#augkissed 2024

[ashxketchum]

♫⋆｡‧˚♡˚‧｡₊✩‧₊˚ Aug-kissed Week One ♫⋆｡‧˚♡˚‧｡₊✩‧₊˚

| INDIRECT KISS | BLOW A KISS | BUTTERFLY KISSES

Pairing: Pokeshipping | AO3 LINK

Event hosted by @aug-kissed | Post divider by @/cafekitsune

The tension inside the stadium was at its peak, Misty could almost smell the anticipation radiating from the audience. She tried her best not to look at the audience, or even towards the big scoreboard in the middle. Still, it was difficult for her not to shield her eyes with an arm and turn her face away from the battle before her when Nessa’s Drednaw shrunk back into its original form after Dynamaxing. Her own Starmie’s Dynamax had worn off one turn ago, which had caused a great deal of damage to her Pokemon as it avoided making contact with the opposing Drednaw’s Max Ooze by continuously spinning in the air. Now that the stadium had returned to normal, Starmie landed on one of its pointy spokes and attempted to stand tall with its back facing Misty.

She could see that her Starmie was shivering, putting every ounce of her energy into standing straight and holding it together so Misty wouldn’t lose the battle. She curled up her fists at her side till her knuckles went white, the image of the scoreboard flashed into her mind as she closed her eyes to take a deep breath, both Nessa and she were down to their last Pokemon, it could have been anyone’s win but seeing the difference in their stamina, she knew that chances of Starmie fainting first were higher.

When she opened her eyes again, she was taken aback by how Starmie had turned to face her. The glow of its ruby coloured jewel had almost diminished, and though Misty was teased a lot about how Starmie and Staryu didn’t have faces, she could still understand exactly what her Pokemon was trying to tell her. But she pursed her lips at the sight, how could she let Starmie continue to battle in its current state? She wasn’t the kind of trainer who let their Pokemon battle through exhaustion, it just felt so wrong to her. Her hand at her side twitched, she had half a mind to pull out her Pokeball and recall Starmie, forfeit the battle before her Pokemon suffered any severe injuries. But it was the look on Starmie’s face that held her back. Once her Pokemon noticed that Misty had understood what it was trying to say, it proudly turned around and faced the opponent.

She couldn’t however, look at Nessa or Drednaw just yet. Her cerulean eyes wandered towards the scoreboard again, if Starmie somehow pulled through this, Misty would become the first trainer to win the newly inaugurated Water Pokemon Championships. This whole month she had spent every waking second training and battling and winning, just to get that title of the best Water Pokemon Trainer, something she had dreamed about for all her life. Could she, however, be satisfied with the win if Starmie would have to be rushed to the emergency room right after? Or worse, what if she risked her Pokemon’s health and still didn’t win?

Misty swallowed the lump in her throat, she could feel the entire stadium watching her, even Nessa’s blue eyes were piercing into her skin, waiting for her to make the next move as the honourable trainer that she was. The silence all around consumed Misty and her knees shook, suddenly unable to hold up her weight and the weight of all the thoughts that circled in her mind, should she give up, should she continue to battle, was Starmie okay, will she be able to make the right choice?

She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and let out a scream, if she couldn’t even make up her mind over something like this, did she even deserve to win?

Feeling lost and confused, Misty’s eyes searched the stands for a familiar face and it didn’t take her too long to find him.

Ash was sitting in the second row from the front, not too far from where she was standing on the battleground. He had been observing Starmie too but when their eyes met, Misty felt a new surge of energy rush into her veins. He didn’t smile, he didn’t give her an encouraging nod, and he didn’t even look like he wanted to cheer her on. No, Ash’s face was lit up with the intensity of a raging fire, one that wanted to be at the centre of the ring and wouldn’t be contained until it got what it wanted. His jaw was set and his brown eyes bore into her, as if to say that if Misty didn’t see this battle through, he’d come down from the stands to finish it himself.

In a daze, she lifted a hand to touch the Cascade badge pinned to the hair tie holding her hair up in her trademark lopsided ponytail. Just before she’d taken her place in the arena, Ash had come to wish her luck one last time. He’d stood across her with his sunshine smile lighting up the dark corridor that opened up to the battleground.

“Nessa’s going to think you’re about to step into the ring yourself with that Gyarados face you’ve got on right now,” Ash laughed, poking her cheek with a finger, possibly in an attempt to get her to loosen up.

“Not funny, Ash. Now’s not the time to crack silly jokes, okay?” Misty muttered though she didn’t fight him off when he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her forward, resting his forehead against hers.

“Relax, Mist.”

That’s all he said, but the two words worked like a charm. As they stood in silence Misty felt her heartbeat slow down in sync with Ash’s calm breathing.

She allowed her body to bask under his gentle warmth, the muscles in her back relaxing and her jaw unclenching on its own as only the sound of Ash’s deep breaths reverberated around them. Once he understood that she would not try to wiggle out of his grasp, he let his hands fall to her shoulders, gripping them with just the right amount of strength. Lifting his head he pressed it against her side, tickling her cheeks with his nose as his eyelashes fluttered across her skin, leaving a trail of butterfly kisses that made her lips long for some company too. It was when she started to get comfortable that he moved again, taking a step back to shift behind her and wrap his hands around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder so they could stand cheek to cheek.

She didn’t quite know how long they stood together like that, time had seemed to stop as a favour to her, but when Ash pulled away, she felt like a different person altogether.

He grinned at the sight of her, rubbing the tip of his nose with a finger proudly, he asked “Feeling better?”

Misty nodded, though she’d felt the anxiety over the upcoming match vanish from her body and mind after Ash’s help, her voice still needed some time to reform.

“Better enough for me to crack a joke about how you now look like a spaced out Psyduck?”

“Ash Ketchum, why I ought to-”

And her voice was back in full swing, any nervous feelings about what awaited her out in the arena now a distant whisper as her whole body buzzed with newfound energy and excitement, looking forward to face reality instead. Ash dodged the light punch she threw in his direction, easily grabbing her fist with his hand he lowered it to pry open her fingers one by one. Misty was confused by this but in the next moment she let out a small gasp, as he had dropped a shiny object in her open palm, one she didn’t expect to see in this moment.

“Is this…?” Her voice trailed off, though she knew Ash understood her question nonetheless.

“Yep. The badge you thought I didn’t deserve,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle considering the sensitive topic.

Misty couldn’t believe it but when she touched the badge, the cold surface sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of that interrupted battle and Ash’s unrelenting determination.

“It looks just the same as it did that day,” she whispered, in awe of how its blue coating had survived so many years without a single scratch.

“Of course it does! I take good care of all my badges and trophies.”

She didn’t need to look up at Ash to know that his nose was pointed a few centimetres higher with how smug he sounded. Slowly, a calm smile spread across her face, though she did not understand yet what Ash was aiming to achieve by handing her this today, just thinking about their days travelling together as kids made her feel content with the present and hopeful for the future. When she finally raised her eyes to thank him for this sweet gesture, Ash did not let a single moment pass without taking her by surprise. With her hand still resting on top of his palm, he raised it slightly, bending his head to plant a kiss on top of the badge. His lips tickled her skin for just a brief moment but it was enough to colour her cheeks with a deep blush. After pulling back, Ash grinned at the shy pout that had overtaken her face naturally, he took the badge from her hand and carefully attached it to her hair tie, stepping back afterwards to let her know that she was free to go.

“For good luck,” he said, gesturing towards the badge with his warm eyes.

“Thank you.”

Misty nodded, inhaling a deep breath and taking one last look at Ash’s encouraging smile, she turned her back to him, heading out into the battleground with loud cheers welcoming both her and Nessa. Just before she fished out her first Pokeball, she took a moment to touch the badge affixed to her hair and allowed the magic of Ash’s good luck charm to flow through her. She knew that the sensation of his lips had by then faded but she still bought the fingers that had glazed across the badge to her lips, preserving the vanishing essence of Ash’s kiss even for a fleeting moment…

And that was all the motivation she needed to pull herself together.

This match was going to be her victory.

Misty straightened up her back and uncurled her fists, raising one arm in front of her as she prepared to order Starmie. The move she had thought of was something Starmie had attempted to learn just for the sake of this tournament, but their training had not proved as effective as Misty hoped. To use that move in such a stressful and decisive moment made her feel worried for her Pokemon’s state of mind, but remembering how Starmie had stood tall against her doubts just moments ago, Misty stilled her nervously beating heart with a deep breath.

“Starmie, use Power Gem and Rapid Spin, at the same time!”

It was reckless, but Misty had watched Ash’s Pokemon pull off similar moves multiple times so she had faith that Starmie would catch onto her wishes.

As if eager to prove her trainer right, Starmie wasted no time in reacting to the command. Any doubts about whether the move would be successful or not were wiped from Misty’s mind as Starmie took centre stage with a reignited vigour. The ruby gem at its centre began to glow and soon it had turned into a blinding shade of white before it burst into beams of light spreading out like tendrils all around the stadium. A collective gasp could be heard from around the audience but Misty paid it no heed, only keeping her concentration fixed on the battle in front of her. As soon as Starmie started to spin, she didn’t need to be aware of her surroundings to know that silence had enveloped the stadium at the beautiful sight that Starmie painted with its skilful enactment of Misty’s idea.

The particles of light that Power Gem created were now falling all across the arena, no matter where Nessa ordered her Drednaw to run, there was either a shard of rock waiting to land on his head or a ray of dazzling light ready to obscure his vision. Nessa was shouting for Drednaw to stay calm amidst the chaos of Starmie’s Power Gem raining down upon the arena, but it was too late, the shell-backed Pokemon was already confused. Coupled with the exhaustion that Dyanamxing brings along with it, Drednaw’s movements became slower and it didn’t take too long for it to start getting hit by Power Gem’s effects.

Misty watched the scene with a mental countdown playing in her head, she had to wait for the right moment to give out the next command, which she knew would be the last move Starmie could pull off after exerting over this grand display of its hidden move. Misty followed every move that Drednaw made attentively, making sure her eyes didn’t even pause to blink. Just a little bit longer, she thought to herself and hoped that her words reached Starmie, just a little bit more and then this match would be over.

“Drednaw, get a hold of yourself!” Nessa’s sharp voice cut through the noise of the Power Gem shower.

The instruction reached Drednaw as it found itself a place to take cover from the falling rocks and stopped running around in a frenzy. Nessa’s relieved sigh was loud enough for Misty to hear and she decided, that this was it, the moment she’d been waiting for.

“Starmie, my steady-” To Misty’s delight, her Pokemon reacted instantly and halted its spin mid-air, ready to switch gears to the next move without hesitation, so she obliged and shouted with all her might, “Use tackle!”

“Drednaw, get up and dodge!” Nessa countered through an equally loud shout.

With whatever strength they had left, the two Pokemon eagerly obeyed the commands issued to them by their trainers. Drednaw stood on his hinds, raising his front paws with the hope that it would help stop Starmie’s descent in its tracks. But perhaps the will to prove itself was stronger on Starmie’s side as it did not let the opponent’s stance deter her and flew with all its strength and tenacity towards Drednaw’s belly, avoiding the onslaught of his paws altogether to land a critical hit. Drednaw wobbled uncontrollably from the impact before finally losing his footing, its hind legs tripping on the remnants of Power Gem to make him fall flat on his back.

As Drednaw struggled to get back on its feet only the encouraging shouts from Nessa reverberated across the stadium. Drednaw flailed about for a few tense seconds before it allowed fatigue to take over and went limp, leaving Starmie standing tall above it.

The Drone Rotom flew in to take a closer look at the situation, announcing to the stadium that Drednaw was unable to battle.

The loud cheer that erupted pretty much drowned everything else that the Rotom announced and it took Misty a few seconds to realise that she had won. It was Starmie’s blinking gem that alerted her, she ran forward to hug her battle worn Pokemon, falling to her knees as Starmie returned her embrace to the best of its ability. Even if Starmie lacked the features to smile, Misty could tell from the energy it reverberated that it was celebrating their triumph with a lot of joy.

She could still hear the clapping sounds echoing across the stadium but before she faced her supporters, Misty locked eyes with Nessa, who was helping Drednaw get back to his feet right across her. There was a look of admiration exchanged between them and she felt her eyes sting with tears the moment Nessa recalled Drednaw and turned her back to Misty. She was beyond elated that she had won, but as someone who looked up to everything which Ness had accomplished as a Water Pokemon Trainer, her heart ached to watch the veil of disappointment cover her striking blue eyes. Maybe a few days later, when the fever of the match would’ve died down, she would treat Nessa to a nice meal or perhaps a girl’s day out with her sisters in Cerulean.

While she was still in a daze, the blue Drone Rotom hovered over her, announcing urgently that they needed to clear the arena for the prize ceremony. Misty flushed at its scolding tone and quickly put Starmie back in its Pokeball, getting to her feet, she faced the crowd once, bowing lightly to acknowledge their praises and applaud. Her eyes caught Ash standing up and clapping hard, his whole face covered in an ear-to-ear grin. With a sudden burst of bravery, Misty blew a little kiss in his direction, hoping that she was quick enough with the gesture to avoid it being captured by the many flashing cameras in the crowd.

Despite the distance between them, she noticed the glint in Ash’s cocoa eyes when he winked back at her in response to the kiss. She knew that expression on his face well, the boyish excitement to battle someone strong was something he still held onto. She wanted to roll her eyes at the thought of him pestering her for a match as soon as the ceremony was over but found herself chuckling at the giddy look on his face. Maybe it was for the better if some things about him never changed, it helped keep her feet on the ground when she needed it the most.

~

To Misty’s surprise, the part that came after winning a tournament seemed much more hectic than the battles themselves. She was going to pull Ash’s ears when- if she saw him later, for not warning her about all the interviews, the photo ops, customary greetings with notable league members and several other things that followed after she accepted the winner’s trophy. She wanted a moment to check up on her recovering Pokemon, who had been taken to the Pokemon Centre voluntarily by Brock, but every time she decided to make an exit someone was waiting to ambush her midway.

The sky was blanketed with the dark curtain of dusk by the time she was able to make her escape from the stadium. Even at the Pokemon Centre, it took her a while to get through the throng of people who came up to congratulate her before she could get to Nurse Joy’s desk. Thanks to Brock bringing her Pokemon in at the right time, and even staying back to attend to them, her team was recovering well and it was only when she could make sure of that, that it finally felt like the day was over.

She crept out of the room gracefully, not wanting to disturb the well deserved rest her team was getting at last. After making sure that the door’s lock clicked as quietly as possible when she shut it, Misty was able to breathe a sigh of relief. Deciding to head straight back to her hotel room so she too could soak herself in a relaxing warm bath before crashing for eternity on the fluffy bed, she closed her eyes for a second to imagine the peaceful sight, and at that moment someone snaked a pair of arms around her waist and dragged her into a closed space.

Misty opened her eyes to the dingy look of a supplies closet. Annoyed that her peaceful vision of a relaxing bath and nap was disturbed by this, she prepared to elbow her kidnapper, despite recognising the heartbeat currently drumming against her back.

“Finally!” Ash sighed into her ear as he kissed her cheek and went on to nuzzle her neck.

“I missed you too, but can this wait until we get to the hotel?”

“I can’t wait any longer,” Ash said as he left a flurry of kisses across her shoulder, making it difficult for Misty to argue back, “I’m mad at you, ya know? For ignoring me all day long.”

“I’m mad at you!” Misty murmured, her voice unable to bring forth her annoyance as she allowed her body to melt under Ash’s touch. “You didn’t warn me about what the aftermath of a win is like.”

“You think I ever have the patience to do all of that?” Ash laughed right into her ear, sending an electrifying shiver down her spine, “I just call Dragonite or Charizard and fly away at the speed of light.”

With some difficulty Misty managed to wiggle out of his grasp so she could turn to face him with her best glare, considering the situation. Her effort to stay angry was wasted of course, because the minute she got a glimpse of his face, she too understood the feeling of impatience Ash was struggling with. She raised her arms to loop them around his neck and without wasting a moment Ash leaned in to kiss her, resting one hand on the small of her back as the other moved up to caress her cheek.

“Congratulations, by the way, you were amazing out there.”

He broke the kiss for a moment to mumble in a raspy voice and Misty nodded in a daze, still relishing the taste of his tongue against her own. She moved forward to rest her forehead on his chest, feeling comforted by the heightened pace of his heartbeat. Remembering the wink and the smile he’d given her back at the stadium, she realised that the excitement he was feeling right now wasn’t just because of their kiss, but the expectation over what would follow. She sighed contently against him, hoping that he would understand how tired she was today and postpone the challenge until tomorrow.

“I know you waited all day for this, Ash. But do you think we can push our Pokemon battle to tomorrow afternoon? I’m very tired and I want to-” Misty stopped talking when she realised that Ash was shaking, she raised her head to find him struggling to hold back his laugh which made her furrow her brows in confusion, “What’s so funny?”

“Our battle? What battle?” He asked, sporting a confused look quite similar to her own.

“You don’t want to battle me?” Misty threw another question back at him, taking just one step back so there was some distance between them but still kept her arms hanging around his neck.

“I mean, sure, I’d never say no to a battle but why did you think that’s what I’ve been waiting for all day?”

Ash was now peering into her face curiously as if trying to understand what was going on inside her head, which made her feel sort of embarrassed and she blushed under his gaze. She remembered very clearly, the look on his face when she’d sent a flying kiss in his direction. His eyes were burning with an indescribable passion, his smile was bright enough to light up the night sky, and his whole face screamed that he couldn’t wait to get down in that arena and face off against her...or did she make a mistake in understanding what he wanted?

“When I won, you looked more excited than happy, like you usually do when you find a strong opponent you want to battle against,” Misty explained herself, now feeling grateful that the dingy lighting of the closet was probably helping hide the colour in her cheeks as she looked away to dodge his questioning eyes.

Once again she felt him laugh and his loud voice rang all around them like a blaring alarm. Now feeling her whole face turn red over his reaction, Misty managed to pull her arms away and stepped out of Ash’s grasp, fixing him with a glare she cried out, “Why are you laughing?”

“It’s just- it’s just that-” Ash tried to catch his breath but every time he began to speak he guffawed again, leaning against the shelf behind him to support himself so he wouldn’t end up on his knees, “You may have won the match today, but you’re way off the mark with this, Mist.”

“I’ve known you for so long Ash Ketchum, I know when you’re in the mood to battle!” Doubling down on her take was probably not the right thing to do considering how hard Ash was laughing at her, but she felt exhausted over the day she’d had so it wasn’t a surprise that she couldn’t think straight anymore.

“I suppose, back when we were kids, that’s what that look meant.” Ash finally settled down, wiping a lone tear from his eye as he moved forward to take her in his arms again, not giving her the chance to resist as he tightly wrapped his hands around her and pressed his forehead to hers, “But I’m almost 18 now Misty, I have other needs.” His breath brushed past her lips as he spoke and she felt her toes curl inside her shoes at the sensation.

It was hard to feel embarrassed over her mistake when Ash kissed her like she was the only thing that mattered. The exhaustion that she’d carried with her after the win vanished into thin air when he threaded his fingers through her hair, undoing her ponytail to let her hair fall across her shoulders. When he pushed deeper into the kiss, she stumbled backwards, unable to match his level of urgency and need. Her back hit another shelf and that helped her regain her senses enough to break away from the kiss for a moment.

Ash’s eyebrows wrinkled together in annoyance at her actions but Misty only smiled teasingly up at him, resting a finger against his pouting lips, she tilted her head to one side, her voice barely a tone above a whisper but just enticing enough to make Ash’s cheeks flush with red for a change.

“Do you think, your big boy needs can be met in a comfy hotel bed instead?”

[ficcerspam]

Kitten Kisses

DCxDP : Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of)

Week 1: Indirect Kiss

===

There is a security camera set up at Tim’s desk. 

It’s mostly to ensure that Tim actually leaves his desk, nowadays, but the genuine concern was something nobody really thought could qualify as a necessity. 

Tim is young, but it’s undeniable that he’s a genius. Sadly, that did not mean certain visitors or members of the board didn’t take his age as carte blanche to just rummage around in his desk for no reason. 

After the 5th time Tim noticed his things had been moved (they would have found nothing, Tim was very meticulous regarding Wayne Enterprises documents) something had to give. 

So. Security camera. 

After the first month of its implementation, nobody was fool enough to get caught over some useless files and a surprisingly thoroughly encrypted computer system. Nobody important, at least. 

Babs likes to hack into it, sometimes, to make sure Tim is home on time and not working late. Bruce sometimes hacks in just to check in, watch him work or eat because he was a creep, but Tim can hardly throw such large rocks from his glass house. For the most part, it’s more decoration than anything. 

Until tonight, that is. Tim gets a little ping! signaling movement at his WE desk. He’s just gotten home from patrol, mask already off and cape halfway unclipped with hastily ungloved hands.

Perplexed by the midnight alert, Tim pulls up the feed onto his set up at home. There’s hardly anything worth hacking into, considering the computer there is more of a remote in type of system, rather than an actual computer to be used like the one at the Nest.

And yet still. There they are. Tim would recognize that silhouette anywhere: Stray. 

He watches as, at first, only that skin tight black suit with white accents entered the screen, the rogue thief’s toned torso curved alluringly, signature white clawed gloves lightly scraping along the desk as he travels from one end to the other—not hard enough to leave any trace, but enough for the skrrrrch rasp out. 

There’s a tap of a claw, before the screen fills as Stray bends over, and gods, what a sight that is to see. Stray has an almost prehensile cat’s tail, and it swayed and curled over itself in a way that seemed hypnotic. Long glowing white hair that falls over his shoulder with two black tufted cat ears that seems to actually move, eyes barely visible behind bright neon green goggles—but most importantly a new addition: blood red lipstick. 

Tim stares as those red, red lips curve into a smile, whispering a soft “Hey, Red. Miss me?”

Tim can feel his pulse jump, because he did. He really did. 

They’ve been dancing around each other, ever since the vigilante figured out Stray’s M.O. 

The rogue was only stealing paranormal artifacts, or objects that were stolen via grave robbing. None of the other Bats had figured it out until Tim had told them, considering Stray’s first few hits were on a handful of Rich People. The items were so scattered, and had nothing of real importance that could connect them. 

But the Rich were angry, and though that was hardly anything to be alerted by, it made for an ornery work environment. The Bats hadn’t stepped up, hadn’t felt the need to, until certain museums were getting hit too. A couple civilians even, here or there, until finally something was stolen from Batman himself—something they had kept at Wayne Enterprises to be handed over to Constantine for analysis.

Selina was no help either, simply stating that every cat’s got to have their secrets—all but confirming that the new rogue on the scene was Selina’s. 

Red Robin had cornered Stray, or rather, Stray had let him, and they almost—there was a moment…But then Catwoman had come, urgent, saying something about a sister. 

And then Stray hadn’t been seen in weeks.

Tim shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the fog those cherry red lips cast over him. Still, he can’t help but say yes. Even if only in his mind. 

“I missed you, dolled myself up and everything,” those sinful red lips do a little pout as a delicate claw twirls a strand of that silky hair, conjuring up so many images that Tim involuntarily stands up, as if to immediately leave. “Doesn’t red look so good on me?”

Fuck, but it does. And then it clicks. Hastily, Tim taps a couple buttons, reclipping his cape and putting his mask back on. Once his gloves are back on he pulls up the feed onto his phone, grappling his way over to his office as if being chased.

Because if Stray was at Tim Wayne’s desk, calling him Red through the feed, that meant—that meant he knew.

“Sadly, I can’t stay.” Red Robin vaults out the Nest, keeping half an eye on the feed as those pouty lips talk to him, watching as Stray perches himself delicately on the desk. There’s a sly smile now, though Tim can’t help but follow the long lines of the rogue’s body instead, with his legs crossed, leaning on one delicately clawed hand, head tilted coquettishly.

“But I’ve got a present for you, loverboy.” Red is almost there, just a couple blocks away, as Stray pulls out what looked like a business card with the hand he isn’t leaning on, bringing it up to those distracting red lips. 

“I heard you like games!” Stray bares his teeth in a fanged smile, “Find me, and it’s a date.”

Red Robin is on the WE building now, scaling down to break into the usual window, silently prowling his way quickly through the halls. He watches as Stray winks, giving the card a little kiss. When he grins Red could see the rouge was smeared a little, and somehow that made it so much more enticing. Stray places the card back on the desk before smoothly getting up and exiting stage left just as the vigilante skids to an arrival in front of his office door. 

He burst into the office, only to find it empty. He immediately went to the nearest window, trying to spot the rogue, but as always Stray is quick to disappear without a trace. RR suspects that Stray is some kind of meta, but hasn't gathered enough evidence yet. 

Out of leads, he swiftly makes his way to his desk, where the business card lay innocently, face down. On the back of it, a tantalizing red lip mark. 

Red picks it up, turning it over to see a time and place typed onto it—an invitation, then, not a business card at all. He stares for a second, feeling a smile grow on his face, before he flips the card over again to stare at the kiss mark. 

He brings the card to his lips, softly kissing it, eyes closed and content. He can almost feel the warmth left over, feel a hand caress his neck along his spine. Soon. 

He tucks the card into one of the pockets on his belt, feeling excited and suddenly rejuvenated. 

Maybe he could do another loop—maybe a couple, he doesn’t care—before getting back to the Nest to research. 

He has a date to score, and research is so much easier when he doesn’t have to deal with euphoria. 

follow here or on AO3!

[sendryl]

Dick’s never dated anyone quite like Danny.

Danny, with his layers and layers of clothes like armor. Danny, with his skin all covered, his hands never even brushing against Dick’s own.

Dick’s known from their first meeting that Danny can’t handle touch at all, but it took a few meetings before Danny admitted that he really wanted to touch.

This is the story of how Dick and Danny start to touch.

[ao3feed-asaden]

Acercarse a tu Ídolo

by StrawBerry022 ༻Por más reservada y arisca que sea Asa, al parecer, es otra fanática más de Chainsaw Man. Debería dedicarse a la actuación porque es buena disimulando, sin embargo, su fachada tiene unas visibles grietas.༺ ➤AugKissed Week 1 Prompt: Indirect Kiss | Blow a Kiss | Butterfly Kisses Words: 2266, Chapters: 1/5, Language: Español Series: Part 1 of ❦ᴀᴜɢ-ᴋɪssᴇᴅ 2024❦ Fandoms: Chainsaw Man (Manga), Chainsaw Man (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Denji (Chainsaw Man), Mitaka Asa, Mitaka Asa's Mother, Yuko (Chainsaw Man), Yoshida Hirofumi, Nayuta (Chainsaw Man) Relationships: Denji/Mitaka Asa Additional Tags: Español | Spanish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Rewrite, Canon Rewrite, Aug-Kissed Prompt List 2024, Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life, Developing Relationship, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, Awkward Crush, Teen Romance, Idiots in Love, Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Teenagers, Explicit Language via https://ift.tt/h8xQYBL

[ashxketchum]

♫⋆｡‧˚♡˚‧｡₊✩‧₊˚ Aug-kissed Week Two ♫⋆｡‧˚♡˚‧｡₊✩‧₊˚

| HAND KISS | TRAIL OF KISSES | GENTLE PECK

Pairing: TyHil from Beyblade | AO3 LINK

Event hosted by @aug-kissed | Post divider by @/cafekitsune

Hilary stared at her reflection in the mirror, surprised that it did not seem to show the exhaustion she felt in her bones. The night wasn't over yet, there was much to be done before she could successfully claim that she had managed to organize the most impromptu wedding reception of all time, but her efforts were starting to catch up with the rest of her body. Making sure that her bangs were still affixed to the side and her make-up was still intact, Hilary patted both her cheeks lightly, motivating herself for the aftermath of the party that awaited her outside this restroom.

She'd always assumed that Kai and Charlie would get married secretly, but she hadn't predicted that the two would announce it randomly on a Wednesday morning in the group chat as if it was the most normal way to go about things. That happened a month ago, and the happy couple was perfectly okay throwing their entire friend circle and their own families into chaos, while Kai flew off to attend a series of meetings in Europe and Charlie took on an important case with a long trial in sight. They'd probably planned it as such, so everyone they knew could not coax them into celebrating the occasion.

But Hilary was nothing if not undeterred, so she took it upon herself to ambush the couple just as they'd done to them. Tyson was recruited to help with the task of course, it was easy to get him to swear to secrecy once she offered to cover some of his house chores for a while if the party was successfully managed.

At his suggestion, they even tested their friend group by floating various rumours to figure out who else would be capable of not letting Kai or Charlie find out what was happening behind the scenes. They'd meet up with their friends and let things slip like how Hilary was pregnant again or Tyson was cheating on her, and within a week they'd managed to loop in a few more people who knew how to hold their hold tongues well.

After that things were smooth sailing, and as always, there was never a dull moment when she worked with Tyson. He had his way of getting things done which was completely opposite from hers, but in the middle of all of the chaos he never missed the chance to make her laugh. She figured that Kai and Charlie had gotten a sniff of something brewing, considering how often Tyson parroted off Kai's credit card details for advance payments, but the couple decided not to interfere and pretty much accepted their fates when they were tricked into dress fittings a few days before the reception.

It all paid off in the end because tonight was the first time Hilary saw Charlie cry out of happiness. She understood that the two of them had probably wanted to avoid the hassle of planning an event like this, but what Kai and Charlie didn't realise was that the people who cared for them didn't need a fancy ceremony, just the chance to be able to share a part of their happiness.

It was a small affair, with only the closest of the friends and family invited, but that still filled up the restaurant they'd booked out for the day to the brim. It was the same restaurant Kai and Charlie had their first date at, and the one where Kai proposed, which they'd managed to secure thanks to Kai's habit of pointing it out to Tyson if they ever passed by that area, urging him to take Hilary to such refined restaurants instead of the dingy ramen shops or izakayas they usually frequented.

There were a lot of toasts given throughout the evening, which is what had Charlie feeling so emotional and the tipping point was when Hilary invited the couple to share their first dance. After Kai and Charlie had inaugurated the dance floor, all the other guests followed in their footsteps.

Everyone except Hilary.

There was just so much to take care of still, she needed to make sure that the band would stick to the selected songs, and she needed to check if the meal course was coming out as per the schedule. She had to collect the gifts from the latecomers and place them in the correct location, she had to hand over the party favours to those left early and help coordinate with the valet. The alcohol being served needed to be monitored, and the wedding cake needed to be protected from any drunk dancing mishaps. Once in a while, she needed to call and check in with her mother who was babysitting Toshi. Every moment of her night was accounted for on her trusty clipboard, even the time she took to breathe.

It was only after the last of the guests had said their goodbyes, after she had convinced Kai and Charlie that their presence was not required for taking care of the cleanup, though she did gratefully accept their cards, after all the final payments had been settled with the restaurant and the gifts to be delivered to the couple's home had been loaded in the truck, did Hilary manage the chance to sneak into the restroom for a respite.

However, even that could not last long since the restaurant manager had told her that while the staff would perform the final sweep, she still needed to make sure none of the guest's stuff was left behind. With a final look in the mirror, she stepped out to return to the front of the restaurant, getting ready to conduct a thorough search under every table but was surprised to find the whole place empty and dark.

The decorations they'd hung were taken down and kept neatly in a box, the chairs had been arranged on top of the tables, the floor looked like it had been freshly mopped and the entrance of the restaurant had a padlock hanging along its door handles. Just how long had she dazed out in the restroom, Hilary thought, panicking slightly as her eyes started to adjust to the lack of lighting.

"I tipped the restaurant staff so they helped with cleaning up," Tyson's voice rang out from some corner of the room. Hilary darted her head around but she couldn't see him anywhere. A minute later his head poked up from under one of the tables, after he pulled himself up he dangled the item in his hand for her to see, "Max's phone. Bet he doesn't even know he left it behind."

"Tyson-"

"You are the best husband of all time!" He grinned at her as he walked up to her, slipping the phone in one of his coat pockets, before he took off the coat altogether. Loosening his tie with a sigh of relief, he came to a stop right in front of her, leaving little space between them, "Are you feeling okay? I feel like you went overboard tonight, even by Hilary standards."

"I'm-" Hilary started to speak, getting ready to reassure him that she was fine and that they should load up all the decorations and left-behind items in their car right now instead of collecting them in the morning tomorrow. But then she met Tyson's gaze, while the smile on his lips was playful, his eyes were laced with concern so she decided not to lie to him. "I'm exhausted, actually," Hilary whispered as she leaned forward to rest her head on his chest, feeling comforted by the drumming of his heartbeat.

"Thought as much," Tyson said, patting her head, "I want to head home and crash too but…"

She forced herself to look up at him when he trailed off, feeling the panic from earlier return to her at the hint of sadness she detected in his voice, "But what?" She asked quietly, praying that she hadn't forgotten to finish some major task which could land them in trouble.

He tilted his head down, landing his forehead on top of hers as he gave her a solemn smile, one that was so unlike him, "But you didn't dance with me even once tonight."

Hilary blinked as she tried to retrace her steps, surely she had not turned down Tyson's invitation to dance while in a rush? She realised slowly, that he was right, she'd told him on many occasions that she would finish the next task and join him on the dance floor but something or the other kept her busy.

Even if she had ended up missing out on spending time with him tonight, she was glad that he never backed down from reminding her of these little things that made them feel like they were kids falling in love for the first time all over again. Hilary managed to lift one hand and rest it on his cheek, now craving the feeling of being in Tyson’s arms as her favourite song played loudly around them. After a few minutes, Tyson took her hand and brought it to his lips, washing the tiredness from her bones away with just a light kiss.

She met his eyes, hoping to thank him but he instantly gestured towards the dance floor with a slight tilt of his head, making Hilary frown in confusion, "There's no music," she pointed out flatly, but her logic was lost on Tyson as his mind was already made.

He took a step back and bent down on his knees, running a hand across her calf, he stopped right above her ankle, holding onto her firmly before he used his other hand to untuck the strap of her heels and pull the shoe off, repeating the same process for her other foot. Hilary’s hands had automatically shifted to lean on his shoulders for support so when Tyson stood, up he grabbed them and brought them back to her side as he passed her a wink.

“To dance with you, my love, I don't even need a roof on my head or the ground below my feet."

Hilary blushed at his declaration, she wanted to tell him that his statement didn’t make any sense but it was difficult for her to find the right words when he lifted one of her hands and kissed it again, and then again, leaving a trail of kisses across the length of her arm and then shoulder, nibbling at her neck to make her shudder before he left a gentle peck on her cheek, tugging at her to follow him to the centre of the room, to which she obliged.

It was odd how they were so in sync even without a tune or a beat, Tyson took the lead and Hilary matched her steps to him. While the silence seemed to fall upon their ears the loudest, slowly other sounds started to seep in, the taps that Tyson’s shoes made against the wooden floor, the occasional car that honked and sped past on the road outside, shutters of shops being lifted or dragged down, the occasional bird chirping, Tyson’s heartbeat drumming rhythmically, her own breath escaping her lips sharply, it all merged together in Hilary's mind to become a melody that was meant to be experienced, to be lived in the present. It was the kind of song that she knew she’d never get to hear again so she closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the moment, feeling only Tyson’s warmth and the subtle music.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since the two started dancing but when she finally lifted her head from Tyson’s shoulders and opened her eyes to look up at him, he was watching her with a proud smile on his face. Her hands slid up from his shoulders to loop around his neck as his hold on her waist tightened and he pulled her closer towards him, their dancing now reduced to a slow and steady swaying.

“You did a great job today, Hils,” Tyson said, leaning down to rub his nose against hers, “Kai and Charlie are lucky to have you as a friend.”

“And you,” she whispered in response.

“Well to be fair, I wouldn’t have done half the things I did had it not been you who was giving the orders,” he said, the smile now transformed into a cheeky grin.

“Don’t try and pretend you don’t care about Kai’s feelings in front of me, Tyson.” Hilary bumped her forehead to his lightly, teasing him with a smirk of her own.

“I just hope they’re not expecting a real wedding gift from us after all this,” Tyson mumbled with a grumpy pout on his lips, changing the topic quickly before Hilary could force him to admit that he was truly happy for Kai today out loud.

“I did hire an artist to make a live painting of their first dance,” she said, deciding to let him off the hook just this once on account of how cute he looked when he was embarrassed, “So I’m sure they’ll not want for anything more.”

“You really do think of everything.” Tyson raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Just one of my many charms.” Hilary smiled, turning up her nose smugly to make them both burst out laughing.

“Don’t I know it.”

Tyson managed to capture her lips in a kiss in between laughs, and it was only when they lost themselves to the kiss did they finally stop dancing. Tyson went on to wrap one arm around her waist loosely as he put a little bit of distance between their bodies so he could use his other hand to caress her belly, letting his palm linger on her abdomen when they broke apart from the kiss.

“But you keeping so busy tonight had its own benefits,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling with newfound excitement.

“Oh god, Charlie is definitely suspicious!” Hilary shook her head, sighing with relief over being able to talk about this freely, “The number of times she offered me drinks tonight- I can’t even. I’m just so glad you were around to take care of them.”

“Max did see me with two glasses in my hand more than once,” Tyson chuckled, “but he was too drunk to make note of it. I think we’re safe for another month or so,” he said, patting her belly lightly while his lips spread wide in a grin without effort, “We should let the happy couple enjoy their spotlight for a little while longer.”

“You’re surprisingly sober for someone who’s been drinking enough for two people,” Hilary tilted her head as she pursed her lips together, resisting the urge to lean in and kiss him again.

“Yeah, cleaning up and settling the bills after a party will do that to a guy.” Tyson deadpanned as she giggled at his response.

“I called your Mom by the way,” Tyson said, releasing her from his grip he walked towards where they’d left her heels, picking them up, he turned around to face her and spread his arms in front of him. With a beaming look on his face, he added, “She said it’s okay if we pick up Toshi in the morning. Wanna go for a drive?”

Hilary didn’t need any instruction to figure out what she needed to do. She made her way towards Tyson, almost skipping ahead like an excited schoolgirl before she happily jumped into his arms, throwing her own around his neck for support as he balanced her into a comfortable position in his hold. Looking up at him, she couldn’t stop herself from feeling a million different things in her chest as her heart picked up pace without a warning, with shining eyes that warned of happy tears falling down any minute, she asked him almost breathlessly, “Where to?”

“Do we need a destination?” Tyson mused as he began to walk towards the back exit of the restaurant, not sparing a single glance in the direction of all the things that still needed to be taken care of, leaving them behind to become a problem for another day.

“No, I suppose we never do.”

[ashxketchum]

♫⋆｡‧˚♡˚‧｡₊✩‧₊˚ Aug-kissed Week Three ♫⋆｡‧˚♡˚‧｡₊✩‧₊˚

| FRANTIC KISSES | USING TONGUE | HICKEYS

+ Mimato Color Challenge : PINK

Pairing: Mimato from Digimon | AO3 LINK

Event hosted by @aug-kissed | Post divider by @/cafekitsune

Yamato had never been fond of the colour pink as far as he could remember, but if anyone asked when he became attracted to it, the memory always appeared quite clearly in his mind.

Years ago, on a typical summer day when he was heading back home from band practice, the sun was setting and its orange glow covered the streets with a lazy dullness, making the people who passed him by look sluggish under its weight. But only for a moment, a flash of bright pink appeared within his sight, almost blinding him with its shine that stood out amongst the drab scene. He stopped in his tracks, recognising the familiar face responsible for the sudden burst of colour in his view.

Yamato never stopped her for a greeting back then, he only watched from afar as she crossed the road to the other side, her laugh resonating around him despite the distance, her bright pink hair bobbing up and down as she ran ahead to catch up with some friends. The wide smile on her face, the infectious excitement in her voice, the glittering shine in her pink strands as the sunlight danced across it, the skip in her step even as the world around her dragged its feet, it was a scene that was forever etched in his mind.

To this day, Yamato had never met anyone else capable of carrying pink hair as beautifully as Mimi.

Which is why tonight was turning out to be so difficult for him.

No, Mimi hadn’t suddenly decided at the age of 27 to colour her hair pink again, but the dress she had donned tonight was the exact same shade as her hair used to be in the past, the only shade of pink that Yamato found endearing.

Tonight, they were attending the wedding reception of one of Mimi’s closest teammates, someone who had worked with her from when her website was first launched. To be precise, Yamato was attending the party while Mimi was at the centre of it all being the nice boss and friend that she was, helping in every way possible. He didn’t mind sitting at the bar by himself, having gotten used to such situations thanks to both Takeru and Mimi’s social lives. He rather preferred doing a customary round of greetings after arriving at a venue and then taking it slow, talking to people only when he was approached. He’d hoped that this evening would also be no different than many others, but when Mimi stepped out of the dressing room in that dress, his prayers were a lost cause.

Yamato didn’t know, if the dress was a conscious choice on Mimi’s behalf or if it was forced upon her by the bride. In case it was the former, then he wondered if he was being punished for some mistake he might’ve made months ago, because Mimi was aware of what this colour did to him, especially when she was dressed in it.

But Yamato was still sober when they’d just left home and was able to control all his urges right until the ceremony was over, it was when the first glass of champagne appeared in his hand that his thoughts began to wander to a territory not suitable to explore at someone else’s wedding. Perhaps he would’ve been fine had Mimi not drifted so far away from him as the night stretched on, and if the alcohol being served was something light like beer.

But now it would almost be an hour since Mimi left his side and he’d downed a questionable amount of glasses to keep his attention diverted, in short, it was too difficult for him to reel back his thoughts anymore. His eyes followed her around the room like a hawk, though even if he lost sight of her for a minute, her voice would always find its way to his ears to keep him on track and her pink dress made sure to capture his attention amongst the crowd.

There was nothing too extravagant about the dress, the length was modest with it falling till her ankles, it was off the shoulder from one side and the other side had a large lotus-like flower protruding out of the strap, which was not really Mimi’s style. Maybe he was right in assuming that it had been picked for her, but even in its simplicity, the dress wrapped itself around Mimi’s figure so perfectly, that Yamato’s fingers itched for the honour to take it off. She had done up her hair in a high ponytail, with a few strands falling out. Every time she turned her back to him he could see the nape of her neck which was begging to be caressed, every time she tilted her head to the side a strand of hair would tangle loosely, begging to be fixed back into place by his hands.

Yamato began to drum his fingers against the bar counter, hoping that building the right rhythm would help with keeping his mind busy and with his hand finally having something to do, he’d stop gulping down champagne like it was water. He wondered if Mimi was planning to stay until the end of the reception, another 30 minutes or so he could still survive on his own in his fantasy land, but any longer than that and he’d be making his way towards her and telling her they needed to head home now in not so subtle words.

Now might be a good time to get some fresh air, he thought, glancing at the glass that lay half-empty in front of him.

Yamato let the tune he’d built up in his mind rest with a few light taps against the counter, raising his hand instead to grab the glass and finish his drink. Gulping it all down at once was perhaps not the best move considering his state of mind, but he was hoping that a short walk outside the venue would help in sobering up. As he stood up from the stool, he dusted his coat off, deciding that he’d remove it and loosen his tie when he stepped outside. He searched for Mimi in the big hall, although he was planning to drop her a text in case she got worried, he still wanted to see if he could make eye contact and let her know of his plan. To his surprise however, Mimi was not talking to the group of people he’d seen her greet a few minutes ago but was herself making her way out of the venue, her eyes cast downwards as she rushed forward, to avoid having to make small talk with anyone who stopped her.

It was possible, that the universe heard Yamato’s desperate thoughts and decided to award him with a golden chance.

Bubbling with newfound excitement and energy, Yamato followed her out as discreetly as possible, using the crowd around them as cover so she wouldn’t notice him. He wasn’t planning to jump her in a dark corridor or anything creepy like that, but he just wanted to make sure that if he did approach her, she’d be willing to reciprocate in equal parts. If he figured out she was tired or not feeling well, Yamato would simply step forward and offer to head back home immediately.

Things became complicated when Mimi slipped into the women’s washroom, leaving Yamato standing alone in the corridor as he hesitated over his next step.

It would make sense for him to enter the washroom if Mimi was feeling unwell, but since he hadn’t gotten a good look at her face, he couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want some other lady spotting him in there and raising unnecessary alarms, so he paced outside the washroom for a few minutes, hoping that Mimi would come out soon enough. But when she didn’t, he let go of all inhibitions and barged into the toilet, ready to face whatever consequences that awaited him.

“Mimi, are you okay?”

His loud voice echoed around the space, which to his luck, was empty. It was a typical sort of washroom you’d expect from a wedding venue, posh furnishings, marble flooring and granite sinks. Lights bordered the frame of the mirror fixed above the sink, reflecting off the white marble floors, it made the whole space look much brighter than needed. Mimi stood at the sink, turning around to face him with a surprised look on her face holding an open lipstick in one hand.

“Yamato?”

Shutting the door behind him, Yamato ventured closer to Mimi, knowing that the washroom was empty filled him with some confidence, though chances of any girl walking in the very next second should not have been ruled out of his mind. Mimi continued to stare at him with wide eyes, her mouth half open as she tried to make sense of the situation. When he was standing right in front of her, he leaned down to get a good look at her face in an attempt to spot any signs of exhaustion or fatigue.

“I’m fine, you don’t have to worry,” Mimi spoke quickly, shaking her head as she twisted the cap of her lipstick back on and faced him with a reassuring smile, “I was just redoing my makeup before the photoshoot.”

“I see,” Yamato said, feeling a little relieved, “I just-I couldn’t get a good look at your face when you left the hall and then you weren’t coming out-”

“Thank you.” Mimi stopped his rambling explanation, resting a hand on his cheek.

In retrospect, Yamato realised that it had not been a good move on Mimi’s behalf. Despite the confidence she took in understanding people better than him, she did not catch on to the dangerous effects her gentle touch could have on a half drunk yet fully smitten Yamato.

“But you really shouldn’t be here, people might kick up a fuss-”

Although he could hear her clearly, none of the words registered in his mind as he took in the sight of her face up close. It was still a mystery to him, how everything about Mimi could be so perfect. Her brown eyes were always so enticing, like two big, round drops of caramel beckoning him towards heavenly bliss, her cheeks always stood out like two empty canvases, ready to be tinted in the right colours at his command, and her lips were always curved so coyly, as if teasing him into a game of push and pull, one that would end in both their victories. And now, shining with a fresh coat of her pink lipstick, her lips looked nothing less than a present placed under a Christmas tree, he had no choice but to unravel the ribbon and see for himself if the wait had been worth it.

“So, I think that you really should leave-”

Yamato nodded to himself, coming to a decision about what he was going to do next, but Mimi took that as a sign of his acknowledgement of her requests and let her guard down with a relieved sigh. Before she could turn around to face the mirror again, however, Yamato leaned down and landed a kiss on her lips.

She let out a surprised gasp, stumbling on her feet under the sudden onset of his weight. The lipstick slipped from her fingers as she struggled to clutch the granite sink counter for some support, the sound of it dropping against the floor clattered around them like an alarm but it was too late to pay heed to any warning now. Yamato cupped her cheeks in both his hands, pushing her face towards him so he could use his tongue to lick her lips, pleading with her to let him in.

With whatever force she could manage after his surprise ambush, Mimi was able to free herself from his grasp for a moment to respond breathlessly, “Yamato, we can’t.” Her voice depicted the urgency of the situation quite well, but her eyes sparkling with excitement betrayed any meaning her words may have held.

“Hmm…” Yamato nodded again, putting one hand behind her back so she wouldn’t be pressed against the hard edge of the sink when he leaned in closer, pushing their bodies as close as possible. The whimpering sound that Mimi tried her best to muffle was not lost to his ears and he smirked down triumphantly at her, “But we will.”

There was no more room for discussion as he brought his lips to hers once again, this time he wasn’t met with any resistance and Mimi gladly allowed him to plunge deeper into her. The passion with which she responded made him smile against her lips, her intentions were quite opposite of what she had claimed just a moment ago. Her hands were quick to wrap themselves around his neck, with one hand tangling with his hair at a pace that made the threads holding his sanity together snap one by one. When Mimi stopped to clutch at his hair, Yamato let out a low grunt, pulling away from her lips so he could leave a trail of frantic kisses across her cheek, then her chin and then all the way down to her neck, using his free hand to trace the shape of her collarbone. His lingering touch made Mimi moan much louder than she had before, which wasn’t something he should’ve taken pride in, considering anyone could walk in on them because of the sound, but Yamato found himself getting bolder the more Mimi reciprocated.

He dragged one finger across the hem of her dress, stopping near the single strap that kept the dress in place on her shoulder, though when he looped his fingers around the strap, Mimi let go of his hair and quickly covered his hand with her own, stopping him from taking the dress off with her quick instinct.

“Not the dress, please.” She begged straight into his ears, knowing that he would find it hard to resist the soft, gasping tone of her voice, “I still have to join them in the photos.”

“Tsk.” Yamato clicked his tongue in annoyance as he raised his head for a moment to meet her eyes.

He didn’t plan to defy this request of hers as he was vaguely aware of how they were in a public space, but he still wanted to let her know that he’d have his way one way or the other, be it right now or later in their bedroom. Mimi pressed her lips together at the look in his eyes, the colour in her cheeks deepened as she agreed to his silent declaration with a light shake of her head. Thinking that his craving was satisfied for the time being, Mimi let her guard down yet again and Yamato just couldn’t resist surprising her with his drive.

He dropped to his knees, making Mimi let out a loud yelp before she covered her mouth to muffle her voice as much as possible. Yamato didn’t bother to look up at her as he used one hand to lift her dress while the other grazed softly across her ankles to her thighs. Mimi’s whole body trembled at his touch, and each breath was accompanied by an enticing sound she tried so hard to suppress. Yamato held onto her thigh and then used his lips to plant kisses in the same pattern as he had followed with his hand. He needed to hold onto Mimi because the way her body moved when his lips brushed against her skin or when he teased her by using his tongue to lick the sensitive spots, it was a miracle that she was able to stand straight at all. Even with her hand covering her mouth, her moans filled the washroom, though Yamato could only hope that it didn’t yet cut through the walls to reach the corridor outside.

He was trying his best to not crumple Mimi’s dress but as he dragged his lips higher across her thighs and her intoxicating scent reached his nose, Yamato’s hand fisted around the soft material of her dress, most likely creasing it visibly. That must have been a good enough wake-up call for Mimi to try and regain control of the situation. As Yamato placed his head in between her thighs, spreading them apart to meet his need, the sight of Mimi’s pink lacy thong covering up the bare minimum made all the blood in his body rush to one spot. He tilted his head upwards, grabbing onto the bottom part of the fabric with his teeth and almost immediately, he felt Mimi’s hand clutch onto a fistful of his hair as she yanked his head back. She was lucky that he had the good sense to let go of her underwear, or it would’ve definitely ended up torn given the force with which she held onto his head. She moved her hand slightly, forcing him to look upwards and face her, which Yamato knew would end up being his kryptonite for the night.

“Please, Yamato,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She let go of his hair and instead turned her attention to the part of her dress he was still holding onto, using both her hands to untangle it from his grasp. “I know what you want,” she spoke up softly, her voice lacked the pleading tone from earlier and was much more coy, with a teasing smile she brought one of her hands to her lips, placing two fingers above them as she pouted down at him, “and I will let you have it, but for now, can you make do with these lips instead?”

One might say that if Yamato gave in to her demand, he’d be losing this battle, but to be fair to both of them, he’d rarely ever attempted to win against Mimi anyway.

He stood up, letting her dress drop back into position while he planted another deep kiss on her lips. Mimi rested one of her hands behind his back while the other caressed his cheek in slow, soothing movements, similar to how her tongue played with his. It was her way of telling him that even if he didn’t get his prize immediately, the consolation was perhaps an equally good feeling. When they broke the kiss to catch their breaths, Yamato caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Mimi’s freshly applied pink lipstick was now all over his mouth and chin making him look rather suspicious to an unaware person. He glanced at Mimi, while the shade of the lipstick had faded off her lips, overall her makeup seemed intact so at least she wouldn’t get mad at him for that. Though, her cheeks and nose were drenched in a deep pink blush, which painted a stark contrast to her gleaming, clean neck and it made Yamato want to bite down on it just so it would turn a shade that matched her face.

“Don’t you dare give me a hickey.” Mimi raised a finger, pointing it towards him in a threatening manner as apparently, she could now read his mind like an open book, "I told you I still have to be in the photos!”

Yamato contemplated her words for a while but then decided to have his way since she owed him for not dropping everything to rush back home so they could finish what they’d started instead. He caught on to the strap on her shoulder again, sliding it down before Mimi could react. First, he kissed the newly exposed spot, and then dug his teeth into her skin, sucking at the portion, then running his tongue across it to soften the blow. When he let go a minute later, a fresh red bruise shaped like his teeth was perfectly visible on Mimi’s shoulder.

Nodding satisfactorily at the result, Yamato put the strap of her dress back into place, covering up the mark almost completely as he met her eyes smugly, “That won’t show in the photos, I’m sure.”

Mimi opened her mouth to argue back but they both heard heels clicking against the floor outside, sending them into alarm as they tried to figure out how to deal with the tricky situation. Through whatever miraculous reason, Mimi was still partially in her senses and she came up with a plan in mere seconds. Dragging Yamato by the arm, she made him stand adjacent to the door of the washroom, taking a deep breath as she fixed her hair and patted her cheeks. She sent one last warning look in his direction and then opened the door with a big smile plastered on her face.

“Ah, Mimi! We were looking for you!” A girl’s voice floated in from somewhere in the corridor, “The photographer finished with his meal, so they’re starting with the photo shoot now.”

“I’m so sorry!” Mimi called out in a high pitched voice as she left the washroom, leaving the door behind her just slightly open so Yamato could peek when it was the right time to make an exit, “I was redoing my makeup and then I got a little bit carried away.” He heard her laugh loudly, and her friend joined in without hesitation.

“No wonder you look so good! Which brand did you use for your blush, it’s so naturally pink.”

Yamato had to put a fist to his mouth to keep a laugh of his own from escaping. He leaned closer into the open gap of the door to catch Mimi’s response, a little bummed that he couldn’t see the look on her face when she spoke.

“Oh, this brand’s not available on the market anymore.”

[ficcerspam]

EVENT FICS

Cozy/Flufftober 2024 - 10.25.24

Borrowing a Sweater - DP - Ellie-centric, general fluff

Wrapped in a soft fuzzy blanket - DPxDC - Dan-centric, fluff ft Lian Harper

Favorite Scent - DCU - Bruce/Selina

Aftercare - DPxDC - Sequel to Kitten Kisses, Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom [AO3]

===

Invisobang 2024 - 09.02.24 - [AO3]

DP - After a Bad Reveal, Jazz, Danny and Dani are forced to escape to the Infinite Realms. Join the siblings as they navigate their way through the Realms (and its Monarchy Malarkey) to find and create not only a safe space, but a community in their new home.

===

AugKissed 2024 - 08.25.24 - [AO3]*

DCxDP - Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of), Suggestive themes (but ultimately no smut)

===

Phic Phight 2024 Phics*

Forgotten Fire: A little bit on who Ember McLain was, when she was alive. Complete.

Open Secrets: Everyone knows AU. (except, Danny doesn't know they know). Complete.

In Front of My Cereal? Crackfic for the prompt: Danny shuddered. The old man yaoi energy at that table was insufferable. Complete.

[ao3feed-asaden]

Acercarse a tu Ídolo

by StrawBerry022 ༻Por más reservada y arisca que sea Asa, al parecer, es otra fanática más de Chainsaw Man. Debería dedicarse a la actuación porque es buena disimulando, sin embargo, su fachada tiene unas visibles grietas.༺ ➤AugKissed Week 1 Prompt: Indirect Kiss | Blow a Kiss | Butterfly Kisses Words: 2266, Chapters: 1/5, Language: Español Series: Part 1 of ❦ᴀᴜɢ-ᴋɪssᴇᴅ 2024❦ Fandoms: Chainsaw Man (Manga), Chainsaw Man (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Denji (Chainsaw Man), Mitaka Asa, Mitaka Asa's Mother, Yuko (Chainsaw Man), Yoshida Hirofumi, Nayuta (Chainsaw Man) Relationships: Denji/Mitaka Asa Additional Tags: Español | Spanish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Rewrite, Canon Rewrite, Aug-Kissed Prompt List 2024, Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life, Developing Relationship, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, Awkward Crush, Teen Romance, Idiots in Love, Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Teenagers, Explicit Language via https://ift.tt/h8xQYBL

[ao3feed-asaden]

Acercarse a tu Ídolo

by StrawBerry022 ༻Por más reservada y arisca que sea Asa, al parecer, es otra fanática más de Chainsaw Man. Debería dedicarse a la actuación porque es buena disimulando, sin embargo, su fachada tiene unas visibles grietas.༺ ➤AugKissed Week 1 Prompt: Indirect Kiss | Blow a Kiss | Butterfly Kisses Words: 2242, Chapters: 1/5, Language: Español Series: Part 1 of ❦ᴀᴜɢ-ᴋɪssᴇᴅ 2024❦ Fandoms: Chainsaw Man (Manga), Chainsaw Man (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Denji (Chainsaw Man), Mitaka Asa, Mitaka Asa's Mother, Yuko (Chainsaw Man), Yoshida Hirofumi, Nayuta (Chainsaw Man) Relationships: Denji/Mitaka Asa Additional Tags: Español | Spanish, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Rewrite, Canon Rewrite, Aug-Kissed Prompt List 2024, Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life, Developing Relationship, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Romance, Awkward Crush, Teen Romance, Idiots in Love, Romance, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Teenagers via https://ift.tt/1sPzACN

[ao3feed-asaden]

Según La Tradición

by StrawBerry022 ༻De una manera poco elegante, además de fácil, Miri logra convencer a Denji para que participe junto a otros chicos. El premio suena tentador, pero para ser el ganador está obligado a cumplir un complicado reto.༺ ➤AugKissed Week 3 Prompt: Using Tongue Words: 4528, Chapters: 1/1, Language: Español Series: Part 1 of ❦ᴀᴜɢ-ᴋɪssᴇᴅ 2024❦ Fandoms: Chainsaw Man (Manga), Chainsaw Man (Anime) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Denji (Chainsaw Man), Mitaka Asa, Sugo Miri | Sword Man, Yoshida Hirofumi Relationships: Denji/Mitaka Asa Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Teenagers, Teen Romance, Fluff and Humor, Idiots in Love, Español | Spanish, Tumblr Prompt, Prompt Fic, Slice of Life, Aug-Kissed Prompt List 2024 via https://ift.tt/nqB0c8L

[ficcerspam]

HELP you're too funny!!!

Week 2: Hand Kiss

===

Red Robin alights on the roof of a building that should be empty, but is acting as a pop up club event. EDM music oozes from the window panes, the thumps of it vibrating from the soles of his feet and the tips of his fingers. 

There’s a tap on his comms, Black Bat indicating that she’s also arrived on the next building over where she’ll standby in case he needs back up. Not that he thinks he’ll need it, but RR wasn’t bat-trained for nothing, and she was the only one Tim trusted not to immediately go to the group chat for.  He glances over, scanning for the slight movement of shadow, and taps back with a little grin before scaling the building to climb onto the rafters of the large ballroom that’s acting as the main space for the dance floor. The crowd below looks crowded, cramped, and way too sweaty—why would Stray lead him here?

Looking more into the address and the time Stray left him led RR to stumble upon an exclusive gentlemen’s club that seems to travel the Tri-State Area under the guise of a music tour for a, in RR’s humble opinion, shitty DJ that pandered to tweens and influencers with their instagram-able pop up sets and rave-like light shows. 

But why? Why need the guise at all? Exclusive gentlemen’s clubs like this were, frankly, a dime a dozen. Nobody would blink an eye—so why all the fuss, and again, why would Stray lead him here? As always, looking into Stray and all things related to the rogue gave him more questions than answers, and a frustrating sort of tension he could never really release. Like he was being lead around and toyed with —a game of Cat and Mouse indeed. But RR would be lying if he said that part of Stray didn’t attract him like catnip.

Ironic. 

Red Robin slips through the back stage set up, following the map in his head towards the backdoor that leads towards the backrooms. There‘s a stretch of hallway that provides zero coverage that RR doesn’t like, but is easily mitigated through some creative vent work, and usage of blind spots. 

Soon enough, he's in the rafters of another large room, of smaller proportions to the main hall upstairs but still quite roomy. There are large armchairs and lounging sofas scattered around the room where men who seemed photocopied off page 66 of a Forbes Magazine lounged, all placed haphazardly facing the designated ‘front’ of the room, where a makeshift stage sat. A variety of waiters and waitresses attend to them in skimpy little uniforms, passing drinks and collecting cups and large sums of money.

On the stage is what looks like some kind of artifact, expensive and most of all old. Despite that, it gleams under the stage lights, and is currently being wheeled away by one of the scantily clad waitress. 

“And now, gentlemen, it is time for the Grande Finale!”  One of the staff starts to wheel out a rectangular object that’s been covered in a deep red velvet cloth. “You know it, you love it, tonight we have a very exotic collection of products we’re sure you’ll thoroughly enjoy!”

That’s….strange. Red pulls out the card that Stray left, eyeing the time embossed onto it. Why would Stray tell him to come now, during the Finale to what looks like some sort of auction, and not the beginning? In the first place, if he had known what kind of event it was he would have proudly come as Alvin Draper, and not skulking about as Red Robin. He tucks the card back into one of his multitude of pockets, wondering why—

The MC throws his arm out, grinning brightly with a gleam to his eye that RR does not like. “Feast your eyes on our first product of this very special selection, Anastasia.”

The staff pulls the velvet off to reveal a 6 foot tall cage, just large enough for the person inside to sit upon a chair, tied up in some sort of shibari. They’re artfully tied, bright red ropes criss crossing and body arched up. Their head is tilted back, a little, and it would almost look purposeful, like a living art piece you’d see over in San Francisco on the Castro. 

The entire display of her would be beautiful, if her face weren’t so full of abject fear. Tears are streaming down in roves, and she’s shaking hard enough for Red to notice, even 50 feet away. He can’t tear his eyes away from her eyes, how they shake and are looking around restlessly, looking for anything, anyone to help them. 

“This lovely young woman has the ability to conjure up minor illusions—perfect for parties, and for something a little more spicy in the bedroom.” The MC explains, cheerily, before the bidding starts. And now, it’s even clearer: this is a meta-human auction. He’s already tapping his comms and sending out a message to Oracle. Blackbat taps the comms back in response, denoting that she’s entering the building now.

And then Anastasia, if that is her real name, jerks as the staff member that rolled her cage out onto the stage leans down to whisper something in her ear. She freezes, eyes shutting and teeth gritting harder into the rope that’s gagging her. The staff continues to speak, as the numbers start growing and the noise level elevates to safely drown out their conversation—because it is a conversation, the way the girl nods and shakes her head as best she can intermittently. 

It would be unnoticeable, if Red Robin weren’t staring at them rather than focusing on bidding the way the rest of the room is. And then the staff member tilts their head, just so, to look directly into Red Robin’s searching gaze. 

He jolts, instinctually grabbing his bo staff and grapple, before he realizes the staff is smiling at him. RR relaxes, slightly, observing the staff member—they have long black hair braided down their back, showing off the shaved sides and showcasing their undercut. Geometric designs are shaved into the high undercut, cutting towards the back that’s hidden by the braid. 

They’re wearing the same uniform the waiters and waitresses are touting: a sleeveless tuxedo top with a blue bowtie, and an asymmetric black skirt that doesn’t go around all the way—the gap shows off little booty shorts, with gleaming gold button and buckle accents. They have those fake shirt cuffs that act more like bracelets and fishnets that seem almost too tight, with little ankle boots that seem absurd for a job that requires their staff to walk around constantly. 

They have a masquerade mask on, with bright blue eyes that reflect almost cat-like at him as they whisper something else to the meta that has her eyes unerringly going towards the area Red Robin is perched on. She relaxes almost immediately when she catches sight of him. 

“Sold! To the gentleman in the back.” The MC flings out a hand, directing the startlingly familiar staff member to take the ‘merchandise’ away. They bow as if in deference, doubling to hide their expression, but Red can see it clear as day: They’re smiling at him, with very familiar bright red lips. Stray. They roll Anastasia off the stage with a taunting sashay, as if crooking a finger towards him. 

A different staff member rolls out another cage, boiling his blood, but Oracle already knows the deal and Blackbat is already on her way to help scout. He follows Stray into the back, but only finds more ‘merchandise.’ He makes an effort to soothe as many of them as he can, all whilst dodging the security. It’s all surprisingly labyrinthian, crates and cages creating a sort of maze to navigate through. 

Oracle has already informed him that back up is on the way, with a healthy side of scolding for not calling on her when he first found out about the event. In his defense: He hadn’t expected any of this, and his preliminary research didn’t exactly include underground meta auctions. He knew there would be something intriguing, but not this. 

Not that he’s complaining. 

Red Robin’s job now is to find a mobile office of some kind to plug Oracle into, and if he so happens to stumble upon Stray on the way…Well. That’s just being efficient. 

He’s just about to give up and climb into the vents, where he can rely on the building maps, when he hears a little scuffle on the other side of one of the walls of tall crates he’s standing in. He does a little back and forth run up, pushing himself over to perch on top, only to spy not just one, but both of his targets. 

It’s a little closed off area with three laptops set up, one running some kind of list, another with security camera feeds, and the last one a simple desktop with solitaire on it. 

There is also, delightfully, Stray kicking a large burly man in the groin and neck chopping him into unconsciousness. Not so delightfully, there are two more goons heading straight for him in large stomps. 

Red Robin does a little flip, just to show off a little, using his bo staff to hook over the goons’ necks and pull them backward into a topple. When they’ve thumped heavily onto the ground, Tim disconnects the staff into two escrima sticks that he jabs into their necks, tasing them until they pass out. 

“That’s new.” Stray comments, and when Red Robin twists up to stand before him the rogue is already strutting over one of the laptops and typing rapidly into it. 

“It’s a prototype.” Red Robin shrugs. The new weapon can only hold one charge, lest it lose its retractability, but it’s enough for now. He sidles up to Stray, cataloging the differences between Stray in costume and in disguise as he sticks Oracle’s drive into the laptop running the list. 

Stray finishes up whatever he was doing, possibly erasing any trace of himself from their employee records, and pulls out a mirror from…somewhere, reapplying that damned rouge lip. 

“This is where the knight gets a kiss, you know?” RR comments, leaning a little to cage the rogue up against the table, an arm on both sides of his slim waist.  

“Oh, so I’m the damsel in distress am I?” Stray smiles at him, tilting his head as the mirror and lipstick disappear behind his back. 

“If the shoe fits,” he gestures towards the downed goons. 

Stray rolls his eyes, leaning up into his space and whispering in his ear, “I was a damsel, I was in distress, and I could have handled it.”  The rogue shrugs, “Not my fault you so rudely interrupted.”

RR chuckled, grabbing Stray’s hand to kiss the back of it, lingering. “Then what am I here for? Besides for your alluring company, of course.” This close, he can see just how blue Stray’s eyes are. They look too icy, too crystalline almost—the kind of jewel Selina would purr over. The way his eyes dilate and Red can see it real time would make his knees weak, if the suit didn’t have the proper support to prevent that. 

“Well, I can handle myself, but I can't exactly handle placing 10 meta-humans. That needs a softer touch.” Stray doesn’t let go, and in fact starts to fiddle with RR’s gloved fingers. 

“And I'm the soft touch?” RR smiles, leaning back. This Stray has freckles, and RR feels desperate to memorize each and every one of them. 

“You’re my knight in multi-colored kevlar. Of course you’re the soft touch.” Stray smiles sardonically, causing RR to grin.

“Why is that strangely flattering?” Stray laughs, and the sight of it—the long lines of his body and the heat of how close they are—it’s driving him crazy. He uses his free hand rub just under the rogue’s eye, to tuck a strand of hair that’s escaped the braid behind Stray’s ear, following the long line of it to where it’s tied up with a little ribbon with his fingers.

“These are new too,” His voice is soft, he hears a clamor over the comms—more Bats are arriving on the scene, but he doesn’t care at the moment. After all, he distinctly remembers green eyes, remembers the flick of ears, the curling tease of a tail.

“They’re not.” Stray says, just as softly, “And before you ask: no contacts, no wigs, no animatronics.” The rogue nuzzles his cheek into Red’s, causing a sharp intake of breath. “In either outfit.” 

Calling the suit and his current form outfits is such a Stray thing to do that it makes him laugh. RR takes the chance to smooth a hand over the Stray’s hair, using the other hand to lightly caress their lower back—right where the rogue’s ears and tail usually sat, though it was already obvious what they were talking about. He still wanted to feel it for himself—and if he got to touch just a little more, feel Stray lean into it…well, that’s just a bonus now, isn’t it?

“How does that work?” he asks, knowing the rogue wouldn’t answer but hoping anyway. 

Stray presses his smile into Red’s cheek, almost a kiss, sotto voce. “Maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

There’s an explosion, somewhere in the other room. Oracle informs him that Spoiler has caused a bit of a riot, and that the rest of the cavalry is already wreaking havoc. He’s apparently on victim duty, causing RR to mourn just a little bit as Stray slips out of his arms. He hams up the dramatics as he gloomily informs Oracle he’s on it, just to make Stray laugh behind him. 

That alone makes the entire endeavor worth it—right up there with saving the innocent metas and shutting down this terrible organization of course. 

“You still haven’t found me, loverboy.” Stray says, low. When he turns around, he watches as Stray picks up a small ornate box that seems to glow in his hands. “I’ve given you lots of hints, you know. Very rude to keep a lady waiting.” 

Red Robin would like to argue, considering Stray hasn’t given any hints actually, and is mostly not a lady 70% of the time. Another explosion shakes the building, causing him to stumble and steady himself on the table. When he’s gotten his bearings, Stray is already gone. He huffs out a sigh, turning around to grab the drive for Oracle only to pause. 

There’s a nametag, shiny and silver, that wasn’t there before laying face down. Now that he thinks about it, all of the other staff members had name tags on them—but Stray did not. 

He picks it up, and smiles. The name [ Danny N. ] is embossed onto the metal with a little kiss mark on it. How he got them to emboss that will forever be a mystery, when RR didn’t see any of the other staff have symbols on their tags. But, well. He’s always loved a good mystery anyway. 

Danny. He thinks, grinning and giddy. He has a name. There’s a commotion as more goons start making a racket around him. He cracks his knuckles and readies his bo staff as he starts getting to work. 

He has a little bit of frustration to take out. 

Kitten Kisses

DCxDP : Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of)

Week 1: Indirect Kiss

===

There is a security camera set up at Tim’s desk. 

It’s mostly to ensure that Tim actually leaves his desk, nowadays, but the genuine concern was something nobody really thought could qualify as a necessity. 

Tim is young, but it’s undeniable that he’s a genius. Sadly, that did not mean certain visitors or members of the board didn’t take his age as carte blanche to just rummage around in his desk for no reason. 

After the 5th time Tim noticed his things had been moved (they would have found nothing, Tim was very meticulous regarding Wayne Enterprises documents) something had to give. 

So. Security camera. 

After the first month of its implementation, nobody was fool enough to get caught over some useless files and a surprisingly thoroughly encrypted computer system. Nobody important, at least. 

Babs likes to hack into it, sometimes, to make sure Tim is home on time and not working late. Bruce sometimes hacks in just to check in, watch him work or eat because he was a creep, but Tim can hardly throw such large rocks from his glass house. For the most part, it’s more decoration than anything. 

Until tonight, that is. Tim gets a little ping! signaling movement at his WE desk. He’s just gotten home from patrol, mask already off and cape halfway unclipped with hastily ungloved hands.

Perplexed by the midnight alert, Tim pulls up the feed onto his set up at home. There’s hardly anything worth hacking into, considering the computer there is more of a remote in type of system, rather than an actual computer to be used like the one at the Nest.

And yet still. There they are. Tim would recognize that silhouette anywhere: Stray. 

He watches as, at first, only that skin tight black suit with white accents entered the screen, the rogue thief’s toned torso curved alluringly, signature white clawed gloves lightly scraping along the desk as he travels from one end to the other—not hard enough to leave any trace, but enough for the skrrrrch rasp out. 

There’s a tap of a claw, before the screen fills as Stray bends over, and gods, what a sight that is to see. Stray has an almost prehensile cat’s tail, and it swayed and curled over itself in a way that seemed hypnotic. Long glowing white hair that falls over his shoulder with two black tufted cat ears that seems to actually move, eyes barely visible behind bright neon green goggles—but most importantly a new addition: blood red lipstick. 

Tim stares as those red, red lips curve into a smile, whispering a soft “Hey, Red. Miss me?”

Tim can feel his pulse jump, because he did. He really did. 

They’ve been dancing around each other, ever since the vigilante figured out Stray’s M.O. 

The rogue was only stealing paranormal artifacts, or objects that were stolen via grave robbing. None of the other Bats had figured it out until Tim had told them, considering Stray’s first few hits were on a handful of Rich People. The items were so scattered, and had nothing of real importance that could connect them. 

But the Rich were angry, and though that was hardly anything to be alerted by, it made for an ornery work environment. The Bats hadn’t stepped up, hadn’t felt the need to, until certain museums were getting hit too. A couple civilians even, here or there, until finally something was stolen from Batman himself—something they had kept at Wayne Enterprises to be handed over to Constantine for analysis.

Selina was no help either, simply stating that every cat’s got to have their secrets—all but confirming that the new rogue on the scene was Selina’s. 

Red Robin had cornered Stray, or rather, Stray had let him, and they almost—there was a moment…But then Catwoman had come, urgent, saying something about a sister. 

And then Stray hadn’t been seen in weeks.

Tim shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the fog those cherry red lips cast over him. Still, he can’t help but say yes. Even if only in his mind. 

“I missed you, dolled myself up and everything,” those sinful red lips do a little pout as a delicate claw twirls a strand of that silky hair, conjuring up so many images that Tim involuntarily stands up, as if to immediately leave. “Doesn’t red look so good on me?”

Fuck, but it does. And then it clicks. Hastily, Tim taps a couple buttons, reclipping his cape and putting his mask back on. Once his gloves are back on he pulls up the feed onto his phone, grappling his way over to his office as if being chased.

Because if Stray was at Tim Wayne’s desk, calling him Red through the feed, that meant—that meant he knew.

“Sadly, I can’t stay.” Red Robin vaults out the Nest, keeping half an eye on the feed as those pouty lips talk to him, watching as Stray perches himself delicately on the desk. There’s a sly smile now, though Tim can’t help but follow the long lines of the rogue’s body instead, with his legs crossed, leaning on one delicately clawed hand, head tilted coquettishly.

“But I’ve got a present for you, loverboy.” Red is almost there, just a couple blocks away, as Stray pulls out what looked like a business card with the hand he isn’t leaning on, bringing it up to those distracting red lips. 

“I heard you like games!” Stray bares his teeth in a fanged smile, “Find me, and it’s a date.”

Red Robin is on the WE building now, scaling down to break into the usual window, silently prowling his way quickly through the halls. He watches as Stray winks, giving the card a little kiss. When he grins Red could see the rouge was smeared a little, and somehow that made it so much more enticing. Stray places the card back on the desk before smoothly getting up and exiting stage left just as the vigilante skids to an arrival in front of his office door. 

He burst into the office, only to find it empty. He immediately went to the nearest window, trying to spot the rogue, but as always Stray is quick to disappear without a trace. RR suspects that Stray is some kind of meta, but hasn't gathered enough evidence yet. 

Out of leads, he swiftly makes his way to his desk, where the business card lay innocently, face down. On the back of it, a tantalizing red lip mark. 

Red picks it up, turning it over to see a time and place typed onto it—an invitation, then, not a business card at all. He stares for a second, feeling a smile grow on his face, before he flips the card over again to stare at the kiss mark. 

He brings the card to his lips, softly kissing it, eyes closed and content. He can almost feel the warmth left over, feel a hand caress his neck along his spine. Soon. 

He tucks the card into one of the pockets on his belt, feeling excited and suddenly rejuvenated. 

Maybe he could do another loop—maybe a couple, he doesn’t care—before getting back to the Nest to research. 

He has a date to score, and research is so much easier when he doesn’t have to deal with euphoria. 

[ficcerspam]

It's getting a little steamy now guys!! 😏😏😏

Week 3: Hickeys

===

Tim is working late at Wayne Enterprises tonight. His nightlife has required more of his attention lately, the Gentlemen’s Club that Stray led them to being a much bigger organization than any of them had anticipated. 

It gave Catwoman and Stray more chances to play while the Bats were away so-to-speak, and that, too, was a point of frustration. Hearing about them, getting glimpses of his Cat and not being able to do anything about it made Tim a little grumpy, if Steph was to be believed.

“All work and no play makes Timmy a dull boy, you know.” Tim’s heart races—get some of that red on his lips—though he keeps his appearance calm at the familiar voice. Push and pull, it’s always a game for them. 

“Lovely to see you too, Mr. Pot.” Tim finishes marking up the documents in front of him, focused purely on putting the papers away neatly into stacks. Most of his things are digital, so it wasn’t much, but it was enough for him to catch his breath and keep his cool.

“I knew you were trying to dig into my real identity, with affection of course, but I did not expect you to be that off, loverboy.” Tim finally allowed himself to look towards his much anticipated guest, getting up to lean against the side of his desk to get his fill. 

The rogue is in his usual digs now, long white hair up in its signature ponytail, tight black cat suit in fine form as they lounged against the open window sill. 

“It just seemed fitting, since you assumed my name was kettle. Didn’t know you had trouble reading, Stray.” Tim smiles, reaching over to turn his nameplate towards the rogue and tapping it twice. He does not miss the slow scan Stray takes of him as he stretches back to do so, and it makes his smile a little more cocky.

“I read just fine, Mr. Drake-Wayne.” Stray’s lips are yet again bright red against black and white, a beacon that Tim wastes no time affixing his eyes onto. "And don’t I play with you all the time?"

“You’ve had several warnings regarding your overtime hours, haven’t you?” Tim licks his lips as he finally drags his eyes down Stray’s sleek form, tail swishing back and forth and ears pricked up to attention at the first mention of Tim possibly knowing his real identity.

“That would be telling, wouldn’t it?” The rogue slinks his way towards him, smiling as he places a claw gently on Tim’s chest to fiddle with the knot on his already loosened tie. It comes undone with a little flick, before the claw traces an invisible line towards the rest of his shirt buttons. 

“Well now you’re just being a tease,” Tim’s voice is steady, but breathless. Still, he has enough wits about him to reach up and push off the rogue’s goggles, revealing those glowing green eyes, a pure kind of neon that almost hurts to look at. He places the goggles gently on the desk behind him as he feels some of the buttons on his shirt seemingly disappear.

“It’s not a tease if I deliver…” Stray whispers, bright neon eyes dimming but no less predatory, leaning in and caging Tim against his desk. It’s much easier to look him in the eyes now, which Tim appreciates. He’s still not sure if he likes this dangerous green more, or if those diamond blues that glitter in his dreams are more alluring. He thinks maybe he likes both equally. 

He thinks maybe he just likes Stray no matter what color his eyes are.

“Maybe I need a little more motivation, something to remember you by?” Tim whispers back, despite the fact that they are alone here. It feels like a fragile moment, even though it’s part of the game. It feels private. Close.

“Well why didn’t you just say so? Cats love to leave little…gifts.” Stray smiles that Cheshire smile, and Tim is man enough to admit he’s lost. Stray can take the victory this round, if he delivers on all the promises the rogue's eyes are making to him now. 

There’s a clawed hand trailing its way up Tim’s back, making his eyes flutter closed, following up into his hair to grip gently and tilt his head back. He feels lips trailing along his neck, making him shiver, just before the sharp sting of teeth dig into his shoulder. Hard enough to feel each tooth, not hard enough to break skin. 

It should have been painful, should have made him tense up and push Stray away.

And it is, but he doesn’t—he melts against the rogue instead,  arching up to get more. More skin-to-skin contact, more bites, just more.

And Stray is good to Tim, spoils him, because he does—he gives him more. 

Tim can feel himself slipping away, just a little, into a hazy fog of pleasure as Stray makes paths along Tim’s exposed shoulders, his neck, biting and sucking at random intervals. Tim took the opportunity to claw at the rogue’s broad back, hook his arms around his neck, lift a leg to bring him closer.

Stray’s hands grip at Tim’s waist, keeping him just a little off the ground, enough for Tim to need to tiptoe. Not that it mattered much, with the way Tim is basically riding the rogue’s leg where it’s braced between his. 

He can feel Stray’s claws, just there, creeping along under the hem of his shirt. And there is something to be said about how delicious it is—how the rogue is in full Stray regalia and Tim is just in a halfway undone button down shirt and too tight suit slacks. His tie is…somewhere, he’s sure, but it’s getting harder to think through the fog. All he can do is hold on.

They haven’t even kissed yet. Tim needs to fix that, immediately. 

Tim manages to unwind his arms around Stray’s neck, grabbing the rogue's face and angling him up from where he was working on a mark on Tim’s pec, breathing and panting in each other’s space. 

“Can I kiss you?” It feels absurd to ask, considering their current position, but Tim can’t help it. Hickeys aside, the thought of actually kissing Stray feels a little different. More intimate.

Stray smiles that fanged smile—and gods, his lips are cherry red and smeared to all hell. It looks like blood, and it makes his blood boil in lust. His torso must be a veritable crime scene. “Handsome guy like you? I’d be a fool not to let you.”

Tim slides his fingers through Stray’s ponytail, letting it down and feeling wild with desperation, “You are hardly a fool, Danny Nightingale.” 

Tim’s voice is a breath between them as he leans down, almost tasting the beaming smile on Stray’s face. The need to bite at it—get some of that red on his lips—surges through him, only for Stray to suddenly perk up, eyes wide and ears alert.

Seconds later, an alarm blares out around them, the public one for Gas attacks. 

Tim is slowly set down, Stray’s hand cupping his and taking back his hair tie. “Rain check on that, Red. Duty calls, doesn’t it?” 

The rogue winked, putting his goggles back on and jumping back out the window he came in from. His hair flutters behind him, loose and silky, tail flicking a bit like a little wave. 

Tim unwillingly follows, looking out the window after him despite knowing he wouldn’t see where the rogue went. He’s right—but he does feel another caress to his cheek, though that could just be wishful thinking, more likely to be the wind. 

Tim sighs, closing the window and heading for the secret compartment under his desk where he kept the Red Robin suit at WE. 

“Red Robin, Report.” Batman’s voice echoes through the comms once he’s all suited up.

“I’m at WE, fully suited up. Where do you need me?” Tim was going to take out all his aggression on Crane, that’s for sure.

He can feel the little pinpricks of soreness each and every hickey caused as they rub against the suit, and can only be grateful the Red Robin suit covered them all up, lest he have to contend with nosy siblings.

Not that it saves him much when he takes a nick to the shoulder, causing Alfred to side-eye him as he unwillingly reveals his newly spotted neckline (smeared lipstick and all) to his entire family. 

Worth it. 

Kitten Kisses

DCxDP : Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of)

Week 1: Indirect Kiss

===

There is a security camera set up at Tim’s desk. 

It’s mostly to ensure that Tim actually leaves his desk, nowadays, but the genuine concern was something nobody really thought could qualify as a necessity. 

Tim is young, but it’s undeniable that he’s a genius. Sadly, that did not mean certain visitors or members of the board didn’t take his age as carte blanche to just rummage around in his desk for no reason. 

After the 5th time Tim noticed his things had been moved (they would have found nothing, Tim was very meticulous regarding Wayne Enterprises documents) something had to give. 

So. Security camera. 

After the first month of its implementation, nobody was fool enough to get caught over some useless files and a surprisingly thoroughly encrypted computer system. Nobody important, at least. 

Babs likes to hack into it, sometimes, to make sure Tim is home on time and not working late. Bruce sometimes hacks in just to check in, watch him work or eat because he was a creep, but Tim can hardly throw such large rocks from his glass house. For the most part, it’s more decoration than anything. 

Until tonight, that is. Tim gets a little ping! signaling movement at his WE desk. He’s just gotten home from patrol, mask already off and cape halfway unclipped with hastily ungloved hands.

Perplexed by the midnight alert, Tim pulls up the feed onto his set up at home. There’s hardly anything worth hacking into, considering the computer there is more of a remote in type of system, rather than an actual computer to be used like the one at the Nest.

And yet still. There they are. Tim would recognize that silhouette anywhere: Stray. 

He watches as, at first, only that skin tight black suit with white accents entered the screen, the rogue thief’s toned torso curved alluringly, signature white clawed gloves lightly scraping along the desk as he travels from one end to the other—not hard enough to leave any trace, but enough for the skrrrrch rasp out. 

There’s a tap of a claw, before the screen fills as Stray bends over, and gods, what a sight that is to see. Stray has an almost prehensile cat’s tail, and it swayed and curled over itself in a way that seemed hypnotic. Long glowing white hair that falls over his shoulder with two black tufted cat ears that seems to actually move, eyes barely visible behind bright neon green goggles—but most importantly a new addition: blood red lipstick. 

Tim stares as those red, red lips curve into a smile, whispering a soft “Hey, Red. Miss me?”

Tim can feel his pulse jump, because he did. He really did. 

They’ve been dancing around each other, ever since the vigilante figured out Stray’s M.O. 

The rogue was only stealing paranormal artifacts, or objects that were stolen via grave robbing. None of the other Bats had figured it out until Tim had told them, considering Stray’s first few hits were on a handful of Rich People. The items were so scattered, and had nothing of real importance that could connect them. 

But the Rich were angry, and though that was hardly anything to be alerted by, it made for an ornery work environment. The Bats hadn’t stepped up, hadn’t felt the need to, until certain museums were getting hit too. A couple civilians even, here or there, until finally something was stolen from Batman himself—something they had kept at Wayne Enterprises to be handed over to Constantine for analysis.

Selina was no help either, simply stating that every cat’s got to have their secrets—all but confirming that the new rogue on the scene was Selina’s. 

Red Robin had cornered Stray, or rather, Stray had let him, and they almost—there was a moment…But then Catwoman had come, urgent, saying something about a sister. 

And then Stray hadn’t been seen in weeks.

Tim shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the fog those cherry red lips cast over him. Still, he can’t help but say yes. Even if only in his mind. 

“I missed you, dolled myself up and everything,” those sinful red lips do a little pout as a delicate claw twirls a strand of that silky hair, conjuring up so many images that Tim involuntarily stands up, as if to immediately leave. “Doesn’t red look so good on me?”

Fuck, but it does. And then it clicks. Hastily, Tim taps a couple buttons, reclipping his cape and putting his mask back on. Once his gloves are back on he pulls up the feed onto his phone, grappling his way over to his office as if being chased.

Because if Stray was at Tim Wayne’s desk, calling him Red through the feed, that meant—that meant he knew.

“Sadly, I can’t stay.” Red Robin vaults out the Nest, keeping half an eye on the feed as those pouty lips talk to him, watching as Stray perches himself delicately on the desk. There’s a sly smile now, though Tim can’t help but follow the long lines of the rogue’s body instead, with his legs crossed, leaning on one delicately clawed hand, head tilted coquettishly.

“But I’ve got a present for you, loverboy.” Red is almost there, just a couple blocks away, as Stray pulls out what looked like a business card with the hand he isn’t leaning on, bringing it up to those distracting red lips. 

“I heard you like games!” Stray bares his teeth in a fanged smile, “Find me, and it’s a date.”

Red Robin is on the WE building now, scaling down to break into the usual window, silently prowling his way quickly through the halls. He watches as Stray winks, giving the card a little kiss. When he grins Red could see the rouge was smeared a little, and somehow that made it so much more enticing. Stray places the card back on the desk before smoothly getting up and exiting stage left just as the vigilante skids to an arrival in front of his office door. 

He burst into the office, only to find it empty. He immediately went to the nearest window, trying to spot the rogue, but as always Stray is quick to disappear without a trace. RR suspects that Stray is some kind of meta, but hasn't gathered enough evidence yet. 

Out of leads, he swiftly makes his way to his desk, where the business card lay innocently, face down. On the back of it, a tantalizing red lip mark. 

Red picks it up, turning it over to see a time and place typed onto it—an invitation, then, not a business card at all. He stares for a second, feeling a smile grow on his face, before he flips the card over again to stare at the kiss mark. 

He brings the card to his lips, softly kissing it, eyes closed and content. He can almost feel the warmth left over, feel a hand caress his neck along his spine. Soon. 

He tucks the card into one of the pockets on his belt, feeling excited and suddenly rejuvenated. 

Maybe he could do another loop—maybe a couple, he doesn’t care—before getting back to the Nest to research. 

He has a date to score, and research is so much easier when he doesn’t have to deal with euphoria. 

[bloggerspam]

And here it is!!! the finale :D

Sorry if me switching back to my main blog is confusing. I did a poll, and it looks like ya'll want me to continue using my main blog, and then reblog onto my sideblog instead of the other way around. It was trial and error figuring that out, lemme tell ya, but this is the way it's going to be now!

Thanks for sticking with me through this transitional phase of me trying to figure out the best way to do the sideblog thing. I'll reblog/update masterlist tomorrow morning :)

Now onto the finale! @aug-kissed

Week 4: First Kiss

===

When Danny arrives home, shoulders a little slumped from how he was essentially booted out by Lucius for clocking in too many hours, his apartment is dark and the only source of light is the lone window in the living room. 

It’s an open space plan, the flickering streetlights below provide very little visibility, but Danny ignores it. He doesn’t need more to see, what with his powers and all, and he’s too tired and grumpy to do anything about it anyway.

He really wanted to get this particular part done, for the new wheelchair modifications he’s been working on, but Lucius just couldn’t wait 5 more minutes. 

“It’ll be there next week, Nightingale.” Lucius had said to him as he tossed Danny’s bag at his face. “Besides, you’ve been saying five more minutes for an hour. It’s late. Go home.” 

Danny huffs, thinking about how he was veritably dragged and pushed out. Lucius had shoved Danny’s jacket into his arms in a way that effectively had him wrapped up, and he was deposited into a company paid taxi with an expertise the older man no doubt got from handling Bats. 

Putting aside the humiliation of being treated as one of those nosy vigilantes, Danny’s more miffed at the fact that he’s going to be thinking about that unfinished part all weekend now.

Maybe Tuck will have a new target for him? Or he could visit Sam and Val, go to the shooting range or something. Maybe visit Jazz and Ellie—a smile curves into his cheeks, or maybe he could see a certain pretty birdy…

He thinks about his options for distraction as he puts away his things. Shoes off, bag and jacket on the hook, keys in the tray. Just like Jazz taught him. 

He’s about to wander into the kitchen, see if there are any leftovers, when he notices it: an american robin, perched just outside his window on the fire escape rail.

There’s something…Other about it, the plumage of the little bird is more distinct in color: the red of its belly a little more red, brighter, as opposed to the usual orange its kind usually sports. The gray parts of it, around its head and wings, are darker, blacker. Its eyes give it away: they glow a little yellow, almost a trick of the light, like they’re simply reflecting the streetlights.

But Danny knows Other, so he approaches the little bird with a probably ill-advised sort of confidence and curiosity. Can curiosity still kill you if you’re already dead most of the way? But it's a moot point regardless: he’s a Cat, and he has a soft spot for Robins. 

He opens the window to step out with a grace he’s still surprised with, even after all these years. Sometimes he still feels like that 14 year old boy, stumbling his way through halfa-dom and vigilantism. Look at him now, a cat through and through. Thank the Gods for Selina Kyle.

He reaches out towards the bird as it tilts its head, but before he can make contact it flutters away towards a rooftop two buildings away, perching itself delicately upon a dainty finger. Following the hand he spots a woman standing there, looking away and smiling as she tucks her hair back against the wind. She’s familiar, but it still takes him a moment before the memory comes back. She looks very different, after all, when she’s not tied up and crying her eyes out.

Anastasia’s eyes glow yellow now, just for a moment, and then a black and white cat steps into existence beside her on the ledge. It rubs up on her as it passes to sit primly next to the hand holding the illusionary Robin, one eye green as emeralds and the other a watery ocean blue. 

The Cat and Robin nuzzle, which makes Danny smile. The meta woman vanishes the two, and even from far away Danny can see her smile, the way she mouths thank you as she twirls a finger to subtitle it with glowing white text in the air. A neat little trick that makes Danny chuckle. 

She hasn’t looked his way once, no doubt given strict instructions from the mastermind of all this. She points down, once, twice, before turning away with a wave over her shoulder, disappearing into the night just like her lovely illusions. 

Danny looks down, his smile growing as he spots a little business card taped to his balcony railing. One side has a time and a place embossed into it, just like the one Stray left. 

And just like the one Stray left, when Danny flips it over there’s a bright red kiss mark on it. 

He remembers sticking around, intangible and invisible, and feeling butterflies running havoc in his stomach as he watched Red Robin kiss his mark. It made him reach out, caress the vigilante, just a little, before snatching his hand back. Red Robin probably already suspected Danny’s not a normal human, but there was no need to be obvious about it—a true moment of weakness had overcome him. 

Danny knows the vigilante is watching him from somewhere, so he presses his barely contained smile against the mark, eyes closed and savoring, hoping Tim feels even a fraction of those butterflies Danny felt all those nights ago.

At least he has a plan for the weekend now, and something new to occupy his mind until then. 

===

The Gotham Museum was relatively empty for a sunny Sunday afternoon. 

The locals must be taking advantage of the rare nice weather to head to the various parks instead. Not that Danny was complaining in the least. The lack of crowds was nice, and meant that Danny found a free bench to sit and wait at fairly easily. 

The Museum has been hosting a special exhibit for the past couple weeks, a Halloween Special for the month of October. A whole slew of historical artifacts that were deeply entrenched in mysteries of the past, remnants of serial killers that never got caught, paintings and art based on spiritualism—on the occult and macabre. 

It seems like a bad idea, bringing that kind of juju into Gotham, but so far nothing bad has come of it. The people of Gotham have mostly just enjoyed the novelty of it, especially since it’s in line with the season. Danny himself has lightly scouted it before, to see if anything was worth stealing (there wasn’t). But he didn’t get to truly enjoy it, and hasn’t really had the time to revisit it in the light of day.

There’s something so very sweet of Tim to take Danny here for their first date, and hilarious considering what type things Stray as stolen. A spooky museum date may seem like in bad taste, but Danny lives for it. Tim must have done his research, which Danny appreciates. He’s always enjoyed how intensely curious the other man is, how thorough he is when he dissects his cases as Red Robin, how every corner is inspected in his work as co-CEO of WE.

It makes Danny shiver, thinking about that focus on him. Danny likes being a mystery, and he likes that Tim would like to pick him apart down to his minutiae. It’s thrilling. 

A breeze blows by, causing Danny to adjust himself lest he have an incident. He’s opted for a dressy kind of casual today, with a long sleeved button up shirt, midnight blue with gold constellation patterns littered about it. It’s tucked into a high waisted dark brown pleated skirt that goes down to his ankles, with a thick leather belt that has a gold buckle. He’s chosen to wear black tights underneath, in accordance to the weather despite the fact that he doesn’t really feel the cold anymore, with chunky platform boots. 

He accessorized the entire outfit with a variety of gold chains, because Danny can’t resist a good theme. He has them around his neck where the ring of rage and crown and fire hang in shrunken form, on his wrist in a delicate bracelet, from the top of his ear to the lobe of it—connecting the cuff and dangly star earrings he’s put in. Even his bag, an over the shoulder number that’s shaped like a midnight blue and gold star, has a thick gold chain strap. He’s even done a little make up: mascara and a light concealer, with of course a bright bright red lip. 

He’s unexpectedly nervous, but before he can really truly spiral a shadow dips into his periphery. 

Danny has seen Timothy Drake-Wayne at galas before, many times even, whenever he’s dragged to one with Sam. The co-CEO has always looked so sharp, clean cut, like the very tip of a freshly cut diamond gem. It’s always long crisp lines and white picket fence smiles, genial and open, an American Dream. 

But here, in the autumn sun and October breeze, it’s just Tim who has come for him.  

A sweet boy with a sweet smile, a gleam to his eye that spells trouble—charming in how dorky and boyish he is. He’s wearing an MIT sweater over a forest green button down, the collar of it just as crisp as his gala suits but softened with his slightly messy hair. He’s got on some clearly ironed khaki shorts and tall white socks with a green accent on them, with some white sneakers to go with the whole fit. It’s simple, but clean. 

He looks like any other college student, just a little dressed up, if Danny didn’t know his shoes were $600 Alexander McQueen leather sneakers and that the watch he’s wearing cost more than his rent. Not to mention that he knows for a fact that Timothy Drake-Wayne is a high school dropout. It’s a subtle kind of rich, and a funny little joke besides—did the other man buy that sweater because MIT is Tim backwards? Though Danny does appreciate the bright yellow UNIQLO shoulder bag, it’s a bright little spot of color that makes him smile. It’s even nicer that Tim smiles back at him. 

“Hello, Pretty Kitty.” Tim’s voice is light, and he has this look about him that reminds Danny of a puppy waiting to be praised. Danny isn’t fooled by the I’m just a Guy demeanor—he can see the way his eyes dart this way and that, surveilling their surroundings. The way he eyes Danny head to toe with an appreciation, a hunger—it makes him shiver, the way Tim’s eyes eventually fixate on his lips. Old money nepo baby or not, there’s no doubt the vigilante is always hidden under the surface—a sleeping bird of prey. 

Tim offers him a hand up, which he takes, and is delighted to note that with his boots he’s an inch or two taller. He also notices, with the way other man’s eyes go a little half-lidded, that Tim seems to be equally delighted about it too. Danny flips their clasped hands so that his own is cupping Tim’s, and brings it to his lips to kiss lightly on the back of it, keeping eye contact the entire time just so he can see the other man’s eyes dilate in pleasure. 

Danny’s heart flutters. “Hello, Handsome Bird.” 

===

The date is good—no, the date is phenomenal. 

It’s fun going around the museum with Tim, making fun of the more absurd artifacts, sharing anecdotes of their strange night lives and even more bizarre day lives. 

Neither of them are delusional—Danny knows Tim did extensive research on him, on his history and clearly doctored life, just as he knows that Tim knows Danny did the same.

Tim didn’t have to keep making little allusions to Danny’s previous life, but the throwaway comment about it not being the first time Tim has taken down an organization was appreciated. And hot. 

He might take him up on that, though with how incompetent the GIW are it’s hardly necessary. Val seems to be having fun running circles around them back home anyway. Though Jazz might like not having that worry on her plate, no matter how small of a worry it was. 

Danny gives as good as he gets, taking Tim by the hand to drag him close, whispering in his ear and making little comments referencing Tim’s other life, his siblings, making little jokes about dads and their interesting hobbies. A fursona is mentioned, once or twice, just to make Tim laugh at the little hypocrisy.

Danny is not going to lie, especially not to himself: he was scared when he decided to take the leap. It was a gamble, actually doing something with the tension between Stray and Red Robin. There was no guarantee that Tim would have accepted Danny in all his weird, half ghost bullshit. 

But when Red Robin had cornered him that night, about his M.O., about why Stray stole the things he did, well. It led to Tucker doing a deep dive. It led to Sam sharing her suspicions about a certain Crime Fighting Furry from when she was forced to all those galas as a kid. It led to Danny connecting dots about one, if not both, of his indirect bosses. It led to the conclusion that eventually, something was going to give. 

Because Red Robin was relentless, and knowing that the vigilante and Timothy Drake Wayne were one and the same? They would be fools not to see that the end was nigh. 

So he took the chance, and Gods, is he happy he did. 

“There’s a diner just around the corner,” Tim is saying, gesturing with his free hand as he guides Danny outside the Museum with the other hand gently braced against his lower back, “One of the chefs is Indian, so even though most of the menu is American, they’ve got some tasty fusions going on for the more adventurous sort.”

Danny can’t help but smile at Tim’s enthusiasm, a little surprised that he even knows Danny likes Indian food. It’s a little above and beyond, some might even say too far, but considering who they are and what they do? It’s sweet that Tim would look into the littlest things for their date. 

The walk to the diner is short and pleasant, if a little cold. It gives Danny the excuse to snuggle up to Tim and watch a little blush light up on ears and neck, which charms Danny to no end. 

When they’re seated at a booth, Danny decides to slide in next to Tim, instead of across. That seems to throw Tim off a bit, by the way his face scrunches up cutely. Danny bypasses it by simply lifting the other man’s left arm to fit himself snugly against him, which quickly cuts off anything Tim might have said about it as he pulls Danny just that little bit closer.

Tim orders a chicken fried curry and grits, and Danny orders a burger with an order of garam masala spiced onion rings. Danny takes particular joy in feeding Tim one, as well as insisting on two straws for his Chai Milkshake.

It’s surprisingly good, and exceedingly cute how shy Tim is, considering how touchy they’ve been with each other. 

Danny is practically sitting in his lap, and Tim keeps fiddling with Danny’s hair, the nape of his neck, running his fingers down Danny’s side causing little shivers. It's frankly impressive how Tim manages to eat curry with one hand and pet at Danny with his left simultaneously, all while holding a conversation with Danny. 

Danny settles back onto Tim’s shoulder when they’re done and waiting for dessert (a slice of mango lassi pie for him, a slice of coconut cream pie for Tim). They’re talking lowly now, making abstract references to their night lives, when Danny notices a fading mark just below Tim’s collar. 

He twists slightly, still leaning on Tim, hooking his finger into the vigilante’s collar and tugging a little before gently pressing a finger against this. 

“It hasn’t faded yet?” Danny whispers, because it’s his mark, he knows it, recognizes it now. 

“Thankfully not,” Tim grasps Danny’s probing hand into his, smiling softly. “Haven’t stopped thinking about you since I got them. I only wish…”

“Wish what?” Danny hums as Tim trails off, transfixed by the way Tim has brought his hand up to nuzzle against it, the corner of Tim’s lips tracing a long line down from the tips of his fingers to the sensitive inside of his wrist. 

“Wish I did the same—left you a gift to remember me by, I mean.” Those dark blue eyes, like royal blue sapphire, never stray from Danny’s, almost hypnotizing him. 

“That’s an easy fix, isn’t it?” Danny breathes out, zeroing in on how Tim’s lips are pressed against his wrist now, not quite kissing, before they open just slightly. He can feel Tim’s breath, warm and soft, as he smirks and slowly latches on. 

It should be awkward, watching a man suck a hickey into your wrist. It isn’t—it’s so hot Danny can barely even stand it, and is about to do something about it.

That is, until the waitress comes by with their dessert. Danny blinks, and suddenly Tim is all charming smiles and hands in laps, thanking the waitress and cheekily smirking at him as he brings up a spoonful of pie to feed Danny.

Danny takes his revenge by eating the pie as sinfully as he can. 

If the way Tim keeps eying him like a hawk and insisting to feed Danny himself is anything to go by, he succeeds. 

It’s a hollow victory, however, if you consider the way Danny’s face doesn’t seem to cool down the entire rest of the date, especially whenever he catches sight of the hickey on his wrist.

He’ll call it a draw.

===

Danny lifts a hand to cradle Tim’s cheek, gentle as he can manage, keeping his fingertips away in habit despite the lack of gloves and claw. Tim brings his own hand up to cup Danny’s hand as he nuzzles into the palm of it. Danny’s heart is loud enough he’s afraid the whole building will come down, even more so when Tim turns into Danny’s palm, lifting it slightly to kiss the hickey he left there at dinner, lingering and never taking his eyes away from Danny’s. 

“Can I kiss you?” Danny’s voice is barely a whisper but it feels like it echoes through the empty hallway. Tim grins at him, a little bashful and cheeky at the same time, no doubt remembering the last time this question came up between them. 

“Handsome guy like you? I’d be a fool not to let you.” Danny grins back at Tim’s response, feeling his eyes blink green briefly, flashing a little fang and catching the way Tim’s eyes dilate just that bit more. He slides his other hand up, hooking his arms around Tim’s neck to bring him a little closer. 

“You are hardly a fool, Tim Drake-Wayne.” They both lean in, hard to say who does it first, and Danny finally, finally gets to taste that smirk Red Robin loves to flash when he thinks he’s won. 

It tastes sweet, the sweetest thing Danny’s ever tasted. 

They savor each other, before Danny gets a little impatient, kitten licking at the seam of Tim’s lips. The other man grants him access easily, and that—that tastes even better. 

They quickly get lost in each other, in the feel of each other. Danny distantly recognizes that he’s been pushed up against his front door, that Tim’s hand is sliding from his upper back down, slowly, leaving a burning trail of heat behind. He feels that hand push against his lower back, bringing him closer, and Danny’s okay with that, more than okay even—

And then suddenly the pressure of the door behind him is gone, and he’s being walked backwards. Danny blinks out of the haze of wet and heat, tilting his head up and panting as Tim licks at the sweat on his neck, realizing that Tim has lockpicked his way through Danny’s front door. One-handed. 

“Why the fuck is that so hot—” Danny groans as Tim bites a a particularly vicious hickey into his shoulder, getting cut off as his lips are once more consumed. 

The door is kicked closed, and the next thing he knows Tim has turned them around to slam Danny back against the front door and latch onto his neck again. 

“Lockpicking turns on the thief, who would have thought?” Tim laughs, voice raspy and only a little wrecked, which is unfair because that is a lot of coherence going on when Danny’s kind of a mess. “Besides, I didn’t want to give your neighbors a free show—wanna keep you to myself.” 

Danny melts a little as Tim, feather light, runs the back of his finger against Danny’s cheek where he knows a blush is fiercely painted on his face from the consideration. Danny doesn’t remember being this flustered or hazy when he was the one giving the hickeys, but then again, Stray has always been more confident than Danny has ever been. 

He tries to channel a bit of Stray now, arching up and looking at Tim from under his eyelashes. It’s a feat, considering he still hasn’t taken off his shoes and is still taller than him. He’s delighted to note that Tim has a smear of red lipstick all over his lips and a part of his cheek. 

“If you wanted a show, all you had to do was ask, Red.” Danny feels Tim freeze, his other hand gripping at Danny’s waist tightening just a little bit before letting go as if being careful not to leave bruises. Danny feels a little thrill crawl up his spine, because oh does he want bruises. 

Danny smoothly slips out of Tim’s arms (without even using his powers!), getting to work. By the time Tim has gotten his wits about him to turn around, Danny already has his shoes off with a hand braced on the corner wall, peeking back out with a little cheeky grin, pointing at the other man’s feet.

“No shoes in bed, darling.” Danny starts shedding his jewelry and belt, heading towards his bedroom with a little skip in his step and a hum in his throat. 

He hears Tim scrambling to take his shoes off behind him, and smiles in victory as he unbuttons his shirt. Hands latch onto his waist, causing Danny to gasp as Tim lavishes with more kisses to the neck, growling a little about teasing little Cats as he’s turned and backed up onto the bed. There’s a frantic push and pull, as clothes get tossed away amidst Danny’s giggles and Tim’s laughter, as kisses get stolen and hands roam this way and that. 

There’s a moment where he catches a glimpse of them in the vanity mirror next to his bed. The smeared lipstick and bitten marks all over his neck and shoulders, hair a disheveled mess as Tim licks his way down down down. He loses himself to the feeling of it, drifting away with only a single thought beyond good and yes and more:

Gods, does Red look so good on him.

Kitten Kisses

DCxDP : Dead Tired, Stray!Danny Phantom, love square identity shenanigans (sort of)

Week 1: Indirect Kiss

===

There is a security camera set up at Tim’s desk. 

It’s mostly to ensure that Tim actually leaves his desk, nowadays, but the genuine concern was something nobody really thought could qualify as a necessity. 

Tim is young, but it’s undeniable that he’s a genius. Sadly, that did not mean certain visitors or members of the board didn’t take his age as carte blanche to just rummage around in his desk for no reason. 

After the 5th time Tim noticed his things had been moved (they would have found nothing, Tim was very meticulous regarding Wayne Enterprises documents) something had to give. 

So. Security camera. 

After the first month of its implementation, nobody was fool enough to get caught over some useless files and a surprisingly thoroughly encrypted computer system. Nobody important, at least. 

Babs likes to hack into it, sometimes, to make sure Tim is home on time and not working late. Bruce sometimes hacks in just to check in, watch him work or eat because he was a creep, but Tim can hardly throw such large rocks from his glass house. For the most part, it’s more decoration than anything. 

Until tonight, that is. Tim gets a little ping! signaling movement at his WE desk. He’s just gotten home from patrol, mask already off and cape halfway unclipped with hastily ungloved hands.

Perplexed by the midnight alert, Tim pulls up the feed onto his set up at home. There’s hardly anything worth hacking into, considering the computer there is more of a remote in type of system, rather than an actual computer to be used like the one at the Nest.

And yet still. There they are. Tim would recognize that silhouette anywhere: Stray. 

He watches as, at first, only that skin tight black suit with white accents entered the screen, the rogue thief’s toned torso curved alluringly, signature white clawed gloves lightly scraping along the desk as he travels from one end to the other—not hard enough to leave any trace, but enough for the skrrrrch rasp out. 

There’s a tap of a claw, before the screen fills as Stray bends over, and gods, what a sight that is to see. Stray has an almost prehensile cat’s tail, and it swayed and curled over itself in a way that seemed hypnotic. Long glowing white hair that falls over his shoulder with two black tufted cat ears that seems to actually move, eyes barely visible behind bright neon green goggles—but most importantly a new addition: blood red lipstick. 

Tim stares as those red, red lips curve into a smile, whispering a soft “Hey, Red. Miss me?”

Tim can feel his pulse jump, because he did. He really did. 

They’ve been dancing around each other, ever since the vigilante figured out Stray’s M.O. 

The rogue was only stealing paranormal artifacts, or objects that were stolen via grave robbing. None of the other Bats had figured it out until Tim had told them, considering Stray’s first few hits were on a handful of Rich People. The items were so scattered, and had nothing of real importance that could connect them. 

But the Rich were angry, and though that was hardly anything to be alerted by, it made for an ornery work environment. The Bats hadn’t stepped up, hadn’t felt the need to, until certain museums were getting hit too. A couple civilians even, here or there, until finally something was stolen from Batman himself—something they had kept at Wayne Enterprises to be handed over to Constantine for analysis.

Selina was no help either, simply stating that every cat’s got to have their secrets—all but confirming that the new rogue on the scene was Selina’s. 

Red Robin had cornered Stray, or rather, Stray had let him, and they almost—there was a moment…But then Catwoman had come, urgent, saying something about a sister. 

And then Stray hadn’t been seen in weeks.

Tim shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts from the fog those cherry red lips cast over him. Still, he can’t help but say yes. Even if only in his mind. 

“I missed you, dolled myself up and everything,” those sinful red lips do a little pout as a delicate claw twirls a strand of that silky hair, conjuring up so many images that Tim involuntarily stands up, as if to immediately leave. “Doesn’t red look so good on me?”

Fuck, but it does. And then it clicks. Hastily, Tim taps a couple buttons, reclipping his cape and putting his mask back on. Once his gloves are back on he pulls up the feed onto his phone, grappling his way over to his office as if being chased.

Because if Stray was at Tim Wayne’s desk, calling him Red through the feed, that meant—that meant he knew.

“Sadly, I can’t stay.” Red Robin vaults out the Nest, keeping half an eye on the feed as those pouty lips talk to him, watching as Stray perches himself delicately on the desk. There’s a sly smile now, though Tim can’t help but follow the long lines of the rogue’s body instead, with his legs crossed, leaning on one delicately clawed hand, head tilted coquettishly.

“But I’ve got a present for you, loverboy.” Red is almost there, just a couple blocks away, as Stray pulls out what looked like a business card with the hand he isn’t leaning on, bringing it up to those distracting red lips. 

“I heard you like games!” Stray bares his teeth in a fanged smile, “Find me, and it’s a date.”

Red Robin is on the WE building now, scaling down to break into the usual window, silently prowling his way quickly through the halls. He watches as Stray winks, giving the card a little kiss. When he grins Red could see the rouge was smeared a little, and somehow that made it so much more enticing. Stray places the card back on the desk before smoothly getting up and exiting stage left just as the vigilante skids to an arrival in front of his office door. 

He burst into the office, only to find it empty. He immediately went to the nearest window, trying to spot the rogue, but as always Stray is quick to disappear without a trace. RR suspects that Stray is some kind of meta, but hasn't gathered enough evidence yet. 

Out of leads, he swiftly makes his way to his desk, where the business card lay innocently, face down. On the back of it, a tantalizing red lip mark. 

Red picks it up, turning it over to see a time and place typed onto it—an invitation, then, not a business card at all. He stares for a second, feeling a smile grow on his face, before he flips the card over again to stare at the kiss mark. 

He brings the card to his lips, softly kissing it, eyes closed and content. He can almost feel the warmth left over, feel a hand caress his neck along his spine. Soon. 

He tucks the card into one of the pockets on his belt, feeling excited and suddenly rejuvenated. 

Maybe he could do another loop—maybe a couple, he doesn’t care—before getting back to the Nest to research. 

He has a date to score, and research is so much easier when he doesn’t have to deal with euphoria.