#anyways if the police ever pulls us over and wants to know who we talked to for permission I’ve got it

[laomelettedufromage]

As much as I hate working on permits and all the communication they require, I have learned that I am weirdly good at remembering the names of everyone I talk to and which places they are associated with. Idk what this information is useful for but it’s… something

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[wcnderlnds]

bucket hats & trench coats | peter maximoff

・❥・summary: peter ralph gets caught up in the westview incident

・❥・word count: 2.1k

・❥・warnings: 18+, nsfw. female reader, p in v, unprotected sex, car sex, agatha all along spoilers kinda, swearing.

・❥・ authors note: this is pure filth im so sorry. also bless @jazz-berry for getting caps of our boy that i just had to use for this 💕

The click clack of fingers zooming across a keyboard was the only sound that rang out through the room. Peter’s eyes were solely fixed on the computer screen as he typed up his newest Reddit post. Ever since the events of Westview had happened and his mind was his own, he was determined to spread the truth of what had really happened. He was the hero Westview needed. Thing was, nobody really cared to listen to his ramblings about Wanda and Agatha and how he’d been manipulated by both.

Apart from you. Everything Peter had experienced, you had, too. The hex had taken you both under control. The only difference was that had only been under Wanda’s control and not hers and Agatha’s like Peter had been. It had taken a real toll on him. He was still himself but he was… paranoid, guarded like he couldn’t trust anyone.

“Holy shitballs, dude,” he spun around in his chair to face you who was sprawled out on the couch with a book in your hand. At the sound of his voice, you peered over at him, a brow raised in question. “Some kid wants to meet up to talk about the whole Westview shit. We gotta go meet him, babe. He wants to know all about Agatha and Wanda and the freaky crap that went down.”

As you looked at Peter, you couldn’t help but frown. He was still as handsome as ever but his face was now adorned with a beard, the lines and bags around his eyes more prominent than ever. His hair was an unruly mess of half silver, half brown. He’d dyed it to try and hide himself but had never kept up with it so now the roots of his curls were a shocking silver that mismatched the brown. His eyes that once held so much joy, so much fun were now full of fear and vulnerability.

“Okay, if that’s what you want to do then, yeah,” you nod.

That’s how you ended up in a parking lot the next evening. Peter looked ridiculous stood beside you in a long trench coat and a bucket hat. Although, maybe in a weird sort of way it was a look. Or maybe you were just so desperate for your boyfriends touch that you were finding anything about him attractive now. Intimacy had come to a complete halt after everything that happened. He spent most of his time on Reddit trying to spread his story. The whole thing had really put a strain on your relationship but you loved this man and there was no way you were leaving him when he needed you the most. So what if you had to touch yourself most nights just for some relief. If that’s the way it had to be then fine.

“You look ridiculous,” you hissed at him, shaking your head. “Do you really need all of this?”

“It’s a disguise, duh! Can’t have him recognising me, can I? That’s why I’m going by Ralph… I mean, Randal — whatever fake name that police dude gave me. What’s up with you anyway? You’re crabby,” he took a sideways glance at you before glancing down at his watch.

“Nothing.” It was a mumble, hands stuffed into the jacket of Peter’s you were wearing. As he was about to speak again - or, more accurately, call you out - a car pulled into the lot. This was it. “Just be careful, okay?”

Leaning up, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. His beard tickling your face, the sensation only increasing those impure thoughts of wondering what it’d feel like somewhere else, somewhere lower. Peter nodded, giving your hand a squeeze before you jogged off back to the car. This was his thing. It was something he needed to do alone so you made yourself comfy in the backseat of the car, pulling up a game on your phone to pass the time.

It felt like too much time had passed since you left your boyfriend to his meet up so with concern, you got out of the car. Peter was walking around in circles, alone, mumbling to himself. Walking over to him, you approached cautiously. “Peter?”

“I forgot to tell him so much. Damn, I’m an idiot. Do you think he’d meet up again? I need to tell him about the rabbit and….” You cut him off by taking his hand in yours.

“I think you need to relax. This isn’t good for you.”

“It’s the only thing I can think about. It’s the only thing going through my head at any given point. All I can think about is the awful things those… witches… made me do.”

At the word witches, you cut in with “bitches” causing the tiniest of smiles to creep onto his face. You had missed his smile. It was one of the most beautiful things on the planet and you’d do anything to see it again.

“I know, baby. But… you’re letting this consume you and… it’s driving us apart. I miss my boyfriend. I miss my Peter. I miss joking around, going on dates, you stealing stuff for me, being intimate with each other. Do you not realise how long it’s been since we had sex?” You sighed, playing with the fingers on his hand.

“…fuck,” he let out a sigh of his own, the realisation hitting him. Hard. How the heck could he forget about the most important person in his life? No, he wasn’t having that. He had to make it up to you and quick - luckily that just so happened to be his speciality. His hands slid down your sides, finding your hips and pulling you into him. “I’m sorry. I’ve been the worst fucking boyfriend. Let me make it up to you?”

Everything that happened next was a blur. Before you knew it, you were laid on the backseat of the car, legs spread wide with Peter between them. You had no idea where your panties were — Peter had pulled them off in a frenzy. His tongue teased along your folds elicting the most precious sounds he’d ever heard from you. Every brush of his tongue drove you wilder and wilder. His beard rubbing against your thighs only adding to the growing desire in the pit of your stomach. His lips sucked on your sensitive bud causing you to whimper, hands flying to his hair until you realised he had the stupid goddamn bucket hat on still.

“Peter,” you breathed out.

“Yeah, baby, you like that?” His tongue swirled around your clit, completely oblivious to how annoyed you were.

“Peter!” This time he looked up at you from between your legs. “Take the stupid fucking hat off.”

“You mean it’s not doing it for you? Thought bucket hats were all the rage,” he snickered but he took it off, tossing it into the front of the car then dove back in like a man starved. The long, broad stripes of his tongue sliding through your pussy was like ecstasy. God, you had missed this. When you felt him prodding at your entrance, your hands once again flew to his hair this time tangling in it successfully as his tongue dove into you.

“Oh shit,” you moaned, hips bucking into his mouth as his tongue explored your plush walls. Peter could do this all day. Your moans were like music to his ears, the taste of you the best thing he’d ever have on his lips.

“That’s it, baby,” he mumbled against you, his tongue making its way back to your clit. “Gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna let me make it up to you?” Between the kitten licks and the sound of him sucking up your juices, you were sure you were about to see heaven but then the little shit thrusted two fingers inside you. Your body arched as he pumped them at a rapid pace. The stimulation of his tongue and fingers was too much for you to handle and you came. Peter lapped at you, his fingers not letting up as he rode you through your orgasm.

He pulled his fingers from you. A shit eating smirk - one reminiscent of the old Peter - was plastered on his face when his eyes met yours. Seeing your release over his lips was enough to almost trigger another orgasm. It really had been so fucking long. “Not done yet.”

Through the dimly lit windows you could see him, rubbing his hard-on through the fabric of his jeans. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you leaned forward, one hand reaching out to pop the button and pull down the zipper. With his help, you pulled down his jeans and boxers enough to free him. You reached out, stroking his cock, the pearly beads of pre-cum leaking from him. With your thumb, you spread it around his tip, causing a groan to pass his lips.

“Damn, babe, keep that up and I’m gonna shoot a load on you in two seconds.” He pushed your hand off him. “Need to fuck you now. Need to fuck you real good to make up for the last year.” He pumped himself a few times, his brows furrowed as he looked at you. “Trench coat on or off?”

You contemplated it for a second. “Fuck it, keep it on. Makes you look like a mysterious hot grandpa.”

“Grandpa?! You little brat.”

That was all you heard before he pushed his cock into your tight walls. He bottomed out in one thrust, filling you to the hilt. God, it felt so good to feel him inside you again. Instantly, he began thrusting into you at a rough pace, his hands gripping your hips so tight you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow but you didn’t care. All you could think about was your boyfriend was fucking you within an inch of your life again. Finally.

“So fucking wet for me, baby. Don’t think I haven’t heard you touching yourself every night,” he grunted, pulling out and pushing back in with force. Each thrust rougher than the next — all his pent up frustrations finally having a form of release. “Thinkin’ about me when you were playing with this pussy, huh?”

“Yes, Peter,” you mewled. Your hips bucked wildly against his trying to match his pace but it was no use. He was definitely using his mutation with the way he was pounding into you, your body moving along the seat with every thrust.

“Ain’t gotta do that no more. Gonna fuck you like this every night now,” he lifted your legs over his shoulders to hit even deeper inside you. “So damn tight.”

Hands gripped his forearms as he rutted into you like an animal in heat. Sweat was forming on his forehead, tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on bringing you as much pleasure as he could. His eyes focused on the way your tits bounced under your shirt, roaming lower as he watched himself disappear in and out of you. Fingers found your clit and you felt the vibrations rumbling through him, causing you to almost scream out. It was too much. Way too much.

“Peter! Ooooh. Can’t -,” you cried out. Before you could even register what was happening, your walls tightened around him, body arching into his as you came. Peter didn’t let up, thrusting into you with a frenzied speed and muttering dirty ramblings as he chased his own high.

“I’m gonna - fuuuuck,” his thrusts grew sloppy and before he knew it he was spilling his load into you, white hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Your legs fell from his shoulders as the two of you collapsed into each other in a sweaty heap.

The silence was almost deafening. The only sounds were your breaths as you both tried to remember how to breathe properly. The windows of the car had steamed up which caused you to giggle. Of all places you thought this would happen it definitely wasn’t in the car. Peter couldn’t help but laugh too. “You good?”

“Great,” you assured him. “Might not be able to walk but damn, Maximoff. I forgot how good you were.”

He scratched the top of his head, feeling every single bit of remorse for letting things get this bad. “Sorry about that, babe. That’s on me. I just got caught up in this Westview thing that… I neglected you but swear down I’m gonna keep making it up to you. Never meant for it to come between us.”

“I know,” you cupped his cheek. “Do me a favour, though?”

“Anything.”

“Keep the beard.”

tag list (ask to be added!): @juliamaximoff @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @xmidnight-rain @honeymoon8

[moody-alcoholic]

Safehouse

MDNI +18 content.

Summary: 3.2k words. Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe

CW: MDNI +18 content. PIV sex, almost caught during sex (kinda).

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

When you get to the safe house the sun is peaking through the clouds. The place looks like a regular house, you guess that makes sense, the more normal it looks the less conspicuous it is. Price pull’s the car into the driveway and everyone gets out. You follow Simon and feel Johnny behind you his hand finding the small of your back.

Its a reassuring touch you need right now, you’re not sure what's going on. The safehouse is cold as lights flicker on. Gaz and Price go over to a dining room table placing down bags and boxes. When they open the boxes you see it’s filled will all sorts of gear and weapons. You feel like you’re intruding as Simon and Price set everything up.

“You still tired?” Johnny asks. You’re not sure. Maybe you are but you don’t think you could sleep now. 

“Why don’t you go curl up on the sofa, see if you can get some rest?” Johnny suggests. You nod heading towards the living room. Not because you’re tired but you get the sense they want to talk about whatever plan they’re working on and that doesn’t involve you. It still feels strange though to feel Johnny’s hand leave your back. You look over at Simon but he still has his back to you talking with Price and Gaz.

You walk in the living room it’s cold so you grab a throw off one of the chairs and flop down on the sofa bringing your legs to your chest for warmth. Everything smells stale, there is a nice layer of dust forming on all the surfaces. The house doesn’t feel lived in. You guess it isn’t, only ever used by desperate people, or people who need help. You try to relax watching the sun come up through the bay windows.

You must have fallen asleep since the next thing you know Johnny is shaking you awake. You look up everyone is standing around you, You sit up letting the throw fall to the floor. Your body stiff from being curled up in such an uncomfortable position. 

“Do you know if there are any hidden rooms in Chloe’s house?” Johnny asks. You look at them confused.

“I don’t think so, they have a basement I’ve never seen. Although I heard it’s small only used to store wine and expensive liquor.” You say rubbing your neck. You look up at Simon his arms are crossed as he stands next to Price. Johnny stands up and you rub the sleep out your eyes.

“Think you can come take a look at these plans tell us if they seem right?” Price asks. You nod getting up and following them into the dining room. There are blueprints for the house spread all over the table. Some look older then others, some more intricate. 

“This is the latest one we have.” Price says pulling one over you look at it trying to mentally map it from what you remember. You think everything looks right. Price shows you more plans, some included the basement some don’t. There are a few rooms missing on some of the plans. By the looks of things a lot of the rooms were shortened down to fit en-suites. 

“What’s the plan anyway?” You ask after you’ve given them everything you know. 

“The police are going to raid them we’re going to help.” Price says. You nod not pushing it any further the less you know the better. So they’re going to raid the house. What are they looking for. Weapons? Drugs? Both? You’re pretty sure the house will be clear, there’s no way that they would store illegal stuff there. It’s their home, Chloe’s mum worked too hard to make that place what it is. No way would she risk losing it.

You look at them as they talk round the table. Johnny smiles at you now and then. Simon seems focused, listening to everything Price is saying and giving his input. They’re cool and organised. I guess that’s why they’re SAS soldiers. You leave them to it heading back into the living room to look through the bookshelf you saw earlier.      

——————————  

You’re in the bathroom washing your hands when there’s a knock at the door.

“I’ll be done in a second.” You call turning the tap off. You go to open the door and see Johnny is stood there. His hands find your waist and he pushes you back into the bathroom. You smile as he plants his lips on yours, pressing your body up against the windowsill. 

“Johnny,” you breathe between kisses. “We’re not alone.” This is definitely not professional, Price seems nice but you’re not sure how he would react if he caught you both. Especially now Johnny’s hand is working it’s way up your top.  

“There’s a lock on the door ain’t there.” Johnny says quickly turning in the tiny space using his free hand to turn the lock. He looks back at you as you feel heat rushing to your cheeks.

“What about Simon?” You ask. Feeling bad for him being left out. 

“Oh yeah he wanted me to pass on a message.” Johnny says with a cheeky grin on his face. 

“Oh yeah?” You ask as his lips lock on to yours again. His hands are both up your top now squeezing your breasts rolling his thumb over your nipples. 

“What’s the message?” You whisper in his hair as his tongue works its way down your neck. Johnny hums sending vibrations down your body and you lean back on the windowsill supporting yourself. Johnny’s hands move to your waist, his hands slipping round your waist as he pulls you against him. You can feel his hard cock pressing against you. In one quick movement he pulls your jeans and underwear down to your knees. You gasp as the cold air hits your bare skin. Johnny looks down as you one of his hands runs up your thigh. You spread your legs for him, as goosebumps form on your skin, you can’t tell if it’s from the cold or Johnny’s touch but you don’t care. 

“Simon doesn’t fuck before a mission says it’s bad luck.” Johnny says his hand reaching your needy pussy as he slips two fingers between your folds. 

“What and you think?” You ask Johnny, bringing one of your hands up to grip the back of his neck. Johnny smiles looking up at you. 

“I think it’s good luck.” He says, his fingers finding your clit rubbing it as you squirm on his hand. He kisses you again to stop you from moaning out loud, you forgot you’re not alone. You hear him unbuckle his belt and you scoot down the windowsill a little to give him a better angle. His fingers are rubbing faster as your fingers grab his hair.

Simon had cut it at some point yesterday so there wasn’t much to grip onto. You bite into your bottom lip as you feel Johnny move, his tip rubs your entrance. This is really happening in the bathroom of a safehouse? You almost want to laugh.

Johnny moves his hand to your waist as he guides you down, a long moan escapes your lips as he eases himself into you. You bury your head in his neck as his hands grip your waist supporting you as he thrusts inside. It feels good at this angle he’s hitting a spot you haven’t felt while laid down. After a few seconds of arranging himself he takes your free hand still gripping the windowsill and moves it to your clit.

You don’t have to be told you know what he wants you to do as you start to touch yourself, moaning into his neck. He smells good you think as you feel yourself bounced up against the window. It’s frosted glass so hopefully no one can see. Is this what Simon wanted to tell you? This doesn’t feel like Simon’s doing this is very much Johnny, spur of the moment, lot’s of kissing and praise.

You smile as you tip your head back against the window. Johnny speeds up and kisses your neck which makes you tingle. It’s not cold anymore as you clench down on him, which causes him to moan his hands pulling you down on him harder. You’re close you have to stop touching yourself or you’re going to cum. 

“Johnny.” You breathe as loud as you dare.

“Don’t stop.” He says smiling as he pulls your hand back down to your swollen clit. There’s a sharp knock at the door. Johnny slows down, to almost a complete stop sucking in a breath of air.

“Johnny are you in there?” It’s Price. You look at Johnny wide eyed and he smiles.

“Yeah,” he calls back. You shake your head. 

“Alone?” Price asks. 

“‘Course sir, want to join me?” Johnny says and move your hand from Johnny’s neck to cover your mouth so you don’t laugh. You hear Price sigh.

“Just come down to the kitchen when you’re finished.” You hear footsteps leaving. Johnny pulls your hand from your mouth and kisses you, slowly building back up to the speed he was at before.

There is an new sensation as he thrusts himself into you harder, almost like he’s in a rush now. It still feels good as he breaks away from the kiss to watch you touch yourself. It doesn’t take you long before you’re close again, you put your head into his neck moaning his name as you come. He grunts into your neck as you clench around him after a few more thrusts he’s coming too. You enjoy the feel of him throbbing inside of you and you pant into his neck.

Eventually he pulls you off and up in his arms setting you down on the toilet seat. He reaches over you planting a kiss on your cheek as he rips off some toilet paper to clean himself up. 

“You said Simon sent you with a message?” You say. Johnny chuckles tucking himself back in his pants. You move off the seat so he can throw the paper in then sit back down. 

“Yeah,” Johnny leans down and plants a kiss on your cheek. “That’s from me.” He moves to your other cheek planting another kiss. 

“That’s from Simon.” He smiles. 

“And the sex?” You ask. 

“Thought we could use a little luck.” Johnny winks at you heading for the door. You sit there on the toilet for a few more minutes after Johnny leaves trying to calm down so you don’t look like a mess when you leave. When you hear talking from the bottom of the stairs you clean yourself up and leave.

It’s almost 5pm when Simon comes to see you. You’re laid on one of the beds upstairs thumbing through a book. You put it down when you see him. He walks in closing the door behind him, and pulls his mask up over his head. It’s nice to see his face again you smile. He comes over to the bed as you swing your legs off. He sits next to you his hand finding your thigh. 

“We’ll be leaving soon.” He says. You nod leaning on his arm. 

“Be safe.” You say putting your hand on his and squeezing it. He reaches round handing you something. It’s the pistol, the one you’d practised with.

“For emergencies only.” He says. 

“Okay.” You say taking it out his hand and unloading it. You put it in the bedside table drawer. You look back at him so you’re face to face. He has black paint round his eyes but it’s him you know it is. You lean in and kiss him. He kisses you back his hand finding your cheek. 

“I love you,” he says. You smile you think that’s the first time you’ve heard him say it to you. At least directly. You kiss him again squeezing his hand still on your thigh. 

“Thank you for earlier, by the way.” You say blushing. He rolls his eyes. 

“I told him to give you a kiss not fuck you.” Simon’s says, there’s a smile on his lips.

“Johnny said it was good luck.” You say nudging him. 

“Yeah well I think it’s bad luck. Besides I like leaving him desperate, keeps him sharp.” Simon says getting up and pulling his mask back down. It looks less scary now you’ve just been making out with the man behind it. You smile as he leaves the room. 

“We should be back before midnight. If anything changes we’ll call you.” He says opening the door. 

“But I can’t use my phone.” You remind him, remembering the speech you got from Price, it had been in aeroplane mode ever since. 

“The house phone will ring. Don’t ever pick it up the first time. We’ll call twice. If you don’t pick up the second time we’ll assume you’re in trouble.” Simon explains. You nod and swallow the lump forming in your throat. There’s no way you’d be getting into trouble here. They’re the ones you’re worried about. 

“Good luck.” You say as he steps out the door. 

“Don’t need luck.” He says and walks to the stairs.        

  ——————————  

You’re sitting in the bed flicking through another random book you picked up off the shelf downstairs. You wish you knew what was happening with them. How the mission was going anything to put your mind at ease. They said they would be back at the latest midnight. It was a little past 10pm. The book wasn’t interesting but you didn’t have much else to do. There was no TV in the house, no electronics you had access too and even your phone stuck in aeroplane mode. It’s the sitting and waiting which is the worst part.

You turn another page trying to do anything to make your brain quiet. You manage to distract yourself for a few more minutes when a crash pulls you back to reality. It sounded like glass, a window? You slam the book closed, your hand moving to the bedside light and turning it off.

You slip out the chair to the bedside drawer taking out the pistol and a magazine. Your hands are shaking as you load the weapon. You hear voices talking someone is coming up the stairs. You need to pick do you hide or fight? You get under the bed. Pressing your self up against the wall as much as you can, clicking the safely off the weapon as the door opens. You see footsteps walk in

“No one here.” The voice calls. You feel sick. It can’t be it sounds like Jack. He’s suppose to be at the house. You reach down for your phone as the door closes. No point in being on aeroplane mode now they’ve already found you. Your fingers are shaking while you type the message. You can hear muffled voices outside the door they’re still searching the place.

Maybe you should have fought. This door has a lock maybe you can get up and lock it before the come back to check the room. The window in this room doesn’t open enough for you to get out that way. You should wait until they move downstairs. You sent the text at least. They know now you just need to stay safe until they can get back. You hear the door to the room open again.

“You sure you checked all the rooms?” It was Mark, Chloe’s brother. Great a whole family reunion. 

“Are you sure they’re all at the raid?” Another American voice you don’t recognise. 

“Yes, mom confirmed it they’re all there except her.” Jack again. Your heart is pounding in your chest, you try to keep your breaths steady so you don’t start hyperventilating. 

“Check the rooms again, leave the doors open when you’re done.” 

“Maybe she’s gone out to the store or something?” Mark says as he leaves your room. Shit. You’ve missed your chance to lock yourself in the room. You move your body as much as you dare so you can see the staircase from the door. You’ve counted 4 different voices 2 of them you know but there could be more. You see Mark walking down the stairs he has a weapon in his hands it’s an assault rifle you think.

You take your phone back out. No reply it’s to be expected. You update the message adding how many people you’ve counted so far, and that they’re heavily armed. Maybe you should just call the police, they can trace the call send someone out arrest them all. As you’re thinking boots come back into the room, you hear someone sigh. You’re holding your breath for what feels like forever. The boots leave. You want to get out this house. You pull yourself out from under the bed when the man makes his way down the stairs.

Maybe they’re done with the first floor. If you can make it to the master bedroom there is a window you can jump out of. You swallow putting your phone in your pocket and bringing your pistol up in your hands clicking the safety off. You move as quiet as you can, on your tiptoes across the landing floor. A door handle being grabbed makes you jump. You duck into one of the rooms as someone walks out the bathroom. There’s got to be at least 5 people here. He heads down the stairs and you continue down the landing.

You make it to the master bedroom, pushing the door open with your foot. It creaks and you hold your breath that no one heard it. You make your way in scanning the room, it’s empty. You make it over to the window opening it as wide as it will go. The bedroom looks out into the front driveway. You can fall from this height and you’ll be okay. It’s a gravel driveway but it’s okay, worst case you land funny and twist your ankle.

You push your body out the window looking one more time where you want to jump. Now it looks scarier and as soon as you’re down you’re going to have to jump the locked gate, the gate that’s way bigger then you, the walls around it even taller. That might be a little more difficult. You take a deep breath in preparing yourself. 

“Hey!” You hear a voice shout behind you. You turn to look, you see someone holding a weapon. It’s now or never. You jump landing in the flowerbed. The fall sends vibrations up your body. Move! You don’t have time to think you just push your body up the foliage from the flowerbed pulling at your clothes. You hear the front door being opened, you sprint to the gate. 

“Stop! Don’t make us shoot you!” It’s jack’s voice. You’re outnumbered, they’ll kill you. There is no way you’ll make it to and over the gate in time. You stop. 

“Drop the pistol no funny business.” You throw it to the side as you hear multiple footsteps crunching on the gravel. You’re about to turn around to face them as you hear their feet stopping but you feel something hard hit you on the back of the head. You feel your body fall then everything goes black. 

Next

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 18

part 1, prev part

The seat vinyl creaks when Steve sits down next to him. Having come back after dropping Dustin off. Wayne wasn’t expecting him to but here he was. Sitting and playing with the hem of his sweater.

“The kid home?”

Steve nods. Eyes glassy. “How long has Eddie been doing that? Cursing at you.”

Wayne shifts in his seat. “Twice. That I’ve been here at least. Had to take a break after the first time, heard he swore up and down at the nurses. They had to restrain him, so he didn’t pull the IV out.”

Or worse. Eddie’s not a violent person. But in this state, there’s really no telling what he’ll do. He’s still remembering how to be himself again.

Wayne thought that he’d be angrier at them restraining him. He wasn’t though. They had to put their safety first, and he understood that. It was his own hands that have restrained him twice now. Knowing the unusual strength that he has while fighting. All his energy rushing to do so, exhausting him.

Leaving him just like he is now. Sleeping.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to see that,” Steve says softly. “I know it can’t be easy. I barely knew him and I’m upset, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling.”

Wayne doesn’t even know what he’s feeling half the time. He can’t even start to care about how other’s think he’s feeling.

“How did you and him end up together over spring break anyway?” he asks to skirt the conversation. Offering the olive branch he should have extended the first time he realized that Steve knew the real truth.

Steve lets out a long sigh. “It was Dustin really. When the news broke that morning, Dustin and Max came into the shop and convinced us to find Eddie. We did, he told us what happened, and we knew that it was true. Then we went looking to try and find the person who did it.”

“Did you?” The question has depth beyond those two words. Wayne searching the way Steve responds to see if this is the same person that put his boy here. If that person is still a threat to them all.

“Yeah,” he nods. With lingering uncertainty. “If everything went the way we planned, he won’t be coming back.”

It shouldn’t have to have come down to kids. This fight, this hunt, whatever it was, Wayne’s not so sure why it was highschoolers chasing after them. Not the police, or the government. Not like Wayne trusted them in the slightest. It just seemed like a better option than children.

The conversation pauses, both wondering what to say next. Still bridging that gap from acquaintances to friends. If that’s anything close to what they are going to be. Wayne has found friends in unknowing places these last few weeks. People adding him on a roster he never thought he’d be a part of. Supporting him through all of this.

Helping him through the hardest time he’s ever gone through.

“I talked to Dustin, told him to take a break from visiting Eddie for a few days. Told me you said the same.”

“Yeah, I did. The kid pushes himself to do more than he needs to.”

Steve nods, crossing his arms. “I know. I love him to death, but he doesn’t know when to give up. Especially when the people he loves are hurt.”

Another pause.

“I wanted to thank you for being there for him, it’s been helping him a lot.”

There wasn’t a scenario in Wayne’s mind where he would ever not be there for the kid. It was the easiest decision he’s had to make since all of this started.

“It’s no problem. He’s a good kid and I know Eddie cares for him a lot.”

“I do too. He’s like a brother to me and this has been hard for all of us. And, I haven’t been able to be there for him as much as I want to be, with all of the things I’ve gone through since spring break. Your plate hasn’t exactly been empty either. Thank you for taking the time to look out for him. He might not show it, but he’s really grateful that you’re here.”

Wayne can’t help but smile at that.

next part

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[princess-of-the-corner]

I got to thinking about that "Hawk Moth does the Villain with Good Publicity" angle idea and I love it but it needs some tweaks to work I think.

1: He needs to know there is a Guardian and suspect they are in Paris, rather than rely on the "Chaos will reveal the Black Cat & Ladybug" angle, he's specifically trying to get at another human & coax them out.

2: He needs to collab with the media, mayor and more, so he's likely out in public as himself at first and does a lot more public perception handling than Ladybug or Chat ever did to help maintain his public profile.

Plan:

With that in mind he likely stages and or orchestrates several accidents and criminal situations. Some of which definitely target Chloe cos why break the habit of a life time. & he uses these to establish himself as the Heroic Hawk Moth!

Adrien being at school is so helpful for this.

Fu is suspicious cos he can sense rancid vibes but the guy hasn't done anything wrong yet or even seems to know about Akuma. He ends up tracking him down when transformed to talk & hinges turn ugly when HK reveals' he wants the LB & BC.

Hawk Moth uses a civilian, again maybe Chloe, to goad Fu into attacking him, they have a fight and Fu saves the civilian and gets away but is pursued by Nathalie, turns out Gabriel was just hiding his Akuma. Still, Fu gets away, but they know his general area.

HK claims to have been ambushed and severely wounded by a 'thief;. He claims himself to be the Guardian of the Miraculous & that while injured he can now create champions. The mayor is all "We must do all we can to help our beloved hero Hawk Moth!"

So, Paris is looking all over for a short older man who might have the Miraculous. Police are poking around all over, Hawk Moth's champions are on the move & Fu realizes he needs allies.

Story thoughts:

The thing here is that this totally changes the dynamic and type of story being told. The powers that would be useful to hand out, even how many people Fu would want active given he's specifically being hunted. Let alone how public perception and such would effect things and more to the point the heroes strategies and motives and methods!

Hell, Fu may well end up looking for entirely different personalities and people for this task. Or find himself pulling from whoever is left over from conspiracy theorists to the universally contrarian, to people who were caught up in Hawk Moth's staged crimes but came away suspicious.

So yeah, that'd be my set up anyway.

Honestly a fun part of this could be that as Chloé was targeted, she'd know the truth.

And Gabe doesn't think much of her as anything but a tool, so he'd never expect her campaigning against him to ever get off the ground. But it's enough for a small rebellion.

[mother-of-houseplants-2]

i'm in my education class.

my professor talks about how earlier in the semester, a student came up to him asking to speak after class. how he pulled up a chair, offered the kid some tea while they chatted. how the fourteen year old girl asked him in detail what, if she disclosed anything, my professor would have to tell and to whom as a mandatory reporter. how my professor told her. how the kid said never mind and left after being told that if she disclosed any parental abuse, he would have to report it to the school social worker and she would get dcfs involved. how my professor spent his prep period fighting tears. how he talked to the guidance counselor anyway out of concern and nothing happened nothing happened nothing happened.

i'm in my education class.

a classmate, on the verge of tears, recounts a harrowing experience in which their little sister survived a school shooting. how their sixteen year old baby sister was texting the family group chat while it was happening, repeating, i love you, i'm sorry, i love you i love you i love you and how they had to pull over on the way to their parents' house to cry and throw up and hyperventilate on the phone with police who couldn't say anything other than we're on it, we know, we're trying. how the kids got the rest of the week off. how they went back to school eight days later and no administrators told them or their families or the community anything. how the kids had panic attacks at every fire alarm or slammed door for the rest of the year, and nothing happened nothing happened nothing happened.

i'm in my education class.

we read legislature about nation-wide book bannings and the knee-jerk backlash against critical race theory and the fact that educators in my state can't even call a student by a nickname anymore without parent validation, much less pronouns. about the queer kids, the trans kids, the kids of color, the marginalized kids, who are being institutionally harmed by practices we are forced to adopt, lest we get stripped of our licensure. we read about how current curricula doesn't just silence voices, it crushes them. about how everything we've been doing is wrong. how we aren't allowed to change it unless we give up our livelihoods. or get lucky with a good principal. or sacrifice things we didn't ever think we'd have to sacrifice when we were starry eyed and seventeen and dreaming of getting accepted into a university that was gonna teach us how to be good at this. good to my kids. a good teacher. but none of that happened. nothing happened nothing happened nothing happened.

i'm in my education class.

i remember the lockdowns and the bomb threats and the fear. huddled against the wall, my phone on the other side of the room so i couldn't say goodbye if it was real. i remember the guidance counselor's blank face, the teachers who never reported anything. the abuse at home no one ever found out about until i was all grown up and out of the house. i remember the callousness of readings, the isolation of never being the standard. feeling lost and hurt and misunderstood.

and i'm tired. and i'm scared. and i'm devastated that in a few short months, i'm going to be in a classroom with thirty children looking at me for what to do. and i want to serve them. what if i fail?

my classmate says well what are we supposed to do? we can't just not go into the classroom. we're teachers.

i'm in my education class.

nothing ever fucking changes.

[hxschi]

Just A Prank (wc; 2,371)

It’s the morning after the prank and Sam realises the twins never came back.

...

The space beside Sam is empty when she wakes; the pillows in the same position they were last night, the cover undisturbed. Nobody slept beside her in the bed last night.

There’s a sickening, unwelcome feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Where was Hannah?

Sam pushes back the covers, the cold already seeping into her bones but she pushes forward, creeping out into the hallway. The lodge was dead silent, everybody still asleep, the hallway still cast in shadows but Sam knows this lodge like her own house and in the maze of rooms the lodge holds she knows whose room is whose.

She opens Beth’s door hoping that maybe the twins chose to sleep together last night but the room is empty, the bed hasn’t been touched and Sam knows, as desperately as she wants to ignore it, she knows neither twin came home last night.

.:..:.:.:.:.:.:.

“Maybe they went to the guest cabin?” suggests Ashley.

“With Mike and Em? Yeah, I don’t think so, Ash,” says Jess.

“Maybe they found somewhere else,” poses Matt. “They know this mountain better than the rest of us, there’s probably loads of cabins on here.”

“Or they came back and are just sleeping somewhere else,” says Jess, her hangover causing frustration to tone her words. “This lodge has too many rooms anyway.”

Sam stays quiet. She knows the twins aren’t here, that they never came back last night. Something happened to them and they were wasting time discussing it.

Her eyes drift over to Josh, still asleep on the couch where his sisters left him. God, somebody is going to have to tell him.

She will have to tell him.

Sam brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. The others are still throwing out suggestions as to where the twins could be but Sam has stopped listening.

“Guys,” she softly calls to them and all three stop talking and look at her. “We need to wake up Josh.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

He hates them all.

It is 9:30 in the morning, his head is pounding like there’s no tomorrow, and his sisters’ friends are telling him that those same sisters never came home last night.

And he is just learning about this now.

He hates them all.

“So you’re telling me,” Josh says, his face in his hands as his severely hungover brain tries to process it all. “That you pulled a prank on one of my sisters that caused her to run out of the lodge in the middle of the night, in the middle of winter, that caused my other sister to follow her and none of you thought it was a little odd that they never came back?” His eyes fall to Jess standing in front of him. “What the fuck, Jessica?”

“We- I…We didn’t think she would run out of the lodge, Josh.” She at least has the decency to look guilty. “It was just a joke.”

“You know Hannah isn’t like the rest of us. The pranks we pull on each other, we can’t do that with her.” Josh sighs, standing up. There was just one more thing he couldn’t wrap his head around. “Why didn’t you go after them?”

“That was my fault.” It’s Sam who speaks up and Josh turns to her, shocked for a moment that she even had a part in this.

“Mike wanted to go after her before Beth came out. I told him no.” She sighs, shaking her head. “I thought she wouldn’t want to see him but I think that’s why she ran out anyway.” She gives Josh a small, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry.”

He finds his anger melting ever so slightly. He knows if Sam could change this, she would. He squeezes her shoulder gently. “It’s okay, Sam.” Then he sighs again. “I’ll take some Advil then we can get going.” He looks at Jess. “Go to the guest cabin and wake up Mike and Emily, they can help. Matt, go with her.” He looks to Ashley. “Ashley, wake up Chris, he needs to know what’s happened.” Ashley nods.

“What do you want me to do?” asks Sam, standing up.

“You can come with me while I call my parents.”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The police want to take statements but Josh tells them it can wait until after the search and for that Jessica is grateful. They’re split up into five groups but even that isn’t enough to cover the expanse of the mountain. The group Jess is part of were tasked with looking around the fire tower area and so far they had found nothing but some broken signs near a cliff edge that their search party leaders told them to stay away from.

“This is all our fault,” she hears Emily say for the tenth time this morning. Jess huffs, rolling her eyes.

“We didn’t know she’d run out, Em!” Jessica shines her flashlight around. There was nothing here. Can she go inside now, she’s freezing.

“I did say we should go after her,” says Mike and Jess glares at him.

“Then why didn’t you?”

“Because Sam said—”

“Since when do you listen to what Sam says?” asks Jess. She stops in her tracks, turning to the other two. “There’s nothing here, let’s go,” and starts trudging her way back.

“What do we tell the police?” asks Emily. “I don’t remember anything. What if they try to blame us?”

“They won’t,” says Jess, convincing herself as much as she was trying to convince Emily. “We didn’t do anything. All we tell them is we play pranks on each other all the time and usually it ends with the other person laughing. No one has ever ran away before and we didn’t think it would happen now. Nobody is here and it is freezing, can we go please?” Jessica walks off without another look towards Mike or Emily. They can stand out here worrying about what they’ll say to the police but Jessica would every much like to be indoors now.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

The police station was tiny. Dank and dingy, the walls had weird stains on them and the whole place smelt of piss. All eight of them had been ushered into a small room. They weren’t allowed to talk and a bored looking cop had been sent to babysit and make sure they followed the no talking rule. They would have been put into eight separate rooms if the station had eight difference rooms.

One by one they are called in no particular order. The times they were in there differed two; Chris and Josh knew nothing so they were in and out. Matt and Ashley were in much longer than the other two but not as long as Sam had been. Jess was currently breaking the record, half an hour they had been speaking to her with Mike just behind her clocking 27 minutes. Emily only knew this because there was nothing else to do other than watch the clock. They couldn’t talk and their phones had been confiscated. Emily was the last to be called into the interrogation room so for almost 2 hours she had sat there clock watching.

The interrogation room was as dank and dark as the rest of the station. The cop who had taken the lead on the twins disappearance- as Emily had heard them referring to it as now- is sat on the other side of the table. She smiles as Emily enters.

“Hi,” she says still smiling. “You must be Emily. I’m Annie.” She gestures for Emily to enter the room and when Emily does another cop shuts the door behind her. She hears the snick of a lock locking into place and stares at it.

“It’s okay,” says Annie coaxing Emily towards the table and chair. “It’s just so people outside know this room is in use.” With a gentle force on her shoulders she coaxes Emily to sit down and then moves back to her own seat. “I hear your friends call you Em. Can I call you Em?”

Emily shrugs. “I guess so.”

Annie smiles again. “Good. Now Em, you’re not in any trouble. We just need to get a picture about what happened last night, okay?”

“What if I don’t remember stuff?”

“That’s fine. I just need you to write down what you can remember.” Annie hands a clipboard and pen towards Emily. “Once you’re done, I have some questions I need to ask.”

Emily nods and picks up the pen, she hovers over the page, wondering how to start, trying to recall as much of last night as she can.

She had dealt with cops once, last year, when Jacob Webb got pulled over for speeding and Emily was trying not to get busted for being high in the back of his car. She doesn’t remember much of that either.

She writes down whatever she can remember, fumbles a bit on who’s idea the prank was- was it hers or Jess’s?- She can’t remember who said what so she leaves that out, she remembers hiding under the bed with Jess and someone bursting in and then Hannah running away.

Her statement is a paragraph at best and she sheepishly hands it to Annie.

If Annie has any complaints about how short Emily’s statement is she doesn’t voice them. Instead, she files it away and turns back to Emily.

“So pranking each other seems to be a regular thing in this friendship group?”

Emily nods. “We do it all the time, it’s sorta our dynamic, I guess.”

“And is Hannah often on the receiving end?”

Emily shakes her head. “The rest of us just laugh it off. We’re mad at first but then we see the funny side. Hannah…” She sighs. “Hannah doesn’t do that, she takes it personally and it’s not fun when someone takes it personally.”

“And knowing this you went ahead and pranked her anyway.”

Emily shrugs. “I guess. I just wanted her to stop.”

“Stop what?”

“Trying to get Mike’s attention.” She leans back in the chair and crosses her arms. “You know how annoying it is when somebody’s after your boyfriend?”

“I see…”

“But I didn’t think she would run away. It was just a prank.”

A silence settles between them before Annie speaks again.

“Thank you Em, you’ve been very helpful. You can go rejoin your friends now, I’ll get somebody to drive you back to the lodge. You can get your things and someone will drive you to the airport.”

Jessica is waiting for her when she leaves the interrogation room.

“You were in there a while,” she says upon seeing Emily.

Emily glances up at the clock and sees she’s high scored at 32 minutes. Emily always comes out on top.

“Guess I remembered more than I thought.”

“They’ll find them, Em. They have to.”

Because if they don’t we’ll always be remembered as the ones who killed Hannah and Beth.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Annie spends the night sifting through all eight statements. Christopher and Joshua’s don’t yield much information- they were asleep through the entire thing. The other six statements are virtually identical: Jessica and Emily were the masterminds, Michael was the bate, Ashley and Matthew were complicit (Matthew even mentions recording it on a camera) Samantha tried to stop it but failed and Bethany Washington had no idea any of it was happening. By all accounts it was a prank gone wrong, no one could explain where the girls had gone so why did Annie still have two missing teenagers and what happened between 2 and 9:30am?

A knock on the door startles her but it’s only her partner, Finn.

“Any suspects yet?” he asks.

Annie places the folder with the statements inside down on the desk and shakes her head. “They didn’t do it. Well, outside of causing the girls to run out but other than that, they know nothing.”

“You’ll find them, Annie.”

“Will I?” Annie asks because she was having some serious doubts. “The most I’ve ever dealt with is some off-season hunting, never…this.”

Finn leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms and looking deep in thought.

“There was that guy, wasn’t there? The one Melinda Washington complained about- the one who said not to build on the mountain- could he have something to do with this?”

It was something but Annie wasn’t convinced.

“As far as I’m aware that was all settled but maybe…We need to keep looking, they’re somewhere on this mountain.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” And with that Finn leaves.

Annie sits, contemplating Finn’s words for a moment. She eyes the filing cabinet and just as she is about to wheel herself over to it does the phone ring.

“Sheriff’s office, Deputy Sheriff Cline speaking.”

“Drop the case, Annie.”

“What?”

“Drop it.” It’s Sheriff Hughes who speaks to her and he sounds serious.

“Why? What’s happened?” Annie asks.

“I just need you to let it go.”

“Two teenage girls are missing Don, I can’t just forget about it, the Washingtons are wanting—”

“I’ll pay the Washingtons off,” Hughes interrupts her. “I just need you to call off the search parties, burn the kid’s statements, forget this whole thing ever happened. That’s an order, Deputy Sheriff Cline.” The call ends before Annie can say another word.

“What was that about?” asks Finn now back at the door again.

Annie gingerly sets the phone back on it’s hook. She looks at the folder of statements before looking up at Finn.

“I’ve been told to drop the case.”

She picks up the folder and opens the drawer beside her, taking out a box of matches. Without another word to Finn she makes her way out of her office and towards the front door where a trash can sits not too far away. She drops the kids’ statements into the can then lights the match, dropping it on top of the papers. The statements catch fire, the ends curling as the flames engulf them. Annie watches, caught in a strange trance as the statements burn to ash. Why has she been told to drop the case?

[occasionaloneshots]

   His hands make a messy pattern of taps against his thighs as he sits in the police station, staring at the two officers who look at him as if he’s lying. Glenda would tell him his beat was off tune, as if that was ever his focus. “And you have no idea where your partners could be? At all? No phone calls, texts, you don’t have their locations?” He shakes his head again, eyes still locked on the cops. “I already told you, they’re missing.” “They’re on the run, Paul.” 

   His brows furrow, reaching back for his pocket, “No, they’re missing. Glenda told me that their mom was crazy. And now suddenly she’s wanted for murder and they’re missing. Location turned off, not answering calls or texts. This isn’t like them.” “Maybe they left you. I believe your generation calls that ‘ghosting’?” He puts air quotes around the word as he speaks, raising a brow at the boy before him. Paul sighs, reaching into his wallet and pulling out the polaroid. His eyes flicker over the page, Glenda’s wink and Glen’s doe eyes staring back at him. Stuck in a moment in time. He slides it onto the table, pushing it towards the cops. 

   “Look at it, this isn’t something someone planning on leaving would do.” One of the guards leans down, timidly lifting the photo to look it over. She frowns at him, “Is there a chance that only one of them wanted out? Glen said they loved you for both of them.” “They always do, Glenda isn’t great with words,” he shakes his head as he speaks, “I promise you, something is wrong. Their mother did something or they’re somewhere in that house and you didn’t find them. Something, I know my partners. Did you check the basement? Glen always talks about the basement behind the bookshelf.” 

     Officer Groves leans across the table, this soft, nearly maternal look across her features that seems to smooth the hair on the back of Paul’s neck back down. “And you’re positive there is no way that Glen or Glenda helped their mother hurt anybody?” “Glenda would never do anything that would put Glen at risk, and Glen can’t kill bugs without crying. My partners are victims here, I’m sure of that.” She nods, sliding Paul his polaroid back with a pursed lip smile that barely turns up at the corners. “I believe you, Paul. Stay in town, we might have to call you again for questioning. And if you hear from either of your partners, you are required to let us know. Not informing us would make you an accessory.” He nods, sliding the picture back in his wallet as he rises to his feet. “I have class, I wouldn’t be headed anywhere anyway.”     He heads to the door, lip tucked between his teeth. And with his palm barely resting on the door, he bites his lip, turning back towards the table. “Officer Groves?” She hums, eyes resting on the boy, “Yes, Paul?” “If you do hear anything about them, can you tell me? I feel like I’m going crazy here.” Officer Groves nods, popping her knuckles as she does, “We can make that deal. Take care, Paul.” 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

     He’s had his phone’s ringer on since Monday when he got home from class and they weren’t there. He couldn’t bear the idea of missing their calls. This ring wasn’t them though, a California number he had no way of recognizing scanning across his phone. Paul let himself have the false hope that maybe they’d bought burners, or called from Jennifer’s phone. Anything to try and calm that nausea that bubbled in his throat as he pressed the green button waiting on his screen. 

    “Hello?” “Paul? This is Officer Groves, from the Los Angeles Police Department. We have some information on Glen and Glenda Tilly.” His heart drops, weakened knees making him drop back to his seat on the couch, “Are they okay? Where are they?” A sigh comes through the receiving end of his phone. “Paul, I am so sorry for your loss.” His hands start to shake, grip loosening on his cell to the point that he almost dropped it. “No, that’s not. Where are they, who,” he lets out a sound that falls somewhere between a whimper and a sob, “Who died? Why didn’t their sibling call?” 

    Officer Grover’s voice cracks a touch as she begins to speak again, “Glen and Glenda were both found dead in Glen’s hospital bed in Hackensack Memorial Hospital. They were in New Jersey, Paul. We’re not quite sure what they were doing there.” A hand comes up to wipe his eyes, letting out a shaky breath, “Can I ask how they,” he stops, taking another breath, “How did they die? Do you know?” “It says that Glen died due to complications of a gunshot wound and Glenda is still awaiting autopsy. They said their best guess is sudden heart failure but they’re unsure.” He nods, choking on a sob as he mutters out a thank you to the woman. “I am so sorry for your loss, Paul.”

Reference:

[madamrynodm]

Batman (2022) Sequel thoughts/ideas/wishes

Ok I've thought about this way too much to keep it to myself. So, I cast my thoughts to the void and maybe the void will give me a gold star for my efforts

I've got 2 big hopes/what-ifs for the sequel to The Batman. Easily became one of my favorite superhero films ever, and I cannot wait to see more! Anyway

2 big hopes: Dick Grayson and the Court of Owls. I wanna see them. I wanna see them so bad. I think there's potential for a SICK story if they go that route

1. Dick Grayson. PLEASE GIVE US ROBIN I BEG OF YOU! I think BatPat is a great candidate for a Robin story. Him being fresh on his journey to understand who he is as Bruce and Batman would be great to see contrasted with a young Robin on the trail of vengeance. We could watch him struggle with the desire to help Dick get justice for his parents' deaths (something BatPat hadn't gotten), but also want to protect him from the dark pit Bruce found himself in in the last movie. I'd like for Dick to actually be a kid in this rendition, maybe a teen. Either way, let him be young. I wanna see Bruce lose his mind trying to be a parent while Alfred watches smugly

2. Court of Owls 🦉 They'd be perfect here! Now, I don't want them to be the Big Bads yet. Let's just uncover them. The death of the Graysons can lead the film, and we can discover a deeper conspiracy linked to them later on (set up a 3rd movie?). If I remember correctly, in the Court of Owls run (2011?), they orchestrated the Grayson murders to try and nab Dick. Bring him into their fold as a new assassin. The Court could also play into Bruce's continued struggles with the Wayne family legacy and the "sins of the father" theme (what with the Court manipulating the Waynes for generations)

Ok ok ok now for the meat and potatoes of my rant. Here's how I'd run the Batman sequel if I had any power or even vague experience in filmmaking:

We open the movie loud. The opposite of the first. I'm talking bright lights and loud music. It's a carnival, a public event. Something to raise money for Gotham. Bruce is there, and he hates it. But, hey, if he wants to help the city, he's gotta step up his public game. We follow him through this loud, oppressive environment to the big top. Time for the main event. Circus begins, all eyes on the center ring. Introduce the Graysons! We got Mom, Dad, and Dick all performing their hearts out. The movie gets louder, everyone loves their performance!

Then, it goes dead silent. The Graysons fall. They die in front of everyone, right there. Bruce and Dick both have front row seats to the tragedy. The circus goes nuts, but we don't hear a thing. Cut to later, Dick is alone, maybe with the police, an EMT, idk. Anyway, in a scene that mirrors the mayor's kid in the 1st movie, Bruce sees Dick suffering alone and takes him in. (I don't know if that is when a formal adoption happens or if that's saved for the end of the film)

Moving on, Bruce takes to the streets as the Bat, investigating the Grayson deaths. Something's wrong. This is shaping up to be a murder. He later investigates another murder. Pull this scene from the comics, Owl motifs, warnings, all that. Movie follows that line of tying the seemingly unrelated deaths together and finding the Court beneath it all.

Maybe give Dick a bit of Tim Drake and let him catch on that something is up with Bruce. Dick wants in, he wants to find his parents' killer. Bruce lets him, recognizing his desire for justice and thinking that it'll help this kid. Shenanigans ensue. Like I said before (I think), a central arc we could see is Bruce now watching the path of vengeance from the outside, trying to help this scared and hurt kid heal while giving him and his parents the justice they deserve. Further examination of what it means to be a hero, what it means to truly heal, etc.

We can wrap up with Dick bringing the killer to justice and finding some peace. But it ain't over yet, as Bruce realizes that there's something deeper going on. Gotham's boogeyman, the Court of Owls, is real! And they're up to something! BA BA BA!!

I think Dick should become Robin in act 1 or the start of act 2. Either way, if we are gonna get a live action Robin, I wanna see him in action! Also I wanna see people like Gordon and Martinez react to Bats just... suddenly having a child around. Let Dick make bad jokes please 🙏

Whew! That's is for me! I finally wrote this all down, maybe I can clear out some brain space now

[jjtheresidentbaby]

@bebbie-bilinski again!! hi ^^

i wanted to request a regressor!stiles (r we surprised xD) fic with mainly platonic CG!noah stilinksi or maybe derek or whoever else u think would fit this scenario! i was thinking it could be a fic about noah having to bring stiles with him to the station for a last minute shift he needs to cover for whatever emergency thats later in the night! maybe make it baby regressor coded pretty pls 👉👈👀 it could be that stiles is just super fussy the whole night and exhausted and noah has to find a way to work around it!

anyways thats <3 all if u want more specificities or ideas u can always pm me!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ waiting on a ticket ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

|| stiles stilinski x theo raeken | read on ao3

notes: are we surprised I threw theo into this? not in the slightest, hope you don’t mind <3

warnings: classification au, inexperienced caregiver theo, bottles, formula, set sometime after s5

-

Theo fidgets with the loose string on his shirt as he sits in the uncomfortable metal chair at the police station. He’s waiting to get his ticket written up, Clark found him sleeping in his truck, again, and dragged him back to the station to get him out of the rain that’s been heavily pouring down for hours now. It’s not that bad to be at the station in hindsight, there’s heat here and a vending machine.

“Hi Clark, Parrish.” Theo’s thoughts get pulled back to reality at Noah’s voice, Stiles is trailing behind him half asleep. He stumbles a bit before Noah’s sitting him next to Theo, dropping a rather large bag at Stiles’ feet. His hoodie and pajama pants are damp from the rain, as is his hair that flops across his forehead. Theo’s never seen him so uncaring, most days he’ll be running his hands through his hair to tuck the pieces into place and messing with his graphic tee to get the wrinkles out— seriously Theo doesn’t know how someone cares so much about a graphic t-shirt.

“Okay I have to go make some calls, you stay here and if you need anything Parrish and Clark are right there.” The tone in Noah’s voice is one Theo assumes would be used on a younger kid— Stiles must be regressed, his brain supply’s. He knows that Stiles is a little but he’s never seen the other boy small nor has he ever expected to. They aren’t the closest after everything that’s happened.

“What’re you doing here?” Stiles pipes up after a few moments of tense silence, Theo watching Stiles’ body language incase he needed anything, Stiles looking a little mortified at seeing Theo here.

“Waiting on a ticket.” One that he doesn’t think Clark is actually writing as she’s busy giggling with Parrish over something on his phone.

“Why?” The littles eyes drop their wide eyed stare to instead lean towards Theo, waiting patiently for him to answer.

“I was sleeping in my car. Why are you here?”

There’s a bit of nervousness in Theo’s chest as the conversation continues. He’s never cared for a little on his own, the most he’s done is babysit Liam with Scott there to help a couple times. He feels in over his head the longer him and Stiles talk, mostly about tv shows Theo’s never seen, and books he’s never read, and eventually about a park visit Stiles and someone named Derek went on, he doesn’t know who that is.

“Are you getting tired?” It is two in the morning and Scott had stressed how important sleep is to littles when they had watched Liam so Theo isn’t surprised to see Stiles yawn. Stiles nods, yawning again with a rub at his eyes that’s one of the most adorable things Theo’s ever seen. Not that he’d ever admit it.

“Um maybe there’s a blanket or something in here.” He picks up the baby bag, a little surprised at how heavy it is. It’s a light blue color with white pockets on each side and thick navy straps that have small key chains hanging from them, one that Theo recognizes as a Star Wars character Stiles was telling him about.

He digs around in the bag for a minute but comes up short on a blanket. There’s a smaller one, a stuffed wolf attached to the top of it, but that wouldn’t work as something for Stiles to sleep with. Plush toys, teethers, pacifiers, bottles, extra clothes, sippy cups and a can of milk substitute that must be a formula specifically made for littles, take up the rest of the bag.

“No blanket, are you thirsty?” He can make a bottle if Stiles needs him to, the directions are on the back of the can so it shouldn’t be too complicated.

“Mm.” Stiles hums with a firm nod that Theo can’t suppress his smile at. It’s odd to see the brunette so relaxed and happy when Theo’s only ever seen him while he was angry, running for his life, or so stressed out he looked like he was about to collapse. This is a nice difference.

“Do you want milk or water?” There’s a water bubbler over by Parrish’s desk that he’ll need to use either way but he figures giving Stiles the option is better than assuming.

“Milk.” Theo goes to stand to fill one of the bottles with water to mix with the formula but he’s stopped by Stiles’ hand tugging his shirt. His arms outstretch towards Theo when he turns around, it takes a second for Theo to cue into what’s being asked of him but he quickly hefts Stiles up to his hip once he does.

Stiles clings around Theo easily as he makes his way to the water bubbler. They have to shift around a little so Theo can bend enough to fill up the bottle, Stiles doesn’t seem to mind, he buries his face into the side of Theo’s neck and lets Theo move him around with no complaints. If anything, Theo thinks Stiles might be giggling when Theo huffs under his breath after he accidentally smacks his head on the bubbler.

“You don’t wanna be put down?” Stiles only tightens his arms around Theo as a response. There’s nothing Theo can do so he sits them both down on the metal chair, grabbing the can of formula with the same hand he has the bottle in. He’s pretty proud of himself for not spilling the water everywhere.

“How many scoops does your dad usually give you? Do you know?” The directions are a bit warped when Theo goes to read them, Stiles shrugs, he’ll be no help. Theo thinks he’s slipped into a younger headspace the longer they’ve been talking.

“I think that says three so we’re gonna go with three.” It’s either a three or an eight, three is safer than eight and Stiles isn’t laughing at him as he does it so he takes it as a good sign.

“Can you do it yourself or do you need help?” Avoiding Stiles spilling the bottle all over himself would be ideal, Theo really doesn’t want Noah to hate him even more.

“Come here, it’ll be better if we stand.”

Theo rocks in place as he watches Stiles latch onto the bottle, he drinks at an even pace unlike the rapid pace Liam had sucked down his juice box when Theo had handed it to him. There’s something softer about Stiles, Theo’s able to feel comfortable in his lack of caregiving experience with Stiles. He finds a nice rhythm of bouncing on his feet as he walks them around the station, humming under his breath with a smile at Stiles trying to match the sound. He hopes he gets to see Stiles this at peace more often.

[quinloki]

Could we have another mischief story please

Another mischief story \o/

This one was a bit outside my control - but boy oh boy was it an experience.

CW: animal death - i won't be graphic, but if you have a hard time with the topic, don't read more.

So, I was working security (I did security a lot of different locations over the years, even a bit of bank and bodyguard work), and this time I was working at an apartment complex that spanned two towers right next to each other. We're only talking like 11 or so floors a piece.

Anyway.

Security was only 9-5 - through the night (so 9pm start time), and I come into work and there's cop cars EVERYWHERE.

Not the way you want to start your shift.

Anyway, I go talk to the police and turns out there was someone walking up and down the halls in full camo gear with a biker helmet on with a gun.

Ah. I know who we're talking about, actually.

So I take them to the correct apartment, and sure enough, our resident... we'll say, problem child, has decked himself out in his paintball gear (and airsoft paintball gun) and was just tromping up and down the halls at like 8:30 at night.

He was just in a foul mood, but obviously, this scared the shit out of the other residents and they called the cops.

So we get him into his apartment and everyone's having a chat and there is just this smell.

I don't get to forget this smell, but I'm not going to describe it to you.

One of the officers pipes up. "What the hell is that stench?" Well, problem child isn't any use, so they start trying to find it. (It was such a god awful scent.)

Finally, they're pulling towels and shirts that have been jammed into a door frame free and the smell gets worse. Now the problem kid's in cuffs - to be clear, he's a full grown ass adult.

They get the door open, unfortunately, and then start picking through this room and it's - I don't even want to describe it really, it's bad. It's a mess and it smells so bad.

A little digging unearths a long-dead 6 foot long boa.

Problem child doesn't have a legal right to own an exotic animal, so when it died (I have no idea from what), he panicked. I guess the smell was getting to him and irritating him and after about a week it had him stomping up and down the halls like that.

Anyway, that was probably the 3rd worst thing that happened while I worked at those apartments, and the only positive interaction I ever had with the police. (a different interaction when I was, again, security was >.> tense. Tense is a good word for it.)

Ask me for a Story

[a-tale-never-told]

The Twilight Syndrome Gang

[Part 1]

*Hope's Peak Academy, September 11th, 2012, 9:03am*

*As the morning sun begins to rise on yet another day in the city of Kyoto, six young girls sit in a picnic-like area located inside the currently closed Hope's Peak. Ever since the murder of Mr Simmons, Hope's Peak has been temporarily shut down as a response to the murder, and while the official manhunt for the killer is still going on as of late, the girls take this amount of time to make up for lost time*

So, Honami? May I ask why exactly are we here? Especially given that the school isn't even open untill next week.

*Currently, Mahiru is sitting next to her best friend and neighbor, Honami Sato, as the rest of the group is positioned to form a circle, with Ibuki and Mikan sitting next to each other, and Mikan also bordering Chiaki, who is currently on her video game console. Rounding out the rest of the group is a blond-haired, blue-eyed, girl with a dark teal dress with puffed sleeves and a red ribbon on her chest, sitting next to Chiaki and Mahiru.*

Yes, I am quite intrigued as to why you brought all of us here, given the current status of the academy?

You heard the woman, Santos! It's time to talk, talk, talk! So? What did ya get for us!?

...

First off, it's Sato, Ibuki. And second, the reason I brought you all here is for all of us to spend well-needed quality time, and for you guys to give me some well-needed input on the current situation that's been unfolding as of late.

Oh? Do tell, please?

Gladly, so you guys know what's been going on at Hope's Peak lately right? About the murder of one of the Reserve Course Teachers a few weeks ago?

Who hasn't heard of it at this point? It's all over the rest of the news around the city! Newspapers, television, radio, and other means of communication have covered this event, and the police are still continuing the investigation as far as I'm concerned.

Yes, but that's the point. I don't think the police are seeing the brighter picture here, is that I don't think it's just one person. According to what I got from my dad, they believe that the suspect impersonated one of the police officers while they were removing the body from the car. Hence the body must've been taken away before the autopsy.

But it doesn't make that much sense to me, because there's absolutely no way one guy pulled it all off by himself! He had to have some help or backup with him, I'm sure of it! It just simply isn't possible with the level of security in that station.

Is there any evidence to prove that someone inside the police force was actually working with the culprit? If so, what exactly was the motivation to do all of this? Could the insider be an old friend of the culprit and feel like he wanted to repay a favor? Or were the two working together from the beginning, and he just waited untill he received the signal to act?

I have no exact clue as to what went on in there, but I'm 100% sure that there was a mole in the police force that actively worked together with the culprit to kill Simmons and dispose of the body before anyone found who killed him. At least that's my theory anyway. I don't have enough evidence to prove that yet, but I've been trying to read several articles related to that.

Hmm?

I-Is there S-Something wrong, Sonia?

Do not fret, Tsumiki, I am simply more concerned about who on the contrary is the culprit because we have not the slightest clue as to who it is. All we can do is point out hypotheticals and try to guess who truly is the imposter in the city.

I dunno, dude. Probably some kind of street punks? There's a lot of them in this city, ya know?

I have to disagree with that, this is far too clean and well-thought-out for some street gang to pull off something like this. Perhaps a serial killer?

I'm afraid not, as this is simply less bloody and savage for a serial killer to do. They usually have some kind of calling card or modus operandi to commit their murders, but this is simply far too complicated to identify the clear motive behind all of this.

M-Maybe Y-Yakuza!?

!

Honestly? I wouldn't even be surprised at this point. But as much as my gut instinct is telling me that it is the case, I don't believe that the Kuzuryus did all of this, but It's a guarantee at this point...

[idlyfretting]

Yet another fic idea I've been toying around with. I've got a vague idea of where I want to take this, but nothing too concrete.

..........................................

Gareth was hallucinating. 

That was the only explanation that made sense. He wasn’t sure he’d ever gone this long without sleeping, so it made sense that his brain was starting to go a little wonky. 

Steve Harrington just burst into Eddie’s hospital room, reached under the couch by the window, pulled out a bat full of nails, and dashed back out into the hallway.

Gareth stared at the door for a moment and then looked over at Jeff who was sitting on the other side of Eddie’s bed. Jeff was looking at the door, mouth open and appearing just as confused as Gareth felt. Wayne, who’d been standing beside Gareth’s chair near Eddie’s head, had flinched when the door slammed open and raced to the foot of the bed, but paused when Harrington had made for the couch instead of Eddie. 

Wayne had been tense ever since Eddie had gone missing. Gareth had only spoken to him once during the week after the first murder and before Eddie turned up at the hospital. He’d been stoic and silent since Gareth had shown up at the hospital yesterday, and other than a quiet greeting and a few questions about how Gareth’s family was holding up after the earthquake, he’d stayed that way. Jeff got the same treatment when he’d shown up a few hours later. And Dustin Henderson had popped in a few times to sit with them for a while, but other than that, they’d been left alone. 

The image of Eddie’s missing poster, graffitied with devil horns and accusations, came to mind. Hawkins was clearly still under the impression that Eddie was responsible for the killings, but the police had seemingly backed off. There was no officer posted outside the door, nor had any stopped by the room in the past twenty-four hours. There was no way that could last, even if they’d dropped Eddie as a suspect. Someone was bound to come by at some point, asking questions none of them had answers to, unless you counted the unconscious Eddie. 

But Harrington hadn’t stuck around, hadn’t even looked at any of them in the scant few seconds he’d been in the room. 

And where the fuck had that bat come from?

“What in the–”

The door swung open again, cutting Jeff off mid-sentence. Robin Buckley stood in the doorway this time. She glanced around the room, focusing in on Eddie for a few seconds before walking up to Wayne.

“Mr. Munson, right?”

Wayne stared at her, but did nothing to respond. Buckley didn’t seem to care.

“There’s a bit of a situation downstairs. I don’t think… it should be okay. We shooed them off earlier, and it shouldn’t be any different. Except this time Lucas said he saw two trucks pull up instead of just the one, and he couldn’t see super clearly because it’s dark out, but he thinks they were holding…” She trailed off and then shook her head. “Anyway, the cops aren’t really around, so maybe that’s why they came back. But like I said, it should be fine.” She looked at Eddie again and her eyes hardened.

Gareth moved toward her. “What are you even talking about? Who’s downstairs? What’s going on?”

She looked up at Gareth and then back to Wayne. “Nothing good.” She reached behind her back, moving her shirt aside to grab at something. “Like I said, we should be able to handle it. But just in case…” 

She held a handgun, grip pointing toward Wayne, who gave her a baffled look. Buckley shook the gun a bit, waving it in Wayne’s direction until he slowly reached out to take it from her. She nodded and backed away.

“It should be fine. And one of us will come back and let you know that everything’s good. But I should… yeah.”

And with that, she bolted out the door, presumably following Harrington.

Gareth felt like he’d been hit by a bus. Jeff didn’t look much better.

Wayne stared down at the gun in his hand for a moment, before doing something with it that Gareth couldn’t put a name to, but made it clear he knew how to handle it. He looked back at Eddie for a moment before walking over to the door and locking it. 

“What the fuck?”

[senjuushi]

Noble Musketeer Story: Jitte

Episode 1: The Meaning of Existence

—in the town outside the military academy.

Jitte: Hmmm... a notebook, shoes, and oil for maintenance... (Player Name)-kun, were you able to get most of what you needed?

Master: 

I got everything on the list.

All good! 

George: Still, we got a ton of stuff! Lots of gifts for everyone... ah! Isn’t this a lot to carry!? 

Jitte: Haha, that’s why we’re here, isn’t it?

Jitte: We came along to help carry everything. If (Player Name) hadn’t bought a lot, there would have been no reason for us to be here. 

George: That’s a good point! Alright, I’ll do my best to help out! 

George: ...ghnnn~~~!!!

Jitte: ...reason, huh?

Master: 

Jitte?

What’s up?

Jitte: Ah, it’s kind of what I’d said... Musketeers... or specifically, me... I’ve just been wondering why we exist, you know?

Jitte: George-kun and Marks-kun, who stayed home today, exist for your sake, (Player Name). They really are useful to you, but... 

Jitte: Honestly, I’m of no use at all as a Noble Musketeer. 

Jitte: It’s true that I was awakened as a Musketeer because I wanted to help you, but... since I haven’t been able to accomplish that... 

Jitte: I wonder what the point of my existence in this world is... that’s what I wound up thinking about. 

George: Jitte... you’ve been worried about that... It’s alright! You have us!

George: And anyway, you’re useful even without Absolute Nobility! For example, um... uh... ....there’s something, for sure! 

Jitte: Ahaha... thank you, George-kun. But that’s really the root of my problem.

Jitte: I have to find the answer myself, at the same time that I feel like there’s no answer at all...

George: I see... I guess it won’t help if I think about it. Instead, I’ll be here cheering for you! Good luck, Jitte! 

Jitte: Haha, thank you. I’m sorry for bringing up such a strange topic. Just forget about—

Jitte: —ah! 

*Jitte runs off* 

George: Hey, Jitte, what’s wrong!? Where are you going—!?

Master: 

Let’s follow him! 

*scene changes*

Jitte: Caught you...!

Man: The hell are you doing!? Let go of me! 

Jitte: Sir, that wallet you just put in your pocket... is it yours? 

Man: Hahh? What are you trying to say? Of course it’s my wallet! Don’t accuse me of shit like that! 

Jitte: Do you think it’s yours now that you stole it? You’re not fooling me. I saw you stealing this wallet with my own eyes!

Man: Ugh...! 

Jitte: That pickpocketing skill... you’re pretty practiced. Today’s not the first time, is it? 

Man: I-I just happened to pull it off...!  

Jitte: Lying to me again! It’s time to face the consequences; don’t struggle! 

Man: Damn it...! 

Master: 

Jitte!

Are you okay!?

Jitte: Ah, you two! I’m alright. As you can see, I happened to catch a pickpocket in the act.

George: That’s awesome, Jitte! Really impressive! But, this wallet... who does it belong to?

Jitte: It belonged to a well-dressed senior citizen, but... I wonder where he went. After I hand this guy over to the police, we can look for him...

Elderly Man: H-Hey there...! That wallet...! 

Jitte: Ah, speak of the devil! 

Elderly Man: You got my wallet back! Thank you, Thank you so much...!

Elderly Man: That wallet has my son’s wedding present inside. Thank you very much for getting it back...! How can I ever repay you?

Jitte: No, no need! I just did what was expected of me as an officer.*

Jitte: Your words of thanks are plenty! I hope your son can have a grand celebration with you! 

Elderly Man: Oh my, what a kind person you are. I’ll leave it at that, then... but really, thank you! 

*the elderly man leaves*

Jitte: Phew... that’s this case dealt with. Ah, (Player Name)-kun... my apologies for taking up your time. 

George: ......

Jitte: G-George-kun? Are you upset...?

George: ...wasn’t that exactly it!? Right, (Player Name)!?

Jitte: Huh? What is...?

George: What we were talking about earlier, the existence thing!

Master: 

You’re quick to take action to help people.

You’re reliable when it comes to protecting people.

Jitte: —I see. I guess I did protect that old man and his son’s happiness. ...like the officers way back when... 

Jitte: What I did was only natural for an officer, though. As a Musketeer... it’s different, in the end. 

George: Huh, is it...? 

Jitte: Hmmm... 

George: Hmmm... 

Notes:

*The term Jitte uses here specifically means an Edo-period police officer. 

[hinatastinygiant]

7 | Wizard

Pairing: Daichi x Fem!Reader

Only in Whispers

BOKUTO'S P.O.V.

Discretely as possible, I follow after Oikawa back to his room and, when I get there, I take a deep breath. Now is my chance. Toru Oikawa is a very successful producer and, even though we've known each other for years, we've never been close. I'm just a lowly theater actor and drama teacher anyway, so why would he even bother with me? I think as I knock on his door.

"Bokuto," he answers with a grin as he lets me into the room.

"I- uh, sorry to interrupt," I begin. "But, I have a question for you."

"Oh? Go on then," he nods, closing the door behind him and walking over to the couch. He sits down, gesturing for me to do the same.

"Well," I begin. "I'd like to audition for whatever film you're working on next. It'd be a dream come true to-"

Before I can finish, Oikawa grabs my cheeks and kisses me hard on the lips. When he lets go, I pull back, my face bright red. "What, uh, what was that for?" I sputter.

"I know you want me, and I'm flattered, but it's just not the right time," he says, brushing a lock of my hair away from my eyes.

"What?!" I gasp. All I wanted was the audition, truthfully. "Why would you do that?!"

"Oh, come on. I know you've had your eyes on me ever since the first day we met."

"No, I haven't!"

"Really?"

"No!"

"Well, you should. I'm a very good catch, you know."

"Look, this has nothing to do with whatever the fuck you're talking about. I just wanted an audition for one of your films. But I think I better go," I say as I stand up.

I then make my way to the door and open it. However, before I can walk out, I see Y/N standing on the other side blocking my way. "Jesus, you're just everywhere, aren't you?"

"Why're you in Oikawa's room?" Y/N asks me.

"I was asking for an audition. You know, I am an actor."

"You're also a shitty one."

"What's your problem with me, huh?" I grumble, not noticing as Iwaizumu approaches.

"Is everything okay here?" he asks. Fuck, there's some seriously bad timing in this damn mansion. "What's going on?"

Iwaizumi decides to pull me and Oikawa downstairs, wanting us to explain everything that had just transpired upstairs to the self-proclaimed Sherlock Holmes and his new girlfriend. And, well, I decide to be brutally honest. Although it does cause a rift to form between Oikawa and Iwa, I thought he deserved to know.

"You cheater!" Akane shakes her head at Oikawa just as Noya pulls a set of handcuffs off of Semi's police officer costume.

"Here, try staying loyal now," Noya huffs as he cuffs Oikawa to Iwa.

"This is outrageous," Oikawa says. "What, do you assume I'm the killer just 'cause I thought Bokuto was looking for a bit of comfort?"

"Actually, we do," Y/N says. "You're a shitty person, and I think I can speak for some of the others when I say we're sick of putting up with you."

Y/N'S P.O.V.

After the whole situation with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, you walk out of the room with Daichi. "I didn't know Semi was a real cop," you whisper to him.

"Technically he's a private investigator. But, it'll be a good thing because I'll have a bit of help with the case," he nods.

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking," you reply. "Do you think the killer could really be Oikawa?"

"Well, I think the most important part of all this is that we now know who isn't the killer. That's why Noya put him in cuffs," Daichi smiles.

"So, now we're just waiting on a confession?" you ask.

"Exactly. That's how these kinds of things work. Someone will cave eventually. It's best we wait them out," he explains to you.

Just then, a yawn escapes from your mouth. "Shit, I didn't realize how tired I was. Can we go back to your room for a bit?" you then ask.

"Of course. Come on," he nods, taking your hand and leading you up to the second floor.

"It's strange," you sigh.

"What is?"

"How we're acting like nothing happened."

"That's the best thing to do right now."

"Well, can we at least talk about it? Just a little bit."

"If you'd like," he smiles, opening the door for you.

However, before the two of you can come in, Kita, dressed as a mummy, comes rushing down the hall. "Hey, I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" Daichi replies, looking up at him.

"Well, it doesn't really have to do with the murder... or maybe it does... but I think Hinata and Kageyama are doping," he tells you both, causing you to groan.

"Seriously? What could that possibly have to do with my dead best friend? We're not here to bust people for drugs. We're all party guests, stupid," you roll your eyes.

"I don't care what they're doing," Daichi agrees, "I just want to get this murder solved."

"If you two won't help, and neither will Semi, then I'll just do it myself," he huffs.

Daichi looks at you and shrugs, not really sure what the right thing to do is. "Alright, fine. Just don't actually arrest him, okay?"

"Deal," Kita grins.

"Now, if you'll excuse us," Daichi says, pushing Kita out of the way so the two of you can go inside the room, "we were about to have some time to ourselves."

Without another word, Kita walks off, leaving the two of you alone. Daichi then smiles down at you and says, "Now where were we?"

"You were escorting me into your bedroom," you grin back.

He then ushers you inside and closes the door behind you before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer. You look up at him and smile, feeling your face turn a bit red. Then, he leans down and softly presses his lips against yours. He tastes sweet, like wine, and it sends shivers down your spine. As his tongue slips into your mouth, you moan and grip the front of his shirt, tugging him even closer.

You and Daichi then stumble back towards the bed, not letting go of each other as you go. When you reach the edge, you break away from him for a moment, panting as you climb onto the soft mattress. Daichi follows your lead, and the two of you continue to kiss until your lungs beg for air.

"Care for round three?"

"Mhm," you breathe.

"Good."

Only in Whispers