#btw I finished this and immediately went

[lullabyashes]

His print is done ;_;

[pyrosomatic-metamorphosis]

guess who got so brainrotted over jaiden animations that they finished their first animatic

[mushroomjar]

I watched Saw again today and I shook so hard I woke my dog up multiple times and I screamed and I almost cried and I think I might've had a religious experience even stronger than the first time I watched it

[tibialtybalt]

Something about me is I can devour content like a wild beast

[love-rats]

had to miss the oscar wilde society meeting today because i was napping after my drunk essay writing all-nighter disaster last night

[i73mj]

spoiled!

pairings: sugar-mommy!karina x college-student!yn

warnings: kitten kitten kitten, rough sex, use of strap, bulge?, sex in bathtub

a/n: gosh i should really keep track of what i wrote for the warnings😓 also not proofread but there'll be part 2 after i finished my exams🤟😎 special tag btw!! @intermixforyou

the door clicks shut gently—well past midnight—karina went straight to her room with her body ached from back-to-back meetings. the only thing she wants to do is run a warm bath and change into a more comfortable clothes after running on caffeine and impatience.

she took off her coat and throws it somewhere, did the same with her heels. she reaches for the beer in her fridge while unbuttoning her crinkled shirt. she took a deep breath and releases it full of stress as she walk towards her room when she find a pleasant surprise on her bed.

you, all dolled up in one of her lingerie (that's a little too big for you, especially the chest area), snoring softly. you were waiting for her to come home but sleep got the best of you. still, karina chuckled as she made her way to kneel beside the bed you are sleeping on.

”kitten, wake up,” she puts down her beer on the nightstand and tucks a few strands of your hair behind your ear to expose the soft line of your cleavage. no answer. you are still snoring softly and only snuggles to karina's cold hands as a response. karina lets out a low hum, lips twitching into a fond, amused smile.

”mm, look at you,” she murmurs, thumb grazing the corner of your mouth. ”you really put this on for me, didn't you, baby?”

you haven't yet respond, of course, still lost in a dream. you just breathe deeper, lashes fluttering a little as her cold fingers trace down your jaw, then lower—skimming down your neck and over the silk strap that's fallen off your shoulder.

”you’re such a good girl,” she whispers, voice just above a breath now. ”waiting for mommy like this... in my favorite set, no less.”

her hand slides under the loose cup of the lingerie, cupping your breast, thumb stroking slow circles around your nipple. your body shivers, but you’re still not awake—not really.

karina leans in, kissing just below your ear. ”don't worry, kitten. i'll be gentle—just enough to take the edge off... for both of us.” her other hand trails down your stomach, slipping past the hem of the lace.

”you're warm,” she mutters against your skin, eyes dark with something feral. ”so soft, so ready for me even in your sleep.” she flips you gently to lay on your back, uncovering your thighs and slowly trails kisses from your ankle to your inner thigh.

”mmh...” you let out a soft whimper, slowly waking up when karina finally kisses the top of your mound, ”m-mommy?” karina lets out a soft sigh.

”aww, i was just having fun,” she coos, gently helps you to sit, ”had a nice nap?”

”mmhm… missed you…” you mumble, voice hoarse and small. cheeks still flushed, eyes barely open as you lean into her touch like a kitten seeking warmth.

karina smiles, brushing your hair back and kissing your temple. ”i missed you too, baby. you looked so pretty—how could i not touch you a little?”

you squirm in her lap, immediately getting sensitive from her teasing earlier, your thighs pressing together instinctively. she notices, of course.

”shh,” she soothes, cupping your cheek, ”want to join me in the bath?” before you can answer, she's already picking you up, one arm under your knees and the other behind your back. you hide your face in her shoulder, letting her carry you like you weigh nothing.

***

the bathroom is warm with steam, lit only by the soft golden glow of the vanity light. the tub is being filled, karina sets you down on the bath mat and strips what little is left between you two, eyes never leaving your flushed face.

”get in first, sweetheart,” she murmurs, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead, ”i'll join you in a sec,” you step in, the water hugging your skin like silk. when she finally sinks in behind you, her short hair dampening at the tips, you instinctively scoot back to her, letting her craddle you.

for a while, it's quiet—her hands rubbing innocent circles on your hips underwater, her lips brushing your shoulder as the scent of lavender swirls around you both.

then she sits up slightly, handing you a soft sponge.

”baby,” she says softly, ”be good and help mommy wash her back?” you blink up at her, dazed and pliant, ”okay...” you shift behind her as she leans forward, baring the elegant curve of her back to you. you run the sponge along her spine, slowly—up, then down again—watching the way her muscles move beneath her skin. her sighs are soft, content.

but your hands get greedy. they stray lower, from her waist to the side of her ribs... then forward—just a little. you glance at her face in the mirror. she doesn't stop you.

so you keep going.

your hands sneak over her stomach, then up to cup her breasts under the water, the sponge floats, long forgotten. her breath hitches.

”kitten,” she warns gently, a teasing note in her voice, ”that's not my back.”

”but you feel so good...” you murmur, fingers brushing over her nipples, watching them harden under your touch. ”wanna make mommy feel good.” she chuckles, low and dangerous, tilting her head to the side.

”such a naughty little thing, i was trying to behave tonight. you got classes tomorrow right?” instead of nodding, you lean in, kissing the nape of her neck.

”you started it.” you whisper, getting more and more brazen, as your hands knead softly at her chest, thumbs rubbing gentle circles over her nipples until she exhales a shaky breath.

karina chuckles, head falling back slightly to rest against your shoulder, ”God, you're such a little brat.” but she doesn't stop you.

the water sloshes quietly as you shift closer behind her, pressing soft kisses down her neck, your bare chest flush against her slick back. you can feel her heartbeat—steady, strong—but quickening under your touch.

”does it feel good, mommy?” you ask, voice syrupy and teasing.

”mmh,” she hums, rolling her hips just slightly under the water, ”feels like my baby's trying to take care of me.”

your hands slide lower, ghosting down her stomach until your fingertips slip between her legs. she parts them for you without a word.

”just like that,” she whispers, breath catching as your fingers explore slow, gentle circles against her folds.

”fuck, kitten...” you smile into her skin. she's so warm, so soft, so wet—maybe not just from the bath.

”want you to relax,” you murmur, slipping a finger inside her, earning a low, chocked moan, ”mommy worked so hard today... let me help.”

she turns her face slightly, just enough to capture your lips in a slow, open-mouthed kiss—messy and deep like she's trying to breathe you in.

”don't stop,” she pants against your mouth, ”don't you dare stop.” she breathes, voice already threadbare—but you don't respon. just give her that soft, sinful smirk and dip under the water, letting it rise over your shoulders as you sink between her thighs.

karina lets out a breath, chest rising with a gasp as your tongue drags slow and deliberate up her folds. you taste her—really taste her—and fuck, it's addicting. sweet and heavy on your tongue, warm even through the bathwater.

you grip her thighs tighter after lifting karina up to make her sit at the edge of the tub, spreading her just enough to bury your mouth deeper, and that's when karina loses it.

”fuck—baby—” her voice breaks, eyes fluttering shut as her hips jerk up, trying to chase the pressure of your mouth. ”just like that, yes—right there, oh god—”

you moan into her, the sound vibrating against her clit. she feelts it, sharp and electric, and you feel her clench around nothing. she's trying so hard to hold still, but her thighs tremble as you suck her swollen clit into your mouth and roll your tongue around it in tight, wet circles.

her hand slaps weakly against the side of the tub, ”you're gonna—fuck—make me come, baby, you want that? want mommy to come all over that pretty mouth?”

you hum again, hungrier now, tilting your head to get even closer—diving in like you've been starving for days, tongue lapping at her with an obscene slurp. she tastes like salt and lavender and her, and you want every last drop.

karina tries to move herself, but your grip pins her down.

”oh my god,” she whispers, her whole body shaking, ”you're fucking insatiable—”

then she breaks.

her thighs clamps around your head, a chocked sob tearing from her throat as her hips grind helplessly into your face. her orgasm crashes down hard and fast, her body shuddering as her slick coats your tongue, thick and hot, mixing with bathwater as she writhes against you.

you stay kneeling, licking her through it—slow, worshipful strokes, like you're savoring dessert. only when she slips back inside the tub, twitching and breathless, do you finally let her go, lips swollen and chin dripping with her.

she stares at you with glassy eyes, cheeks flushed, breath still shallow.

”you—” her voice cracks, ”you filthy, perfect little thing.”

you blink up at her, eyes innocent and lips parted, ”did i do good, mommy?”

she just laughs—wrecked, loving, feral.

”get over here, mommy's not done with you.”

***

oh, and she really mean it.

”c'mere,” she murmurs, tugging you into her lap. the water sloshes as you straddle her thighs, hands pressed to her chest for balance. her skin is flushed and warm, breast slick and rising with each breath.

”sit still,” she whispers, and you do. obediently. perfectly. thighs parted just enough as her hands slips between them. the first touch of her fingers against your folds makes you whimper. your hips jerk, eyes fluttering shut. she chuckles darkly and kisses your neck.

”so soaked...” her fingers slip through your folds again, slow and teasing, parting you open. your breath catches as one finger dips inside, then two—pressing in with that practiced curl that has your thighs quacking.

”shhh,” she coos against your shoulder. ”let mommy take care of you. just sit there and feel me, okay?” you choke on a moan when she starts moving—slow but deep, knuckles brushing your walls, palm nudging your clit with every stroke.

”such a needy little thing,” she murmurs, lips brushing your ears as her fingers thrust deeper.

”look at you, grinding on my hand like a slutty little doll.” you can't help it—your hips move on their own, chasing the pressure, chasing the edge. her other hand grips your waist, keeping you grounded while she fucks you open.

”mmph—m-mommy, please—” you cry, burying your face in her neck.

”please what, baby?” ”please don't stop. need it. wanna cum for you—wanna make you proud—”

karina moans softly at that, her own thighs clenching, ”you always make me proud, kitten,” and just like that—she speeds up. fingers pumping fast, slick and loud in the water, your moans echoing against the bathroom tiles. her thumb finds your clit and rubs tight circles, fast and relentless. your body arches. toes curling, mouth falling open, voice breaking.

”m-mommy—i'm—i'm gonna—” ”cum for me.” she growls against your throat, ”be good, cum all over mommy's fingers.”

and you do—shattering in her arms, body jerking and crying out as your orgasm crashes down hard and wet. her hand never stops moving until you're twitching and boneless, clinging to her like a lifeline.

”good girl, my perfect little angel,” after your orgasm, karina lifts you out of the tub with steady arms, wrapping you in one of her plush towels. your body's limp against her chest—shaky and warm, cheeks flushed, eyes barely open. she kisses your temple as she carries you out, water dripping down both your bodies.

”you did so well,” she lays you down gently on the bed and kneels beside you, drying your skin with slow, careful hands. you hum sleepily, nuzzling into her touch. your lashes flutter, barely awake, and you reach out—fingers curling around her wrist like you don't want her to leave.

”mommy,” you whisper, voice hoarse.

”m'sorry...” ”sorry for what, kitten?” karina stills. your eyes blink open, watery and hazy, lips trembling, ”for making you tired. you had a long day and i—i wanted to make you feel good but i... i'm so selfish-”

”hey, no,” she cuts in softly, brushing damp hair from your face, ”you made me feel amazing. don't ever say that.” you nod, but your hips roll-just a little—just enough to press yourself against her palm as she cups your cheek.

”baby...” she warns, though her voice is more fond than firm.

”i can't help it,” you breathe, rubbing your thighs together, desperate but still sleepy ”i'm still... still so empty, mommy. want you again, but you're tired. i'm sorry, i'll be good-just a little, please?” and before she can answer, your body moves on instinct—grinding into her hand like a kitten in heat. soft little whines escape your lips with every rut, your face scrunched with guilt and need and desperation.

karina watches you, entranced. you're warm and flushed, pupils blown, still glistening between your thighs. even like this—fuzzy and limp in her arms—you're insatiable.

”fuck, baby...” she groans, gently pushing your legs apart with her knee. ”you're gonna be the death of me.”

”want mommy to use me. just use me until you're not tired anymore,” you nod eagerly, barely catching her words. karina slides her fingers back between your folds, feeling just how wet you still are. your hips jolt. your lips part with a needy moan.

”you wanna make it up to me?” she purrs leaning down until her breath fans across your lips.

”then lie back and let mommy fuck the apology out of you.” your breath hitches as she rises off the bed, towel slipping from her hips. she walks—slow, deliberate—to the drawer by the closet. you watch her through half-lidded eyes, dazed and soaked, thighs clenching at the anticipation.

when she turns around, she's holding it—the strap. black. thick. intimidating. the one she rarely uses. the one that leaves you wrecked for days. your lips part, a soft gasp catching in your throat. ”m-mommy..”

karina smiles, slow and sinful. ”what? too much?” she climbs back onto the bed, looming over you like a god.

”but i thought you wanted to make mommy feel better. don't tell me you're backing out now, kitten.” you shake your head, biting your lip as you spread your legs wider.

”want it. want all of you, mommy. please...” she growls-low and approving—and presses a knee between your thighs dragging the tip of the strap through your folds. your whole body twitches, breath caught, hands fisting the sheets.

”so fucking wet already,” she huffs, lining up with your entrance. ”all that whining and grinding—this what you were begging for, hm? to be split open on mommy's biggest cock like a needy little toy?”

you let out a broken moan, head tossing back.

”use me mommy. please.. want to feel full. want you to ruin me...” ”atta girl.”

and then she pushes in.

inch by inch, slow and relentless. the stretch burns—delicious, overwhelming, perfect. your mouth falls open, eyes wide and glassy as she fills you up, deeper than ever before.

”that's it,” karina breathes, gripping your thighs, and forcing them wider. ”take it all, i know you can—my greedy baby, always begging for more.”

your back arches. your nails dig into her arms. every breath you take is a whimper, a sob, a plea. once she's fully inside, she pauses—just to watch you tremble around her, cunt clenching, mouth babbling nonsense.

”look at you,” she murmurs, brushing your tears away with her thumb. ”already crying and i haven't even fucked you yet.”

”f-fuck me, mommy,” you gasp, ”need it so bad—need you to break me, please...”

”then hold on, kitten.” she pulls back, slow and sinful—then slams back in, hard enough to make the headboard crack.

you scream.

and karina just laughs, low and breathless, already setting a brutal pace—fucking into you like it's the only thing keeping her sane, like you belong to her (which you do).

she fucks you into the mattress, her grip unrelenting—hands planted on either side of your head, driving her hips down into yours with brutal, punishing thrusts. the strap's so deep inside you, every stroke punching gasps out of your lungs, making your legs twitch and your stomach flutter.

you're not even forming real words anymore—just sobs, cries, moans of mommy and please and so good all tangled up in your throat.

”you wanted this, didn't you?” karina growls, lips grazing your ear. ”wanted mommy to ruin your cute little hole? stretch you out until you can't take anything else?”

you nod—frantic. tears spill from your lashes as you paw at her back, trying to pull her even closer, bury her deeper.

”yes, yes, yes—fuck, mommy—don't stop-i'm gonna—”

she doesn't slow. she can't. your body clings to her, soaking, sloppy, walls fluttering like you're seconds from snapping again. she leans back just enough to watch the strap disappear into you, your tummy bulging slightly from the pressure, her jaw tightening at the sight.

”look at you,” she pants, grabbing your thighs and pushing them up toward your chest, folding you in half. ”taking me so fucking well. this hole was made for mommy's cock, wasn't it?”

”yes—yes, please—m'so close—mommy please let me-”

”then cum, baby,” she whispers, droppingher lips to yours in a bruising kiss. ”make a mess on mommy's cock. show me how much you love being used.”

and just like that—you break.

your back arches off the bed, a raw cry leaving your throat as you cum hard, soaking her, soaking the sheets, entire body trembling. karina doesn't stop—dragging it out, fucking you through every twitch and jolt until your limbs go limp, mouth parted, eyes glassy.

but even then-especially then—you keep whispering it, barely there, barely conscious: ”m'sorry, mommy... sorry for being needy... just love you so much... want to make you feel good...”

karina's heart aches.

she leans down, brushing hair from your sweat-slicked forehead, her thrusts finally slowing down.

”shh, baby. i know you do," she whispers, ”you're mommy's perfect little girl. and mommy's not done with you yet.”

[pyrodolls]

hi i was wondering if you would do headcannons of the yan!fanboy if reader actually noticed him coming to all their shows and events

OBSESSED (SUPERFAN! YANDERE BOY X POPSTAR! READER)

WARNINGS: stalking, average yandere tendencies, nsfw, perverted yandere, gender neutral reader, mentions of naked reader but no genitalia addressed, dom reader, reader is compliant with the yandere and teases him a ton, lowercase intended. btw i do not condone yanderes irl.

A/N: i hope y'all know i read every single one of your asks, comments, and reblogs. i appreciate them all and they do brighten my day. i'm just saying this so y'all know that the stuff you send to other writers (not just me) matters a lot!! when you interact it gives them inspiration!!! and motivation!! me personally sometimes i see ONE kind reblog and i immediately get my ass up and start writing something just because of that one person. don't get me wrong, i still love all my lurkers that silently like a ton of my stuff, y'all are important too. anyways i'll shut up now onto the hcs. (btw this ended up being a fic instead of hcs i apologize. i went crazy over this i'm sorry anon LMAO)

"hey, you look pretty familiar. have you been to a few shows before?" you asked kindly, facing the short man in the front row of the audience.

bayani froze as the stadium's screens pointed to him. he opened his mouth in an attempt to say something, but nothing came out. his face went red and his throat went dry. did you actually notice him, or was he just dreaming?

after a few seconds of waiting for an answer, you shrugged. "sorry, maybe i mistook you for someone else. anyways..."

the yandere boy still didn't move, with his mouth agape, as you continued on with your show. the people around bayani didn't seem to care, assuming that he was just a starstruck fan. but it was more than that. much more than that.

out of the millions of fans that attend your shows and events, you recognized him among them. you noticed him. and he didn't know how to handle it. what was he supposed to say? what would you even talk about? sure, he's seen all of your interviews and heard your music and dissected your lyrics for hours every single day, but would you ever want to interact with him as much as he wanted to interact with you? he was just a lowlife. he had an average job, average amount of money, he lived in a shitty apartment, and he had no friends or major accomplishments. all of his free time outside of work was spent on you. spent on following your every move and investigating everything you've put your hands on. if you ever spoke to him, you'd probably think he was some sort of pathetic stalker.

that thought drove him mad. he couldn't even focus on the rest of your concert. he didn't hear the blaring music and screams from the crowd. he wasn't paying attention to your performance, either.

he could only stand there and imagine the punishments you'd inflict on him if you found out about his obsession. would you call your security to take him away? he'd hope not. if he's going to be kicked and pushed around, perhaps even handcuffed, he'd rather you do the job rather than some random guard. but maybe he'd accept the punishment, only because you were the one who deemed it necessary. he takes your word like gospel, so he'll take whatever punishment you want, even though he would prefer your hands on him while you do it.

his imagination ran wild as your concert finished and you walked off the stage with your dancers. the crowd of fans in the stadium dispersed around him, moving along with their day. but bayani couldn't just move on with his day knowing that you know he exists now. how is he supposed to simply move on from that? he spent a long time making sure you never noticed him. even though he attended every single one of your concerts and events, he did not want to be noticed. he knew he wouldn't be able to handle it. but it finally happened. he finally got a taste of what it's like to be seen by the love of his life. he couldn't just leave it at that. he had to do something about it.

being under your gaze, even if it was only a few seconds, made him feel like he went to heaven. it made all of the hundreds of dollars he spent on you worth it. all of the hours he spent listening to your music and watching videos of you was worth it. it was like he awoke from a slumber. a long, miserable slumber. he had to find a way to thank you. say something to you. he messed up when he simply froze after you saw him. who knows when he'll get another chance like that?

it took a few hours for the stadium to be empty, and the security started to shoo bayani away. but when he went outside, the parking lot was still full. your concert ended hours ago, but there was still loads of cars trying to leave. it would be frustrating, but bayani had to find a way out quickly.

he climbed on the back of a nearby truck and rested his legs there, waiting patiently for the vehicle to move out of the traffic. even though he knew the truck wouldn't go anywhere near your mansion, he knew how to get to your house on foot. he only needed to rest on the truck until the traffic was gone.

after a few hours on the road, he jumped out of the vehicle, and started to walk to your mansion on foot. he didn't need to look up the location online, because he already knew where it was. he visited your home many times in the past, he just never attempted to go inside before.

his veins were on fire and he started to sweat the closer he got. he was starting to have second thoughts about his idea. but there was no time to go back, because he already showed up to your house before he could change his plans.

to get inside, he had to climb up a tree, jump off of it, and land in your backyard. he used that trick often in the past, since it was not his first time going to your house. he often snuck on your property to watch or take pictures of you while you slept.

he tried opening your bedroom window, but it was locked. he had to try a different one.

he went over to a window beside your bedroom, and thankfully, it was unlocked. but the moment he opened the window, he heard the sound of water running and your familiar voice humming a song. were you in the shower?

bayani climbed inside as quietly as possible, and closed the window behind him. his suspicions were correct. he was in your bathroom, and you were taking a shower. your curtains covered up your figure, so he couldn't see you.

bayani looked to the side of the room and saw a pile of your dirty clothes on the floor. he ran up to it and immediately took a large whiff at the pile. it smelled divine to him. he couldn't get enough of it. he quickly spotted your used underwear in the pile and snatched it without thinking, then he stuffed it in his pocket. you wouldn't notice, right?

before he could take the rest of your clothes, the water suddenly stopped. bayani ran to hide, in a spot where you couldn't see him but he could see you. you opened the shower curtains and stepped out with a towel in your hands. you were completely naked, and still drenched in water. bayani felt like he died and went to heaven again that day. he couldn't believe what he was seeing. you were completely naked, right in front of his eyes. ignoring the puddle in his pants, he nervously fumbled around his pockets, trying to find his phone. there was no way he could pass up an opportunity like this. without hesitation, he snapped a photo of you.

but he didn't notice that the flash was on.

he froze, and you looked towards him. neither of you said a word, and bayani saw his future flash before his eyes. you would probably scream for security and he would get taken away to prison, never to see your face again. his life would be over.

"you're the guy i've been seeing everywhere, huh?" you whispered.

"...are you going to, uh... send me away?" bayani gulped.

you thought about it for a moment. this guy clearly cared a lot about you, because you saw him literally everywhere you went. no matter what country you visited, he was always there. even if you didn't tell a single soul where you were going, he was somehow always there. you even saw him on your property a few times, so you knew how crazy he was. but you still let him do it. and you never reported him, either. you knew exactly what he wanted. you could always hear him moaning outside your window, knowing he would have one hand down his pants and a camera on the other.

he was cute, so why not have some fun with him?

"come here." you commanded. he followed your order without thinking, immediately falling down to his knees in front of you.

you grabbed his chin, and made him look up at you. he felt hot tears well up in his eyes as you stared him down. he didn't say a word, but you knew exactly what he was thinking.

you pressed your knee against the wet stain on his pants, and he let out a pathetic whimper. he was getting off on it.

he didn't know what to do. his dreams were finally coming true. he got noticed by you, got into your house, saw you naked, and you finally touched him. he was overwhelmed, and started crying. he didn't mean to look so weak in front of you for a first impression, but he couldn't help it. besides, he'd make a fool out of himself any day for you.

"you're so pathetic.. you've been stalking me for so long, and now you break into my house to see me naked. i could call the police and have you arrested..." you whispered, as you started putting more pressure on his crotch, moving your knee up and down on it, and inching your face closer to his.

he sobbed, “please, don't! i promise, it'll never happen again. i'll stop, i'll do whatever you want, i'll-"

you cut him off by connecting your lips to his, setting his heart on fire. you pulled away after a few seconds, leaving him speechless. there's no way you just kissed him. he had to be dreaming.

and then you moved your knee away from his crotch right before he could cum, making him let out a whimper and crumble to the ground.

"thanks for letting me have some fun with you. we can do this again soon.. if you be a good boy and return my underwear." you winked, walking away and leaving bayani a hard, pathetic, leaking mess on your bathroom floor.

[hongjoongspoetry]

Just Another Night, Until You | Choi San

❤️‍🔥 Summary: Hectic nights at work is nothing out of the ordinary for you, but when a man is wheeled into the Intensive Care Unit with second degree burns all over his body and in the need of immediate medical attention, your life takes a turn as his body heals on his own by the mere presence of you. Shocked by the discovery, you stay by his side as he recovers and together you come to terms with your unexpected connection.

❤️‍🔥 Pairing(s): Firefighter!San x Emergency physician!Reader

❤️‍🔥 Genres/Tropes: Soulmate AU, non-idol AU, best friend's brother, oldest daughter and youngest son, slice of life, fluff

❤️‍🔥 Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), brief description of burn injuries, medical setting, san is living up to his romance-cat title, pet names (darling, my love, love, honey), MC is a Jeong, a lot of physical intimacy, kisses gallore, san is down bad for the MC, brief description of motorcycle accident and fractured bones (not explicit), the fear of losing loved ones, emotional exhaustion, a few swear words, not beta read!

❤️‍🔥 Wordcount: 7.5K

❤️‍🔥 Author's Note: Click the image for a better resolution (Tumblr I hate you). Wihooo! And there goes the second to last instalment of the March Event ;-; im lowkey sad it's ending soon although it gives me more time to work on other stuff!! anyhow, this one was really fun to write and I hope you'll enjoy it, be prepared for a lot of love sick sannie 🥹 Btw I'm not a nurse/doctor or have any "proper" knowledge regarding how things go down in the E.R or hospital for that matter either, so this is all based on excessive research. Thank you for your understanding!

This is all fiction and not meant to represent any idols involved in any way or form. This work is rated SFW, however it contains mature scenes such as descriptions of serious injuries, medical procedures as well as adult language. Minors, please, read at your own risk and refrain from interacting or following my blog!

AO3 Masterpost Moodboard Event taglist

It was an exceptionally calm hour in Seoul National University Hospital. Most nights were bustling with life, whether it’d be residential patients abusing the call button, relatives refusing to leave after visiting hours were over or an incoming emergency putting the whole hospital in a fit. But not tonight. The clock hanging on the wall opposite of the nurse’s station in the emergency department recently struck midnight. You slumped down by your desk as Haneul, your roommate, best friend and fellow colleague, dragged her legs behind her and nearly toppled over her seat. You finished off the last rounds of checking in on the inpatients on your floor, yet your social batteries were already drained and the nightshift had just started. 

Haneul blew a raspberry before her head dropped onto the desk with a soft thud. She groaned and threw herself back on the chair, her arms extended and legs elevated. Her slip-on shoes barely hung onto her feet and she wasn’t faring any better.

“I’m so tired,” she complained and went limp in her seat. “I can’t wait to clock out and return to my boyfriend.”

You let out an amused huff, the pencil twirling in your fingers coming to a stop as you caught it mid air. “You mean your bed?”

“That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha, really funny Haneul.”

“It’s a bit funny, admit it!”

You rolled your eyes at her, but couldn’t fight off the smile that spread across your face. It was never a dull moment when in Haneul’s company. You were certain that even if death were around the corner, she’d still find a way to make the situation feel light. That was probably why you two had hit it off at university. She was mostly, if not always, in a cheerful mood, while you walked around with a dark cloud over your head. Had it not been for Haneul approaching you solely because your shirt was similar to one of her favorite character’s outfits in a drama, you probably would never have become friends. A decade later and you were tighter than two peas in a pod, and even decided — after your first semester — to move into a flat together which was still your current home.

“Whatever… I can’t complain as it’s at least a quiet night.”

The unspoken rule of never mentioning the obvious flashed before your eyes and you cowered from the blazing look Haneul shot your way. The air was caught in your throats and neither dared to move an inch from your places. You slowly turned your head sideways, waiting for a patient to peek their head out or scream that their pillow needed puffing up. As the empty hallway continued staying silent and the motion sensor lights didn’t turn on, you exhaled in relief.

“You got lucky there,” she said and logged into her computer. 

As you parted your mouth to answer, a voice broke through from the radio placed on the wall-mounted brackets. A report concerning a handful of people who were hurt in a fire set loose in an apartment came through and everyone ditched their tasks to get ready for the newcomers. You and Haneul, along with other nurses, ran to the trauma bay and occupied a room each where you, hopefully not, would get a patient each. The sound of multiple sirens grew louder the faster the ambulances sped toward the hospital and didn’t stop until the flashes of red and blue colored the building. Despite being employed for two years and counting, you never got accustomed to the ear piercing noise or blinding lights.

“Nurse Kim, could you prepare the wound care kit? Nurse Hwang, bring the respiratory support system. We don’t know what we’re dealing with so we need to expect the worst!”

The commotion from the triage area reached your room as the patients were being rolled into the hospital and underwent the initial assessment of their conditions. The code red patients would fall into your hands and you, together with your team, would do your utmost to lessen their injuries. You put the other glove on and waited by the door of your room. The sight before you was jarring to say the least. The victims of the fire were all in different conditions. Some crying and wincing from the burnmarks while others lay completely still as if the burned skin wasn’t a painful inconvenience. The wonders of falling unconscious. An elderly nurse with a couple of years beneath her belt pushed a stretcher toward you and you hastily moved out of the way. 

Nurse Yeon quickly spewed the little information she knew of the unconscious patient, but you couldn’t focus on her words. Your entire attention was given to the man before you. He looked peaceful despite the soot smudged across his face and several burn marks littering the majority of his body. He was also handsome — very handsome. That, you couldn’t deny. His black strands fell over his closed eyes and brows. Most of his features were sharp and defined, red heart-shaped lips in a slight pout, a long nose with a prominent bridge, high cheekbones and a few beauty marks peeking out from beneath the smeared ash. But you knew that, out of everything, his most alluring feature was his eyes — even when closed. You could see the feline-like shape that reminded you of a panther in the wild and you found yourself wondering what color they were. A tingle erupted along the pads of your fingers, almost begging you to move his hair out of the way. 

“...He was found unconscious in the building after being caught in the fire. Red category. He has second-degree burns on twenty percent of his body, severe smoke inhalation and is currently in respiratory distress. We’ve initiated oxygen therapy. BP is low and bolus fluids were administered to stabilize circulation. He is unresponsive, likely due to hypoxia.”

Nurse Yeon brought you back to the present and you ignored the highly unprofessional thought. With the help of Nurse Kim, you connected him to a monitoring machine and proceeded with the remaining steps of the protocol drilled into your spine. You administered high-flow oxygen via a non-rebreather mask to address the smoke inhalation and to prevent breathing issues later on.

Facing away from the patient to grab a scalpel in order to cut his already torn shirt, you just about turned your head and called out, “Nurse Kim, give him an IV fluid with saline to prevent shock and maintain blood pressure as well as a light dose of morphine to relieve him of pain. Nurse Hwang, hand me the scalpel, please.”

The nurses wasted no time following your orders. While Nurse Kim stabilized the patient’s blood pressure, you drove the sharp end of the scalpel through the center of his shirt to expose the injured area and assess what else you had to work with. As expected, there were blotches of irritated, red skin all over his upper body. It didn’t look too bad but would scar if left untreated. Your main concern was the smoke inhalation, but the high-flow oxygen proved effective, as the pulse oximeter showed that the oxygen saturation in his blood was slowly improving and you could swiftly move on to treat his wounds.

“Nurse Hwang, hand me the antiseptic soluti–”

A horrified gasp cut you off mid sentence and your head flung to the doorway where a nurse — a trainee at that — stood with her wide eyes and mouth hanging open behind her health mask. The interruption crawled beneath your skin like electricity. You glanced down at her nametag.

“Trainee Park?”

The student didn’t budge nor make a noise of acknowledgement and you had half a mind to terminate the established contract between the hospital and nursing school. You understood the weight of students gaining hands-on experience in a hospital setting, but it was beyond the agreement for a student to interrupt a life alternating moment for the patient.

“Trainee Park I won’t ask you a second time, what is it?!” 

Antiseptic solution in hand, you faced the student again, though her focus wasn’t on you but on something behind you. A line formed between your brows as you followed her gaze, leading to what she was staring at. Your patient still lay unconscious, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic motion, but you weren’t caught off guard by his regulated breathing. The patches of glaring red skin that previously looked painful to the eye were replaced with a lighter hue as if his body was recovering on its own. It was inhumane and in all your years as both a student and a licensed doctor, you had never seen anything like it. However, everyone in the room knew exactly what it meant.

“Fuck…”

One of the male nurses found the patient’s ID-card in the cardholder neatly tucked in the pocket of his pants while changing him into a hospital gown, but it was the teary look on Haneul after seeing the man’s face that everything clicked in place. Choi San, the little brother of your best friend, was your soulmate. 

The realization didn’t hit you while standing in the center of the trauma room or when his injuries healed more quickly beneath the touch of your finger. The fact that you had found your soulmate dawned on you early one morning, as you were making rounds between the remaining victims of the apartment fire and came across his room — the last patient to be checked on. The thought of finding your soulmate hadn’t crossed your mind in years. It was locked away in your old high school classroom, along with your youth, when you used to fret over who your soulmate might be. Would they be a foreigner? A celebrity? A boy or a girl? Rich, kind, or rude? The possibilities seemed endless, and you often spent more time daydreaming about the different outcomes than focusing on your studies. It was a miracle you didn’t fail most of your classes.

It was only when you set a goal that you lost interest in who your soulmate was and dedicated more of your time to studying. Little by little, as assignments piled up, you pushed the thought of your other half to the back of your mind and forgot about it. Of course, there were instances when the topic would come up every now and then — meeting distant relatives for the first time in forever and having them ask about your partner, or going out to dinner with Haneul and watching her get so drunk she forgets her own name, but still manages to make bets. Looks like you’d be treating her to that BBQ after all.

You entered the room and stopped at the end of the patient bed staring at San’s sleeping form. The harmless jealousy seeped into your bones as he lay there oblivious to the turmoil wrecking havoc inside of you and you wondered if, despite his unconscious state, he could feel even a glimpse of your emotions. Because you could feel him throughout your entire shift. The change in breathing, eyes fluttering, the subtle rise and fall of his chest as if he was right there with you.

The joke you once cracked to Haneul when you first started working there, something along the lines of finding your soulmate while tending to their wounds, wasn’t funny anymore and left a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You sighed and glanced down at the patient chart hanging off the bedside. His vitals were good. More than good considering he was being driven straight from a burning building. Doctor Jung ran some tests on him during the night and they confirmed that San suffered greatly until he arrived at the hospital, until he reached you.

The doors of the room were violently pushed open and the eldest Choi entered as if her brother wasn’t lying there unconscious. Her unexpected arrival stopped your thoughts from spiraling further and your heart from racing into palpitations. It was weird to see her lips pressed into a thin line and eyes void of light, replacing her usual dimpled smile that would brighten your day. 

“How is he?” She eventually asked and buried her hands in the pockets of her white coat.

You cleared your throat and mimicked her stance, both of you focused on the resting man. “He’s healthier than a newborn baby.”

Five hours of constantly being on your feet, moving around and not having the chance to take a five minute toilet break put you in a hazy mist. It wasn’t until now that you felt the weight of the situation sink in. Who would’ve thought your best friend’s brother was your soulmate?

“You know,” Haneul started and broke you out of your thoughts. “I’m happy it’s you. Someone I know and trust as much as I trust myself.”

The words were oddly warm and spread a branch of hope through you. While you were too caught up with your work and then your own feelings, you didn’t stop to think what Haneul thought of everything. Her two worlds were colliding and it could either be good or bad.

“Is it weird?”

“Not at all… It’s the best thing I could ask for. That my best friend and brother get along… Just…” Haneul gnawed on the side of her bottom lip and turned to you, “Just don’t hurt him, Jeong. San is a tough cookie, but he has a fragile heart and I really don’t want to ever choose between you. You are both very dear to me.”

“You won’t have to. I’m pretty sure I couldn’t hurt him even if I tried.”

Haneul chuckled despite the tears making their escape down her cheeks. “Is it really like how they say? Are you already… affected by him?”

You breathed out a laugh at that. The countless nights spent talking and making fun of other couples who had already found their happily ever after were sure biting you in the ass, because it was, in fact, exactly how they said it would be. The unexplainable pull drawing you toward him, the yearning to be by his side and feeling him everywhere. Every skip of his heart, harsh intake of air and twitch of his fingers were all transferred to you

“Yeah, it’s exactly how they say it is.”

Haneul eventually left to do her last rounds and finish writing reports until the sun peeked over the horizon, signaling the end of your second night shift that week. San didn’t wake up until a few hours later and despite being hooked to a monitor regulating his state and showing nothing out of the ordinary, you didn’t leave his side for even a second. The dread of another emergency report coming through squeezed your abdomen until you were on the verge of puking. Just the thought of parting from him almost sent you hurling your insides in the guest bathroom. You were lucky to have wonderful colleagues who understood the circumstances and reassured you multiple times not to worry about finishing your reports or doing rounds. Nurse Hwang and Kim even passed by with snacks and water before returning to work.

The clock struck early morning when your chin slid off your knuckles and you were unpleasantly awoken from your slumber. The fear of falling to your death had you jumping out of your seat and taking in your surroundings. The sun gently shone through the windows occupying the entire left side of the room and filled the space with auburn streaks kissing your face. The warm rays seeped through the cherry blossom trees planted along the outskirts of the hospital. You found the view to be exceptionally beautiful during the early mornings when the pink petals detached from the branches, swirling in the air like snowflakes and covering the boring cement pavement..

A laser like heat bored into the side of your head and you scanned the room to find the source, only to get lost in the eyes of your soulmate. A wide smile stretched across his face and you realized the dimple gene ran deep in the Choi family as an identical pair to Haneul’s popped on San’s cheeks. You couldn’t shake away the image of a content and well fed cat at the sight of him. 

San immediately shifted the blanket to the side and had one bare foot planted on the floor, ready to leap out of bed and wrap you in his arms. The man just about managed to stand on both legs when you rushed from your seat and gently pushed him back down.

“No, no, please, sit!”

San fell back on the mattress without much of a fight. The moment your hand made contact with his shoulder, an explosion of tingles erupted along your palm, spreading like wildfire through your arm and out to the rest of your limbs, reaching the tips of your toes and fingers. The air caught in your throat and, like magnets forced together, your eyes found his again. Neither of you had to vocalize the question balancing on the tip of your tongues, asking if the other felt that crackling fire. San sensed the twinge of worry squeezing at your heart and hummed in content, he reached out and grabbed one of your hands in his to ease the burden atop your shoulders. He smiled so hard his eyes turned into crescent moons and hadn’t you known better, you’d think he’d start purring like a cat receiving ear scratches. 

“I’m fine. I don’t need rest because you are here.”

You ignored the heat pooling beneath your cheeks at his rather flamboyant response and steered the conversation elsewhere. “What were you thinking running into a burning building?”

The words came out effortlessly, as if you had known him since your youth.

“I didn’t do it on purpose…” He began and jutted out his bottom lip. “My feet just moved on their own, call it an instinct. Besides, I couldn’t just leave everyone inside. I’d put shame on the entire fire department!”

“Curse you for being reckless and kind hearted, San.”

“Yet thanks to my recklessness, I landed in the hospital and found you.”

The cheeky reply nearly made you pop a blood vessel. You didn’t understand how he could be so calm after facing death less than eight hours ago. The monitor attached to him shouldn’t have been stable. Based on your past experience with burn victims, San should’ve been startled and shaken up, and in some uncomfortable pain. Instead, he remained unnervingly composed, his eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made you question your own knowledge. His calmness felt unnatural, given the circumstances. The heart rate monitor, which should’ve shown elevated readings due to stress, stayed oddly steady and only spiked up when you spoke, moved or looked at him for too long.

“San… we are soulmates. We would’ve met eventually,” you hissed, trying to mask the look of realization on your face. The soulmate bond explained his calm demeanor. As he said, he was fine now that you were there, while you just wanted to cover him in bubble wrap and not let him out of your sight.

“Yes, but not soon enough.”

You abandoned the conversation for now as it wouldn’t lead anywhere. San was deadset on his decision being correct even though it was a foolish one and you still had a job to do. Ignoring the way he followed your every movement, a polite smile and creased eyes never leaving your form, you adjusted his pillows and checked the IV attached to his forearm. 

“Do you need anything else?”

“Hmmm, just you.”

Had you met under different circumstances, perhaps in a grocery store where you'd bump carts together or on a packed bus where he’d give up his seat for you and stand by your side to shield you from the other commuters, his charms would’ve worked. But you didn’t. Instead San decided to search the burning building for others with no gear, just his strong will and hope clinging onto his back, and all his attempts at flirting were futile as you couldn’t get the image of his unconscious body out of your head.

“Too bad,” you settle on saying. “You can’t have me before twelve PM.”

The pout intensified and he even crossed his arms in retaliation. Seeing a man in his late twenties throw a silent tantrum wasn’t something you thought you’d ever find endearing, but there you were, suppressing a laugh and yearning to smooth out the wrinkles on his forehead. 

“Do you have to go?” He whispered and looked up at you through his lashes.

“Yes, unless you want me to be fired?”

“Fine! But the second that clock hits twelve, you and I are both getting out of here.”

“You can’t just leave, San, they have to run tests and–”

“I’ve never felt better and I think every doctor in the building can agree with me. What I will be if I don’t get to spend time with you is sick, and sad, and heartbroken and–”

“I get it, I get it!”

San lived up to his promise of spending time with you. In fact, he wasted no time running down the hallway the moment the minute hand switched to twelve, asking everyone dressed in white cloaks where Doctor Jeong was. The question left his mouth for the tenth time that minute just as you rounded the corner, ready to check out. San gave you all of three seconds to bid your colleagues goodbye before whisking you away. His plan of getting to know you consisted of lying tangled up on his sofa with a meaningless movie playing in the background, while his fingers caressed your back and his eyes shifted back to you every other second, as if he couldn’t believe you were real. 

You weren’t faring any better. Your head was neatly tucked beneath his chin, and your hand was splayed over his right pectoral, the tips of your fingers gently rubbing soothing motions beneath the curve of his collarbone. Had you known your soulmate would be a kitten with separation anxiety, you’d have stalled on meeting him for a little while longer. Although, deep down, you knew that was a lie. San was everything you needed him to be and more: attentive, gentle, sweet, kind, caring — the list was truly endless. 

The days spent cocooned together — San on sick leave to recover from the accident and you having the next two days off from work — made up for the thirty-something years you hadn’t been in each other’s lives. In just forty-eight hours, you created a bond that most lifelong best friends would envy. He shared embarrassing stories from his and Haneul’s childhood days — sweet memories of how his mother dressed him in Haneul’s hand-me-downs, despite her closet mainly consisting of flower dresses and cute skirts. In return, you told him about that one time you accidentally locked your parents out on the balcony and then hurled your breakfast back out from the anxiety and fear of never seeing them again. If only little you could have understood the wonders of spare keys and that your grandmother was already on her way to solve the issue. 

The first night was spent staying up late, talking about heartfelt stories and niche interests to the point where you both passed out and didn’t wake up until late afternoon the next day. Who knew your hunk of a fireman liked collecting sweet plushies and was adamant on learning how to crochet?

That wasn’t everything though. A week into your freshly established relationship and San hadn’t missed to stop by your workplace once to give you lunch, coffee, midnight snacks or a quick peck on the cheek. It was easy in the beginning when San didn’t return to work for an entire week. The soulmate bond proved that he wasn’t in need of resting as much as his company thought and he eventually had to return earlier than expected. It was weird to be glued to each other for hours on end to then not be able to see each other because of your hectic schedules that never seemed to align. When you’d return home from a long night shift, he was dressed and ready to leave. 

You voiced your worries to Haneul during a lunch break, saying how you were afraid of moving too fast, but now that you barely got to spend time together, it felt like you were moving at a snail’s pace. She mildly reassured you that it craved more than some social distance for your soulmate bond to break and that it would take some time for you to find your footing in the relationship.

However, working multiple shifts a week while running on little to no sleep left you too exhausted to plan an outing whenever an opportunity for the two of you to spend time together appeared. Date-night looked different in the Choi-and-Jeong books. Instead of glamming up and booking a reservation at a fancy restaurant, you decided to stay in and watch a movie that would sooner or later be forgotten as you’d be too enamoured with each other. Haneul walked in on one too many make-out sessions, and thus, you came to the decision to host movie nights strictly at San’s apartment.

Like many times before, you lay atop San, his legs parted, giving you the option to cage his left one between yours. One of his arms was bent and propped behind his head to act as a cushion, while the other was curled around you, his hand pressing against the small of your back in a comforting embrace. Your cheek was mushed against his chest and your hand limply rested on his bicep. A movie played on the big screen and a plethora of snacks were strewn out on the coffee table but left untouched. You joked about how, ever since San entered your life, your sugar cravings had dramatically decreased because he was bringing too much sweetness into it.

“Honey?” San broke the comfortable silence and spoke over the characters on the TV. You hummed in reply and he continued. “I want to ask you something.”

As you shifted to get a better look at him, he pulled you in a tight embrace and you immediately stopped moving. “Don't look at me, just… listen? Please?”

“Okay, Sannie, what is it?”

“How do you feel about… moving in… with me? Or me with you!” You could hear the blush attacking his cheeks and embarrassment clinging onto his voice as it grew higher in the end and the words came out in a rush.

Joy tugged at your lips and you couldn’t stop the light hearted chuckle from slipping out in the room. You broke out of his gentle hold and grabbed his hand in yours, and planted a chaste kiss on it.

“I think I’d love that.”

Without warning, he squeezed your cheeks between his palms and captured your lips in a tender kiss, leaving your insides warm and mushy. Despite having muscles the size of a watermelon and broad shoulders that could carry the entirety of Noah’s ark, San was a real softie. He had the habit of holding you as if you were the most valuable possession on the earth, a feather which could crumble at contact or a cube of sugar that would melt beneath the rain. The shared kisses were brief but left a tingle on your lips that you couldn't get enough of and nearly whined in retaliation as San withdrew to catch his breath. 

“I adore you, like really, really much,” he confessed and kissed you again, and again, and again. The peppered kisses were planted all over your face — nose, cheeks, mouth, chin, eyes, forehead. The endearing act of love pulled a string of giggles straight out of your tummy, cursing you with an ache that your grandmother would call remedy for the soul.

One moment he was on you and the next, he turned you over to lay against the couch while he  scrambled to his bedroom on the other side of the apartment. You pushed yourself up on your forearms with only your upper body lifted as you curiously watched San runoff as if his rear caught on fire.

“Sannie?” 

“Just a second, honey!” 

Rough shuffling reached the living room, but it was the loud crash of objects clattering on the ground that you almost headed to see the commotion yourself. San’s reassuring voice telling you everything was okay didn’t help you relax, but you trusted his judgement and remained seated. The eager wait was short lived as San returned with something tightly clutched in his right hand and stopped by the end of the couch, back uncomfortably straight and face pinched into a serious expression. Hadn’t you known him for a little shorter than a month, you’d assume he was about to get down on one knee and ask you to live the rest of your life by his side. 

San cleared his throat and extended his arm low enough for you to see his well manicured fingernails. You shuffled over closer to the end of the sofa and sat up on your knees. His fingers unfolded and exposed the trinket laying in the center of his palm. An apartment key. The spare key to his apartment to be precise.

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but I’ve never been sure of anything more than this and I really want to take this next step with you.”

“Are you asking me to marry you or move in with you?”

Red dusted his cheeks and he had to look away. Your own lips curved up as his eyes creased into crescent moons, a telltale of his dimpled smile making an appearance. San covered his mouth as if it would make his smile disappear. Testing the waters, he asked, “Would you say yes?”

“I guess you’ll have to find out.” 

San was sure he could pass out right then and there. His cheeks hurt from smiling too much, but it was the only pain he would ever welcome with open arms. You climbed onto the couch and jumped into San's arms and he effortlessly caught you, his hands finding their designated place on your hips and thighs while your arms slid around his neck like a koala. Your fronts were pressed against each other, but you continued pulling him toward you, as if the chance of becoming one entity was higher than inventing flying cars. San dipped you down princess-style and stole a long kiss, one that you were more than eager to reciprocate. Your fingers tangled in his black hair, nails soothingly scratching his scalp, and your heart swelled with so much love and happiness it felt like it could explode and fill the living room with colorful confetti.

It was a shame the human needed air every few minutes because all you wanted to do in that moment was feel him everywhere. Breaking apart, you rested your forehead against his, hot breaths fanning across each other’s lower faces, chests rising with fervor as your bodies desperately tried to reclaim the lost oxygen."

“I’d say yes a hundred times over,” you breathed out, “but let’s save that for after we meet the in-laws.”

“My parents have already scheduled a day for when we can go to Namhae,” he eagerly replied to which you hastily leaned back, nearly sending you both tumbling over.

“San! I swear you’re unbelievable.”

“Unbelievably in love with you.”

Lips swollen, eyes welling with joy and hearts beating erratically, the world paused as you looked at each other. The diploma neatly placed on your desk and the knowledge you had collected over the years seemed insignificant when the love you harbored for San could regrow burned forests, mend broken bridges and heal even the most shattered of hearts.

Living with San was nothing out of the ordinary, except that you saw each other more now that you lived under the same roof. Considering your shared apartment with Haneul was bigger than San’s, it only made sense for the Choi siblings to switch places. That way you kept your room and San took Haneul’s. You quickly realized you could’ve just moved into San’s apartment instead as neither ever went to sleep alone. More often than not, San would crawl into your bed, claiming it was cozier than his, but you knew even the ground would be a great sleeping place as long as you were in his arms. That was precisely what you wanted — to be in San’s arms. Instead you were working another night shift, the most hectic one since the fire incident a couple of weeks ago. 

A young man, no older than twenty, had been in a motorcycle crash, leaving him with severe pain and swelling in his right leg, which was pushed into an unnatural position. The skin was entirely torn off, exposing blood and muscle tissue. You had a suspicion about how severe the situation was, but it still called for an X-ray examination. As expected, the results confirmed multiple fractures of the femur and tibia, requiring surgery the next day at the latest. Changmin, as his driver’s license indicated, was in immense pain and even struggled with breathing difficulties into the night. This left you and your co-workers with no choice but to monitor him closely throughout the remainder of your shift. To say it was tiring would be an understatement. Your feet were so sore it felt like walking on a rug of medical needles and your back ached, begging you to lie in bed and not get up until the birds returned from Southeast Asia.

The only thing pushing you through the long day was the fact that you knew San was waiting on you at home. It didn’t matter if he was awake or not. Your tense muscles relaxed by the thought of burying your face in his chest and forget the world until your batteries were restored again. It became a routine for the both of you. When one had a more physically draining day at work, the other was ready to pamper them and make them feel completely taken care of. 

After a few failed attempts to insert the key into the door, you finally managed to unlock it. A stream of blue light illuminated the otherwise dark apartment and was accompanied by muffled voices coming from the living room. You haphazardly threw your shoes off, not bothering to neatly place them next to one of San’s hundred pairs of sneakers, and instinctively followed the animated sounds that belonged in a cartoon. 

The scene you were met with nearly brought you to tears. San was seated in the middle of the sofa, a fuzzy blanket thrown over his head and shoulders, with two mugs of hot cocoa steaming on the table in front of him. The bag slung over your shoulder slipped off and fell to the floor with a gentle thud. Your jacket — a gift from San’s closet — was at least two sizes too big, making you look like a bear ready to hibernate. The colorful scarf you had been wearing since your teenage years reached up to your nose. San whipped his head in your direction and his stoic expression softened into one of understanding at the sight of fresh tears coating your waterline. His lips curled into a small, reassuring smile that spoke more of compassion than words ever could. 

He quickly lifted one side of the blanket and beckoned you over with a gentle command. “C’mere honey.”

That was the last straw for your tears to start rolling. You wasted no time shedding your outer layers of clothing and curling into San’s side. A sob that you had been holding in throughout the entire car ride home vibrated against his chest. San ran his hand up and down your back while whispered praises tickled your ear. He planted a kiss on your crown and pulled you over him as he fell back against the couch. You adjusted yourself more comfortably, both legs falling on either side of his hips so as not to fall, and he swiftly maneuvered the blanket to shield you from the chilly atmosphere. The minutes ticked by and you had no perception of how long you stayed in that position, but your sobs eventually subdued to soft sniffling. 

“How did you know?”  You whispered, a tremble hanging onto your vocal chords, and sat up. 

San’s hands travelled to rest on your waist, thumbs rubbing circular motions into your flesh. “I just… felt you.”

“Felt me?”

He hummed, “I still do. Happiness, sadness, fear, anger — everything, right here.” His hand hovered over your heart and you understood. You really did. 

There was no scientific explanation for the emotional connection that kept you in tune with each other’s feelings. The unexpected pressure weighing down on your lungs at even the slightest discomfort or worry he experienced, like when he stumbled upon a video of a duckling being separated from its mother. It was uncanny how your heart soared hours before he came home with good news about a promotion, or the unexplainable sense of pride you had been carrying all day — only to discover it was coming from San, who had helped a kitten down from a tree. You’d never forget the day the bitter taste of dandelion greens spread across your tongue, only to find San lying in bed, caving under the weight of his blue emotions. The best part of the connection, though, would be the buckets of love pouring into your bucket as he hugged, kissed and worshipped you. However, there was one emotion you hadn’t received any signs of.

Your fingers found purchase on the hem of his shirt that rode up his stomach and revealed a sliver of the toned skin beneath. “I don’t feel… your anger.”

San flashed you a blinding smile and spurts of daffodils curved around your heart. “That’s because nothing makes me angry, love.”

“Really? Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

A beat passed and you sighed, “I’m always angry.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re angry, just… frustrated.”

“It’s practically the same thing,” you argued and continued fiddling with his shirt. He captured your hands in his and halted your anxious picking.

“It isn’t, not by definition. We feel frustrated when we are unable to progress, while anger is the response to something we perceive as wrong or harmful… You’re not angry, my love, you’re frustrated and probably overworked too.”

Your bottom lip caught between your teeth as you mulled over his words. It made sense, and you didn’t need to voice the comfort it brought you; he felt it. The unruly waves quieted to a steady push-and-pull, letting you breathe as the knot of emotions slowly untangled to nothing.

“You know, I’m supposed to be the older one out of the two of us.”

A hearty laugh filled the previously gloomy room, immediately illuminating the four cold walls, and San caught your waist again as he shifted, the echoes of his laughter filling the space.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that. It'd be my honor to make you feel like a teenage girl again.”

That he did. It was almost embarrassing how his sweet gestures had you leaping face first into your pillows and rapidly firing your feet against the comforter. One would believe you were closer to being fifteen than thirty, and while you had a mild crisis, you were still grateful San brought that youthfulness out of you again. 

“Was it a rough day?”

The sentimental moment burst like a fragile soap bubble at the slightest of touches. You took a breath of air and San slid his hand further up your wrists, placing his thumbs in the center of your palms while the remainder of his fingers wrapped around the back of your hand. It was grounding and kept you from re-visiting the gut wrenching thoughts that plagued your mind while tending to the young patient.

“A young guy was rushed to the ER… He got into a motorcycle accident and flew maybe a good ten meters from the crash place, and totally fucked up his leg. It was by sheer luck he didn’t suffer head injuries, let alone injuries to the rest of his body.” 

You still saw the image of his bloodied body and torn clothes, a sight that would leave you with nightmares for days.

“He was in really critical condition, San. We couldn’t leave him alone for even one second. I’m talking about twenty four-hour care… He’s going into surgery tomorrow. He’ll survive, but it’s just... He reminded me of you. How you’re literally in danger every time you go to work and– and how easily I could lose– lose– lose–”

The words caught in your throat as your voice grew higher in pitch. San gave your hands another squeeze and pulled you back down onto him. You wasted no time burying your face in his neck and his arms automatically wrapped around you — one finding purchase at the back of your head while the other securely encircled your back.

“I don’t want to lose you, San.”

“You won’t lose me, love.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What I know is that I always do my best to come back to you in one piece. To my home, no?” The hand that had been placed against your head wrapped around the back of your neck and gently massaged it.

Like a flower opening up to catch the first few sun rays of the day, you put your heart out and allowed San a glimpse of what was inside. 

“It just scared me,” you said between shuddering breaths. “Anything could happen, San, and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if you–”

“Honey.” His voice wasn’t stern, but it held a certain finality to it. As gentle as a newborn kitten, he carefully eased you back, pulling you away from where your face had been pressed against his neck. With a soft motion, he tilted your head slightly, getting a better look at your face.“Thinking of the what ifs isn’t good for anyone.”

You wanted to reply with an ‘I know’, but you knew better than to lie to him. 

He wiped a stray tear off your cheek and you nuzzled against his palm. “Look, I love that you think you need me, but it’s not true. We managed more than fine on our own and just because we’ve found each other doesn’t mean we can’t function alone anymore… I love that you feel comfortable enough to lean on me, darling, but at the end of the day, you’re strong because of who you are and not because I’m here.

“And if, but just if, anything were to happen to me, I need you to know that you aren’t alone. You’d still have Haneul there. My parents. Your parents. Nurse Kim and Nurse Hwang too. That’s eight more people than me.”

Your hand enveloped his cradling your cheek. “I don’t want to think of a life without you in it.”

“Good because you’re stuck with me forever and ever and ever and ever!”

A wet giggle sounded through the living room and San’s rough chuckle blended perfectly with your sweet hiccups. Overwhelmed by the affection filling your humble abode, successfully warming every corner of the apartment, you intertwined your fingers behind San’s neck and determinedly pulled him into a heart-searing kiss. Your mouths molded together in a perfect fit, much like the famous art piece by Auguste Rodin. The sculpture representing a pair of lovers destined to remain together forever, until parted by death.

San breathed life into you with simple gestures that could restore chivalry. His eyes finding yours in a crowded room, silently checking up on you as you were both tugged in opposite directions by your mutual friends. Walking the empty streets after a successful date night, the gentle brush of his fingers skimming over yours before slipping between the gaps and pulling your hand into the pocket of his coat with the excuse of keeping you warm. Slothing his front to your back in the solitude of your home as you’d be too busy for a long cuddle session on the couch. Not to mention the kisses spread throughout the day—morning, noon, and night. He’d see you off with a peck and welcome you with the same sentiment, wishing you a good night or day before taking off.

The memories you collected during your still-new relationship pushed you forward, giving you hope and belief that you were going to get through this. San’s promise of never leaving — intentionally or unintentionally — comforted you and the dreadful thoughts hadn't returned, and hopefully, they wouldn’t ever. But if they ever did reoccur, you knew San would be there to chase them away.

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2025. All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[shepscapades]

Thanks to artfight, I’ve finally finished a detailed, official dbhc cub reference! :D

(I’ve put his Artifight description below the cut, which has a more detailed explanation of his timeline, lore, and aesthetics! >:3)

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  OVERVIEW ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Name: C.B.F.N.4000 (Cub) Pronouns: He/Him Species: Android Height: 5’9’’ Associated Visual Themes: vex, ghosts, explosions, mischief, scientist aesthetic, potions, potionmaking, sleepy/tired aesthetic, conspiracies

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  ABOUT ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

CBFN4000 is an au version of MCYT Hermitcraft’s Cubfan, set in my DBHC (or Detroit Become Hermitcraft) AU! This au is inspired by the 2018 game Detroit Become Human, but not because it really has anything to do with DBH—I simply yoinked the android mechanics and incorporated them into the world of Hermitcraft. It began as a S8 au, and has roughly followed the hermitcraft timeline up to the present! 

Cub was the last android made during Season 8. While many of the hermit androids were made at the beginning of season 8 and a few were made for season 9, Cub was finished and activated mid-late Season 8, around the time when Hermits started noticing the Big Moon. Cub’s model ended up being a sloppy experiment in deviation, as Doc suggested they try to transfer deviancy to an android upon activation to try and avoid traumatic situations that might cause an android to deviate violently or upsettingly, such as Etho’s, Tango’s, or Mumbo’s experiences. While this went relatively well initially, it clearly wasn’t very thoroughly thought out, as Xisuma (who is normally so adamant and detail-oriented when it comes to assuring the androids’ safety with experiments like this) wasn’t truly himself due to external manipulation and mostly left a relatively young-deviant Doc to carry out the project himself. 

Cub, though adjusting to sentience rather well at first, very quickly became wrapped up in the Big Moon happenings on the server, new personality and inexperience to emotions like fear and ignorance completely overwhelming his young system. He became obsessive over the implications and consequences of the Season 8 Moon Apocalypse, joining the Mooners and spreading his conspiracy theories religiously throughout the server as he descended into madness. The insanity was like a virus to his programming, pervasive and all-engulfing, and Cub’s final attempt to free himself from the Moon’s impact with the Earth—to launch himself on a llama into space via potion-powered TNT(insane btw)— left his hands and feet singed and cracked to ruin.

The experiment, considered a horrific failure by a deeply shameful—and more awake—S9 Xisuma, left Doc and Xisuma with the decision to reset him for the new season, and they ended up pairing him with a hermit like they had done with the other androids, to give him a chance to find deviancy on his own terms. So, at the start of season 9 and fresh after a reset, Cub was paired with Scar. Naturally, because Scar is… Scar, Cub deviated almost instantly after being given to him, and very quickly adopted the iconic lazy, stoic, amused attributes normally associated with Cubfan. Scar’s tendency towards mischief and general shenanigans grew instantly on Cub, and the two were an immediate inseparable pair. So much so that when Scar began rambling one day about his Season 5 Hermitcraft Shenanigans (where deals with the Vex may or may not have been involved), Cub immediately stated he was interested in being in on it. Whatever “it” means. It’s unclear if Cub also made a deal with the vex or became connected to them in some other way, but… well, he got Doc’s help to trick out his eyes, hair, and back to best fit the part. Scar is very jealous that he can't magically make himself have the same features to match.

Cub is closest with Scar (there's something there, I think), but he gets along just as well with any of the other hermits! He’s close with Jevin and many of the other redstoners like Etho and Doc, who are the other two androids I’ve put on artfight!

-ˋˏ ༻ ❁  EXTRAS ❁ ༺ ˎˊ-

Cub's eyes can light up in the dark, and he’s the only android who has edited his programming so that the default state of his LED is white, not blue. It still will go yellow and red if his processors are working particularly hard, but he’s replaced the blue setting on his LED with white to better match the Vex vibe. Cub has all of the vibes of a fae. If that’s anything <3

[v6quewrlds]

❝ all yours, j. burrow. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: nyla's latest single is making waves. the audience has questions for her elusive boyfriend, joe burrow.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: requested by an anon! i felt bad about not being able to finish the joe/tee fic, so i made this. wanted to try something different so i went the smau route, hope you like it <3 this is somewhere between y/n & oc, think of nyla as a stage name i guess lmao

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x r&b singer!oc [fc: lori harvey].

nylaupdates just posted .ᐟ

liked by nyla and 26,726 others

nylaupdates: "all yours", the first single from nyla's third upcoming studio album releases at 12am eastern time tonight.

view all 297 comments

user1 REAL vocalists are back!! 🤭

user2 this cover??????

user3 oh skin is tea! -> user4 i see that la roche posay check hit 🙂‍↕️

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nyla added a photo to her story .ᐟ

[caption: "all yours" is now all yours 🤎]

view story replies.

joeyb_9: lyrics 💯🤎 -> nyla: do we have a fav line?

joeyb_9: this kitty got that midas touch... sounds familiar -> nyla: inspired by a little something you might have said once or twice

joeyb_9: i cannot be held responsible for what i say under your influence -> nyla: whatever u say joey 🤎

lahjay10_: mm ah mm ah 😁 -> nyla: mm ah mm ah 😁

jjettas2: i have a question. ✋🏾 -> nyla: no 🤎

jjettas2: could you please explain what i did to deserve such an explicit description of one of my best friend's sexual abilities?

jjettas2: love the song btw 🤟🏾

jjettas2: been bumpin it since this morning ngl

jjettas2: broooooo i just seen you add another post to your story 😑

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nyla just posted .ᐟ

liked by renee_downer, justineskye, and 836,927 others

nyla: familiar.

view all 4,473 comments

user11 maam we have to discuss those lyrics -> user12 clock it! cus "make it icin'"??? MAKE WHAT?!

ryandestiny stunna -> nyla 💎💎

jjettas2 album when -> jjettas2 miss big time can't respond huh -> user13 my goat is in his bsf gf's comments begging for a response 😒 -> nyla smh 😮‍💨 they don't make 'em like they used to... -> jjettas2 😐

joeyb_9 very familiar -> nyla gang -> user14 this man ain't even like the pic but somehow... here he is... 2 mins after she posted... -> user15 LMAO down horrendous -> user16 this is romance. -> user14 idk what's worse: the fact that he was here immediately, or the fact that it took him 2 mins to come up with "very familiar" -> user16 def the second one 😭

teehiggins album when 🫢 -> nyla soon soon soon -> jjettas2 man fuck yall

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joeyb_9 just posted .ᐟ

liked by nyla, realgrantdelpit, and 762,937 others

joeyb_9: offseason in paris

view all 3,882 comments

user17 just fell to my knees in the walmart parking lot

user18 😍😍😍

user19 what a handsome young man ☺️

nyla "serving offseason realness" -> joeyb_9 ? -> user20 LMAOOOO

user21 nyla i understand i really really do -> user22 she may tell you a joke... -> user23 but NEVER A LIE!!

user24 goo goo ga ga -> nyla girl-

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nyla just posted .ᐟ

liked by joeyb_9, gigihadid, and 1,297,581 others

nyla: familiar, july 17th.

view all 10,294 comments

user25 did she just? -> user26 name her album after that fuckass thread? yes. -> user27 cryingggggg

jjettas2 i've been waiting for times like this 🤌🏾 -> user28 she's not gonna respond bro -> user29 he's just tryna get noticed 😔 -> nyla 🤷🏾‍♀️ -> jjettas2 you know what...

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joeyb_9 just posted .ᐟ

liked by bengals, nyla, and 726,048 others

joeyb_9: icing on the cake 🍒

view all 3,972 comments

user36 what did he sayyyyy?

user37 i have no one to talk about this with

user38 jump fuckin' scare -> user39 he's so unserious

user40 just casually dropping that cute ass pic... okay then 👍 -> user41 asf

nyla my man? my man. my man! -> jjettas2 7 stages of grief ass comment -> nyla ykw buy your own tickets to the tour -> user42 TOUR???? -> nyla international ✈️✈️✈️ -> jjettas2 fuck the tour, you choose to respond now? cool smd -> joeyb_9 🥴 -> nyla 🫶🏾

[airborneice]

can we talk about how @the-hilda-librarians-wife is just out here writing poetry in the tags like it’s no big deal

@sketchbookweek Day 3 - Sun & Moon / Family

you know I had to bring up my sketchbook kid Mattie for this one. in my mind this is like…impromptu midnight storytime bc someone woke up the entire household and now she’s almost settled no one wants to get up or go back to bed

(Kaisa has become a little more comfortable with openly doing magic by this point, partly because of reconnecting with Tildy in season 2 and partly because no matter how shoddy her spells come out, they never fail to entertain her kids, especially her youngest. Kaisa does the best stories in this house. no child can resist magic floating pictures)

[softsunnyy]

Kinnie with the Canucks ! ♡

you're filming a silly trend, a "mini-blog" of your son going to a Canucks game to watch his dad play. But seeing him so happy makes you think, and all you can focus on is him.

i started writing this a while ago and just remembered i never finished it, so here it is. Btw, the nickname is a short way of saying "pumpkin", bc i love that nickname and i already thought of a whole reason behind it. Also, i was inspired by this and this video + i was listening to "Love Story" while finishing it

i can make this a series if y´all want.

from the moment your little one got mic'd up, he started babbling and trying to narrate as best he could. And to make him feel more comfortable, they asked you to be the one recording him. So the boy constantly looks at you, talking about how excited he is to see his dad play.

now, this isn't strange or new to him; in fact, it's quite common. But it's always a new experience, and you know that Quinn's little copy idolizes him more than anything in this world, and he experiences every game as if it were Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Final.

you unconsciously smile at how easily he talks about the place, showing the spectators around, the outside of the locker room, everything, and then makes his way to his special seat, near the glass, where he can watch the game up close.

“dad’s coming out any minute, we’ll see if i can get a puck,” he said, mouthing the words in a funny way, his cheeks flushed, his smile exactly like Quinn’s. Behind the camera, your heart melts once again, knowing your husband would give him every puck and every stick in the game if his little one asked.

you hear him talk, but all you can look at is him. His hair, his cheeks, his smile. His sweet chuckle, and the way he moves his head when he talks. The way now his big and bright eyes focus on the rink instead of the camera.

you used to jokingly comment about how you spent months carrying him for him to end up being an exact copy of Quinn. But it’s true. And he’s more than happy and proud to look just like him.

when your little one first became interested in hockey, you should have seen it coming. Of course he wants to play defense. Of course he wants to be the best.

he’s fast, he’s very agile. And everyone knows what he wants.

“i wanna play like dad when i grow up. He’s so cool,” he smiled. And at that moment, the players came out for warmups. Your little boy sat on the edge of his seat, more attentive than ever, and Quinn was quick to find you, quickly going to the glass, hitting it with his stick, smiling when his son laughed, tapping the glass with one of his little hands.

Quinn didn’t even have to hear the question; he immediately went to get a puck, tossing it over the glass, and you had to be careful, catching it and passing it to your son, trying to capture the moment without moving the camera too much.

you hear a few people around you making “aww” sounds, watching the moment when mini Hughes smiles, his face lighting up even more.

he’s like a little fan, even though he sees his dad almost every day, and when Quinn is away, they spend hours talking on facetime, no matter how tired both are.

and no matter how much time passes, you know he'll still be this obsessed.

as the game progresses, he starts yapping and just talking, talking about how good his dad is, how he's the star of the team, and how much he loves his uncles, Quinn's friends. You smile, listening and trying to pay attention to the plays. You know it was originally meant to be a mini-blog, something they could post on tiktok for the Canucks' account, but you can't tell him to stop, or just cut the recording. Not when he's talking so happily, so excitedly, melting your heart. You know this should be seen, that everyone should get this dose of cuteness, even if it's a thousand-hour video.

and when it's Quinn who scores a goal? oh god, he screams and jumps, and you're sure he's the loudest. The people around congratulate him, knowing who he is, and making his smile even bigger, to the point where his cheeks cramp and his eyes are barely visible.

your heart aches; you wanna see him this happy forever, because it's all he deserves. And you love that it's Quinn who brings all of that to him, because it happens to you too. From the moment you met him, he's always been the first to make you smile, to be there for you every moment, to make you feel safe and increasingly confident. Quinn has always been your sunshine, and it feels right that he also is for your son, the fruit of your intense love for each other.

after the game, you walk behind him, who takes short, quick steps, trying to reach the locker room and see his dad. As the others leave, they pat him on the head, then wave to you and the camera. Happy with this victory.

when Quinn comes out of the locker room, he barely manages to bend down, reaching his son's level just as he throws himself into his arms. You see them laugh, do a little spin, and you know that all of that can be heard in the video through the microphone. Joy and love, in their purest and most beautiful state.

“hi, Kinnie,” your husband laughed, saying one of his son’s many nicknames, securing him in his arms before walking over to you, giving you a small peck. “Hi.”

“hi, dad,” your son replied. Then Quinn noticed the camera, and you paused for a moment to explain, watching him nod before looking down at his tiny copy. “Did you enjoy the game? i think mom recorded you yapping.”

“i was paying attention! i was just telling ´hem about the game,” he tried to defend himself, slightly blushing. “Mommy wasn’t even paying attention,” he said this time, making you both laugh.

when the video was posted, everyone was asking for the extended version, knowing that the video had been edited to fit on tiktok, so soon everyone could enjoy the full version on youtube as well.

thousands of comments talking about how mini Hughes inherited his dad's yapping, or how similar they are, and how loved he is.

and even though you try not to expose him too much on social media, videos of him in his little-games sometimes go viral, because of the way he skates, perfecting skills that many kids his age can't do yet; or videos of him "training" in the summer with his dad, his uncles, and his grandparents, in a family full of success, talent, and love.

everyone knows that little Hughes is the most loved, and that his future is bright, surrounded by people who will help him become a star. They even talk about how he'll be better than Quinn.

and you love it, you love knowing that he´s loved, that he's supported. You love knowing that you chose the perfect man, and that he gave you the ideal family. Because the bad days don't matter when the day ends and you all cuddle on the couch again. Because the good days will remain in your memories for years.

because no one will love you both the way Quinn does, and no one will love him the way you two love him.

and the internet is here to see that.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hello! I loved your last hobie fic btw it was really good!!

Imagine that in hobies universe you died but when he travels to miles universe he sees you alive 😭 and then the reader introduces themselves to him the same way they did in his universe

Keep feeding us with these ATSV fics 😈😈

Have a great day!!!

Thank you for enjoying my Hobie Brown stuff anon cuz he’s been invading my mind recently. I hope to god this is okay for ya. 🦦

Hobie remembered first meeting you as though it were yesterday, you were within an alleyway vandalising the walls with your spray paint, he happened to be passing by when one of your masterpieces caught his eye; it was of him…well him as Spider-Man clocking a cartoonish Osborne -appropriately adorned with devil horns and a tail- in the head with his eyes crossed out in red spray paint as though he were dead.

It got a good chuckle out of him that was for sure and from that alone he knew he had to know you more on a personal level. ‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ He asked aloud, making you jolt, you were pretty sure you had chosen a spot where you weren’t going to get caught by the authorities or those that’d grass you up for expressing how you truly felt about Osborne and all those just like him. You shrugged, looking up at your finished product before looking back over at Hobie, ‘dunno yet,’ you told him truthfully, ‘my working titles are either anarchy incarnate or death to capitalism.’

Hobie hummed in approval, but he thought you could do better, ‘how about anarchy is the death of capitalism?’ He suggested and he couldn’t never forget the light in your eyes upon hearing his working title, that in the midst of your excitement you had grabbed him by the arm, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it, you’re a genius man!’ You cried before realising what you did and immediately removed your hand from his arm, ‘sorry about that.’ Hobie dismissed your apology by slinging an arm over your shoulder. ‘Nah, don’t give me that shit, you shouldn’t have to apologise for being yourself for that’s what they want you to do.’

‘I don’t think I ever got your name.’ You said. ‘Hobie. Hobie brown and may I get to know the name of the amazing artist behind this.’ Hobie gestured to the spray painting. ‘Y/n l/n.’ You replied. ‘Well y/n, I think we’re going to get along quite well.’ And you did.

So when your untimely death happened, Hobie felt as though he were Achilles having lost his Patroclus. He cradled your body into his arms even long after you had said your final words, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’ and much longer after it had already gone cold. You had told him that you were heading out to go spray paint with some people you’ve met and the worst soon came when despite knowing that you didn’t have to, you still went out of your way to act as a distraction so that the rest may escape; which resulted in the way that it did.He knew he should’ve gone with you that day because then maybe you would still be alive and taking the piss out of him for worrying about you but he didn’t, so you weren’t.

Ever since then Hobie had made it his goal to keep fighting for not only his chase but yours as well in your memory. He made you a memorial in the exact same place where you first met, always paying it a visit whenever he felt as though he needed you with him, which has lead him to start talking to your spray pairings as though they were actually you. There was without a shadow of a doubt that you were quite possibly one of the greatest artists to have ever lived, alongside with being an avid inspiration to many to the youths who felt as though they had no way of expressing themselves when feeling slighted by the society they were born in. Hell you even inspired him! So much so that there were a multitude of songs he would perform that depicted a individual with stardust in their eyes, a rebellious fire in their heart and a insatiably need to insight the themes of anarchy within anything they touched.

After your death Hobie kept a good portion of your things; such as your spray cans that would never get used, your clothes that still clung onto the very last essence of you much like he did and even kept the picture you took together after helping you finish a project you had been wanting to pursue for a long while; and who would’ve thought that it would be him, not as Spider-Man, just good old Hobie Brown with the message, ‘keep fighting the good fight, my little anarchist.’

So when he caught himself walking down a alleyway much like he did long ago but this time in a completely new place, he felt as though he was being hit with a wave of de ja vu when his ears picked up on the familiar hissing sound of a spray can. It was like he was back there again and if his memory serves him right, he knew what was to come next the moment he, Gwen and Miles made it into a clearing where they were greeted with the sight of someone’s back as they were deeply engrossed with their own handy work. ‘You’re going to love them Hobie, they’re like super cool and awesome.’ Gwen told him but her words went in one ear and out the next as he stared up at the spray painting of Miles as Spider-Man mid swing; it was beautiful without a doubt but they style in which it was drawn was all too familiar.

‘Whatcha gonna call that?’ Hobie had said without realising it until you jolted before turning to look directly at him, regaining your composure, ‘dunno yet.’ You shrugged and your voice sounded like an echo to the past for Hobie who so desperately wanted to pinch himself in that moment. ‘my working titles are either a bright new era or rising above all expectations.’ Hobie didn’t say anything for he knew he was going to say something that would only scare you away, just because you were another version of his y/n didn’t mean you shared the same memories; to you, he was just another spider-man from another reality, he wasn’t your Hobie despite how he wish he was but he knew he couldn’t put that on you.

He also couldn’t blame you for being alive while his version of you was dead. It wouldn’t be fair on you for being blamed for something that wasn’t your fault to begin with and it wouldn’t be fair on him either, as despite how many times he made himself believe that he has accepted your death, his heart would remind him that he truly hadn’t. You were such a pivotal part of his life that he couldn’t seem to let go of. ‘Hmm, both titles sound cool but I think we can do better.’ Miles pipped up, breaking Hobie out of his headspace that was running rampant with all the best memories you shared together. ‘How about…the bright new era of rising above all expectations?’ Hobie interjected.

You made a face at the suggestion before a wide smile spread across your face as you lost yourself in your excitement and grabbed ahold of his arm like you did when your first met, ‘that’s it! That’s what I should call it! You’re a genius dude, thank you.’ But before you could remove your hand from his arm, Hobie grasped your hand and held it firmly. ‘I don’t believe I told you my name, it’s Hobie by the way.’ Your excused his actions as an exchange of formal greeting and grasped onto his hand with the same about of force. ‘Nice to meet you Hobie, I’m y/n.’

‘I know’ is what Hobie desperately wanted to say but kept it all contained under a strained smile.

[annihilatius]

Candy Diver human design I did (the images wouldn't load in the correct order I placed them as but whatever)

Uhhj what do I say.. I think the first and last time I've ever drawn fanart for this game was back in September/October 2021? I don't play CRK for the lore or characters really, even if sometimes the stories are engaging or I like some of the characters. I play because it's fun. But ... I watched Legend Of The Duskgloom Sea a few days ago, and immediately knew I just HAD to draw Candy Diver. Something about them makes my neurons activate I can't help it I have a disease RAAHHHH!

@glitchven Just cause you're my only mutual that posts abt this game

Alternative versions and an explanation for my design decisions and fan made lore for it under the cut (spoilers for Legend Of The Duskgloom Sea)

(In the context of being a human) Candy Diver died sometime around the 1920s-30s, when, on a diving expedition looking for treasures, went too deep and realized it after it was too late, eventually running out of breatheable oxygen before reaching the surface (the deeper you go, the more disoriented you get. Humans can barely handle 40m). As a ghost in the Duskgloom Sea, they still wear the very same suit they died in, which is why it's so stained, yellowed, and dirty (realistically it'd be even worse than this), also explaining why their body has decomposed into nothing but a skeleton.

The lantern is some random junk they found they somehow managed to get working. Their original helmet isn't the one you see here, though, because I specifically designed them to *actually* be a deep sea diver; and this is pretty accurate to what they wore, except, of course, they didn't use gumball machines as helmets. Not long after dying and becoming a ghost they lost their helmet, and had to settle with a discarded gumball machine as a replacement. They figured out a way to weld the two parts together (the odd red thing that connects the empty space between the helmet and the shoulderpiece) so it could come on and off. Their original helmet would have looked like this (Mark V divers helmet):

The name "Candy Diver" is one adopted after the fact (either by themself or given to by other people), I'd imagine they were named something completely different before dying

Thinking harder about the whole Candy Diver being dead thing, I thought it would be really cool to take that in a more grotesque direction. Even though now that's it's finished, it (the design) is extremely tame (at least to me, I invisoned them as being more menacing considering the skull, but I've learned now that it's impossible to make a character that has gumballs for eyes scary or intimidating in any way lmao), Candy Diver has SO much potential for body horror and the like, that the game completely strays away from in favor of making them cute (which is incredibly affective btw).

Instead of them just being a ghost who was born from their psychical form dying (most likely), I interpreted them as more of a walking corpse. It may not translate well in the drawing, but they're meant to be hunched over from the constant pressure of how heavy their suit is. They walk slowly but loudly across the seafloor, also because of the weight slowing them down. An odor of death follows them wherever they go after decades of wearing the same clothes and the rotting of what was once their body. Their bones began to decay as well after a time, and eventually they lost their jaw bone, which is why they can't speak (but even when they *could*, I still imagine them as being very very semiverbal anyway. Because autism)

[ohburgee]

a clingy shedletsky x reader :o? also LOVEE your writing btw!💙💙

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Shedletsky x Gn!Reader

c: fluff, clingy an: Finally someone who requested my boi, Shedletsky. He gives the vibes of a grown man who loves goofy things. I hide a Easter egg in this story, if you guys found it leave on the comment, also thank you glad you love my writing and for your Shedletsky requests 💙 summary: you heard footsteps coming closer and turn around to see Shedletsky wanting to stay by your side. You let him stay with and now he doesn't go away.

Another round to survive again. You're running around, looking for a generator to fix. You see the others running too.

You spot an untouched generator and rush over to start working on it. As you're fixing it, you hear footsteps. 

You immediately turn around and see someone in a yellow outfit, it’s Shedletsky in his chicken suit.

“Shed, it’s you! You scared the hell out of me,” you say as you finish fixing the generator. You stand up and look at him. “Do you need anything?"

“Can we stay together? I feel like I’ve been followed,” he says. You glance at him and reply, “We’re always being followed.”

He nods.

“Yeah, you can. Let’s stay together and find another generator,” you say, and he smiles.

You both walk together, searching for the next generator. 

You understand why he wants to stick with you, because last time, while you were searching for the others, you saw Shedletsky getting grabbed by his own creation, 1x1x1x1.

You pulled out your gun and shot 1x in the shoulder. He turned to face you, and you fired again. 

The second shot forced him to dodge, giving you the distraction you needed to grab Shedletsky and run.

You didn’t just save him, you protected him. You even defended him when c00lkid was about to stab him with his own sword. 

You stopped the kid and scolded him. Since you’re c00lkid’s best friend, he listened. He didn’t hurt Shedletsky and instead went after the other survivors.

That’s where it all started. Now, Shedletsky follows you around like a chicken chasing the seeds you hold, just like the game you played.

As you walk together, you suddenly grab Shedletsky’s arm and pull him behind a tree. You spot John Doe patrolling nearby, looking for survivors.

You feel a warm hand wrap around your arm. You turn to see Shedletsky clinging to you like a lifeline. He looks at you, his eyes full of worry.

You smile, silently reassuring him that you’ll both be okay. As Doe walks away, you still hold onto Shedletsky, who clings to your arm like a koala.

Eventually, you both make your way to the group. You see Chance and Taph fixing a generator, while Builderman keeps watch.

“Is there another generator left?” you ask.

Builderman shakes his head. “This is the last one.”

You look at Chance and Taph just as the generator finishes repairing. The round ends, and all of you sigh in relief.

…

Now, you're all back in the lobby, relaxing. Chance and Taph chat together, Builderman tinkers with his tools, and others talk in the living room. You watch everyone enjoying their time.

You feel someone behind you, you already know who it is. You turn to see Shedletsky again, still staying close.

“Shed?” you call, using the nickname you gave him. He looks at you. “I’m sorry... I just want to stay close to you.”

You give him a look full of both worry and sympathy.

“Pizza’s here!” Elliot calls out.

You take Shedletsky’s hand and head toward the table. Everyone grabs a slice.

You grab two slices and hand one to Shedletsky. He whispers, “Thank you,” and you smile.

He sticks to you the entire time. Even when Elliot talks to you, Shedletsky stays right behind. 

When Builderman talks to him, you think he might walk away, but he always comes back to your side.

When you get tired, you lie down on the couch, enjoying a rare moment of peace. But it doesn’t last long, you notice Shedletsky sitting nearby, still close.

You sit up and glance at him. Maybe he’s this clingy because of the trauma. Maybe he just feels safe with you.

“Shed,” you call gently. He looks at you.

You open your arms, inviting him to lie down with you on the couch. He doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around you and lays on top of you.

You both rest together, taking in the peace, at least for now. Until the next round begins.

[pneumaticshift]

Hiiii I wonder if you take batman justice league requests? If so:

Yk those "Batman gets de aged in front of the JLA" fics? Well let me raise you one:

A meeting with the JLAs primary benefactor, Bruce Wayne, goes wrong when a magician (of some sort) attacks, and so they find themselves with a Bruce Wayne who is 20 years (or so) younger than he should be.

Anf they're all like "who is this angry emo teen and what happened to the flirty bimbo that was just here."

It would be even funnier if Bruce hears about a Batman and just goes "yes that's obviously me only i could pull that off" because he's been daydreaming about bat-themed escapades since his teen years

bonus points if he immediately recognises Green Arrow ("i told you to cut off that fugly beard ages ago, Ollie,") and starts fangirling over Hal ;)

I love your Best Laid Plans series btw! You're such a great writer. This is genuinely the only series I've been actively obsessed with in a good WHILE.

Love,

Anon who probably will return to annoy you.

First of all, thank you!! 💚 Compliments like this really mean a lot to me, I’m so glad you’re enjoying the series. 

And yes! I do take Justice League requests! I tried to get all your ideas crammed in there. It’s not as shippy as I was gonna make it (I wrote too much lol), but I sprinkled a smidge of a hint in there. Just a whisper. A gentle nudge. A wink from across the room. Hope you like it! 

———

It turned out that young Bruce Wayne was feral 

Not in the way rich kids thought they were when they slummed it for a summer. That faux-rebellion that came with backpacking through Europe with their parent’s black card, or spending a weekend at some overpriced retreat to find themselves.

This was actual feral. The kind of feral where he had dirt under his fingernails and wide eyes that looked for exits before they looked at people. The kind of feral where he knew exactly where to jam a shiv between Ollie’s ribs to make it count.  

Which, as it turned out, was currently very relevant information.

“This is fine,” Ollie choked out.

Ollie was a liar.

His face was turning an alarming shade of purple, which clashed spectacularly with the green of his costume. There was an arn locked too-tightly around his neck and there was, of all things, a homemade shiv pressed against the vulnerable stretch of his throat. 

It all started in Gotham, because that’s where most bad things happened. Some charity auction that had featured a plethora of ancient artefacts from exceedingly questionable sources. And because Gothamites had the distinct inability to leave cursed objects where they belonged, it was only a matter of time before one of the objects went wild. 

No one could quite agree on what triggered it. Hal was pretty sure it was the plump statue of an old eldritch matron, Diana swore it was the ancient scroll of indistinguishable language, and Ollie was confident the auctioneer had muttered something that sounded just enough like an incantation. Whatever it was — and they had already contacted some magic users to find out — the end result had been the same. 

Brucie Wayne. Handsome, vapid, as sharp as a marshmallow, had finished in a puff of old magic. And in his place…

Well, something that very much wasn’t like the Brucie the world knew and loved. Barefoot. Wild-eyed. Unkempt hair falling into his eyes and a patchy beard that was trying itself best, but wasn’t quite past puberty enough to be full. He took three very menacing steps forward before he dropped unconscious. Hard. Because he had been standing on stage at the time and had straight up fallen off when his senses failed him. 

Clark Kent and Oliver Queen, two guests in attendance, had been the only two that had not been herded out by the League when they answered the call for aid. They helped keep the peace, assuring the good people of Gotham that yes, everything was fine, no need to panic, they’re all in good hands.

And in return, those same good people of Gotham had just sneered, ordered the League to take care of their beloved Brucie, and then spat on them for not being Batman. Because this city was the worst. 

Now, instead of waking up all confused and docile and flirtatiously grateful for the assistance — you know, like the Brucie Wayne they had all met before — they had come to realise that there had been a lot of misinformation about what Bruce Wayne got up to in his youth. 

Twenty years younger than the man they read about in the tabloids, he had immediately reverted to something neolithic. He produced a goddamn shiv from his waistband and launched himself with the kind of fight-or-flight response that suggested he had a lot of experience choosing fight.

Ollie had been the closest. Which was unfortunate for Ollie. 

He was taken by surprise, and that was fair enough. Absolutely nobody in the room could have expected this level of violence from a man who, as far as the world was concerned, spent his formative years travelling the hotspots of the world to partake in the traditional aforementioned rich kid mission to find himself. 

Hal was the first to step up. “You wanna drop Robin Hood before I drop you, kid?” he said, clearly considering that maybe this was the moment to introduce Gotham’s favorite trust fund baby to the concept of a green energy muzzle.

“Easy, easy,” Clark tried, deliberately stepping in front of Hal. “No one's gonna hurt you. We just want to help."

Young Bruce did not look convinced. And maybe that was fair. From his perspective, he’d just woken up in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by people he didn’t know. He was being threatened by a man in a glowing green onesie, and coddled by one with his underpants over the top of his outerpants. 

“Who the hell are you people?” he snapped. 

“We are the Justice League,” Diana said, smiling gently. “We mean you no harm, my young friend. You’ve been in an accident and we’re here to help you.” She raised a placating hand. Calm, but not condescending. They probably should have let her deal with it from the beginning. “You may keep your weapon, if you’d like. But I’d ask you to release our friend. On my honour, we are not your enemy.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes and he scanned Diana in the same way a soldier would, and she let him look. She stayed still, perfectly patient, while Bruce flickered over her stance, her posture, her weapons, the slight in weight that meant she was ready. Not aggressive, just prepared.

Then his eyes moved to Clark, to Hal, to Barry, and back again. Something about them, or about Diana at least,  must have registered as safe, because after a tense moment, Bruce’s grip on Ollie loosened. Which of course Oliver immediately took advantage of. 

He took a deep, careful breath and stepped away with all the forced casualness of a man who definitely did not just get overwhelmed by an eighteen-year-old, barefooted, trust fund baby. His neck absolutely wasn’t throbbing, and he definitely wasn’t resisting the urge to rub at it petulantly. Nope, everything was fine. 

So fine, in fact, that he joined the League’s line, crossed his arms and straightened his shoulders like he hadn’t just been manhandled by someone whose primary tabloid reputation was for shirtless boat parties.

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark started, stepping forward. Bruce didn’t look at him. His gaze was firmly locked onto Oliver with a stare so scrutinising that it could’ve burnt. He was really looking now, like he’d only just registered Ollie as a person rather than an obstacle. “You’ve been hit by… Well, we’re not sure what exactly. We’ve contacted a few people who can help, but from what we know already, we think you’ve—”

“I’ve been sent to the future,” Bruce said flatly. There was a crack in his voice that could have been nervousness covered up by the entirely blank way he stared at them. 

There was a long pause as the League collectively processed that particular statement. Hal looked at Barry. Barry looked at Clark. Clark looked at Diana. And Diana beamed brightly like she always suspected that Bruce Wayne had more than two brain cells to rub together and had finally been handed the means to prove it. 

“Okay, hold on now,” Hal said. “How the hell is that your first conclusion? You wake up in an unfamiliar room, surrounded by people you don’t know, and instead of assuming kidnapping or drug-induced hallucination or even just being really, really drunk, your first thought is time travel?”

Bruce’s eyes drifted over to Hal’s face, then lower to the logo on his suit and the ring on his finger. “Yeah.” He cocked his head. “Are you a Green Lantern?”

Hal blinked. “Uh, yeah?

The kid kept his eyes on Hal for a moment as he processed that while everyone else tried to make sense of his insane deductive skills. “We’re not saying you’re wrong,” Barry said, “but how did you even know? I mean, time travel isn’t exactly the default assumption.”

Bruce looked away from Hal and instead swept his gaze over the room. His eyes landed on a sleek, modern console with a WayneTech insignia embossed on the side. He jerked his chin towards it like someone who had just found undeniable proof that the world was, in fact, very stupid and he was the only one paying attention.

“That model doesn’t exist yet,” he said. “The closest working prototype was three years away from launch when I left Gotham. All the WayneTech in this room uses materials that aren’t aren’t widely available yet. It’s all too streamlined. Things like this only exist in concept journals.” 

“But that could mean anything,” Clark said, but he was eyeing the WayneTech like he was trying to remember what it looked like twenty years ago. 

“And you,” Bruce continued, snapping back to Oliver.

Ollie straightened up instinctively. “Me? What about me?”

“You have a goatee.”

“Uh. Yeah?”

The kid’s expression darkened with such absolute disappointment that it was almost tangible. Like he was cataloguing every single one of Ollie’s life choices and finding them completely lacking. Bruce shook his head slowly. “You had so much potential.”

Ollie made a noise of offense. "Listen, you little punk, I—” He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his perfectly respectable facial hair. “You don’t know me.”

“Of course I do, I’m not blind,” Bruce muttered. He seemed to be accepting of the situation enough to have dropped his defensive hand without letting go of the shiv. “Judging by your age, I’d say I’ve gone forward between twenty and twenty-five years. Judging by your facial hair, you’ve clearly not experience any mental development beyond—”

“You wanna go, kid?”

Bruce, with the unkempt wildman hair of someone who had been travelling rough for over a year, flicked his bangs out of his face like a little teenage bitch. “As if you could kick my ass, Queen.”

Oliver didn’t choke on air, but it was a very near thing. He kept his composure, sucked in a sharp inhale, and said, "What did you just call me?"

“Your name?”

"That is not public information!"

Bruce blinked. "Okay?"

"Okay!?" Ollie’s voice went slightly high-pitched. "How do you know that!? Does the adult version of you know?”

“Probably.”

"You’d have to ask him when he’s back to normal,” Clark said, but he was looking at Bruce with the very specific grimace of a man who didn't want to say too much just in case the kid would somehow be able to divine his identity too. Clark dealt with Bruce Wayne a lot as a reporter, he couldn’t risk it.

"Oh my God." Ollie scrubbed a hand down his face. "He’s known all this time, hasn’t he?”

Apparently, young Bruce had decided that Ollie was no longer worth his time. His assessment had been made, his conclusion reached (disappointment) and so had moved on. He barely even looked at Clark. His inner Gotham survival instincts had automatically detected Metropolis all over him and deemed him irrelevant. Diana and Barry got a slightly longer look. A tilt of his head as he clocked Diana’s armour and the lasso, and a thoughtful hum at Barry’s full-body suit clearly designed for speed. 

But it was Hal, somehow, that got his full attention. Bruce stared at him, at the glowing logo on his chest, and made no moves to make it subtle. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Hal bit out. “You keep looking at me like that, I’m gonna start thinking you got a crush."

Because young Bruce Wayne had the mental fortitude of a brick wall, apparently (which was insane, because this man was supposed to be peak himbo), he didn’t rise to the bait. He just stayed quiet, almost like he had something to say but was uncertain on how to bring it up. 

Hal had the ego the size of one of his jets and he’d seen this kind of look before. Usually on the kids who looked up to heroes and didn’t see any of the bad things that came with being someone who wielded extraordinary power. Usually on the fans. The kind of fans who had posters and encyclopaedic knowledge and way too much enthusiasm for whatever it was they were into. 

But the difference was, little Bruce wasn’t some starstruck kid who wanted an autograph. This was the intense, calculating scrutiny of someone who had just been confronted with a living, breathing legend they weren’t prepared to meet. For the first time since he’d de-aged, Bruce actually looked like a teenager.

“The suit is different,” Bruce noted, almost awkwardly. 

Hal grinned. He might have been the greatest Green Lantern, but he wasn’t the first. It had been a while since someone actually knew about Alan Scott. “Yeah,” he said, glancing down at the glowing emblem on his chest. “Different Lantern, different look. You a fan?”

Bruce hesitated, which was honestly adorable, because for all his I’ve been in a fight and I know exactly where to stab a man energy, he was still just a teenager. And, apparently, the idea of being caught liking something was so deeply offensive to him that he had to physically restrain himself from reacting. He recovered fast. Way too fast for a kid his age. The brief flicker of something genuine was gone in an instant, replaced with careful neutrality that was vaguely familiar. 

“I respect it,” he said stiffly, like he was dictating a press release rather than responding like a normal human being. “Green Lantern was the first hero I ever read about.”

 “So, you are a fan.”

Bruce blushed. Not completely, he didn’t flush completely red and start steaming at the ears, but his ears peppered a pale pink. He briefly looked away before snapping his gaze right back to stave off weakness. 

“I’m—” He stopped, exhaled through his nose, then squared his shoulders like he was preparing for war. “He protected Gotham when no one else would. When no one could.” His fingers flexed slightly, like he was gripping at something that wasn’t there. “That matters.”

Hal, still gleefully processing the fact that this angry version of Bruce Wayne had absolutely been a Green Lantern fanboy at some point in his life, let himself enjoy it for a second longer before Clark cleared his throat.

“Speaking of Gotham,” he said carefully, glancing at the others, “we should probably contact Batman. He’ll want to know what’s going on here, since Bruce is technically his problem.”

Having controlled his expression enough to stop blushing, Bruce had deliberately turned himself away from everyone and was now examining Hal’s ring. (Like a fanboy.) “What can Spooky do?” Hal asked. “He’s just gonna be pissed that we took the kid out of the city. Let's just get it fixed and let him know later.”

“He’ll need to know if there are cursed artefacts being circulated,” Diana said. “And I imagine that time displacement is not the only thing he will need to worry about.”

Ollie nodded. “Yeah, this has gotta be more than just temporal problems,” he said, frowning in Bruce’s general direction. “He’s nothing like Bruce Wayne. I’m thinking there’s been a universe switcheroo.”

“Multiversal doppelganger,” Barry agreed.

Bruce didn’t respond to those allegations, but he did say, “This Batman person operates Gotham?”

“Yeah,” Hal replied. “After your Green Lantern left, someone had to pick up the slack. Spooky gets real pissy if anyone else steps in on his turf. You’ve probably met him. Well, you will. In about twenty years or so.”

“Mm. No. He won’t be available right now,” Bruce said decidedly. He looked up. “I have a friend who can do magic. She’ll be able to help, assuming my future self is still in contact with her.”

Diana cocked her head at Bruce. “Why would you assume he would be unavailable?” she asked. 

“I’d think that would be obvious,” he replied. He looked at the blank expressions around him and rolled his eyes. “Think about it. If this person is as territorial as you say, then he would have already been aware of whatever was happening in Gotham. And if not, then news would have already spread and he would have contacted you all to confirm it. This is assuming you’re all a part of the same team, of course. With the amount of WayneTech around, Gotham definitely has a lot of input in your work, so I imagine you’ve got to be working with her vigilante.”

“That’s very astute.”

“If Batman is not here, then he’s either ignoring the issue, or he’s indisposed. I’m inclined to believe the latter.” Bruce looked at Oliver. “Did you ever wonder why I dropped out of school to go travelling?”

“I figured you were still grieving and needed time to yourself.”

Bruce bristled a little, almost like he didn’t expect to be called out on that. “I left because Gotham needed me to,” he said. 

He didn’t elaborate. He didn’t need to. The pieces were all there. Scattered, sure, but if they were smart enough to put on their capes the right way around, then they were smart enough to figure it out. Hell, he had managed to figure it out, and he’d only been in this future for about twenty minutes. 

Diana watched him with knowing eyes like she had figured it out the moment he turned up as this angry ball of vengeance instead of the delicate heir with a silver spoon up his butt. The others took a little longer to catch up, but they’d get there eventually. Clark’s expression was already beginning to change to one of wild disbelief, while Ollie had gone completely blank like he was struggling to compute. 

Before anyone could say anything, before the trampling elephant in the room could be addressed with the appropriate amount of what the actual hell, before someone (most likely Hal) said something incredibly obnoxious, the air rippled and the deus ex machina descended. 

Magic, thick and tangible, swept through the room like the universe itself let out a sigh of relief, and Zatanna Zatara stepped into existence with the kind of exasperation of someone who had been called far too often to deal with the League’s magical problems. She scanned the room without saying anything before her gaze landed on Bruce. Barefoot, feral, still holding a shiv like it was an extension of his hand. She sighed. 

“Of course it would be you,” she said, but she was smiling as she said it. 

“Can you fix this?” Clark asked without taking his eyes off Bruce. 

“Yeah,” Zatanna nodded. 

“And it’s actually gonna be the Bruce from this universe, right?” Ollie put in, unnerved. “We’re not gonna get a whole different Wayne? Because he’s implied something really big and I don’t think I can mentally take it if it’s true.”

“Oh, he’ll be the same Bruce Wayne, alright.” She turned back to the kid, lowering her voice slightly. “Maybe you’ll just know him a little better now.

Bruce didn’t react, but the air shifted around him, like he knew exactly what she meant and didn’t particularly appreciate it. Then, with a flick of her fingers and a gentle incantation, the world twisted with a shimmer of glowing energy, reality bending in on itself— And just like that, they were gone.

An incredibly weighted, knowing silence settled over the Watchtower. For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Hal clapped his hands together and turned to the others with the slow, self-satisfied grin of someone who just found out something hilarious. 

“So.” He raised an eyebrow. “That was Batman, right?”