#but hey man. work with me here. there are only so many of me and there are so so so many of you 😭

[igotanidea]

World's worst wingman: Jason Todd x reader (ft. Dick Grayson)

story borrowed from @gay-dorito-dust, thank you :)

Summary: Dick being Jason's wingman.

***

„Come on, just go do it!”

„No.”

„Why not?”

„Because.”

„Why are you being stubborn? I saw you eyeing her whole night! Seriously, if you keep bringing that face expression on, you will turn into an anime character and-“

Jason groaned and run fingers through his already messed up hair.

For the record – he had no idea that the object of his interest in the form of Y/N would be at this particular club tonight.

Well – maybe a faint idea. Just a vague concept of her whereabouts.

It wasn’t like he stalked her a little, getting to know her favorite places to hang out, her work and her home and the way she was using to commute to ensure its safety.

Definitely not.

But even if he did – there was no regrets in his actions with regards to that.

What he did regret though – was bringing Dick with him to act like some sort of wingman. Stupid. Idiotic. Completely reckless behavior. HE should have known better than that.

Instead of having a chance to talk to her, he was stuck by the table, trying to melt into the plush backrest of the couch behind his back, that happened to be the same color his face was turning into.

Forced to listen to his brother constant babbling how he can’t be such a coward and shy and antisocial and that she seemed to be a nice girl and why won’t Jason just get his ass up and –

“Shut up.” Jason muttered, edging the thin line between behaving and getting a temper tantrum.

“Ohhhh! Is my little Jaybrid getting flustered?” Dick teased, grinning like a madman, deriving almost sadistic pleasure from tormenting his brother.

“I’m getting so many regrets about telling you shit about her.”

“Oh, come on, don’t say it! That’s so not fair! I’m only here to help you, cause with the way you’re acting now I don’t see much chance to succeed in-”

“I’m going to get a drink!” Jason stood up from the table so abruptly that only by miracle it didn’t trip over.

“Oh yeah! That’s the spirit! And while you’re at it, can you bring me one more pina colada?”

It was all just a big fat joke to Dick.

***

“Hey, can I have a beer and a pina colada?” damn the second part of his sentence barely left his throat.

“that;s an unusual mix, istn;t it?” she chuckled grabbing a glass and starting to prepare the drink with learned precision.

“Yeah, it’s not for me – “ Jason stuttered, despite himself “It’s for-“

“Your date?”

“huh?”

“That guy over there?” Y/N pointed towards the Dick, waving at her crazily across the club

“WHAT? He’s not my date! He- he’s my –“ it took a lot of effort from Jason to not address Dick as his prey, but somehow, gulping heavily and clenching fists he managed to calm down. Ish. “-brother. He’s my effing brother.”

“Oh, such a  relief!”

“Relief? Why?”

“Cause it means he’s not gay, huh?”

“Oh…”

Of course she was asking about Dick. How could a girl like her ever pay attention to a guy like Jason?

“Relax, I’m kidding. It’s only because of the drink. I mean – what kind of a man orders pina colada unless he’s playing on the other side of the field or has a particularly nasty sense of humor, right?”

“Are you always this observant?”

“You know, some people think I’m just  a bartender, but the truth? I’m also a watcher and a listener. You wouldn’t believe the amount of drunk girls crying their broken heart out on this particular counter.”

“Hah!” he chuckled. For some crazy reason her attitude was making him feel at ease. Like he could actually maybe stand a chance with her?

“So, here’s your pina colada and your beer. Enjoy.”

The second she handed him the beverages he knew the moment was over. He was a customer at the bar and she was working here. They were not friends and definitely not more.

“Yeah, um – thanks …” he muttered, retrieving back into himself, grabbing the mugg and a tall glass, heading back to Dick with sense of defeat inside him.

***

“Are you crazy?!”

“Stop yelling!”

“But are you crazy?!” with the way Dick was tugging at Jason’s shirt it was truly a miracle that the younger brother did not end up drenched in and reeking of beer. “You had a chance! It was the perfect opportunity and you’re back here?! Please tell me you at least asked her out!”

“I –“

“Holy shit, Jason, you totally blew it.” Dick rubbed his forehead “Tell me you told her, you liked her!”

“Well-“

“Ok, fine, fine. Let’s lower the bar and the expectations there then. Tell me you told her she’s pretty.”

“I’m not telling the cliché that any drunk man would!”

“You’re hopeless. You are totally hopeless. My god, did I teach you nothing during all those years?!”

“Shut up, Dick!”

Too bad it was too late and Dick was already on a highway to making a scene and the biggest commotion this little suburban club has ever seen.

“Dick!” Jason hissed, feeling all eyes on them. All eyes except Y/N’s who was apparently ending her shift, cleaning some of the stuff from the counter and filling in her colleague.

“Quick! Fast!” Dick started pushing Jason towards her direction.

Mistake.

A little tip: if you ever try to push a 6 ft and 200 pounds man in any direction at all, make sure to make sure he expects it.

Otherwise, the mass of muscles may just subdue to the undeniable power of physics. Especially the gravity and the rules of dynamics. You know, the whole a body set in motion moves in a uniform motion and all shebang.

In Jason’s case it resulted in him losing the balance, falling backwards and stumbling upon unexpecting Y/N, crashing into her as they both ended on the floor with a very disturbing crack coming from somewhere.

“Shit! Shit, shit, shit! Y/N? Are you okay? I am so sorry, I am so terribly sorry, how many fingers do you see-“

 “Ouch….” She groaned, reaching for the hand he was reaching towards her, letting him help her up. “Five?”

“Three. Close enough.”

“So you’re a sloth now?”

“huh?”

“Well, I said five fingers, you said three. Sloths have three fingers and – mh. Dry joke, sorry.”

“You must have hit your head pretty bad, huh?” he could swear to god, he had no idea where that joke came from, just slipped his mouth, but to his relief – she laughed. Not in a mean way, not at all. It was a genuine, happy laugh. He made her laugh.

“Yeah, maybe. I swear I am usually in a better shape.”

“I’d love to see that.” He muttered, and in his head it was just a thought never spoken aloud, but when she tilted her head and gave him a funny look, Jason realized he actually did just that. Spoke up. Bared himself to rejection, teasing, hurt, pain, depression –

“Ok.”

“Ok?” his eyes grew wider.

“Yes. Ok. I can give you a sample. And also you owe me.”

“Um, yeah, yeah, ok, so – “ he scratched his head awkwardly.

“I like coffee. And I have a day off tomorrow.”

“Oh, okay then so – “ say something you idiot! Say something! “there’s this little café at the 23rd and-“

“See you at 8.” She smiled, grabbed her coat and with a wave of her hand disappeared leaving him stunned.

He had a date. Ish. A meeting. A meeting with a girl he liked.

He could jump up from the sheer joy of this unexpected turn out of events, if it wasn;t for the one little fact ….

“RICHARD GRAYSON!!!”

The yelling could wake up the dead and sensing the incoming sequence of events, Dick quickly started moving through the crowd towards the exit.

“I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

It seemed that after Red Hood was done with his job, Nightwing would be excluded from patrolling that night.

[ch6rm]

♱ ࣪˖ date night — chris sturniolo

. . . you're caught up in a terrible date, and a rescue from chris turns into something more than just a friendly favor.

˖ warnings. smut (fingering, no actual p in v, implied sex), confessing feelings kinda(?)

˖ soph's note. first one shot, and whoever requested this im so sorry it took forever 😭

the restaurant was a cozy italian place, tucked in a quiet corner of the city. candlelit tables, soft music playing in the background, and a warm basket of breadsticks in front of you—it was exactly what came to your mind when you thought of a perfect date. tonight was anything but that. it would’ve been perfect, if only the person sitting across from you wasn’t so insufferable. you felt like you were being held hostage, forced to listen to him talk about himself and nothing else. your friend was a horrible match maker.

within five minutes of sitting down, he’d managed to interrupt you twice. you sat across from him, trying to force a polite smile as he launched into yet another story about himself. here we go again….

“oh, and i’m super into traveling,” he continued, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “but only first-class, you know? i work too hard to settle for anything less.” how had we even gotten to the topic of traveling?

“oh…” you nod absentmindedly. gosh, this guy was a jerk. you glanced around the restaurant as he spoke, hoping the waiter would interrupt with the check.

he obviously didn’t notice your lack of enthusiasm as he dove into yet another story, leaning forward in his chair enthusiastically. how many stories was this guy pulling out of his ass? you fought the urge to roll your eyes. you’d been here for over an hour and he’s barely asked you a single question all night.

“anyway,” he said, waving a hand, “enough about me. what do you think about my watch?”

you blinked, staring at the obnoxiously large gold watch on his wrist. “it’s… nice?”

“right?” he grinned, clearly fishing for compliments. “cost me a fortune, but hey, i deserve it. gotta treat yourself, right?”

you tried to stay optimistic, but as the evening dragged on, you could feel yourself mentally checking out. when he started boasting about how many instagram followers he had, you knew you were done. you needed an escape.

forcing another smile, you reached for your phone under the table, sending a text to chris, hoping he could save you from this nightmare of a date. you: can u please pick me up? this date is a total disaster

you press send, fingers anxiously tapping on the table as you await chris’ response, the man in front of you too caught up in his life story to notice your anxious glances around the restaurant. finally, your phone buzzed.

chris: wya?

you sent him the address, feeling a rush of relief knowing you were gonna be out of here soon. there was so much precious time wasted on this stupid date, and you mentally cursed yourself for even giving this guy a chance.

ten minutes later, you spotted chris’ car through the window. you began to speak, cutting the guy off mid-sentence as you stood abruptly, grabbing your purse. “im really sorry, i’ve got to go,”

“what? why?” he looked genuinely confused, furrowing his brows as he saw you getting ready to leave so sudden.

“something came up,” you lied, giving him a sympathetic look, already heading for the door before he could say another word. chris was leaning against his car, arms crossed, his expression one of amusement as you both got in the car.

“rough night?” he asked as you approached.

“you have no idea,” you groaned, slipping into the passenger seat. chris climbed in after you, pulling away from the curb. almost immediately, you launched into a rant, frustration bubbling over as you spoke about everything that went wrong. chris listened, feeding into your frustration as he let out a sarcastic remark every now and then.

eventually, your complaints died down, and with nowhere else to head, chris pulled into an vacant parking lot as the car was engulfed with a comfortable silence.

“thanks for coming to get me,” you say, glancing over at him. “i couldn’t handle another second there. he was driving me insane.”

chris chuckled, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “‘s no big deal, really.”

you give him a soft smile, glancing around the empty parking lot. the only light came from the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. for a moment, neither of you spoke. you shifted in your seat, looking over to chris as his fingers stilled against the wheel. you couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit his face, accentuating his cheekbones and jawline. you stared for a second longer before your voice broke the silence.

“but seriously,” you begin, “you’re always there for me. i really appreciate that, chris.”

chris turns to you fully, his expression softening at your words. “of course,” he says, his voice quiet, “i’ll always be there for you. ‘s cause i care about you. you know that, right?” he looks over at you, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten.

“i know,” you nod, looking away from his gaze, “i care about you, too.” you feel a rush of heat rise up to your cheeks as you speak. why were you getting so flustered?

something shifted in his expression as you said that, his playful demeanor no where to be found as your eyes met his again. “you’re not just saying that?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his hand resting on the steering wheel.

“no,” you murmured, the word catching in your throat. you watch as his gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before darting back up to your eyes, and you found your pulse beginning to quicken.

“okay, cause i mean it. i care do about you—a lot." his voice lingered on the last word, and the way he said it made you feel a way you couldn’t quite explain.

you swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. his eyes were locked on yours, and you felt unable to look away. it felt like he could see straight through you, past all your nervousness and hesitation, and straight to the way your heart was pounding.

“chris…" you started, but his name barely left your lips as he leaned in, his hand slipped from the wheel. you felt his fingertips brush lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

"tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice low and his breath warm against your cheek. his eyes flickered to your lips again, lingering this time. but you didn’t tell him to stop.

his lips met yours, tentative at first, like he wanted to make sure this was real. but when you responded, your hand moving to cup the side of his face, his hesitation disappeared. the kiss deepened, and you soon felt yourself being pulled onto his lap, now straddling him. warmth flooded through you as he gripped your waist, fingers digging into your hips. you felt the kiss becoming needier, his hands moving to pull you closer, deepening the kiss. your hands find their way to his hair, softly tugging at the strands as he lets out a quiet groan into your mouth. his hands moved to your thighs, rubbing up and down before they slipped under your jean skirt to tease around the soft lace of your underwear. chris pulls away, beginning to pepper kisses down your jawline and to your neck as his fingers inched closer to your clothed core.

his middle finger delicately brushed over your cunt, feeling the wetness seep through your panties as you let out a gasp, your hold on him tightening.

“you want me to stop?” he murmurs into your neck, beginning to add more pressure with his fingers. you quickly shake your head, mumbling out a desperate ‘no’ before you feel him slip two of his fingers into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness. you let out a moan as he teases your entrance, slipping his two fingers inside you effortlessly.

“fuck,” you breathe out, and chris begins to pump his fingers into and out of you, curling his fingers as he elicits another moan from you, your grip on his hair tightening.

chris leaves hot and opened mouth kisses on your neck—the pace of his fingers quickening. he continued to bite and suck at your neck in response to your whimpers, his free hand coming up to squeeze at your tits as you bucked your hips into his hand, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap.

“i’m gonna cum, chris,” you whine, your head falling against his shoulder before you felt him remove his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he tasted your arousal, leaving you whiney and needy for more.

chris patted your hip, urging you to get up as he spoke, “backseat, now.”

© ch6rm

[gotta-winwin]

(💬) ... vernon chwe x reader

⭐ starring: vernon

💬 preview: the seemingly 'extraterrestrial' man that occupies Cubicle #218 cannot seem to take a hint - no matter how many flashing signs you throw at him.

tw/cw: fluff, corporate vernon, vernon is an oblivious lil shit, allusions to sex, quotes from b.e.d by Jacquees, shameless flirting and banter

based on an ask (hi + thanks for requesting!) as well as b.e.d by Jacquees MDNI

🪽fic rating/wc: pg 13/ 3.5k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i am forever stuck in this vernon loop - alas, here's a request that's been sitting in my inbox for awhile, brewing vernon thoughts the whole time. although this fic is entirely fluff, there are allusions to sex so please be mindful of your age and the fic rating.

Vernon would have quit his job a long time ago if it hadn’t been for you. A part of him still yearned for the stage, a trusty guitar in his hands and the sound of diehard fans screaming his name. Instead, he had found himself stuck, circling the corporate ladder, clocking in to work everyday just to sit in his one lonely cubicle, staring at numbers he had only pretended to understand when getting his degree. 

He had his resignation letter signed and ready to go, and he would have handed it in if it hadn’t been for the notes that had begun to appear.

Colorful post-it notes that he’d find in the most random places - first his desk, then his lunchbox, in the pocket of his coat, stuck dead center on his computer screen. It baffled him, yet the notes kept coming, every single day of work without fail. At first he had scoffed, chalking it up to some silly office prank, but as time progressed, the notes became almost a given, as if the notes itself had rooted into his everyday routine. It filled him with anticipation and a reason to clock in everyday. As much as he hesitated to admit it, the silly notes made his day.

Of course, the notes were anonymous. Vernon had no idea that you were the reason he still showed up to work. 

“This is basically workplace harassment.” Anne, your closest co-worker, commented, as she watched you pen your next note to Vernon. She was the only one who knew it was you behind the colorful post-its.

“If he didn’t like it he would’ve told HR months ago.” You argued, ripping the completed note off the pad of bright orange post-its. “Besides, you’ve seen him smile at the notes. Even got a laugh out of him a couple times.” 

“But-” Anne snatched the note from you and read it aloud. “I hope our love will be like the number Pi: irrational and endless.” She shook her head, tsking. “Even for a compsci major, Y/N, Vernon would never find this funny. And if he does- he’s either mocking you, or his humor is just as broken as yours.”

“It’s funny!” You protested, snatching the note back. “Besides, I don’t even know where to leave this one. I’m running out of creative ideas.”

“What’s the point? You just need him to see it, right?”

You gave her a look. “There’s a higher probability of him laughing if he doesn’t expect the note. The less obvious the place, the better. He can’t be actively looking for it.” 

Anne sighed, spinning her chair back to face her work desk. “Compsci nerds.” 

Ignoring her, you continued. “I’m torn between leaving it taped to his water bottle, or taped to his bike.” 

“Of course Cubicle Number 218 Vernon Chwe would bike to work.” Anne rolled her eyes. “How old is this man? Can’t he drive?” 

“Hey!” You protested once again, defending him. “Maybe he just lives close, more cost-efficient you know.”  

Anne sighed. “Tape it to his bike.” Her fingers tapped against her keyboard as she spoke. “He’s definitely not going to be expecting that one.”

Your smile widened, already imagining his little stunned expression. “Okay. Cover for me- I’ll be right back.”

“Whatever.” Anne mumbled, although you caught a glance of the amused smile on her face. 

It was famously known throughout your office that the resident of Cubicle #218, Hansol Vernon Chwe, did not smile. He came into work and left while sporting the exact same facial expression the entire time. But you knew he smiled at your silly pick-up lines, no matter how stupid. And you knew that you might be the only person who knew just how pretty Vernon’s laugh was- even if it was from a distance.

If only you knew just how much Vernon wanted to know who was behind the silly notes that were his pick-me-up each day. 

You: 1 Vernon: 0

“I wanna live in your socks so I can be with you every step of the way.”

Vernon snorted audibly as he read the note, this time written on a hot pink post-it. His neighbouring co-workers snuck glances at him, drawn by the sudden noise. 

He ignored their stares, tucking the note into his jacket pocket for later. He was slowly amassing a collection of them, his desk back at home covered in multicolored post-its, each one from a different day. Sometimes the lines would be so terrible he’d shudder in cringe, but more often than not, he’d find them genuinely funny. 

Grabbing a file he needed faxed, Vernon made his way to the copier down the hall. Someone was already occupying it- and he realized he recognized her, the pretty girl who lived in cubicle #17. 

He could hear the loud music coming from her headphones, poorly hidden under her strands of hair. 

“Charli?” He asked, recognizing the familiar beats and rhythm of the song. 

He watched you turn around to face him, startled by his sudden appearance. “What?”

He pointed awkwardly to your headphones. “Is that Charli XCX? I didn’t think your name was Charli, don’t worry. It’s Y/N, right?” He rambled on, smiling sheepishly. 

You blinked, a little dazed by the amount of words he was suddenly speaking to you. You had always thought, like everyone else in the office, that Vernon was somehow untouchable. Someone so mysterious and way out of reality that the two of you just didn’t exist on the same plane of the universe. But now here he was, talking to you like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Yeah.” You answered, after realizing you had just been blankly staring at him. “To both questions.” You quickly added, equally awkward. “It’s Charli XCX and my name is Y/N.”

“Great.” His gaze drifted past you towards the copier. “Are you nearly done?” Holding up the file in his hand, he gestured behind you. “I need to fax something.” 

“Oh!” Hurriedly moving aside, you let out a tiny laugh. “I wasn’t really using it. Sometimes I just come in here and pretend I’m busy- to get away from how stuffy the office is. I don’t know why I just told you that.” You were mortified, glancing at him to make sure he wasn’t judging you.

Vernon’s lips were quirked into a smirk, as he tried hard to push down the laughter that was threatening to bubble up inside of him. Ultimately failing, his mouth widened into a smile as he laughed, the sound filling your ears better than any song could. 

“I like you.” He stated, as if it was such a simple thing and didn’t have your heart racing. “You’re funny.”

His smile widened once he caught sight of your open mouth, stunned into silence at the new side of Mr. Cubicle #218 you were currently seeing. 

“Close your mouth.” He mumbled, reaching a hand out to do it for you, his fingertips lightly pressing against your jaw. “You look like a fish.” 

“I- what?” You spluttered, moving a step back. 

Vernon shot you another melting smile, picking up his file and closing the copier. “Anyways, I’m all done. Are you going to hide out here some more?” He kept his eyes on you as he stacked the papers in his hands, organizing them against a nearby table. 

You nodded dumbly, eyes following his movement as he walked out, stopping by the doorway to shoot you a tiny salute before turning away. He walked down the hall with a gait only he had, disappearing down the hallway, leaving you feeling extremely confused, your cheeks oddly warm. 

You: 1 Vernon: 1

“Are you a worm? Cause I’d like to split you apart.” 

Morbid, yes, but you were slowly running out of ideas. Placing the sticky note strategically in his work bag, you scurried off, ducking behind a bookshelf to watch his reaction. 

“Are you a worm-” Vernon made a face as he read the note aloud. “Ew. Weird. Kinky?” He looked up at the ceiling, a concerning yet intrigued look on his face. A chuckle escaped him and you smiled in your success. 

Your work days seemed to blow right by with the joy in knowing you had successfully made him laugh, mind still churning through your last encounter with Vernon by the copier a couple weeks ago. It had both startled you and ignited something within- a longing to know more about him. 

“Looks like we’re the only ones left.” 

You looked up, blinking your dry and strained eyes, spotting Vernon hovering right above your cubicle wall, a tired expression filling his face. You glanced around the office and realized he was right. 

“Has it already been that long?” You wondered, rubbing your eyes as you shut off your computer, standing up to stretch your stiff back. 

You could’ve sworn Vernon snorted at your words. “Do you enjoy working here? Time does fly when you’re having fun.”

You shook your head. “God, no. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.” Yeah, you. 

An unspeakable look crossed his face as he grabbed your coat, helping you put it on. “C’mon, we can walk together.” 

“Oh. Thanks- alright.” 

The walk was amicably silent as you fell in step beside him, clutching your winter coat tightly as you both entered against the harsh wind. You spotted his banged up yellow bike across the street and bit back a grin. 

“You bike to work and back?” You asked, although you already knew the answer. You often passed him on your own way to work, spotting him through the windshield of your car. Nearly ran him over once, in your earlier days of working, but you don’t speak of that.

“I do.” Vernon patted the trusty bike with a loving hand. “Never failed me once.” 

A laugh escaped you, your breath hitting the winter wind and turning into a light fog. 

His eyebrows raised. “Are you laughing at me?” His lips quivered up as he watched you descend into laughter once again. 

“No!” You exclaimed through a fit of giggles, clutching your stomach. “Oh god, it’s just- Vernon Chwe- on a bike-”

A clear and infectious cackle of a laugh joined yours as Vernon too, doubled over in laughter. You paused, staring wide-eyed as giggles escaped him, thoroughly entertained by the amusement you had found in his transportation method. 

Passerbys would have deemed the pair of you as mad, with the way you clutched onto Vernon’s arm to hold yourself up as you laughed harder, his own hand gripping yours in the bitter wind. It was numbingly cold but both of your insides were warm, cheeks flushed due to the ridiculous image of Vernon on a bike. 

Y/N: 1 Vernon: 1 The universe(?): 1

“Yo.” 

Your music paused suddenly, jolting you out of your zone. Spinning around in your chair, you frowned up at Vernon, who had somehow swiped your phone from your desk without you noticing. 

“What’s up?” You sighed, taking off your headphones to glare at him. “You didn’t need to pause my music, y’know.” 

“I’ve been sent on a coffee run, wanna come?” He spread his arms open in invitation. “We can take as long as we like.” 

Ditching work for a while did sound like a nice pastime, especially with the lack of work you had currently. “I wouldn’t mind a breath of fresh air, actually. I’m down.”

“Put on your coat.” Vernon handed it to you, watching as you shrugged it on. 

“I know you want to be in my b.e.d, grinding slowly.” 

The last note had taken him terribly off guard and he needed a distraction to remedy that. 

To be fair, you didn’t really know what had gotten into you- the sudden bravado and confidence put into the note had caught you terribly off guard as well. 

“Do you know Joshua? He works in upper management but we’re pretty good friends.” Vernon suddenly asked, walking backwards along the sidewalk so he could look at you. 

You nodded. “I’ve seen him around. He’s very social.” Unlike you, you declined to add. 

“Yes. He’s hosting a social gathering later tonight, and asked if I could invite you.”

“He asked you to invite me?” You shot him a wary look, not quite believing him. You and Joshua barely passed as acquaintances. 

Vernon’s hand reached behind his neck as he rubbed his nape, a sheepish and embarrassed expression on his face. You noticed his ears would turn pink whenever he was even mildly shy. “Okay, maybe I just wanted to invite you, alright?” He turned away, walking properly now to hide his face from your keen eyes. 

A slow smile crossed your face. “Oh, no.” You mimed dread. “You’re in love with me, aren’t you.”

“What?” Vernon turned so fast you reckoned he must’ve gotten whiplash. 

“I’m joking.” Punching his arm lightly, you gave him a lighthearted smile, ignoring the way your heart pounded at the brunt question. “I’d love to go to the little party. You didn’t have to use Joshua to invite me.”

“Well,” Vernon’s ears turned pink once again. “I’d say I’d pick you up and give you a ride home after, but- I don’t think we’d both fit on my bike.” 

Both your lips twitched at the reminder of that night, where the two of you had laughed like it was the first time either one of you had found anything remotely funny. 

“I’ll drive.” You offered, once the wave of silent laughter dissipated. “You can hitch your bike to the back of my car.” 

“Me,” Vernon’s mouth dropped comically as he pressed his hands to his chest. “A passenger princess? How lucky.”

His smile widened as you laughed, and he shamelessly basked in the sound of it. 

Y/N: 2? Vernon: 2? The universe: 1

The smell of musk was the first thing that hit you as the two of you entered Joshua’s townhouse. It was a small, quaint place, decorated to the brim with trinkets and flower pots, overflowing with both people and food. Vernon led the way as you shuffled in, greeting familiar faces and smiling at strangers. 

“I thought you said ‘small gathering.’” You yelled, tiptoed next to Vernon so you could reach his ear. 

You could tell from his eyes that he had no idea what you were saying. “What?” He yelled back, although his voice was carried away by the crowd as well.

“I said-” You felt like you might burst a lung trying to communicate. “I thought you said, ‘small gathering!’” 

He stared at you blankly, blinking slowly, evidently still not in the loop. 

Giving up, you were about to turn away when you suddenly felt his whole body shake, quivering against you as he laughed. 

“What the fuck?” You yelled, this time right in his face. 

“I heard you the first time, silly.” He yelled back, a shit-eating grin spreading wider as he watched your eyebrows furrow.��

“Party Vernon sucks.” You concluded, moving away, only to be pulled back by his hand on your arm.

“Didn’t you complain that I was too ‘mysterious’?” He yelled, laughing harder when you visibly paled. “Yeah, I heard that. But it’s okay. I am very…how did you put it. Sullen, at work.”

Hiding your face, you slapped his chest, causing him to groan in pain. 

“Ow.” 

“Ow.” You mocked back. There really was no answer as to where the sudden childishness came from, but the way Vernon was staring at you- it made reason seem almost meaningless.

He threw his head back and laughed, soundless against the party’s atmosphere but somehow just as electrifying. 

“Have fun, Y/N.” He said, grabbing your hands. “Let’s dance.” 

Y/N: 2 Vernon: 3 The universe: 1

You had always sworn by the fact that driving late at night with the windows down, cold air blowing through your hair was the way to go. 

“Admit it!” Vernon yelled through the wind, glancing at you from the passenger seat. “You had fun tonight.”

“I did.” You admitted. The party had been overwhelming at first, but the later the night got, the more fun you discovered yourself to have. “I haven’t had a night like that in a while.”

You braked at a red light and flipped through your playlist, switching on the one song you knew would get a reaction out of Vernon. 

“I know you wanna love But I just wanna fuck And girl, you know the deal I gotta keep it real I know you wanna see I know you wanna be In my B.E.D., grinding slowly”

The light turned green and you continued to drive, the roads empty and deserted, street lamps illuminating the world in a soft amber. Occasionally, you’d glance over at Vernon, who was bopping his head to the beat, murmuring the lyrics under his breath. 

Oblivious man. 

Reaching over, you turned the volume up, as if the louder the music was, it’d somehow reverberate its message into his skull. Get a hint! You wanted to scream at him. I’m kind of in love with you and want to jump your bones! Hello??

Vernon continued to groove to the music without a care in the world.

“This is a good song!” He yelled in your ear, his voice mixed with the whistling of the air, whooshing past you. 

“I know!” You screamed back. Oh my god. Is he really this dense? 

The song kept playing as you drove, winds calming down as you neared his place. In between the gap of the song switching to the next, Vernon spoke, his calm voice contrastingly the loudness before. 

“I think I’m going to quit the job.” 

You nearly crashed the car at his words, jerking the steering wheel back as you computed his words. “What?”

“I mean,” he turned in his seat to face you, his hair catching the last pieces of moonlight and shimmering against his skin. “I’ve always hated my job. And I already wrote a resignation letter and everything.” 

“Oh.” 

He must’ve noticed your silence, because he quickly continued. “Who knows? I might try being a rockstar or something.” 

“A rockstar?” You let out an astonished laugh. Vernon Chwe seemed to be surprising you at every turn, even when you felt like you'd already figured him out. 

He hummed. “Yeah. It just keeps..calling me, y’know?”

“Well then you should go for it.” You parked into the driveway of his apartment complex and turned to face him. “Really.”

“You think so?” His eyes were sparkling like precious jewels. 

“Yeah. I do.”

Even though you knew that meant your next note would be your last. 

Y/N: -10 Vernon: 3 The universe: -10

The office seemed even colder without the presence of Vernon around you. Even though he had always kept to himself, you could feel the lack of “Vernon” in the atmosphere. How he’d entrance you with the funny way he’d walk down the hall, his countless snack breaks and your shared copier trips. But most of all- it was the lack of notes.

“First day without Mr. Cubicle Number 218, how do you feel?” Anne asked you from her own desk. “Although, I guess he’s not 218 anymore, huh?”

“Yeah.” You stared dejectedly at your computer screen. “This job sucks.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re quitting too.” Anne let out a loud sigh. “I still think you should’ve told him you liked him.”

“I did!” You protested, rather loudly, drawing odd looks from nearby coworkers. 

“You played a sex song in the car.” Anne pointed out, lowering her voice. “That is not confessing.” 

“Well he should’ve put two and two together. The lyrics on the note was from that song.”

Anne laughed. “We’re talking about the male species. They wouldn’t know subtlety if it ran them over with a truck.” 

“Whatever.” You muttered, returning to sulk in front of your giant mountain of paperwork. “He definitely didn’t like me like that anyways.” Sifling through the papers, you sighed. “I’m going to fax these, I’ll be right back.” 

Anne only hummed, too engrossed by whatever she was reading on her phone. 

Opening up the copier, you frowned at the paper already sitting there, a hot pink post-it note with messy handwriting scrawled on it. 

“With all the variables in life, baby can you be my constant?” 

You didn’t remember writing this. 

“Call me ;)” 

A loud laugh escaped you as you covered your mouth, looking around to make sure you hadn’t been caught loitering in the copy room once again. Grabbing your phone from your pocket you fumbled the numbers on the bottom of the note in, raising it to your ear as you listened to it ring. 

“Hello?” You whispered, cupping your hand around your mouth to avoid detection. 

Silence.

“Vernon?” 

The sound of shuffling from the other line reached your ears. “You didn’t think I was just going to leave without saying goodbye, right?”

“Vernon?” 

“Actually, pretend I didn’t say that.” 

Your heart puttered to a stop.

“When can I see you again?” 

Y/N: 0 Vernon: ♾️ The universe: 0

[bussolares]

── CONVERT CONFESSIONS.

ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡ 이희승 x fem! reader content non-idol au double agent au coworkers to lovers jealous heeseung yummy confession one kiss scene ✿ warning just men being men... mentions of guns not proofread. . .!? ˃ᴗ˂ wc 1704 𖦹 mlist and tag list

note. new year and new blog... enjoy this heeseung work from yours truly!

You checked your appearance in the body-length mirror of the hotel room, leaving once you were satisfied with how you were dressed. Heading down to the lobby, you spotted your partner and fellow coworker; Lee Heeseung, already there and well-dressed for the occasion. Your breath hitched in your throat as you got closer to him. The way his pitch-black hair was slicked back, revealing his forehead along with a pair of hoop, small earrings resting on his earlobes made your stomach tighten. 

Hearing your footsteps, he looked in your direction and you took note of how he faltered at the sight of you. His reaction was enough to make you grin, proud that you had rendered him speechless. 

“Hey, are you ready to go?” You asked as you stopped before him, tilting your head to the side. You pretended to not notice how Heeseung’s eyes lingered on your lips before he raised his head. 

“Yeah, let’s get going. Do you still remember the plan?” He lowered his voice, scooting closer to you so other people wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

“Yes, don’t worry. I’ll focus on distracting the target while you hack into the system to extract the files. We’ve gone through this many times,” you replied, raising your hand to tuck a few stray strands of hair behind your ear but Heeseung was faster. 

You froze when you felt his fingers grazed against your skin and then, he dropped his hand before you could savor it. He cleared his throat, pointedly ignoring your gaze. “Good, I was just making sure that we won’t fail this.” 

You sent him a confident smirk as you stepped out of the lobby, heading to one of the awaiting cabs. “As long as I’m here, we won’t fail. Trust me.” 

The mission was simple: you and Heeseung are assigned to extract the encrypted files that are buried deep in the company’s system. The only way to access the system is someone has to sneak to the back, enter the room and hack into it. However, the room is only accessible with a special key card that only the owner of the company: Jiwon, has. This is where you come into play. Your role was to distract him while swiping the key card off, handing it to Heeseung who will sneak into the room. 

It didn’t take you long to arrive at your destination: Shangri-La Hotel, where the formal event is taking place. Both of you were granted entrance from the guard after ticking off your names from the guests list. The ballroom was extravagant and luxurious, packed with men and women dressed in expensive-looking clothes and accessories. You stuck close to Heeseung, eyes doing a quick scan of the crowd and nudged him when you saw your target. 

“On your left, three o’ clock. I’ll get started, you can walk around and stay close,” you whispered into his ear, leaving his side without waiting for his response. 

You grabbed a glass of white champagne from a tray of a passing waiter, idly twirling the glass in your hands as you weaved your way through the crowd. Your ears picked up Jiwon’s laughter and you followed the direction, drawing closer with every step you took. 

“...so much for taking the time to attend this event,” he sincerely thanked one of the guests, a gloved hand resting on his chest as he bowed to a couple. 

When the couple moved away, you took the chance to get closer. You plastered a flirty and coy smile on your face, taking a small sip of your champagne as you cleared your throat. “Hello there, I see you’ve worked hard for this project and I just want to congratulate you.” 

The man turned towards you upon hearing your voice. You saw the way his eyes scanned your figure from head to toe without any ounce of shame and that was enough to make you smirked, partially concealed by your glass. He cleared his throat, flashing you a professional and friendly smile as you stopped before him. 

“Thank you…?” His voice trailed off, unsure of how to address you. 

“Ah, forgive me for my lack of manners. I’m Haerin, nice to meet you,” you smoothly lied through your teeth, reaching out your free hand for a handshake. 

Although, you didn’t expect the other to grab your hand, lifting it up as he bent to kiss your hand instead. You weren’t certain whether your eyes were playing tricks on you or not, considering how his lips lingered longer than usual. You did a quick scan of your surroundings, easily spotting Heeseung who was standing in a corner, holding a glass of red wine in his hand while another hand was shoved into the pocket of his black pants. He arched an eyebrow and you subtly shook your head. 

Jiwon straightened himself, finally letting go of your hand and you’ve never felt more relieved in your life. “So Haerin, how can I help you? Surely a gorgeous woman like you didn’t come here alone.” 

“What the fuck? Is he trying to hit on you?” Heeseung’s annoyed voice was heard from the other end of your in-ear wireless earpiece. It was specially made to match your respective skintones, allowing it to blend in without getting caught. 

You ignored Heeseung, batting your eyelashes at him and to make your act convincing, you stepped forward and rested your hand on his shoulder. The way Jiwon’s eyes glanced down to your hand made you smirked. You knew you had him hooked and all he needed was one final push for him to fall into the palm of your hands. 

“Sorry to disappoint but I am in fact alone. I came here on behalf of my company, who expressed their interest in taking part in your upcoming project. If you’d like, perhaps we can find a quieter place to discuss it. Or,” your voice trailed off, leaning in to whisper into his ears, your voice low and seductive. 

“(Name), I swear to god, don’t you dare do what I think you’re about to do.” 

Jiwon’s eyes darkened and you grinned, grabbing him by the hand and leading him out of the room. You made sure to throw a glance to Heeseung—who was gripping onto his glass of drink so hard to the point he might shatter it. You managed to find an empty room located quite far from where everyone else is. The further you are, the higher chance the success rate will be. You closed the door behind you, turning to Jiwon who had already taken his seat on the edge of the bed. 

“To think today is my lucky day,” he hums, watching you with a hungry glint in his eyes as you approach him with slow, unhurried steps. 

“You’re right. Today is my lucky day,” you replied. 

Jiwon frowned. “Wait, what do—!?” 

Your fist shot forward in a blur, a sharp, calculated strike that connected squarely with his jaw.

The impact echoed with a dull thwack, and his head snapped to the side, his body crumpling like a marionette with its strings cut. He hit the ground hard, out cold, his unfinished sentence fading into silence. You straightened, flexing your knuckles. 

"Guess you didn’t see that coming," you muttered, leaning over his still figure as you try to find the card. 

“(Name), are you alright!?” Heeseung exclaimed, barging into the room without warning. You jumped, startled and shot him a glare, smacking his shoulder as he got closer. 

“Ow, what was that for?” He yelped, rubbing the now sore spot. 

“You idiot, you’re going to get us caught! And I’m fine. Now help me look for the card so we can get this done and over with,” you rolled your eyes. 

Heeseung remained silent for a few moments and you felt guilty, thinking you might have gone overboard when he was merely worried about you. 

“Heeseung, I—”��

You turned to him but you didn’t expect him to kiss you firmly on the lips. Your mind blanked out when you felt his lips pressed against yours. The kiss ended as fast as it began, leaving you speechless as your brain tried to comprehend what just happened. Heeseung looks at you, hands now cupping your face and that was when you saw it. 

Pure love and adoration in his doe-like eyes. 

He smiles. “(Name), I’ve been in love with you ever since we met. The only reason why it took me this long to confess is because I’m scared. I’m scared that we won’t be able to live till tomorrow. I don’t want to live my life without you by my side.” 

Your eyes widened, your heart pounding against your chest as you listened to his confession. 

He chuckles, a bittersweet smile taking over as he moves away, taking your silence as rejection. “It’s fine if you don’t feel the same way—”

“Heeseung, I love you,” you interrupted, cutting him off. The way his head snapped up at lightning speed made you worried that he was going to break his neck. 

“Y-You do?” He stuttered, ears turning red with disbelief written all over his face. 

You chuckled, nodding and this time, you cupped his face in your hands. His eyes fluttered shut, leaning into your touch like a touch-starved kitten. “I’ve always been in love with you, you dumbass. But, I guess we’re both cowards for not confessing, huh.” 

“You know what they say, we’re like peas in a pod.” 

Laughing, you pulled Heeseung in for a kiss and he eagerly returned it. You could feel him smiling into the kiss. While the two of you were having a romantic moment, Jiwon had regained consciousness. He attempted to sneak past the both of you, only for a bullet to narrowingly miss him by an inch. He turned, frightened to the core at the sight of the two of you standing behind him, your respective guns out and aimed at him. 

“Well then, shall we finish this mission so we can go home?” You asked, looking at your partner with a grin. 

Heeseung matched your grin and nodded, taking perfect aim to where Jiwon’s heart was. “We shall, my lady.”

[goddamnitmahtin]

How I think it would go if I ended up inside a tumbler dc x dp universe

Okay so falling through a portal into Crime Alley? Not the worst thing that’s ever happened. Definitely not the best either though. Phone? Gone. Money? Gone. Mental and emotional stability? Was gone before this ever happened. So this is fine…

The dark streets and the sun’s refusal to come out of the clouds literally ever would probably scare most people but honestly it was a nice vacation from bright light. The city itself was gods awful and hella unsafe but hey- it had aesthetic you know? The only thing that really made it hard to live here was the fact that no one wanted to hire me.

“You look like one of them Wayne kids. Don’t even bother with me. Just go back to your mansion and ask Brucie if you need cash.”

Ah. Well. I would if I actually was “one of them Wayne kids.” Alas I was not. Eventually I was rejected enough times that I started to contemplate whether or not “asking Brucie” would actually work. According to locals he seems ditzy enough and adopted more children than he could keep track of. Was it a stupid idea? Absolutely. Was I gonna try it anyways? Fuck yeah.

Anyways that’s how I ended up living in the walls of Wayne Manor for like a month.

…

To be honest? It wasn’t that hard to get in. I looked the part so to speak with black hair and blue eyes so when I hopped into the back seat of a fancy looking limo, the driver just kind of assumed? and drove me right to the manor.

It was late and it seemed like there wasn’t much staff in the house itself. Just some old butler guy that looked like he knew way too much. About what I couldn’t tell you but he had that vibe that he’s seen enough death to know when to not ask questions.

“Master Wayne?” I looked at the man. He totally knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. He had that look in his eye. But he was playing along.

“Uh yeah. I’m just gonna go grab some food real quick and then leave,” maybe if I just bounced from the joint after a meal he wouldn’t tell anyone?

The butler nodded, “I will prepare you a meal then and have it ready for you in the dining room.” Holy shit he was actually playing along for real. Okay well then.

After exploring the place a little, it seemed pretty empty at the moment, I went to the dining room and sure enough this butler guy had actually made me some food. And it was fucking good. After living on the streets for several months at this point, this was the best thing ever.

I ate as much as I could, shoveling food into my face. This was the first real meal I had been able to really eat since spawning into Gotham. Hell it was the first real meal since even before that.

After I ate as much as I could, I stole as many bread rolls I could fit into my pockets and was about to leave just like I had promised I would when I heard voices that did not belong to the butler guy.

I uh… well I didn’t make the best decision when I hopped through the wall to hide. I was expecting to find another room on the other side but no, these wall were thick and I could stand comfortably in the space between the plaster on either side of me, given I didn’t bump into a wire or two that was running along the studs.

I was planning to leave once the coast was clear but ended up passing out as the exhaustion of constantly fighting off muggers and evading goons from various villains (not me mention I hadn’t slept in nearly 72 hours) caught up with me.

After that I just kind of… forgot to leave? It was easy enough to get around the manor just inside the walls and whenever I did need to get somewhere in the manor where people could see me, I was most of the time mistaken for someone else who also lived there.

“Oh hey Dick,” said by a sleep deprived and slightly delirious man I later learned to be named Tim as he headed out one day.

“Tim go to bed,” said by a just as, if not more, sleep deprived man who was older than the rest that I figured was Bruce. He had been in the library and had seen me walk by.

I once got a wave from a blonde girl who seemed to be on a mission to get somewhere.

Only the butler who I learned was called Alfred seemed to really grasp that I was in the house at all. And I knew this because he kept leaving plates of food or cookies or even sometimes small handfuls of candies out for me to find. Sometimes he would even give the wall a little tap to tell me he left me something.

Life in the walls of Wayne Manor was alright enough. That was until I kind of… well I got bored. I figured that if I could pull off pretending to be one of them in passing and even for short conversations, why not try to up the wager a little? For fun.

So during one of the family dinners that they held together sometimes, I just kind of… sat down at the table. And started eating with everyone.

At first it was pretty easy to keep my head down and not be super noticeable. Bruce hardly looked up from his food and everyone else looked too tired to really think about how many people were actually at the table.

That was until a tank of a man walked in and sat at the table, late for the function. He reeked of death. The amount of anger and grief this guy had oozed out of him and it was honestly suffocating.

“Hey B, when did you adopt another one?” Jason asked as he sat down.

“I didn’t-?” Bruce looked up from his food and scanned the table, his eyes eventually falling on me, “… who are you?”

Shit

“Ah- well…” I didn’t get to really explain before Bruce spoke again.

“And why didn’t anyone tell me someone was in our house?”

“Ah well I just kinda assumed,” said Tim.

That got a lot of murmurs of agreement from the rest of the table, Damian giving a pointed, “Given your track record Father, you cannot blame us.”

Bruce sighed and looked back at me, a very tired man, “What are you doing here?”

“I uh… I’m here for the food mostly.” It was all I could really think to say at the moment.

The air hung thick with tension as we all sat silently for a longer time than I was really comfortable with. That was until I heard a familiar voice.

“Hey guys, sorry for being so late. I would have gotten a ride from Jason but I had to work a little later than I wanted to.”

Motherfucker.

I whipped my head around to look at the man that just walked in, “DANNY?!”

[the-writerwoman]

Finally got round to writing! Just been busy 😂

Here’s the Drabble for the prompt I made myself of if Wade and Logan had a one night stand, and then Wade starts his new job the next day to find out that Logan is his boss!

I still need to write out chapter 4 of What we once were. I’ll try and get that out at some point today or tomorrow 😊

Lets go!

—————————

The bar was humming with quiet energy, the low-key, buzzing atmosphere made people feel like they could unwind or get into a little trouble. Wade strolled in, his sharp eyes scanning the room as he slid onto a stool at the far end of the bar. He ordered a whiskey neat and let his gaze wander, taking in the usual crowd. Couples leaning too close, coworkers unwinding after a long day, and a few loners nursing drinks.

That’s when he saw him.

Stood near the bar, drink in hand, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as he surveyed the room was one of the most handsome men Wade had ever seen. His leather jacket looked well-worn, as though it had been through a lifetime of stories, and the subtle way his fingers curled around his glass gave off the impression of someone who knew how to handle himself. Wade couldn’t help but be intrigued. The guy looked serious, intense even, but there was something about him that screamed challenge.

Wade liked a challenge.

Grabbing his drink, Wade slid off his stool and made his way over, adopting a casual lean against the bar near him. He waited a beat for the man to glance his way, and when he didn’t, Wade decided to make his move.

“Hey there,” Wade began, his tone confident but playful. “You must be a magician, because every time I look at you, everyone else disappears.”

The man blinked, slowly turning his head to look at Wade. His dark eyes flicked over him, assessing, and for a moment, Wade wondered if he was about to get told to fuck off, which was quite common. To Wade’s delight, the man’s lips twitched, and he let out a low, unexpected chuckle.

“That usually work?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip of his drink.

Wade grinned, unflappable. “Depends on how many drinks the person’s had. You seem like a tough crowd, though, so I figured I’d start strong.”

The man shook his head, his smirk widening slightly. “Strong? That’s what you call that?”

“Oh, you think that’s bad?” Wade replied, leaning in just enough to close the space between them without crowding. “I’ve got worse. Wanna hear another one?”

The man tilted his head, as though debating whether to humor him. After a beat, he nodded. “Alright. Hit me.”

Wade straightened, his grin turning mischievous. “Are you a parking ticket? Because you’ve got ‘fine’ written all over you.”

The man actually laughed this time, a low, rumbling sound that sent a little thrill through Wade’s chest. “That’s terrible,” he said, shaking his head. “You really go around saying stuff like that to people?”

“Only the good-looking ones,” Wade shot back without missing a beat. “Lucky you, huh?”

The man took another sip of his drink, his smirk lingering. “You always this cheesy?”

“You have no idea,” Wade replied, swirling the whiskey in his glass. “But hey, at least I made you laugh. That’s gotta count for something, right?”

The man gave him a long, measuring look, as though trying to figure him out. “It does,” he admitted finally. “Most people don’t even try to talk to me, let alone… whatever this is.”

“It’s called charm,” Wade said with mock seriousness. “Look it up. But don’t worry, I’m here to make up for all those missed opportunities.”

The man shook his head, clearly amused despite himself. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“Stick around, and you’ll find out just how much ‘something else’ I can be,” Wade said with a wink.

The man regarded him with a thoughtful look before deciding on something. He stuck out his hand.

“Logan.”

Wade grinned like he won a prize. He clasped Logan’s hand, giving it a firm shake.

“Wade.”

The drinks kept coming, and with each one, their conversation grew easier, more comfortable. Wade talked about his favorite terrible movies, his inexplicable love for pineapple on pizza (“Don’t judge me—it’s a bold choice, like me!”), and the time he accidentally got locked in a walk-in freezer for an hour during his first job. Logan, in turn, shared snippets of his life, his love of the outdoors, his tendency to collect books he never quite found the time to read, and his fondness for classic rock.

“You’re full of surprises, you know that?” Wade said at one point, swirling his drink. “I figured you for the silent, mysterious type. Turns out you’re kind of an open book.”

Logan smirked. “Only for the people who bother to read.”

Wade leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. “Well, I hope you’ve got a long sequel planned, because I’m hooked.”

Logan chuckled, his gaze lingering on Wade for a moment longer than necessary. “You’re relentless,” he said again, but there was no edge to it this time. Just quiet admiration.

“Only when it’s worth it,” Wade replied softly, the usual teasing edge in his voice replaced with something more genuine.

By the time the bar began to wind down, the two of them had migrated to a corner booth, their drinks forgotten as they talked about anything and everything. Logan leaned back against the worn leather, his posture more relaxed than it had been all night, while Wade gestured animatedly as he recounted another ridiculous story from his past.

“You’re something else,” Logan said finally, his voice low but warm.

Wade’s grin widened. “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“It is,” Logan said simply, his gaze steady. “A big one.”

For once, Wade was momentarily speechless, the sincerity in Logan’s tone catching him off guard. He quickly recovered, though, flashing a cheeky smile. “Careful, Logan. That could be classed as flirting.”

Logan leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Maybe I am.”

The air between them shifted, the playful banter giving way to something quieter, more charged. Wade felt his heart skip a beat, but he played it off with a soft laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m into it.”

Logan chuckled, nodding toward the door. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

Wade arched an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re making the moves? Bold. I like it.”

Logan smirked, standing and grabbing his jacket. “Let’s just say you’ve charmed me into seeing where this goes.”

Wade laughed, following him out of the bar. “Oh, Babycakes, you have no idea what you’ve signed up for.”

As they stepped into the cool night air, Wade felt a rush of excitement unlike anything he’d felt in a long time.

~~

Wade woke up to the faint light of early morning, the blue between night and day, casting soft shadows over the room. For a moment, he didn’t move as he stared at the ceiling. His body still ached pleasantly from the night before, and he felt a warmth in his chest that he wasn’t used to. A warmth that had everything to do with the man sleeping beside him.

Turning his head, Wade looked at Logan. He was still fast asleep, his chest rising and falling steadily, his face soft and peaceful. He looked younger like this than he did last night, the hard edges of last night smoothed out by sleep. Wade smiled despite himself, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and trace the curve of Logan’s jaw.

But then reality hit.

This was just a one-night thing, Wade reminded himself. A bit of fun. That’s all it was meant to be. Logan didn’t strike him as the type to be looking for anything serious, and Wade wasn’t exactly great at sticking around when things got complicated. Better to leave now before there were any awkward goodbyes or lingering looks that could mess things up.

Carefully, Wade slipped out from under Logan’s arm, holding his breath as he moved. Logan stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent, but didn’t wake. Wade quickly pulled on his clothes, glancing around the room as he debated leaving a note.

No. Better clean break. He didn’t want to risk Logan feeling obligated to reach out just because Wade left something behind.

With one last glance at Logan, still sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware, Wade slipped out of the apartment and into the cool morning air.

~~

Logan woke a few hours later, stretching lazily as the memories of the night before came flooding back. A small smile tugged at his lips as he rolled over, expecting to find Wade still there.

But the bed was empty.

Logan blinked, his smile faltering as he reached out, his hand landing on the cool, rumpled sheets. He sat up, glancing around the room. “Wade?” he called, his voice rough from sleep.

There was no response.

He got out of bed, grabbing a pair of sweatpants as he wandered through the apartment. The living room was empty, the bathroom door was wide open, and the kitchen was untouched. It didn’t take long for the realization to sink in. Wade was gone.

Logan’s heart sank as he leaned against the kitchen counter, running a hand through his hair. He’d had such a good time last night. Not just the physical part, though that had been incredible, but the way Wade had made him laugh, the way they’d clicked so effortlessly. He’d been looking forward to seeing where it might go, maybe even suggesting breakfast together.

But there was no note, no message, not even a phone number left behind. Just the empty echo of the best night he’d had in a while.

Logan sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee and staring out the window. Disappointment settled heavy in his chest, and though he tried to shake it off, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d read things wrong. Maybe Wade had just been looking for a bit of fun, nothing more.

Still, as Logan sipped his coffee, he couldn’t quite shake the hope that their paths might cross again. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Wade had left an impression, one Logan wasn’t likely to forget anytime soon.

~~

Wade adjusted his tie nervously, still feeling the faint sting of guilt from slipping out of Logan’s apartment the previous morning. But he pushed it to the back of his mind. New day, new start, he told himself. Today was his first day at a new job, a marketing company that seemed promising, with good pay and plenty of room for growth. He was determined to make a good impression and keep his focus on work.

He was shown to his cubicle, a small but tidy space surrounded by the usual buzz of office life. Wade spent a few minutes setting up his desk, arranging his pens and notebooks just so, before logging into his computer. He was just starting to familiarize himself with the company software when, about an hour later, a meeting was called.

“Conference room, nine sharp,” a colleague said, leaning over the edge of Wade’s cubicle. “Everyone on the team’s required.”

Wade nodded, grabbing a notebook and pen before joining the stream of employees heading toward the meeting room. He took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and walked inside.

And immediately froze.

Standing at the front of the room, dressed impeccably in a tailored suit that clung to him in all the right ways, was Logan. His hair was neatly styled, his broad shoulders filling out the jacket perfectly, and he exuded an air of authority that made Wade’s stomach flip.

Logan noticed him almost instantly, his eyes widening briefly in shock before he quickly schooled his expression into a mask of professionalism. He turned his attention to the boss at the head of the table, his jaw tight but otherwise unreadable.

Wade felt his blood drain from his face as he took a seat near the back, his mind racing. No. No, no, no. This cannot be happening. He’d known he was starting a new job, but he hadn’t known Logan worked here. And from the looks of it, Logan wasn’t just an employee, he was in charge.

As the meeting began, Wade’s stomach sank further when the boss at the head of the table introduced himself and began outlining the company structure. Wade quickly realized the man speaking wasn’t his direct boss. He was the head of the department. And his actual boss, the person who’d be overseeing his team directly, was none other than Logan.

Wade swore silently in his head. Of all the jobs in the city…

He avoided looking at Logan throughout the meeting, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his notebook and scribbling aimlessly. But he could feel Logan’s gaze on him every so often, and the weight of it made his skin prickle.

When the meeting finally ended, Wade bolted for the door, keeping his head down as he made his way back to his desk. His heart was pounding, and his mind was spinning with the sheer absurdity of the situation.

[eyneyke]

Sam is back online!

Pairing: Max Verstappen x PewDiePie!sibling Summary: What if Felix had a genius brother who works as a RedBull's engineer and is also secretly dating Max part 34 of A Calm to my Storm Masterlist

[Felix's vlog starts]

Felix(laughing while running down the street): “Guys, Jack just told me it’s the off week for F1, which means my genius brother Sam is back in the UK! He just texted me that he’s home, so you know what time it is—I'm barging in again. Time for some chaos!”

[Camera shows Felix bursting into Sam’s flat]

Felix: “Saaaam! Where are you?”

[Camera pans to Sam half under a table, searching for something. Sam jumps, hitting his head on the table]

Sam(groaning): “Felix, I swear—one of these days, I’m going to steal my key back from you.”

Felix(laughing): “And yet, you haven’t. What are you doing under there, anyway?”

Sam(rubbing his head sarcastically): “Oh, just looking for a screw that apparently decided it didn’t want to deal with this family anymore. You know, the usual.”

Felix: “Well, I thought I’d come over since you’re finally back in the UK. You down for a stream later with Jack?”

Sam: “Sure, why not? I’ve only got a million things to do, but hey, I’ve got time for your nonsense.”

[Felix's phone rings—it's Jack. Felix puts him on speaker]

Jack(excitedly): “SAM! Dude, you’re a legend! What you pulled last weekend? Man, that was insane! I can’t believe how you—"

Felix(interrupting): “Wait, wait—what happened last weekend? What are you guys talking about?”

Jack: “Oh, you don’t know? Sam practically worked a miracle! Max went from dead last to winning the race, and Sam—”

Sam(cutting Jack off quickly): “It’s nothing, Jack. No big deal. Just a regular weekend at the office.”

Felix(frowning): “Wait, what? Max? What miracle?”

Sam(dismissing it): “Nothing you need to worry about. Anyway, are we streaming, or are you here to get a crash course on my job?”

Felix(laughing): “Okay, okay. Moving on—what are you doing down there under the table?”

Sam( grinning, leaning back from under the table): “Unlike you, I like to keep tabs on what my brother is up to when I’m away. I watched your last video during a break a couple weekends ago, and Max and I… Well, let’s just say we were not impressed.”

Felix(mock gasp): “Excuse me? What was wrong with my video?”

Sam(teasing): “Oh, you know… only that it looked like it was filmed on a potato. So, since I care about your image, I’m building you a new PC.”

Felix(laughing): “You and Max critiquing my video quality? Harsh, man.”

Sam(smirking): “Hey, I’m just looking out for you. Can’t have my famous brother’s content looking like it came out of 2010. Besides, if I have to suffer through watching it, at least make it bearable.”

[Comments start rolling in on the vlog/live]

@SamFanGirl: “OMG Sam being so nonchalant about saving a race and roasting Pewds’ setup at the same time?? I stan.”

@Formula1Nerd: “Wait, Felix doesn’t even know what happened last weekend? He doesn’t follow F1??”

@ThirstyForSam: “Sam casually saying he watched Pewds’ last video with Max Verstappen like it’s NBD… and also, can we talk about Sam in Red Bull gear? 😍”

@PewdsNation: “Sam’s like, ‘I rebuilt a car and made Max win, no big deal,’ and now he’s fixing PewDiePie’s PC. This man can do it all!”

---

Felix(laughing): “So, you’re building me a new PC just because of one video?”

Sam(deadpan): “No, Felix, I’m building you a new PC because your current one is an insult to the entire tech community.”

Felix(laughing harder): “Alright, alright, I get it! How long until it’s ready?”

Sam(mock serious): “Depends… how many more times are you going to barge in while I’m working?”

Felix: “Touché. I’ll leave you to it—for now.”

---

[Comments continue]

@TeamSam: “Sam casually dragging Pewds’ tech setup while being a race-saving genius—what a legend!”

@F1Insider: “Jack wanted to hype Sam up, but Sam’s like ‘nah, it’s nothing.’ Can we all be this humble, please?”

@PewdsFanClub: “I need Jack’s reaction to every race from now on. No excuses.”

@FanForLife: “Sam literally saved Max’s race, but he’s more concerned about Felix’s PC quality. What a guy!”

[thevoidstaredback]

Danny was not having a Good Time™ but he also wasn’t having a Bad Time™. He was stuck in an idle limbo between the two where he was both numb and not. It didn’t really make sense to him, either.

Somewhere between stumbling upon the Justice League Dark and coming to live in the House of Mysteries full time, Danny found himself seeing the group as something akin to family. He was starting to see them as part of his Fraid and it scared him because good things don’t happen to his Fraid. Sure, nothing inherently dangerous happens, but nothing really good happens, either.

He didn’t like that the House had picked up on his feelings because that meant that it was now making sure he was encountering the rest of the JLD whenever any of them were visiting. Constantine and Deadman were the two he saw the most, but that’s only because they, like him, are almost permanent residents.

Constantine ripping into the Justice League did not help his feelings on the matter of his Fraid. The same man now knowing what happened to his family as well as what he looks like in both forms isn’t helping, either. He doesn’t regret letting John see him as Danny, though.

“Have you seen the security footage from the last League Meeting?” Billy asked around his sandwich.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Danny sipped his coffee. It still needs vodka. “And, no, I haven’t. Anything I should worry about?”

Billy swallowed his food, grabbed his League communicator from his jacket’s inner pocket, and pulled up the footage. “It’s actually really funny,” He handed the device over so Danny could watch. “Much funnier on a halo screen, but it’s funny like this, too.”

He had to admit that watching Constantine rip the heroes a new one was really funny. “I have never seen any of them look so cowed before.”

“Right?” He stashed the communicator away again, drinking his lemonade at the same time. “I think Batsy-boy actually took home the powerpoint to study. Do you think he took notes?”

Danny hummed, “I don’t know Batsy-babe all that well, but I wouldn’t doubt that he’s taking notes. From what I do know about him, he’s probably gonna make everyone that operates in Gotham memorize the thing.”

“And how do you feel about that?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, they’re looking at information sensitive to you and your home and people. They could find something to use against you. We all know what Bat-dad is like.”

He shrugged. “There isn’t any way into the Realms that I’m not monitoring. And any information that Batman thinks he can use against me can’t be used against me.”

“How do ya mean?”

“I’ve seen what I can become and I know what happens if I ever become him. I already have so many plans in place to prevent the worst- Bat-mad will be Bat-sad to figure out that nothing he could try and use against me would work, no matter what he tries.”

“Do I, um, even want to know?”

“No, probably not.”

“Okay.” A beat. “Hey, you can’t just tack on a word after ‘bat’ to describe him! That’s not how this game works!”

Danny smirked. “Aw, are you bat-mad? Are you gonna throw a bat-fit?”

Bill glared, getting ready to lunge. “I’ll show you a bat-fit! Get over here, asshole!”

Bill launched himself across the picnic table they were sitting at. Danny caught him, letting the both of them fall backwards, though he used a bit of flight to catch them before hitting the ground. In the same move, the two rolled over each other for a few feet.

After a few minutes, Danny had Billy pinned to the grass, his knee on his chest. “You gonna raise the white bat-flag?”

“As if B-man would surrender with a bat-flag.” Bill scoffed.

“Oh? What’re you gonna do about it, adoption bait?”

“This, old hag!”

Billy drew his knee back, hitting Danny’s back and sending him off balance. Once free, Billy pushed himself from the ground, spun to face his faux opponent, then relaunched himself at him.

Once again, Danny caught Billy, but he didn’t let them fall. Instead, with the young boy’s hands on his shoulders, he lifted him by his waist effortlessly and carried him back to where they had been eating.

Billy huffed when he was set back down, crossing his arms and looking away. “Coward.”

Danny raised an eyebrow as he retook his own seat. “You wouldn’t’ve beaten me anyway.”

“I totally would’ve won!”

“Big words coming from a toddler.”

“Yeah, maybe from you, old man. You’re older than time itself!”

“Hey! I’ve met Time, and I’ll have you know that he is not old.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yes.”

“You must be ancient if even a concept is younger than you!”

“Oh, you little brat! You’re gonna eat your words, ya hear me?”

“Threatening a child?” Billy put his hand on his chest, his expression offended. “I could have you arrested for that!”

Danny scoffed. “How’re you gonna call? The Ghostbusters?”

Billy shrugged. “I was thinking more along the lines of Young Justice.”

Danny closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “They’re coming up behind me, aren’t they?” It was less of a question and more of a resigned statement.

“Yep!”

“At least they don’t know who we are?”

“I speak only for myself, man.”

Danny groaned and bit into what was left of his sandwich. He’d much rather delay the inevitable if ignoring the teen hero team didn’t make them go away. Unfortunately, luck was not on his side.

“Daniel Fenton?” Red Robin, dressed in civilian clothing, asked.

Danny didn’t react. Instead, he washed down his food with some more spiked coffee. It needed more vodka.

Superboy - Danny would know a Kryptonian’s strength anywhere - put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you Daniel Fenton?”

He turned with the hand, swinging his legs over the bench and leaning against the table to face the group. “Depends on who’s asking.”

Red Robin stuck his hand out for a handshake as Superboy stepped back to join Impulse and Wonder Girl. “Tim Drake, it’s nice to meet you.”

“No it’s not.” Danny didn’t even try to hide his appraising expression as he looked the four up and down, his gaze jumping between them all for a few seconds before he flipped back around, ignoring Tim’s handshake. “Be careful how you share your name with,” he patted the seat next to him, “Red Robin.” He sensed the four behind him stiffen as he shared a look with Billy who nodded slightly at him.

The four heroes sat on benches, Red Robin and Superboy beside Danny while Wonder Girl and Impulse sat beside Billy. “How did you..?”

“I’m not an idiot. Your disguises may work on everyone else, but I - as I’m sure you know - can see your souls. And, as much as I’m sure it pains Bat-lad, your soul is the one thing that can never be changed.”

“Really?” Impulse asked.

“No, that’s all bullshit,” he admitted with a shrug, “Thanks for confirming it, though!” He only knew because Billy knows them all because of a string of unfortunate identity reveals. They don’t know who he is, though.

Tim shared a look with his teammates. “So we were right, then. You’re Phantom.”

Billy, ever the drama queen, gasped with his entire body, his right hand slapping against his chest. “You lied to me? A child? You said you weren’t a superhero!”

Danny snorted at the shocked looks from the four teenagers. He kicked Billy. “Come off it, kid, you knew already. Don’t give them another reason to keel over.”

“You told him who we are!” Wonder Girl accused.

“No, he told me who you are,” Danny corrected, “I just rolled with the punches.” He finished off his coffee. “Honestly, you guys make it too easy.”

The group spluttered. Finally, Tim cleared his throat. “I, um, just wanted to apologize-”

“Okay.”

“I- ‘okay’?”

“Yep. ‘Okay’.”

Tim blinked. “Cool, um…Sorry for being insensitive-”

“And that’s where I’m taking my cue to leave.” Danny said, standing up.

“What?” Superboy asked, “Why? He hasn’t even said anything yet.”

“Because I know how the rest of this is gonna play out, and frankly, I want no part of it.” He picked up his trash, Billy doing the same. “You’re gonna apologize and think everythings perfectly fine and you’re going to ask even more invasive questions under the assumption that forgiveness means you can do it all over again. I hate to break it to you, but that’s not how this works.”

“I wasn’t-”

“If you were really honest in your apology,” He took a piece of chalk from his pocket. “-then you wouldn’t’ve sought me out as a civilian.” He was quick to draw a door on the grass, the chalk somehow sticking. “Thank you, Tim, for blowing my cover. If I find out that any of you four have told anyone, I will reign hell upon you all. Now, if you’ll excuse us.” He reached down and grasped the now 3D door handle, twisting it and pulling the door open. Before he and Billy jumped through it, he looked over his shoulder at the four. “You’re not forgiven, if that wasn’t obvious. Try again after you’ve looked through Constantine’s powerpoint; he’s much more knowledgeable than you.” The door closed with a click behind him, the chalk dust absorbing into the dirt.

Part 10 Part 12

[vulpinesaint]

MAN i forgot how hard it is to get the incoming kindergarteners to listen sometimes. very sorry that you are so small and your auditory functions are not great yet and also that you probably speak another language at home. i fr need you to put your listening ears on though buddy i can only repeat myself so many times there's thirty other children in this camp group and we've got places to be 😭

[oflgtfol]

literally what the fuck is in the air lately ive had three guys being weird at me within the past three weeks. thats one guy a week. Stop fucking being weird

[welcometogrouchland]

I'm on hiatus from thinking for the next while. Discursive and analytical fandom practices I love you so so much you are in everything I do, including the silliest of headcanons and comics but FUCK I am not equipped to think about. Anything right now

[strayheat]

im starting to feel the "dead" in deadlines

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

That guy in the van has more of a social media presence than he realizes.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Danny the Guy Who Won't Die

He lives in Gotham, and he is just A Guy. Nothing weird about him, he's just there to study/work/help Lady Gotham to lift her curse/on vacation with Sam. Point is, he is not there to cause trouble and there's no GIW on his tail. Just a dude living his (after)life.

And Gotham, being Gotham, still finds a way to be annoying. There are mugging attempts, robbery, Rogues running around. Only Danny really doesn't want to deal with any of it.

Now there's a dilemma. If he uses his powers to fight, it will sooner or later come to Bats' attention. And if he fights as a human, it will also alert some of the Bats since he doesn't really do a great job at keeping his power levels low. Not to mention the fact he is really not enthusiastic about accidentally punching someone hard enough he sends them to a hospital.

What does he do instead? He pulls the 'I guess I'll die' act.

So every time he is attacked, he just plays dead. The mugger shot him in the chest? He falls down and stops breathing. Caught up in the middle of a Poison Ivy attack? Skewers himself on the vine and goes lax. Scarecrow's Fear Gas? Very dramatically chokes himself and plays a corpse. He makes sure to disappear before any ambulances arrive later, and it all goes well for a few months - he is just a casualty, who cares, really - until one day, he runs into that same mugger who shot him in the chest a while ago.

The man does a double take. Danny doesn't notice - he's been mugged so many times, who has the brain capacity to remember all of those fuckers. But the rumor goes out anyway.

A guy-who-won't-die. It's more of a city legend, really, and the Bats don't give it much thought since, well, it sounds stupid and not very important. A rumor of some man who was shot dead and then showed up like nothing happened? Yeah, it's probably because the mugger didn't check if he was actually dead. That happens. Maybe it wasn't even the same man, Gotham is a big city. If anything, hey, at least that was one less casualty? That's a good thing.

That is, until one day, they show up to Joker's hostage situation and witness the clown screaming at one of the hostages. He is so enraged he is shaking, spit flying out of his mouth, and, contrary to the usual Joker's evil sneers and maniacal laughter, he seems just... furious. But, like, the normal-human-level furious. The 'I just lost the last ounce of patience with you' furious.

"Don't you look away from me, you think I don't remember you?! Na-ah, I do. You were the one I drowned in the shark tank last week! And you were the one run through the chainsaw trap two weeks before that! And you were in the guillotine!!! I saw your fucking head get deattached from your body, how the fuck are you here again?!"

And the guy he is screaming at just looks at him, confused and incomprehensive.

"Um, I'm pretty sure I'd remember getting my head cut off, you know? So, err, wrong guy."

"Wrong guy my fucking ass-"

Joker is so distracted by his screaming match that it makes it almost too easy for the Bats to fight him down and drag to Arkham. Yet, a few of them get just a bit suspicious.

Now, imagine all the shenanigans when they try keeping a watch on Danny the Won't Die Guy.

[endlessthxxghts]

Biology

“Uncle”!Joel Miller x afab!reader | w/c: 5.4k

Summary: Joel hurt his back at work, so you've been helping him around the house until he heals.

Content/Warnings: able-bodied, female sex anatomy, and inherently fem!reader. No description of reader, everything is neutral (ex. “your bottoms,” “the curve of you” — nothing is specific in the way “you” are described). Age gap (reader early 20s, Joel in 50s). EXPLICIT MATERIAL PRESENT. HEED THE WARNINGS. WEIRD boundaries are crossed…you're not blood-related to Joel, but you were raised like you were. You call him “uncle.” Pet names (baby, darlin’, sweetheart, etc.). Pussy pronouns (she). Innocent touches until it isn't. Sexual tension galore. Slight dub-con. Icky Joel. Icky reader. Pussy grinding. Dirty talk. Slight degradation (“bitch” is used only once). Multiple orgasms. P in V unprotected. Reader is on top. Lots of teasing about the nature of yours and Joel’s relationship. If there’s anything that should be up here but I missed or I made any improper tags, please let me know!

A/N: Hi, my loves! This is slightly different than what you’re used to coming from me… All I can say is, you’ve read the warnings! Don’t bite if it is not your flavor! But for those who do like, I really hope you enjoy! And to my love @strang3lov3, thank you for prompting this and encouraging this side of my brain to finally stop hiding in the shadows. And thank you for your eyes on this and the mood board as well. I love you.🩶

masterlist | notifs blog

“Hey, hon, when you headin’ over to uncle Joel’s?”

You glance at the timer on the oven. “In about ten minutes after these cookies cool. Need something from me?”

“Can ya grab my toolbox before ya leave? Forgot it there the other day,” he replies. “Figured you could get it since you’re already goin’ there today.”

“Sure thing. It’s not the heavy one, is it? Because I don’t know if that old man’s back is ready for a heavy lift like that yet.” The timer on the oven beeps. You slide on your oven mitts to pull the tray out. “Made two batches by the way. How many you want? I’m taking some to Uncle’s, too.” 

About a week ago, Joel had a contracting accident. Some newbie wasn’t watching the older man’s back as Joel climbed up a wobbly ladder, and the next moment, Joel’s footing slipped. He landed right on his lower back, a piece of wood perched on the ground, sitting at just the right spot on the floor to render him immobile. Tommy, Joel’s younger brother, and your father, his best friend since before you were born, are the only two Joel trusts to get the job done perfectly, so Joel put them two in charge until he heals. 

Bed rest, the doctor had ordered Joel, for at least three weeks. It’s been one so far, but with you offering to be his nurse — one that forces him to stay in bed unless he needs to eat or use the restroom — he thinks he just might be back to work by next week. If you’ll let him, that is. 

“No, it’s the small one, hon, you got it,” your father reassures you. He lovingly slaps his growing belly as the trays hit the kitchen counter. “Y’know, darlin’, ever since you moved back, I’ve been gainin’ some weight. Can’t imagine what you’re doin’ t’ Joel over there.”

Your lip pulls up in a smirk. “Joel is in good hands, y’know. And technically, I don’t have to leave you any,” you say with a challenging brow, pulling the cookie trays out of his reach. 

“No, no, I’m not sayin’ that,” your father’s eyebrows raise in worry. His daily cookie is very important to him. “You can leave me like… five… or six.” 

“I’m just gonna leave you a whole batch. The six are gonna be gone before I even leave the house,” you tell your father as his hand subconsciously reaches for the cookie tray. 

He scoffs, “Ya have no faith in me.”

“So what’s in your hand already?”

“Whatever,” he mumbles, walking away with a mouthful of warm cookie dough and melted milk chocolate chips. 

“Uh huh,” you yell back. “Gonna be leaving in just a sec. I’ll see you later.”

It takes less than ten minutes to get to your uncle’s house. You unlock the door using the spare key he gave you as a teenager, and immediately, nurse mode is activated. 

“Uncle Joel!” You yell, exasperated. He turns around from his place in the kitchen, painfully slow. He’s going to make his back worse. “What do you think you’re doing?” You place the fresh cookies on his dining table along with your keys. You cross your arms angrily for good measure. 

“My coffee’s cold. I was warmin’ it up,” he huffs, annoyed.

“Bed, please.” Your hands find his waist, and you guide him back to his room. “You know I’m here around this time. You didn’t wanna call me first to see where I was?”

You ease him in a sitting position at the edge of his bed. He grunts as his ass meets the mattress. He grumbles his response. “Need to start gettin’ back to everythin’ independently, y’know that, don’tcha?”

“Is your memory going with your back, too, unc?” 

“‘Scuse me?” He looks at you incredulously. 

“Three weeks were the doctor’s orders. Not one,” you tell him, putting your foot down. 

He lays himself down with another wince at the motion, no acknowledgement to your words. God, he’s so stubborn. 

“I’ll go make you a fresh cup,” you tell him, feeling sympathetic for the man. His work is his life, and it’s not going to get any easier with age. 

Making your way back to his kitchen, you wash out the coffee pitcher, replace the grounds and the filter, and do some light cleaning as you wait for the bitter, brown liquid to brew. 

It’s only been five minutes since you returned to the kitchen, and the painful moans and groans from his bedroom have only gotten louder. You search around the place and find the heat pack you bought a few days ago and pop it in the microwave. You grab some pain meds, fill up a glass of water, and just in time, the microwave sings to you, telling you your contents are ready. 

Ignoring the coffee for a moment, you make your way back to Joel’s bedroom. His eyes are closed, but his entire body is tensed up in pain. Poor guy. You knock at his door to catch his attention before entering. “Unc?”

One eye peels open. “Yes, nurse?”

“Funny.” A sarcastic laugh leaves your throat. “Come take these.”

He makes no move to get up. 

You set the painkillers and the water on his bedside table, the heat pack wedged underneath your armpit. You start to reach for Joel to help him up, but he stops you. “I got it,” he grunts. You let him have this win. 

You hand him the glass of water first, then the pills. He swallows the painkillers in one big gulp, swallowing down the rest of the water in another. He eyes the heat pack in your arm. 

“Do you want-”

“Yes,” he says immediately, reaching for the soft warmth. 

“Lay down first, I’ll put it underneath you.”

Without another word, he positions himself. His body jerks when your soft hand slips underneath his back, pushing him to lift a little while you slide the heat underneath. “This okay?”

“Mhm,” he forces out, eyes clamped shut. It’s not okay, you think. 

“How would you feel on your stomach?” you suggest. 

“Dunno. Never tried.”

“Well, then.” You set the heat pack down, and it’s your turn to crawl, uninvited, into his bed. You walk on your knees towards the opposite, unoccupied side, adjusting the pillows in a way you think might be the most comfortable. This isn’t your first rodeo dealing with an old man’s back; you’ve got your dad. This is, however, your first rodeo dealing with an old man more stubborn than a screaming goat not getting his way. “Come on.”

“No.” 

“What do you mean no?” 

“That ain’t gonna be comfortable.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose and take a deep breath. “I swear to God. I will flip your ass over myself if I have to.”

“You’re bossy,” he spits.

“So you’ve said.” 

Not giving him a chance to prepare, you hook your one hand at his side and your other on his hip, and you pull him towards you. It doesn’t fully flip him over, but it does the trick in getting him to finish the rest of the action himself — albeit, with a very strained yelp from the back of his throat. 

He groans for a few minutes more as you adjust some flat pillows underneath his belly and then prop the lukewarm heating back right at the base of his spine. You’ll probably have to heat it up in ten minutes again, but it’ll do for now. You stay in your spot for a minute, and already his pained noises begin to subside. 

“Better?” You know it is. You just want him to admit it. 

And when a single huff with zero protests from the grumpy man reverberates around the room, you know you’ve won this round. 

“I’ll go get your coffee now,” you hum. 

A soft rasp of your name has you spinning back around as you reach the room’s threshold. 

“Hm?”

“Thanks,” he tells you. 

“It’s what I’m here for, unc.”

You put his fresh cup of coffee in a thermos this time. You can’t imagine how often he’ll get up being in this position, but at least the freshness will be there with every sip he does end up taking. 

“How’s it going?” You ask him as you set his coffee nearby. You feel the heat pack on his spine, and it’s as you called it to be by now: room temperature. “Want me to reheat it?” 

“‘M okay,” he replies, voice groggy. He must’ve fallen asleep. 

“Okay.” You stand there for a moment. You can tell the heat helped, but his body isn’t entirely relaxed. He’s still tense, as if a nerve or something is being pinched. 

You recall your memory from a while ago before you moved back with your dad. Your brother, who is a mixed martial arts athlete, had a sparring session that hurt his back, nearly in the same area as Joel. He had you running his massage gun over his muscles nearly every night for a month straight. “It needs to uncoil somehow,” he told you. An idea crosses your mind then. 

You saunter to Joel’s en suite bathroom in search of some type of lubricant. Sitting loud and proud on the center of the bathroom counter is a little bottle of Equate’s Personal Liquid Lubricant. Your brain falters for a second, the bottle of lube throwing you off your original plan. That is absolutely not the kind of lubricant you were looking for. Shaking away the image from your mind, you bend down to look in the cabinets underneath. Bingo, a bottle of Aveeno body lotion. This should do. 

You invite yourself onto his bed for the second time today. “Let me give you a massage.”

“What?” His head turns to you now, utterly confused. He definitely heard you wrong, he thinks. 

“Let me give you a massage,” you repeat. “It’ll help.”

A massage actually does sound nice right now. But you’ve been nothing but bossy this last week while Joel lays here helplessly. He’s bored. And he’s had enough. “It ain’t gonna help.”

“How do you know?”

“I jus’ do.”

Jesus. Haven’t you had this conversation before? You mentally slap your forehead. Again, leaving him no other options, you reach for his flannel atop his shoulders and begin to pull them down. 

“Hey, hey, wait, now what in the hell-” He tries to stifle back a laugh as he wriggles in your hold, trying to playfully push you off without hurting himself more in the process. 

You quickly release his clothes, hands up in surrender where he can see them. You’re just realizing now just how forward your action must’ve been. “How am I gonna massage you-” 

The embarrassment written all over your face has Joel tearing up as he tries to hold his wheezing laugh in. With his eyebrow quirked at you, he responds, “If you wanted me naked, kiddo-”

“Jesus, ew! Really?” An unbearable heat spreads across your cheeks. Your eyes are downcast, looking everywhere else but him. “It- it’ll be better if I can directly touch-”

Only then do you feel the bed shaking with his laughter. He’s fucking with you. And here you were, about to offer something that would relieve a whole lot of pain. “Oh, fuck you,” you scoff, pulling yourself up and making your way off of his bed. 

“No, okay, wait,” he laughs, trying to catch his breath. “Jus’ messin’ with you, who am I to deny a massage?” He raises his eyebrows once, twice. Still messing with you, seeing how far his taunting with you can go. 

“You’re disgusting,” you deadpan. 

“‘M not the one tryin’ t’ massage her uncle,” Joel says as he attempts to shrug his shoulders at you.

“I’m gonna leave now.” One foot makes it to the ground before Joel speaks again. 

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, ya can’t take a joke? I’m only messin’ around. Come back. Gonna leave me hangin’? In pain? C’mon, nurse.” His tone falls softer, sweeter. You can hear the shit-eating grin in his words. And, fuck, why is it making you heat even further, in places beyond your face? In places you shouldn’t be?

“Fine,” you relent. “Stop saying weird shit then.” You still can’t look at him. Not after the way your body decided to react in the shift of energy. An abrupt shift of energy, as far as you can tell. 

He’s your dad’s best friend. Your uncle, for crying out loud. Not by blood, but still. There’s never been a feeling beyond that. Sure, you’ve had your silly little school girl crush on him during your young teenage years, but that was your hormones being your hormones. You grew out of them. Even your own father can’t deny the conventional attractiveness of his best friend. 

Plus, suggestive commentary is bound to make anyone feel hot. It’s basic biology. Your response is nothing. It doesn’t mean anything. At least, that’s what you convince yourself of when you climb back into your uncle’s— no, into Joel’s bed, trying to ignore the way your panties stick dutifully against your throbbing core.

Joel leans onto his side as you get yourself situated, unbuttoning the bottom half of his flannel, so you can flip up the bottom to reach his lower back. After the bottom half of the buttons are undone, he lays back on his front. “Here,” he calls your name. “Jus’ lift it up from the bottom.”

You scoot closer to him, standing on your knees, and you reach over to grab the hem of his flannel, pulling it up as gently as possible, exposing just enough to be able to reach the irritated areas. You frown at what you see. Inflamed skin, purples and yellows dancing all across his lower back, forcing him away from the very thing he lives for. He may have been a stubborn bitch this entire week, but that doesn’t stop the sympathy you feel for the man. 

You put some of the lotion in your hand, rubbing it between your two palms to warm it up a little. You place your hand on the side closest to you first, moving in circular motions and adjusting your pressure ever so often. “Let me know when the pressure is good.”

So far he hasn’t said much, a slight groan here, an exhale there. You feel a knot as you move lower, so you increase your pressure. You’re met with a literal moan, and you swear you have to bite back your own vocal response. “Fuck,” he sucks in a sharp breath. “Yeah, jus’ like that, ‘s perfect, darlin’.” 

“Okay,” you squeak, your thighs clenching together to attempt any kind of relief to the heat between your legs. 

After a few more passes over the area — and a few more indulgent, harder presses of your palm to pull more angelic sounds from him — you switch to the other side. Except, at this angle, you don’t really have as good an angle as you did before. Your leg swings over his ass, bracketing him in between your thighs, before you can even register the move your body just made. A soft gasp falls from your lips as you feel the new angle you’ve just given yourself. 

“Joel?” You call sweetly. Innocently.”I- I’m not hurting you or anything, am I?”

Hurting? No. Putting him through Hell? Close enough. 

Joel has done many questionable things in his lifetime. Getting involved with taken (married or otherwise) women, couples who wanted a third… Joel has lived through it all. Mainly in his younger years, but nevertheless. He has done and seen many things. But none of these things have ever included getting a fucking hard on for a girl — a woman? — he practically had a hand in raising. You call him uncle, for crying out loud. 

His physical response means nothing. It’s basic biology. The tender yet skilled touch of your warm hands directly against his even hotter skin, lighting every single nerve ending on fire, forcing the blood to course through his veins, to make its way down south— 

“Christ-” he snarls as you practically sit on him. His mouth shuts instantly as his eyes shoot open. He didn’t mean for that to come out. “Y-yeah,” he corrects. “‘M alright.” 

“Just- just let me know,” you tell him. He can hear the shake in your voice. He can tell biology is doing a number on you, too, based on your tone alone, if the heat engulfing his rear as you try your best not to make contact with it isn’t enough to go by. 

He focuses on his breathing as best he can as your hands push slightly past his jeans, getting underneath the seam of his boxers, and then immediately softening your touch as you run your fingers up his spine, awaking a chill he never knew was possible until now. You rub beyond the exposed area of his lower back, reaching his shoulder blades and entirely up to his shoulders, forcing the flannel to rise with your hands. He’s so broad and warm, and you would absolutely be drooling all over him by now if you weren’t so shocked at how tight his muscles really feel. How has this man not gotten any injuries sooner? How was he still doing all this heavy lifting? You dig the pads of your finger tips further into the thousands of tiny knots you feel, and his body jerks in actual pain this time. 

“God damn, girl,” he snaps. “What are you doin’?” 

“How the fuck do you even function?” You sound genuinely horrified. 

“What-”

“Your shoulders and neck are fucking covered in knots how do you even-” you cut yourself off with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You need to flip over.” 

Fuck. 

“Why?” He asks defensively. 

“I’m gonna break these knots. I need to start from the front.” 

“Ya ain’t gettin’ anywhere near my neck, I swear to God-”

“Quit being stubborn. What did I say earlier? I’m gonna flip you myself if you don’t-”

“Alright, fine, gimme a sec,” he bites. Joel takes a deep breath, at war with himself for how he’s going to handle his next course of action. 

Whatever happens next, there is no avoiding the fact that you will be made aware of the bulging erection between his legs. You can know about it, that’s fine, but the second you make contact, he doesn’t know if he’ll have the strength to control himself. Which is why he rips off the band aid quick. Flipping himself over with you still hovering over him, he tries his best not to touch you. Though, the second he’s comfortable, his focus is on your waist, grabbing you immediately and missing the way your eyes widen at the tenting fabric of his jeans. He pulls you higher up to sit on his lower tummy. 

You squeak out a little gasp as he adjusts you, and fuck it makes the pulsing between his legs even worse. He releases you, bringing his hands back to his sides. 

“Comfortable?” you whisper. You try so hard not to use your voice, worried that it’ll reveal just how turned on you are by this situation you’ve put yourself in. He gives you a single nod, and with that, you lean to grab more lotion. 

The angle you are at forces you to lean the front of your body onto Joel to be able to reach his shoulders. You can feel his body tense underneath you; you can hear his labored breathing as your hands further push away his flannel, working away at each knot. 

You lean forward further, giving yourself the ability to reach just below Joel’s neck. With this action, your hips shift, pressing down against Joel’s belly in a way that sends a sudden jolt of butterflies through your core. Your hands freeze in their movement, breath and fingertips stuttering as your entire face and neck heat up. You sneak a quick glance to Joel, and his eyes are still relaxed. He didn’t notice. 

It takes you a moment to start your movements back up again, but when you do, you can’t help the way you repeat exactly what you did before — allowing yourself another experimental roll of your hips against his soft abdomen. Only this time, you’re way less sly, for the whimper of pleasure you thought you could hide slips right out, right for his sharp ears to take note of. Shit. 

“Y’ alright there?” His eyes are trained on you now; he knows what you just did. Joel sports a quirked eyebrow as he waits for your response. 

“Mhm,” you rush out, ignoring his piercing gaze. 

It takes every ounce of willpower for you to run over the knots in his shoulder again without driving your hips into him, but even the push and pull of your arms is a full body movement, and you feel it. You feel the growing wetness in your core, the growing heartbeat that his bare tummy no doubt can feel now. 

Your body is splayed across him, the warmth of you leaking through your bottoms and onto his hot skin as you pathetically try to play off the fact that you aren’t grinding your wet cunt across him right now. With a rasp of your name, he takes a sharp breath in. “What are ya doin’?” He grunts, pained. Conflicted. 

This is so wrong. But it feels so good. Your arousal — how utterly desperate you are for the older man underneath you — is shone all over your face, brighter than any other feeling of disgust or wrongness you’re trying to convince yourself of. But the internal battle is still there, though, and it forces your hips to come to a full stop. It forces cries of apologies from your lips. It forces regret. 

“I- I’m sorry,” you choke back a sob. “Please, I- this is so wrong, I’m so stupid, uncle, I-” 

God damn it. Joel is too damn hard to deal with this shit now. “Oh, Jesus Christ, will you cut the fuckin’ uncle bullshit?” He finally snaps. His hands spring to life, finding their way up your thighs, tightening once they reach your hips. He forces you to move again. “Ya think I wanna hear that fuckin’ word while you fuckin’ soak me? Huh? While ya rub on me like a fuckin’ bitch in heat?”

“Shit,” you moan, the strength of his hand making the assault against your mound all the more intense. “Joel, please,” you cry, your fingers shaking as you hold onto his chest. 

Your thighs begin to tremble as he maintains a rough pace to your movements, his bed creaking with every shove of your hips against him. His grip on you is one of steel, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh, no doubt leaving tiny bruises as a reminder of today’s actions. 

He is fucking covered in you — the slick of your desire pooling through your bottoms and into his skin, making each grind smoother. He licks his lips at this, his eyes dark as he drinks you in from above; your own eyes glossy and a sheen of sweat along your skin. “Look at ya, darlin’,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a fresh wave of arousal pouring from your hole. “Fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby. Needed me that bad, did ya? Was tryin’ t’ tell ya earlier,” he grunts, “Y’know ya just had to ask.” A lazy smirk pulls across his lip. 

You let out a whimper at his words, your hips finally rolling alongside his own guidance, instinctively searching for more friction. “Atta girl,” he groans, “That’s it, fuck- makin’ a fuckin’ mess a’ me, darlin’.” 

You’re panting now, the rhythm and pressure mixed with the filth of his Southern drawl ignites every single nerve ending throughout your body. He watches you with a dark intensity, the brown of his eyes replaced with pure black lust, his eyes unable to stray away from the pleasurable desperation filling your features. 

“Gonna come like this, sweetheart?” He taunts, driving you into him even harder. 

“Mmm- my God, yeah- yes,” you cry out, eyes rolling back as the coil in your belly finally tightens, your breathing ragged as needy moans escape your lips. 

With a final roll of your hips and the utterance of a that’s my girl, the coil finally snaps, pleasure crashing over you, coursing through your veins as you come all over him, your slick unable to stay within the limits of your clothes, leaking and dripping down the sides of him and onto the mattress below. Your thighs convulse around his waist, his hold on you continuing your thrusts, dragging out your orgasm until your own hands find his and rip him away from you.

“Ya ain’t done yet, sugar,” Joel gruffs, grabbing the globes of your ass cheeks and dragging you down, letting you feel his ignored and now raging erection. 

“Never said I was,” you purr, a soft moan blessing his ears at the feel of his bulge against your ass. He can feel your smirk against his chest. 

Body still trembling, Joel lifts your ass in the air, sliding your bottoms down over the curve of your body. The stickiness of your panties pulls off with a wet squelch, the cool air of the room mingling with the wet warmth of your bare pussy, the stark contrast forcing chills to run through your veins. 

“God,” he murmurs as you give a little wiggle of your ass in the air. “Pretty as a peach, huh, darlin’?” He guides you lower, pushing you down onto his bulge. The hardness of him beneath you immediately sends a fiery need to your core. Your hands move on their own as you pull your body up, reaching for the buttons and zipper of his jeans, undoing them with ease despite the eager shake of your hand. You pull the jeans down just enough to let his cock spring free, thick and angry and leaking. 

“Oh, fuck,” you swallow your gasp. “God, I need you so bad,” you whine, already lifting up to line the tip of him to your swollen cunt. 

You sink down with a breathless moan, your head flying back as your hands grip onto his tummy to keep you from buckling. 

Joel’s breathing stutters, his moans filling the air as you practically choke his cock. “Shit- so fuckin- fuckin’ tight.” His hands find their home on the meat of your ass, holding you tight, grounding himself from coming like a damn teenager.

You move slowly at first, savoring the way he feels inside of you, how big he is. God, you don’t think you’ve ever taken anything quite as long and as thick as him. Your heart skips a beat at that, knowing that he’s ruined you for anyone else. 

It isn’t long before the raw need takes over, and you move faster, hips rolling back and forth as you ride him, the wet sound of skin against skin as you alternate to a bounce ever so often. 

Despite the risk of hurting his back even more, he can’t stop himself from gripping you tighter, his nails digging into your flesh as his hips buck up into you, starting their own rhythm, meeting every one of your thrusts. The sensation is overwhelming with the size of him; it’s a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, mixing sweet whines of ecstasy with whines of overstimulation, and it’s the best music to have ever graced his ears. 

“Look at ya,” he grunts. “Fuckin’ made for this, weren’t ya? Fuckin’ made for takin’ this cock, huh, sweetheart?” 

You nod weakly at his words. They send a flutter down your belly to your pussy, and his mouth is all it takes to send you to your second brink of collapse — your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you move, as he drives himself into you without abandon. 

Every thrust pushes you further to the edge, the sting of the stretch, the sensation of being so full — it’s almost too much to bear. He can hear it in the way your cries change. It’s becoming too much. 

“Y’ can take it, sweetheart, almost there,” he grunts. His hands take over in guiding your movements, urging you faster, harder, bringing you both to the cliff’s edge. 

“C’mon, baby, can feel her squeezin’ me, know she wanna come, baby. Breathe, doll, jus’ let go,” he rasps, his words coming in staggered.

The wet tightness of your walls, both the feel and the sound, causes Joel to fall first — a low, guttural groan filling the room as he fills you with his hot, thick spend.

The sensation of him pulsing inside you, unloading everything he’s worth, sends you over your edge, your pussy clenching around his cock as you come, the sensation rippling through you, shredding your vocal cords as you scream out in pleasure. 

Everything goes dark for you, nothing but the fuzzy sound of Joel’s sweet praises at the top of your head as he guides you through your come down. 

“Did so fuckin’ good f’ me, darlin’,” he murmurs. “Sweet girl.”

For an asshole, who knew he could be so sweet? 

You roll off of Joel as soon as your heart steadies, your entire body on fire from all the exertion. You can feel Joel’s body stiffen as you use him for support. His back is killing him right now.

A few moments pass as your eyes slowly start to close, but the deep gruff of your name stops you from dozing. 

You turn your head to the man beside you. “Yes?” 

For the first time today, it’s Joel who can’t make eye contact with you. “Can you, uh… can you-” he clears his throat, trying to rid himself of his awkwardness. “Can you warm up the heat pack again?” 

Your smirk lifts your cheek before you can even try to stop it. “Come again?” 

He lets out a frustrated huff. And he can’t turn away from you. His back is killing him right now. “My back-”

“Yeah, what about your back?” 

“You fuckin’ little shit-”

You giggle as you flip onto your side, your hand holding your head up to get a better look at him. “Your back is hurting, baby? Need me to get the heat pack for you, hm?” 

He doesn’t respond. He just has the deepest, most grumpiest scowl known to man on display. 

“Oh, come on. You need my help, is that it? Need to hear you say it, unc.” You emphasize the last syllable of your sentence, a belly laugh threatening to escape you. 

Oh, two can play at that game. “Yeah, baby, I need your help. I need the help from my beautiful, beautiful niece, hm? My beautiful, needy niece whose pussy gets all soaked jus’ thinkin’ ‘bout me, huh? Gets all wet and needy thinkin’ ‘bout her uncle-”

Your resolve finally snaps, your eyes clamping shut as you cover your ears, loud la la la’s coming from your mouth as you ungraciously roll yourself off of his bed. “Enough, fine! Fine! Fuckin’ nasty,” you groan as you make your way to the kitchen. 

“‘M not the one who started it, sweetheart,” Joel says, a triumphant smile plastered across his cocky face. 

“I made you cookies by the way,” you yell after a beat. “Want one?” 

Joel’s hand reaches for his belly. He doesn’t need one, that’s for sure. “Yeah,” he responds not a second later. 

You come back to his bedroom, heat pack in one hand, no cookie in the other. You hand him the heat pack. You make him adjust it himself. 

“Where’s the cookie?” He asks, a tinge of impatience on his tongue. 

“Oh, I thought you were gonna come down and get it.” 

He looks at you incredulously. 

“I just figured you wanted to start being more independent and all. Given how strenuous you were being a few moments ago,” you offer with a faux innocence.  

“I swear to fuckin’ God, when I get my hands on you-”

“Your hands on me? Yeah? When?” You start making your way out of his bedroom. “Come get me if you wanna show me a lesson. Know you been dying to all week.” 

If he can fuck you the way he did, maybe full-time bed rest isn’t what Joel needs. He needs to stretch and move around; he needs to activate his muscles, especially being on the older side. It really is basic biology.

I would absolutely love to hear what you guys thought of this! Any and all your love and commentary truly keeps me going and motivated even when the writer’s block is at its strongest. Wouldn’t be here without you all. I have so much love in my heart for you! Talk to y’all soon🩶

I cannot get myself to write for Joel or for TLOU without mentioning the horrors occurring in Palestine. Please check out the links in my navigation + bio to learn about the situation in Palestine and also learn about some ways in which you can help🇵🇸. Reading and interacting with those links takes 5 minutes of your time at the bare minimum.

Leaf divider by @saradika-graphics

[cursed-peanut]

Before Sukuna was defeated, he hid your identity from history as well as he could. He wanted to make sure his beloved lover was never found by the sorcerers. However, after his death, no one was there to stop you from being found and sealed.

They would have killed you, but the love poetry and letters Sukuna had written to you was proof that you were his only weak point, so you were sealed in the fear that Sukuna could possibly return centuries later and you could be used to calm him as a back up.

Centuries later and the ancient sorcerers were right. The fearful King of Curses was revived and the higher ups of the Jujutsu world wanted Itadori Yuji executed for being his vessel.

However, Gojo Satoru had other plans.

Your prison realm was stored away deep within Jujutsu High, and he knew exactly where you were and how to unseal you.

“Where…am I? Who- who are you?”

“You are currently at Jujutsu High, a school that trains young sorcerers for the world ahead of them. And I am Gojo Satoru, a teacher here at Jujutsu High and the strongest sorcerer of the modern age. But don’t worry, I didn’t unseal you to hurt you.”

“What did you unseal me for then?” You have no clue what he’s talking about. You’ve been stuck in a cube for what felt like — and was — many many centuries. And this strange man with white hair and a blindfold is telling you about things you barely understand. Your head is spinning.

“I wanted to reunite you with someone.” The man turns around, waiting for you to follow. “Are you coming?”

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” You say shakily, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You’re so unbelievably scared.

“I won’t. I just want to bring you to someone you know. Someone you love. Sound good?” He finally turns to face you again. Even though he’s blindfolded, it’s like he can see you shaking on the floor.

You wearily bring yourself to your feet and purse your lips. “…okay.”

————————————

Gojo: Hey, Yuji. I’m with someone

I’d like you to meet. Meet me at

the training field in 20 mins.

Yuji: Okay! See you soon Sensei.

————————————

The walk to the training field felt long but also fascinating. Everything around you was so new! How long had you been in that cube? You’re pulled from your wonder when you see someone sitting on a step by the field. His fluffy pink hair reminds you so much of Sukuna it makes your heart break. You miss him so much. Perhaps Gojo has taken you to meet his descendant?

“Ah, Sensei! Who did you want me to meet?”

“Hello Yuji! I wanted to introduce you to someone very important. Say hello to L/N Y/N!”

“Oh, hello Mx. L/N! I’m Itadori Yuji.” He gives you a bright smile and a firm handshake.

“Hello…” There’s a beat of silence before Itadori turns to his teacher.

“So, why’d you want me to meet this person?-“

“How is Sukuna right now?” You perk up at this. Did he just say Sukuna? Was this kid Sukuna? No, definitely not. Then what…

“Huh? Well, he’s completely slient for once. It’s actually quite refreshing to not have his constant nagging- why’d you ask?” Suddenly an eye and a mouth apear under Itadori’s left eye.

“Y/N…”

“Huh- hey!” Itadori slaps his cheek to stop Sukuna from freaking you out.

“It’s okay, Yuji. Let it happen.”

“But-“

“Sukuna?” Itadori’s confusion intensifies when he sees you tearing up. Not out of sadness, but rather happiness and confusion. Just who are you?

————————————

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