time Frank cautiously peeked his head in from the front door, Peter had already finished scrubbing the over.

“Hey.”

Peter turned, grime on his face but grinning. “Hey!” I bought some stuff!”

Frank snorted at his face before glancing around the living room, eyeing the cart parked neatly on the side.

“So you did. Didn’t get mugged, did ya?”

“Rude. No, of course not.”

Frank gave him a… frankly… unimpressed look and dumped his bag next to the pile of blankets and pillows Peter had piled onto the floor. Sue hi’, they didn’t have beds yet.

“Got somethin’ for ya,” Frank said neutrally before dragging in…

“A coffee table!” Peter bounced towards Frank, hugging him before lugging in the heavy wooden table in. “You’re the best! Where’d you find it?!”

The tension, anxiety about Peter’s reaction, in Frank’s shoulders relaxed and the kid grinned. “Alley. Some asshole just left it there for anyone to hit with their car so I took it.”

“Nice! We can eat on this!”

——

When they were getting ready for bed, Peter insisting on showers for both of them, Frank had reared up at the clothes Peter bought for him. Peter pretended like he didn’t see anything and shove a whole tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush at him.

“Ew. Do I have to?” Frank asked, wrinkling his nose but taking the items anyways.

“Yeah.” Peter said seriously. Frank gave a moment to wonder why he was taking orders from an eight year old before shrugging. He could brush his teeth in exchange for a roof over his head, food, and clothes. It’s not even a fair trade, for Peter, anyways. Frank was enough of an alley rat to take advantage of that.

——

When Frank passed out, Peter couldn’t sleep. He’s exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep.

So he took his new camera and climbed the fire escape to the roof top.

An hour later, he met his first vigilante.

“Hey, kiddo. I’m gonna need you to back away from the edge.”

“Woah!” Peter startled, jolting slightly off of the ledge he was balanced on. He twisted around to see Red Robin, hand outstretched and panicked look in his eyes.

“Dude. Warn a guy!” Peter said, even though his spider sense warned him of an approaching person that was actively watching him.

Red Robin held his hands up. “My bad. Would you- uh, not be on that ledge?”

“Yeah, sure. My bad, bro.” Peter obligingly stood up and stepped away from the ledge. Red Robin relaxed then did a double take. Peter frowned. Is there something on his face?

“What are you doing up here, kiddo? It’s late.”

Peter decided to scope out the vigilante. “Couldn’t sleep,” he held up his camera. “I’m taking pictures.”

“Oh. That’s cool! Can I see?” Red Robin approached warily, but relaxed when Peter didn’t spook and try to take a shortcut to ground floor.

“Sure! It’s a new, well, not new but new to me, camera so I haven’t had all that time to mess with the specs but the pictures turned out pretty good-”

“Oh, woah. This one’s great. That composition? Amazing. You caught the light perfectly,” Red Robin complimented. Peter brightened, knowing a photography fan when he hears one.

“Photography buddy!” He cheered.

They talked for an hour after that, but Red Robin quickly sent him to bed once he remembered the time.

“Ah, shi- crap. It’s like 2AM. You’ve gotta go to bed.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry if I interrupted your patrol, Mr. Red Robin!”

“No problem, kid.” Peter slipped back down the fire escape, not caring if the vigilante saw where he lived.

——

Up on the rooftop, Red Robin pressed a hand to his comm.

“Red Robin to Nightwing.”

“What’s up, Red?”

“Do you have a kid you don’t know about?” Tim said, bluntly.

“… What?”

“Oracle, can you share my cowl footage?”

“Copy. Oh, that kid…”

“Looks exactly like Wing?” Tim said, peering down at the empty fire escape. “Yeah. Talked like him too.”

“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” Oracle said. Tim agreed. That curly hair? Baby face? Adorable. A bean. “Did you get DNA?”

“Ah, shit, I knew I forgot something.”

“Do not break into his place and nab a hair,” Nightwing reprimanded, but his voice sounded distracted.

“Holy shit, you guys nerded out about camera placement and lighting for an hour?” Hood piped up.

“Get some rest, Red Robin. You’ve been working too hard,” Batman grunted through the comms. Awkward… but he’s been getting better at communicating his worry for his kids.

“Sure thing, B. Heading back to the main cave. Red Robin out.

——

Peter: lay low and get home

Also Peter: talks to a vigilante

None of them think Peter’s Nightwing’s yet. Peter will know before them… eventually. Once this world’s version of him gives up his memories to be absorbed by AU Peter.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 4

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, bit of trauma processing, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: family discord and dealing with trauma, drugs briefly mentioned, human trafficking briefly mentioned

word count: 1.7k

Chapter Selection

I thought I was a strong, independent woman. I thought I preferred to take care of myself, that I could never be comfortable relying on others. One date with Jason had me strongly questioning those convictions. He bought the books, we had a late lunch/early dinner at the food court, wandered several stores, and talked about everything and nothing. I managed to keep him from buying every little thing I looked at, but we still ended up with several bags - all of which he insisted on carrying. Even with the bags in his hands, he managed to get his pinky wrapped around mine every time my hand was down. It was clingy, and awkward to walk, and it made me giddy. Is this feeling what everyone’s so obsessed with? … I think I get it now.

Jason drove me home that night, insisting that it was getting too dark and he didn't like the idea of me on public transit alone at night. Normally I would fight him on that, but the idea of walking home from the bus stop was doing unpleasant things to my stomach. He parked, and we took several minutes to rearrange the items in our bags.

“... I guess that’s everything.” He seemed a bit disappointed.

I nodded. “Yeah, I think you're right. … Thank you, Jay, this was a lot of fun.”

He smiled softly, nodding. “I had fun too. … Can I … see you again?”

“It's a distinct possibility.” I smirked a bit. “After all, I have yet to pass judgment on your trashy romance novel selection.”

He laughed softly, groaning and rubbing his face. “I already regret suggesting that. Give it back, you can't have it.”

I held my bags away from him, giggling a bit as he pretended to try to steal them. Suddenly there was movement in the corner of my vision, and I saw a silhouette on the roof across the street. “Oh god…”

“What? What's wrong??” Jason pulled back a bit.

“There’s someone on that roof. Which one is that, can you tell?” I peered up, but with the moon behind them I couldn't see any details.

Jason turned to look too, suddenly a bit stoney. “... Looks like Red Robin and Nightwing.”

“... Two of them? Are you sure? I only see one.” He just nodded. “... Fuuuhhhck, what's happening in my stupid neighborhood?”

“Probably nothing. This isn't their patrol territory…. Or … at least, that's what I've heard.”

I raised an eyebrow, staring at him. “You've heard? … What, do they take their cars to you?”

“... Something like that. … Anyway, it's well known, this is Red Hood's part of town.”

“... You don't think they're here for him, do you? I thought they were allied now?”

Jason shook his head a bit. “Probably just trying to spy on him … nosy bitches…”

I giggled a bit at that, but couldn't help the sneaking concern in the back of my mind. If they really were here to spy on Red Hood, that would suggest he was nearby … Did he decide he wanted his shirt back after all, or was something bad happening in the area?

Jason turned to me, a gentle smile on his face. “Hey, don't worry about them. You just get inside where it's safe, ok?”

I nodded, smiling softly. “Ok, but text me when you get home.”

He nodded, chuckling, “will do. And … about seeing each other again, … how about lunch on Tuesday?”

I nodded, grinning. “Sounds good. Good night, Jay.”

“Night, Doll.” I blushed a bit, getting out of the car and into my building. He waited for me to close the door before driving away, and I headed up to my apartment.

I wasn't sure what I'd find upstairs. I hadn't told Red Hood my unit number, but it probably wouldn't be that hard for him to figure out. … Hell, the shirt might have a tracker on it.

I unlocked my door and checked every room. Nothing had moved. My clothes were still in a crumpled heap on my floor, the flannel still peaking out from under my ruined pants. It occurred to me that I had meant to pick up a replacement pair at the mall before heading home. I sat on my knees, trembling a bit as I picked up the shirt. A thorough examination didn't reveal any electronic pieces attached. It was just a normal red flannel.

I held the shirt against my chest, shaking a bit. Everything was fine. I was fine. Red Hood was one of the good guys, even if he did some really terrifying shit. I wasn't a drug dealer or a human trafficker, so he had nothing against me. He was kind to me, even. I was safe. I was safe. I was safe.

My mind slowly drifted away from that night. Thoughts of blood and fear were replaced bit by bit with Jason; his shy little smiles and cheeky grins, the feeling of his finger wrapped around mine, even the smell of his cologne. When I breathed deep I could still smell it; a rich, woody smell, with a bit of lavender, and under that was a base note I couldn't identify. Something sharp and slightly metallic. I sighed softly, deciding not to think too hard about why I was tying the shirt around my waist, and started tidying the apartment. Couldn't put the pile off forever, but I didn't have to start there…

Jason watched her go inside, waiting to make sure no creeps followed her in before the security door locked. Once he was satisfied that she was safe, he drove off, calling Dick. Straight to voicemail. He tried Tim; also straight to voicemail. Annoying, but fine. He knew where they would be headed next.

Unfortunately for them, the drive was not nearly long enough to calm him down. He pulled in to the batcave and sat on the hood of his car to watch the entrance. Eventually the pair rode in, staring at him like he was the grim reaper.

“… Heeeyy Jason! What are you doing here? Don't you have tonight off?” Tim tried to play it cool, taking his bike to its designated parking spot.

“You should be more careful, Tim. She saw you.”

“Whaaaat? I don't know what you're-”

“She. Saw. You. On that rooftop.” Jason growled a bit, clenching his fist. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to reassure her that her neighborhood was not about to be attacked without revealing too much?”

“C'mon Jaybird, we just wanted to check in!” Dick grinned, moving to pinch his cheek. “Baby Jay-Jay's first date! You can't fault us for being excited for you!”

He smacked Dick's hand. “I can and do. Don't do anything like that ever again.”

Dick hissed dramatically, pouting. “You're so mean, Jay. We just wanted to see if it was going well!”

“Stop. Spying. On me.” He growled, giving Tim a pointed glare. The younger man raised both hands in surrender and nodded.

Dick smirked as Jason opened his car door, calling out; “okaaay, but don't forget to report in to the chat. Unless you'd rather Babs check the CCTV footage at the mall for us?”

Jason froze and growled. “… Fuck….” He slammed the door shut and drove away without another word.

BatKids Group Chat:

Jason: It went well. Now everyone STOP stalking me! You're weirding her out! 😡

8:04pm

Cass: Excuse me??

8:06pm

Damian: Grayson and Drake are the only ones interested enough to bother stalking you, maybe you should focus your ire on them and not the whole family?

8:06pm

Babs: We need details, Jay!

8:07pm

Duke: Wait, what??

8:08pm

Dick: Jaybird went on a date today, Duke! Keep up!

8:09pm

Tim: With a normal human-type girl no less!

8:10pm

Damian: How normal can she be? She accepted a date with Todd after you two harassed her.

8:11pm

Cass: 🙃 … Dick, do we need to have a talk? 

8:12pm

Damian: I handled the matter at the coffee shop. (and am still waiting to be thanked, for the record Todd - the date would not have happened if I hadn't stepped in.) … But still, the girl's taste does seem questionable.

8:13pm

Dick: There was nothing to handle! We had it under control! 🙄

8:14pm

Cass: I hate to say it, but Dami does have a point - are we /sure/ she's entirely normal? There's no chance she's an undercover villain or anything?

8:14pm

Tim: Way ahead of you - background check came back clean. She's as normal as any other Gothamite.

8:15pm

Duke: So … absolutely nuts, but probably not too dangerous? 😂

8:16pm

Babs: Don’t listen to them, Jason - she's a very lucky (normal) girl!

8:17pm

Jason: You cannot be serious. You ran a background check???

8:19pm

Steph: What Babs said. Now, make with the details! 🤩

8:20pm

Dick: Of course we did - what kind of big brother would I be if I let you go out with a girl we know nothing about???

8:21pm

Jason: 😑 … This is exactly why I don't usually respond to this thread.

8:30pm

Duke: Details, man!

8:31pm

Steph: Details! Details! Details!

8:32pm

Jason: 😤 … We picked out books for each other.

8:38pm

Dick: Awww, cute!

8:39pm

Babs: … And???

8:40pm

Jason: And … She seemed a bit surprised that I was there at all?

8:43pm

Damian: Pleasantly surprised, or upset?

8:44pm

Jason: … Just … Baffled I think.

8:45pm

Tim: … How many times did you have to reschedule?

8:46pm

Jason: … A few. But I always told her with enough time so that I wouldn't be standing her up! 

8:47pm

Babs: Curious…

8:48pm

Dick: Alright everybody, recon time!

8:48pm

Jason: NO! It is NOT recon time!

8:49pm

Damian: What do we know about this girl?

8:50pm

Babs: On it!

8:50pm

Jason: No, no, NO! Stop!!!

8:51pm

Tim: Too late!

8:52pm

Jason: Uuggghh! I'm muting all of you!

8:53pm

Tim: … NOT IT TO TELL B!

8:55pm

Damian: Not it

8:56pm

Babs: Not it!

8:56pm

Cass: NOT IT!

8:57pm

Steph: Not it!!!

8:58pm

Duke: Not it!

8:58pm

Dick: …. Fuck.

9:03pm

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Divider by: @saradika 

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