#but seriously look at his cute face he my hero
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cowboylikemac · 3 days ago
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GOOD GRACES PT.2 | P.J
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“ Boy it’s not that complicated you should stay in my good graces !”
percy jackson x reader !
Including : fluff
words: 1k+
good graces pt.1
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After that training session, things… changed.
You weren’t sure how or when it happened, but suddenly, Percy Jackson was everywhere.
He’d sit next to you at meals like it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d find excuses to spar with you, grinning every time you rolled your eyes but never actually pulling away. And whenever you were around, he was always looking—like he was waiting for something.
It was annoying.
But it also made your heart race.
And that was even more annoying.
You didn’t like Percy Jackson. You couldn’t. He was reckless, frustrating, and so irritatingly charming. You refused to be like every other camper who got swept up in his ridiculous hero complex.
…So why did it feel like your stomach flipped every time he smiled at you?
You were sitting by the lake one afternoon, enjoying some quiet before the evening campfire, when Percy plopped down next to you.
“Okay, what gives?”
You frowned. “What?”
“You’ve been acting weird,” he said, tilting his head. “More than usual.”
You huffed. “Gee, thanks.”
“I’m serious,” he said, leaning back on his hands. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
You stiffened. “I have not.”
Percy raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because every time I get within five feet of you, you either run away or threaten to stab me.”
“That’s just our dynamic,” you muttered.
He snorted. “Yeah, but it was way more fun when you actually insulted me instead of just blushing and leaving.”
Your face burned. “I do not blush—!”
Percy grinned, leaning closer. “Oh, you totally do. It’s kinda cute.”
You groaned, shoving his shoulder. He barely moved, still grinning like he’d won something.
“Why are you like this?” you muttered, exasperated.
“Like what?”
“Annoying. Persistent. Too—you.”
Percy’s smile softened. “Because I like you.”
your breath caught.
For a second, you thought you imagined it. But Percy was still looking at you, expression open and serious.
“You… what?” you said weakly.
“I like you,” he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. “I have for a while. And, I don’t know, I guess I was hoping you didn’t actually hate me as much as you said you did.”
Your heart wasn’t racing. Your face wasn’t on fire. You definitely weren’t staring at him like an idiot.
“…You’re an idiot.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I figured.”
You swallowed, forcing yourself to look away. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“How about the truth?” Percy nudged your knee with his. “Do you actually hate me, or was that just an excuse to keep me at arm’s length?”
You inhaled sharply.
You could lie. Say you still found him insufferable. Push him away like you always did.
But the way he was looking at you—hopeful, patient, waiting—made your walls crack just enough.
“I don’t hate you,” you admitted quietly. “…I think I might actually like you, too.”
Percy’s face lit up.
“Seriously?”
“Don’t make me change my mind, Jackson.”
He laughed, and before you could react, he reached over and laced his fingers with yours.
Your heart stopped.
“You gonna run away now?” he teased.
You wanted to. You really did. But…
You squeezed his hand. “Not this time.”
✽✽✽
You weren’t sure what changed after your confession at the lake.
Technically, nothing had. Percy was still annoying. He still followed you around camp, still made terrible jokes, still sparred with you every other day like it was his personal mission to get you to admit he was a better fighter.
But at the same time, everything had changed.
Because now, whenever he looked at you, his gaze lingered. Whenever he touched you—a hand on your wrist, a nudge of his knee against yours—you felt it everywhere. And whenever he smiled at you, your brain short-circuited just a little more than it should.
It was unfair.
Worse, Percy knew.
“You seem distracted,” he said one afternoon, dodging one of your strikes as you sparred in the arena. “Something on your mind?”
You scowled. “Yeah, kicking your ass.”
“Mm-hmm.” He smirked, blocking your next attack with ease. “Are you sure you’re not thinking about something else?”
Your grip on your weapon tightened. “Why do you love irritating me?”
“It’s fun.” He grinned. “Also, you’re cute when you’re mad.”
Your brain short-circuited again. Just like the first time.
That moment of hesitation was all Percy needed. With one smooth motion, he knocked your weapon aside and lunged—sending both of you crashing to the ground.
Your breath whooshed out of your lungs.
“Ugh, Percy—get off!” you groaned, trying to shove him away.
“Not my fault you got distracted,” he teased, grinning down at you.
You glared. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You’re so lucky I don’t have a knife right now—”
And then—
It happened.
You shoved at his chest just as he shifted his weight, and instead of rolling away, he lost his balance—his face crashing right into yours.
Specifically, his lips crashing into yours.
Both of you froze.
Your brain stopped working.
Percy pulled back so fast it was like he’d been electrocuted, eyes wide. “Oh. Oh—uh—”
You just stared.
You hadn’t meant to kiss him. Obviously. But the worst part?
You… didn’t hate it.
At all.
And judging by the way Percy’s face was burning red, neither did he.
“…That didn’t happen,” you blurted.
Percy blinked. “But—”
“It didn’t happen, Jackson.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “So you did like it.”
You shoved him again. “Shut up.”
Percy just laughed, scrambling to his feet and offering you a hand. You ignored it, standing on your own, refusing to acknowledge the way your heart was pounding.
But when you turned to leave, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you back just enough to whisper in your ear—
“If you ever do want to kiss me again, you know where to find me.”
Your face burned.
You stormed away.
You knew you’d find him again.
And next time… maybe it wouldn’t be an accident.
✽✽✽
It had been three days since the accidental kiss.
Three days of Percy giving you that stupid, smug, infuriatingly charming grin every time you so much as looked at him.
Three days of him finding every excuse to bring it up.
“Oh, careful, (Y/N). Wouldn’t want to ‘accidentally’ kiss me again.”
“You sure you don’t want a rematch? I promise not to fall on you this time.”
“Hey, if you’re thinking about that kiss again, just say so.”
You were going insane.
The worst part? He was right.
You were thinking about it.
Not because it was embarrassing (which it was) or because it had caught you off guard (which it definitely had), but because… because you kind of wanted to do it again.
For real, this time.
Which was ridiculous, obviously. Percy was still annoying. Still cocky. Still had zero concept of personal space.
But he was also—ugh—sweet. And funny. And warm in a way that made you feel safe, even when he was driving you crazy.
And you liked him.
Like, actually liked him.
And you hated that you liked him.
Which was exactly why you had to do something about it.
You found him by the lake, skimming rocks across the surface like he didn’t have a single care in the world.
His back was turned to you, so he didn’t notice when you walked up behind him—until you not-so-gently shoved his shoulder.
“Ow—” Percy turned, grinning the second he saw you. “Oh, hey pretty. Finally ready to confess your undying love for me?”
You scowled. “Do you ever shut up?”
“Not when you’re around. It’s way too fun messing with you.”
You inhaled sharply, ignoring the way your stomach flipped. “Okay, Seaweed Brain, listen up.”
Percy blinked. “Oh, full name? This must be serious, you okay gorgeous?”
“It is serious,” you muttered. “I need you to stop talking for, like, five seconds.”
“That’s gonna be hard, but I’ll try my best—”
Before he could finish, you grabbed the front of his stupid orange Camp Half-Blood shirt, pulled him down, and kissed him.
For a split second, Percy froze.
Then he melted.
His hands found your waist, gripping you like he was afraid you might pull away too soon. His lips were warm and soft, moving against yours like this was something he’d been waiting for—hoping for.
Your heart was racing.
When you finally pulled back, Percy was staring at you like you’d just knocked the wind out of him.
“…Wow,” he breathed. “I should really shut up more often.”
You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how warm your face was. “Yeah, you should.”
He grinned. “So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”
You huffed, but you couldn’t stop the tiny smile tugging at your lips. “I guess you’re tolerable now.”
Percy chuckled, pulling you back in, pressing his forehead against yours. “I’ll take it.”
And when he kissed you again, you let yourself kiss him back.
Because maybe—just maybe—you didn’t hate him at all.
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masterlist !
tags: @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine
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lacucarachapisser · 9 months ago
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bamjio · 7 months ago
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❛ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗻𝘆 ❜— ✿ .. deadpool headcanonns!
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BEING WADE WILSONS' ONE AND ONLY ❛ WIFE. ❜ !
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⋆˚✿˖° — CLINGY! it's honestly feels suffocating. Does he know personal space? of course. does he oblige to that rule? he'd rather dig logans burial.
— it doesn't matter, wade believes that if you love someone you won't let them go, literally.
— you'd always wake up to him tightly hugging you down, his arms and legs hovering your figure. don't think of letting go, cause he'll just grip more.
— expect him to go over your workplace and hang out there till the end of your shift, he won't budge even if the manager threatened to call the cops.
— goodness, he's just so obsessed with your scent, skin, hair, face, lips, arms, ��boobies❜, and everything. he'd rather cut his head off than avoid you for a solid 3 days.
⋆˚✿˖° — CHILDISH! is wade a grown man that kills people or a child that wants your attention 24/7? Well, he's a child that kills and wants your attention.
— him being your husband feels like your with a child that won't grow up, he loves making a huge mess, doing anything to impress you, even fighting Logan for fun to show off who's stronger.
— wherever you both go, he'd always wander off somewhere; bothering someone or touching things that aren't supposed to be touched. and you're always panicking looking for wade, usually takes a few hours until he magically finds you, or you find him.
— loves likes seeing you angry, he claims that it's ❛super hot❜ and ❛cute, looks like a cat❜, so he'd bother you every unexpected time, whenever you'd read a book he likes to steal it and read it out loud, whenever you're on the verge of slumber; he'd either yell or picture your sleepy state.
— you're like a mother always scolding wade, and thankfully he obeys you, like a guilty child. yet his manners still come back like his life, you will never get tired of him though, and he knows it.
⋆˚✿˖° — OVERPROTECTIVE! your friends call it lovesick, but him and his 'audience' call it protecting! yeah, maybe he did kill your co worker because he called you crybaby, but thats besides the point.
— special forces, mutant, anti-hero, killer; yadayada, he's everything not a simple man could protect, call him delusional but unexpected things happen, you could get assassinated while eating breakfast, or worse. It's not being too weird, it's being considerate.
— definitely forced Logan to look after you once, not that he minds; Logan admires you. and that turned out to you finding out and scolding wade, being a big baby he is— he definitely didn't talk to you.
— ❛whos that in my bosses office??❜ suprise! it's wade holding a gun to your superiors head while waving at you, well because your boss threatened to fire you.
— in realities and seriousness, he doesn't wanna loose you. loosing someone pains him so much, yet being annoying is the only way he can cope. he lost so much people and he can't afford to loose you too. and him being wanted and a so called 'villain' in every story, he knows one day theyll figure you out.
⋆˚✿˖° — LOYAL! before the day you guys talked, he vowed that if he finds himself attach to another woman romantically, he'd hang himself. he loves you and even if you didn't, no one could ever replace you.
— despite lotta girls getting attracted to him, his eyes will be locked at you. his ears and eyes will forever be yours to catch.
— won't hesitate to slam a girls face into a metal table if they'd ever flirt with you, even with him showing you off. What's only stopping him is you not wanting him to harm anyone, and he's definitely obedient when it comes to you.
— define bare minimum, cause he definitely isn't just the minimum. his profiles in every social contains either your face, or you and him. not only profile, also his header and posts, tagging you whenever he interacts with his 'fans' putting "with — y/n wilson" "my wife — y/n Wilson" "fbm —y/n wilson" and anything that contains you.
— would you really doubt your crazy husband and his whatever audience? Looks can deceive and he's the frame for it, honesty and loyalty is his integrity, he vowed to you and shown his loyalty, and he would never break it.
⋆˚✿˖° ❛iris — tggd❜ , ❛she will be loved — M5❜.
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katakaluptastrophy · 1 year ago
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Periodically, I remember how absolutely fucked up the necromancers in TLT are meant to look. Like, necromancy does an absolute number on people physically.
Harrow is "rather small and feeble".
Necromantic Ianthe is "the starved shadow" of her non-necromantic twin.
Our first description of Palamedes is "a rangy, underfed young man" who is "gaunt".
Silas is "knife-faced...He had a necromancer build."
Ianthe parodies make-over scenes in House novels with "if the hero’s a necromancer it’ll be described like, ‘His frailty made his unearthly handsomeness all the more ephemeral'"
Jod acknowledges to Wake that even small children with aptitude would look odd to non-House eyes: "“I have access to any number of cute pictures of necromantic toddlers with their first bone. They don’t make for fat-cheeked roly-poly babies, but they’ve got a certain something."
In As Yet Unsent, Judith brags about her previous physical fitness: "I could run a kilometre in ten minutes, which was among the fastest for my adept group in the junior reserves." Which is about double the time you might expect for a physically fit woman her age.
In non-necromancer-friendly New Rho, Harrow's body is mistaken for a child's and has to be explained as a result of starvation and trauma to seem plausible: "Pyrrha explained without missing a beat that what with everything Nona had gone through she had been ill and still didn’t eat very much, which was why she was so knobbly and undergrown. The nice lady said that yes, many of the children had problems like that, but it was still hard to imagine Nona was anywhere over fourteen, wasn’t it?"
Tamsyn Muir's descriptions of the Canaan House gang on Tumblr back this up: "Judith is somewhat less completely scrawny than other necromancers on the cast, though she should be less built than Marta is", Palamedes is "seriously underfed" and "bony", Harrow is "scrawny".
And that's just what I can think of off the top of my head - I'm sure there's more.
Anyway, necromancers aren't slender in a conventionally attractive way, they're gaunt in a concerning way...and probably the only reason no one instantly clocked that Coronabeth wasn't a necromancer was because they all just thought it was par for the course that a Third House princess would have had a lot of plastic surgery flesh magic.
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aliyahwritings · 2 months ago
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THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (11)
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MASTERLIST | Basketball Player!Rafe & Supermodel!Female Reader
Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.
Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.
Word Count: 4.4k
Aliyah's Notes: LIFE IS GOOD DONT KYS GUYS!!!!!
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The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, revealing Rafe’s penthouse in all its cold, modern glory. You stepped inside, arms full of a precariously stacked pile of boxes, your eyes scanning the pristine place. The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a sweeping view of the city, but it was the sterile, minimalist decor that always caught you by surprise.
“Wow,” you muttered, setting the boxes down with a grunt. “So this is where personality comes to die.”
Rafe appeared behind you, carrying a single suitcase and looking annoyingly relaxed (and sexy). “You’re welcome for letting you upgrade your life,” he quipped, tossing the suitcase onto the sleek leather couch. “From your childish apartment to the lap of luxury. I’m a real hero.”
“Hero, my ass,” you turned to him, hands on your hips. “And this place has all the warmth of a dentist’s office.”
He grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Clean, sharp, and no clutter.”
“Well, get ready for that to change,” you shot back, heading to another box. You pulled out a bright orange vase with swirling patterns and held it up with a triumphant smile. “Because this is going front and center.”
He froze mid-step, staring at the vase like it was radioactive. “No.”
“Yes,” you replied, your smile widening as you marched toward the nearest shelf.
“No,” he repeated, moving to block your path. “You’re not seriously bringing that ugly vase into my penthouse. I have standards.”
You held the vase above your head, as if presenting it to the decor gods. “Typical white man behavior,” you declared. “This must be the colonizer in you that’s stopping me from doing what I want—”
“I knew you’d start saying those things,” Rafe shook his head.
“Just because it’s colorful and unique, it’s ‘ugly’ to you.”
He crossed his arms as he looked between you and the vase. “It’s not colorful, YN, it’s an eyesore. It doesn’t ‘pop’—it assaults.”
“You wouldn’t know real art if it hit you in the face,” you retorted, setting the vase down triumphantly on a shelf. “This is staying.”
“It’s not art—it’s a cry for help,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head as he reached for the vase.
You smacked his hand away. “Touch it, and I’ll bring all of my colorful vases here.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare.”
You leaned in with a devilish grin. “Try me.”
The standoff had been interrupted by a loud thud as another box had toppled from the stack you had brought in. Rafe turned to survey the mess, raising an eyebrow. “What else did you bring? Your collection of weird cat figurines?”
“I’ll have you know Lady Purrsalot is a legend,” you said, brushing past him to rescue the fallen box. “And yes, she’s staying too.”
Rafe let out a dramatic groan, running a hand through his hair as he surveyed the pile of your belongings filling the space. “Perfect. My penthouse is about to turn into a shrine to bad taste,” he muttered.
You shot him an incredulous look, hands on your hips, before flashing him a playful but smug smile. “This isn’t bad taste, it’s cute.”
“If I find anything glittery, it’s going straight in the trash.”
Your eyes narrowed, giving him the full force of your best glare. He winced, immediately muttering a sheepish “sorry,” his hands up in surrender. You gave him a satisfied nod, knowing he'd learned his lesson.
“You agreed to this when you accepted to marry me,” you said, your voice smooth but laced with a challenge. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow as though daring him to argue.
He sighed dramatically, leaning against the wall. “I didn’t know ‘marriage’ meant signing up for interior design hell.”
Your lips quirked upward as you threw a glance at the now-established vase. “Don’t worry, fiancé, I think you’re handling it really well for someone who just got a major upgrade in life.”
“Can’t help it,” he smirked, and stepped closer to you. “You’re kind of hard to resist,” he paused, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t just playful teasing. “Even when you’re trying to torture me with your cat figurines.”
You chuckled, stepping around him and tossing a few more things onto the shelf—mostly knick-knacks and personal items that would soon add a sense of comfort to the otherwise sterile space. You could feel the tension between you two, a quiet undercurrent of attraction, but you weren’t about to let him have the last word.
“You have hands, and a cold shower to help you, Rafe,” you told him, rolling your eyes. “Nothing’s happening.”
“Who said something was going to happen?” he smirked, and you wanted to wipe that smirk off his beautiful, beautiful face. “Are you thinking of naughty—”
“That’s enough communication for right now,” you clapped your hands. “We have more stuff to do.”
You both continued to unload boxes in comfortable silence, the sounds of moving things around punctuated by banter every now and then. Rafe was doing half of the work—he said he’d prefer you standing back and watching him take charge—and you did not mind, at all. The penthouse was big enough that it gave you space to spread out your things. Eventually, though, the once-overwhelming pile of boxes began to dwindle, and the place started to feel a little more like home.
“Alright, I think that’s the last one,” Rafe said, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead as he stacked the final few boxes in the corner. “I’m exhausted.”
You nodded, and gave him a smile. “Thanks for the help, big arms. I would’ve taken 24 years to finish it all,” you told him and laughed. 
“You’re going to make me blush,” he joked, and you laughed some more. “Alright, now that the worst of it’s done, how about I give you the grand tour? I know you’ve been here a few times, but not everywhere. Let me show you the full deal.”
You sighed and gestured dramatically. “Lead the way.”
With a self-satisfied grin, Rafe led you down the sleek hallway. He threw open the first door with a flourish, revealing a space so minimalist it was almost sterile. “My office,” he declared.
You peeked inside, noting the barely-touched desk, the pristine shelves, and a gaming console taking up prime real estate. “Wow,” you deadpanned. “Really grinding out those business emails, huh?”
“Hey, I do plenty of work,” he said defensively. “Like checking stats, signing autographs… crushing high scores.” You rolled your eyes but followed as he moved to the next door, revealing a home gym. “State-of-the-art equipment,” he boasted. “Not that you’d know, since you don’t lift.”
“Rafe, I’m literally a model. I do pilates, yoga, and weight training.”
“Pilates doesn’t count,” he shot back, smirking. “That’s just stretching with extra steps.”
“Asshole,” you muttered, shaking your head.
He took you through a theater room, complete with plush recliners and an oversized screen, and then to his master bedroom. The sheer size of the space made you pause. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a stunning view of the city skyline, and the decor screamed effortless luxury. You hated that it impressed you.
“Alright, you’ve had your little brag session. Can I go back to unpacking now?”
“Not yet,” he said, walking ahead of you. He stopped in front of the guest room—your room now—and pushed the door open. “Saved the best for last.”
You stepped inside, your eyes immediately catching on the changes. Gone was the sterile, hotel-like vibe. Instead, the space felt warmer, more personal. The bedding was a deep crimson red, bold and striking, and a textured rug covered the hardwood floor. Your favorite candles were neatly arranged on the windowsill, and a small vase of fresh flowers sat on the nightstand. Even your books, the ones you thought you’d packed, were already shelved on the built-in.
Your brows furrowed as you took it all in. “Why are the covers red?”
Rafe, leaning casually against the doorframe, hesitated for a beat before replying. “You know… because you…”
A teasing grin spread across your face. “Are you racially profiling me because I’m South Asian?”
His eyes widened slightly, and then he let out a laugh, shaking his head. “What? No! That’s not—”
You cut him off, crossing your arms with mock seriousness. “Oh, sure. Just because I like vibrant colors, you think red is my personality now?”
“Okay, first of all,” he said, “you do like vibrant colors. Second, red is bold, classy, and badass—like you. So stop making me sound like a jerk.”
You raised a brow, still trying to stifle your laughter. “Smooth recovery, Cameron. Real smooth.”
“Thanks,” he said, flashing you a grin. “I aim to please,” he teased, though his smirk softened slightly. “Maids come every three days, by the way, so you don’t need to worry about keeping the place spotless.”
You crossed your arms, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. “You mean I didn’t have to bring a box of cleaning supplies?”
“Nope,” he said with an unapologetic shrug. “But it was cute watching you haul it up here.”
Your mouth fell open. “You let me carry that thing around when you knew I wouldn’t need it?”
“You seemed determined,” he said, his grin widening. “I didn’t want to crush your little homemaker dreams.”
You groaned.
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You collapsed onto the oversized sofa with a dramatic sigh, sinking into the soft cushions as though they could swallow you whole. Your body ached from the day of unpacking and dealing with Rafe’s incessant commentary.
Rafe plopped down beside you, equally worn out but still managing to look annoyingly composed. He stretched his long legs across the coffee table, earning a glare from you.
“Feet down,” you muttered, voice muffled by the throw pillow you’d buried your face into.
“Make me,” he quipped, but the usual edge of teasing was dulled by the clear exhaustion in his tone.
You turned your head to give him a tired look, too drained to argue properly. “You’re insufferable.”
“And you’re bossy,” he shot back, though there was no real heat in his words. “But look at us. Day one of living together, and we didn’t kill each other. I’d say that’s progress.”
You snorted, turning to face him fully. “Barely. That vase almost did you in.”
He smirked, eyes glinting with mischief despite his fatigue. “You’ve got a lot of nerve bringing that thing into my house. It’s offensive to art.”
“It’s staying,” you declared, closing your eyes and sinking further into the couch. “I’m too tired to argue anymore.”
A comfortable silence settled between the two of you, a stark contrast to the usual whirlwind of your dynamic. The dim lighting in the penthouse bathed the room in a soft glow, it was peaceful, wrapping around you like a warm blanket. 
From the corner of your eye, you noticed Rafe turn his head, his gaze resting on you. But it wasn’t fleeting—his eyes lingered, studying you in a way that felt tender. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you, his usually sharp blue eyes softened by the warmth of the moment. It was as if he were memorizing the curve of your cheek in the dim light, the way your hair fell over your shoulder, the quiet calm in your expression. It made your skin tingle under his attention, your pulse quickening despite the stillness.
“You did good today,” he murmured, his voice stripped of its usual cockiness, leaving only a quiet sincerity that caught you off guard.
You opened one eye to glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks...”
He shrugged, his lips curving into a small, crooked smile that made him look younger somehow, softer. “I mean it. This place… it already feels different. Warmer,” he admitted, his eyes flicking briefly to the room before returning to you. They lingered, holding yours in a way that made your breath hitch—like you were the only thing in the room worth noticing. “And not just because of that god-awful vase.”
A laugh escaped you, light and unguarded, filling the space between you. It felt good—freeing, even. The knot of tension in your chest began to loosen, melting away under the weight of his rare vulnerability. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Cameron,” you teased, though your voice lacked its usual sharpness.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said with a quiet chuckle, leaning his head back against the couch.
The peace was interrupted by the faint buzz of your phone in your pocket. You groaned, pulling it out to check the screen. The sight of the message made your stomach twist all over again.
“Mom and Dad are flying in next week. They want to see you.”
Rafe noticed the change in your expression immediately. “What’s up?”
You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen before locking the phone. “Nothing. Just… family stuff.”
He didn’t press, though his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what you weren’t saying. Instead, he let his head loll back again, closing his eyes.
“Family stuff, huh?” he murmured. “Well, if it’s anything like mine, I recommend a lot of wine. Or tequila.”
You huffed a quiet laugh, though your chest still felt tight. The idea of seeing your parents again—after everything—was a storm brewing on the horizon. But for now, with Rafe beside you and the weight of the day finally catching up, you let yourself push it to the back of your mind.
“Noted,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.
“You always wear socks indoors.” he said suddenly.
You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”
He nodded toward your feet, wiggling his own toes for emphasis. “The socks. You’ve been in them all day. Do you ever just… go barefoot?”
You looked down at the patterned socks you were wearing—yellow with tiny sunflowers. “I like socks. They’re cozy,” you replied defensively. “Not all of us can just parade around barefoot like some child.”
Rafe snorted, shaking his head. “You’re missing out. Bare feet are freedom.”
“Freedom? That’s dramatic,” you shot back.
“Dramatic is wearing sunflower socks in a penthouse,” he countered, gesturing toward your feet.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Alright, since we’re apparently sharing quirks, what’s with the candle obsession? You’ve got, like, ten of them over there.”
Rafe followed your gaze to the collection of candles on the coffee table and nearby shelves. “What can I say? I like a good vibe,” he said, shrugging.
You raised an eyebrow. “Big, tough basketball player… lighting candles to set the mood?”
He grinned, leaning slightly closer. “I’ll have you know those candles are luxury. That one—” he pointed to a sleek black jar, “—is oud wood. Costs more than your vase, I’m sure.”
“Oh, please,” you scoffed. “You’re just scared of the dark.”
“Not scared,” he corrected. “Just prepared. You never know when the power might go out.”
“Uh-huh. Sure,” you said, sinking further into the cushions.
For a moment, the banter lulled, and you both stared at the flickering flame of one of the candles. Then, out of nowhere, Rafe spoke again. “I can’t whistle.”
You turned to him, blinking in surprise. “What?”
“Whistling,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “Can’t do it. Never could.”
A grin spread across your face, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten. “Wait, really? You’re telling me Mr. Perfect Athlete can’t whistle?”
“Laugh it up,” he said, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Everyone’s got their thing. What about you? What’s something random you can’t do?”
You thought for a moment before admitting, “I can’t snap my fingers. Like, no matter how hard I try.’”
Rafe’s eyes lit up, and he immediately sat up straighter. “No way. Let me see.”
You demonstrated, rubbing your thumb and middle finger together in an attempt to snap. The result was a sad thud.
He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “That’s terrible.”
“Shut up,” you said, trying not to smile. “At least I can whistle.”
“Debatable,” he teased, leaning back again. “Bet your whistle sounds like a dying bird.”
“I know you’re not the one talking right now—you can’t even fucking whistle,” you shot back.
“Touché,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender.
The conversation flowed as easily as the soft light from the candles, meandering through odd confessions and surprising revelations. You were tucked into one corner of the oversized couch, legs crossed beneath you, while Rafe sprawled in his usual casual way, one arm slung along the back of the sofa as he toyed with a loose thread in the cushion.
“So, wait,” he said, his brows furrowing in mock disbelief. “You’re telling me you’ve never watched a single episode of The Office?”
“Not one,” you replied, unapologetic. “I’ve seen the memes. Isn’t that enough?”
Rafe placed a dramatic hand over his chest, like you’d just personally insulted him. “No, Y/N, that’s not fucking enough. You’re missing out on peak comedy.”
“I prefer my comedy with a little more effort, thank you,” you teased.
“Effort? It’s genius! Dwight Schrute alone could carry a show.”
You smirked. “Is this your idea of a personality test? Judging me based on sitcom preferences?”
“Yes!” he said, deadpan. “It tells me everything I need to know about you. And so far? Not looking great for you, wife.”
You reached over and shoved his arm lightly, laughing. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet, here I am, willingly living with you,” he shot back, grinning.
“Willingly might be a stretch,” you countered, leaning your head against the back of the couch. “Alright, since we’re trading weird facts, here’s one: I can recite the entire opening number to Wicked by heart.”
His brows lifted in surprise, but there was amusement in his gaze. “No way. Wicked? That’s the one with the green witch, right?”
“Yes, that’s the one with the green witch,” you said, mimicking his tone. “It’s a masterpiece, by the way.”
“If you say so,” he said, holding his hands up. “I just… didn’t peg you for the Broadway type.”
You shrugged, a little defensive. “What can I say? I like stories that stick with you.”
“Okay, fair. But you’re gonna have to prove it one day. Full performance.”
“Fuck no,” you said quickly, chuckling. “Your turn. What’s something no one would guess about you?”
He hesitated, looking away like he was searching for the right thing to say. Finally, he said, “I used to draw. Like, a lot.”
Your head tilted, curiosity piqued. “You? Draw? That’s amazing… but I can’t picture it.”
“Yeah, no one can,” he said with a small laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I stopped when, uh, I got serious about basketball. But back in the day, I was obsessed. I even sketched my own sneaker designs once. Thought I’d have my own line or something.”
"That's actually really cool," you said, your voice warm with genuine admiration. Your eyes stayed fixed on him, sparkling with a curiosity that made his chest tighten.
For a moment, Rafe just looked at you, taken aback by the way you seemed so invested in his words, like what he said actually mattered. No one had ever looked at him like that before—not with real interest, not like this.
He cleared his throat, glancing away as a flicker of something unreadable passed through his expression. “Nah,” he said, his tone lighter than the weight in his eyes. “They’re long gone. Just... a stupid kid thing, anyway.”
“It wasn’t stupid,” you said, surprising even yourself with the firmness in your tone. “You should try it again. Who knows? Maybe you’d still be good at it.”
He looked at you, his expression unreadable for a long moment, before a small smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe.”
The moment stretched between you, warm and unspoken, until you finally broke it with a grin. “Okay, random question: what’s your weirdest food combination?”
Rafe laughed, the sound low and genuine. “You’re gonna judge me for this.”
“Definitely,” you said without hesitation.
“Alright, fine. Peanut butter and pickles.”
Your jaw dropped, and you stared at him like he’d just confessed to a crime. “You’re joking.”
“Dead serious,” he said, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”
“No, thanks,” you replied, shaking your head in disbelief. “That’s some white people shit.”
“Your loss,” he said, smirking. “What about you? What’s your weird food thing?”
You hesitated, then admitted, “Okay, don’t laugh… but I dip fries in milkshakes.”
His face lit up with mock offense. “And you call me disgusting?”
“Hey, it’s a classic!” you defended.
He opened his mouth to say something, probably asking another weird question, but before the words could leave his lips, the sharp chime of the doorbell cut through the cozy atmosphere.
Rafe groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “Who the hell—”
You raised an eyebrow at him. “Maybe it’s one of your girlfriends that you didn’t tell me about.”
“Funny,” he deadpanned, though the corner of his mouth twitched as he stood up.
Before he could reach the door, the muffled sound of voices filtered through, followed by another ring—longer this time, like someone was leaning on the buzzer.
“Open up, Rafael!” a familiar voice called out.
“Oh, great,” Rafe muttered, his hand reaching for the door.
Sarah, JJ, and Aisha entered, bringing the kind of chaos only they could manage. Sarah deposited a pizza box on the living room table with a dramatic flourish, while JJ hoisted a takeout bag in the air like a trophy.
“Food’s here, peasants,” JJ announced, dropping onto the couch beside you as though he owned it. He nudged your leg with his knee, grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off a prank. “You’re welcome for saving you from whatever sad dinner you were planning.”
“JJ, be polite,” Sarah muttered as she flopped onto the rug with a container of fries. 
“Polite is boring,” JJ retorted. “You’re welcome for making your life exciting.”
“You’re fucking annoying,” Rafe said, sitting next to his sister.
“See? That’s gratitude,” JJ replied, leaning back and helping himself to the fries Sarah had claimed.
Aisha rolled her eyes as she set plates on the table. “I didn’t know people like him existed until twenty minutes ago.”
“Thank you, beautiful,” he said, winking at her.
“Anyway,” Sarah cut in, already swiping a slice of pizza, “what were you two up to before we so graciously interrupted?”
“I was gonna ask her dream place to live,” Rafe said, his voice carrying a teasing edge as he leaned against the counter. “But I guess we’ll never know now, thanks to you guys.”
“Oh, we’re not letting that go,” Sarah declared, pointing a fry at you. “Spill it. Where’s your dream home?”
You waved her off. “It’s not that interesting.”
“Now you have to tell us,” JJ said, sitting up straighter with exaggerated curiosity. “Somewhere glamorous, right? Like Paris? Or Cleveland. I feel like you give Cleveland energy.”
You stared at him, incredulous. “What does that even mean?”
“Cleveland has a vibe!” JJ insisted.
“No one says that,” Aisha shot back, throwing a balled-up napkin at him.
Sarah shook her head, laughing. “I’m guessing you’re a Milan or Tokyo kind of girl. Am I close?”
“Closer,” you admitted, smiling despite their relentless pestering. “London. Somewhere with smarter, and more fun people.”
“Cool,” Sarah said with a grin, nodding approvingly.
“Basic,” Rafe quipped, earning a pillow to the chest from you.
“Say that again, and I’m redecorating this whole place with vases,” you shot back, crossing your arms.
“Vasegate continues,” JJ deadpanned, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. “What a tragic tale.”
“Can we talk about how you two are already bickering like an old married couple?” Aisha said, raising an eyebrow. “It’s very domestic in here.”
Rafe snorted. “Please. If this is domestic bliss, I want a refund.”
“He’s been annoying since this morning,” you countered, smirking at Rafe. “He’s been critiquing my interior design all day. He’s very invested.”
“Someone had to be,” Rafe shot back, but his eyes softened when they met yours, the teasing edge in his voice blunted by something warmer.
“I think it’s cute,” Sarah interjected, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth. “You guys are like one of those sitcom couples that secretly loves each other but spends every episode pretending they don’t.”
“Excuse me,” JJ said, raising his hand like a teacher’s pet. “If this is a sitcom, I’m the fan-favorite supporting character. Just putting that out there.”
“You wish,” Sarah said, rolling her eyes.
“And what does that make me?” Aisha asked, feigning offense.
“The responsible one who keeps everyone from burning the house down,” you said with a laugh, nudging her shoulder.
“Accurate,” Sarah replied, grinning. 
“But seriously, this is nice. All of us hanging out. It feels... cozy,” you said, with a small smile.
JJ gasped dramatically. “Is that sentiment I hear? Someone mark the calendar!”
“Watch your mouth, Maybank,” Rafe warned.
The conversation flowed easily after that, bouncing from JJ’s ridiculous anecdotes about being chased by geese to Sarah recounting a disastrous double date she’d been on. Rafe chimed in with sarcastic remarks that made everyone laugh, and even Aisha’s usual composed demeanor cracked when JJ impersonated Rafe’s annoyed voice.
At one point, Aisha leaned over to you, her voice low. “You seem happier,” she said, her eyes soft.
You blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“With him,” she said, nodding subtly toward Rafe, who was currently trying (and failing) to win an arm-wrestling match with his sister. “I don’t know. There’s just... something lighter about you.”
Your gaze shifted to Rafe as he laughed at something JJ said, his shoulders relaxed, his grin unguarded. He caught your eye for a moment, his expression softening in a way that sent a ripple through your chest.
You turned back to Aisha, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said simply, and she gave you a knowing look before standing to help gather the empty containers.
By the time everyone started leaving, the penthouse felt fuller, warmer. Sarah and JJ bickered their way out the door, and Aisha hugged you tightly, her smile lingering as she said, “You deserve this. Don’t forget that.”
As the door clicked shut behind them, you leaned against it, the quiet settling back in. Rafe glanced up from where he was stacking empty pizza boxes, raising an eyebrow. “What’s that look for?”
“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head as you pushed off the door. “Just... thinking.”
“That’s never good,” he teased, his smirk softening as you joined him to help clean up.
And as you cleaned side by side, the thought lingered: maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the chaos you’d expected. Maybe it was something better.
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chapter twelve
INFO ABOUT UPDATES: if you want to be notified about all my fics and updates, follow @aliyahwritings-notifs and turn on notifications!!!
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584 notes · View notes
moonstruckme · 10 months ago
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He would never take those bracelets off 😭 now I kinda want a fic of counselor James and counselor reader how cute
Hi, I've lowkey been hoarding this for months because I wanted to wait until I felt summery enough, thank you for requesting!!
camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 693 words
“Land ho, boys!” A familiar voice reaches you over the water. Your eyes are closed towards the sun, but you feel your lips twitch upward. “Thomas, if you don’t help Callum paddle you’ll fall behind, and the last one to shore has to buy me a popsicle after dinner. Hey, look, we’ve got a mermaid on our beach!” 
You turn your head to the side, squinting your eyes to see James and his cabin of boys paddling toward you in kayaks over the lake. You lift your hand in a lazy wave. 
“Oh, false alarm, it’s just y/n. Hi, y/n!” He raises an arm to wave back at you, wrist stacked with string bracelets made with care by small hands.
You swear he’s got more from your own campers than you have, but you don’t mind; James is a hero to most of the kids, the goofy gentle giant who lets them ride on his shoulders when your manager isn’t looking and deals temporary tattoos out of his cabin during mealtimes.
“Careful, Archie, mate, if she catches you rocking your kayak like that she’s going to hang you from the lifeguard stand by your toes.” The boys laugh, and James protests, “No, really! I’ve seen her do it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
You roll your eyes and close them again, turning your face back towards the sky. It’s not until you hear the shushing of kayaks against the coarse sand and a shadow falls over you that you say, without opening your eyes, “Spreading rumors about me again?” 
“They know better than to take me seriously.”
James’ shadow moves as he sits beside you on the sand, and you turn your head again to see him. He’s looking over his shoulder at the boys, the lean muscles of his abdomen stretching and dusky skin shining with sweat in the afternoon sun.
“Hey, whoever puts my kayak and paddle up, I’ll buy them a popsicle after dinner.” Shouts and bickering ensue, and James turns back around with a smile. “Where are your kids?” he asks you. 
“In arts and crafts,” you say. “Figured I’d catch a nap while they were busy.” 
He hums, setting his hands on the warm sand behind him and leaning back. “So you didn’t just come here to see how fit I looked dragging a paddle through the water?” 
You know James is only playing, but embarrassment tingles down to your toes anyway. “Not this time, sorry.” 
“Mm, don’t believe you.” He shoots you a grin, and you look away under the guise of rolling your eyes. That thing is more glaring than the sun. “You coming to the bonfire tonight?” 
“Don’t we have to?” you ask. It’s the last night of this session, and camp always closes out with a bonfire and s’mores for the kids. 
“I mean the other bonfire.” At your blank look, James continues, looking rather too pleased to know something you don’t, “After the kid’s bonfire, when they’re all watching a movie in the cafeteria, some of the counselors are planning to go out into the woods and have a grown-up’s bonfire.” 
You giggle. “Grown-ups? What are we, twelve?”
James bobs his head. “And we’re gonna have s’mores, and tell ghost stories, and maybe play truth or dare,” he says in an exaggeratedly animated tone. “It’s gonna be super cool.” 
“It sounds super cool,” you agree, laughing. “I’ll be there.” 
“Excellent.” James casts a look over his shoulder and starts standing up. “I should get back to my kids before they injure each other.” 
You check the time and sigh. “Yeah, me too.” 
“Want a hand?” 
You reach up and James takes your hands in his, hauling you upright. Your head lightens once you’re vertical, a combination of your sun-warmed skin and James’ touch making you woozy. 
“See you later?” he asks, releasing your hands and starting to back away as the shouting behind him grows more boisterous. “I’ll come find you in the cafeteria, we can walk together.” 
“That’d be great, thanks.” You start walking away, too, ignoring the pleasant buzzing in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it.” 
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winwintea · 7 days ago
Text
on my bike
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PAIRING ↬ ghost rider!lee jeno x fem!reader (feat. yu jimin/karina)
TAGS ↬ fluff, action, romance, angst, hidden feelings, best friends to lovers au, marvel au, ghost rider au, superhero au, antihero jeno potentially, reader is actually a mutant named surge, but she doesn't know it yet, karina is basically emma frost, this is NOT canon to actual marvel lore lol, more inspired by comics than the movies, jeno is a mix between johnny blaze and danny ketch, wrote the word 'venegance' so many times im starting to believe jeno is batman actually
WARNINGS ↬ mentions of alcohol and drug abuse, jeno crashing out, stunts going wrong, and a fight scene
SUMMARY ↬ after a brutal attack, stunt motorcyclist lee jeno stumbles upon a cursed bike and becomes the ghost rider. now bound to the spirit of vengeance, he fights to control his hellish powers while you, his childhood best friend, fall under the influence of a powerful telepath. as your own abilities awaken and tensions ignite, one question remains: will you save each other or burn together?
WORD COUNT ↬ 14.7k words
AUTHOR’S NOTE ↬ for @sungbeam's action figures collab!!!!! tysm for letting me join, this was literally the first time i've ever participated in a collab... and it was so fun. definitely challenged myself here, i'm not used to writing super hero or such action-packed scenes so if it's bad i apologize lol. anyways title is inspired by purple kiss i am in love with them now actually.
PLAYLIST ↬ no roots - alice merton; on my bike - purple kiss; nightmare - halsey; highway to hell - ac/dc; play with fire - sam tinnesz, yacht money; bang bang bang - bigbang; million dollar baby - ava max; mad head love - kenshi yonezu; wanted dead or alive - bon jovi; the chain - fleetwood mac; house of memories - panic at the disco; hymn for the weekend - coldplay
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“LEE JENO.”
you muttered under your breath, watching as the sound of a roaring motorcycle echoed through the streets of your city, a blur of black and chrome weaving recklessly through traffic. “Of course.”
The bell above the door jingled as Jeno strolled in, helmet in hand, his trademark smirk plastered across his annoyingly perfect face. His leather jacket was scuffed from what you could only assume was another unnecessary stunt, and his bleached white hair stuck to his forehead with sweat.
“Guess who just broke his own jump record,” he announced, sliding into the booth across from you.
“You mean guess who just almost got himself killed,” you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him.
Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, Y/N. It’s not like I landed on someone’s house or anything.”
“Not this time,” you snapped, folding your arms. “Seriously, Jeno, you can’t keep pulling this shit. You’re going to hurt yourself. Or someone else.”
He rolled his eyes and leaned back, draping one arm casually over the seat. “What’s life without a little risk?”
“Life without you being the industry’s walking insurance liability?” you shot back. “Sounds nice.”
For a second, his smirk faltered, but he quickly bounced back, leaning forward to snag a fry off your plate. “You worry too much. It’s cute, but unnecessary.”
“Don’t call me cute,” you muttered, snatching your plate away before he could grab another fry. “And I wouldn’t have to worry if you didn’t make it your mission to stress me out every single day.”
“Hey, if it makes you feel better, I’m perfectly fine right now,” he said, his voice light but tinged with something defensive.
You gave him a pointed look, gesturing toward the fresh scrape on his arm. “What about that, then? Don’t tell me that’s from cooking. You never cook.”
Jeno glanced down at the scrape, shrugged, and smiled sheepishly. “Fine, maybe I’m a little scratched up.”
“Scratched up doesn’t even begin to cover it,” you muttered, your voice softening. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep watching you do this to yourself, Jeno.”
His smile faded completely now. He suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his seat and grabbed his helmet. “Look, Y/N, I get it, okay? But this is who I am. You don’t have to like it, but you don’t have to stick around either.”
“That’s not fair, and you know it,” you said, your voice cracking slightly. “You’re my best friend. I’m always going to stick around. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to sit here and watch you destroy yourself.”
Jeno hesitated, the weight of your words settling in the space between you. “I’m fine,” he said, but the words lacked conviction. “You don’t have to worry about me.”
“Yeah, well, too bad,” you replied, standing up and grabbing your jacket. “Because I do. And one day, your luck’s going to run out, Jeno.”
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The crowd at the high-stakes stunt show was massive. Rows of bleachers packed with spectators buzzed with anticipation. You sat near the front, hands gripping the edge of your seat, your stomach twisting in knots. Except it wasn’t from excitement, but from anxiety.
Jeno was notorious for taking unnecessary risks, but tonight felt different. This wasn’t just a local showcase; this was a high-profile event with reporters and big-shot sponsors. The stakes were higher, and so was the pressure.
He’d even sworn he was “clean this time,” but you weren’t convinced.
“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for the highlight of the evening!” the announcer boomed, his voice carrying over the speakers. “The one, the only—Lee Jeno!”
The roar of the crowd was deafening as Jeno rode into the arena, his sleek black motorcycle displayed under the spotlights. He raised one hand in acknowledgment of the cheers before revving up his engine, the rumble vibrating through the stands.
You exhaled sharply, muttering to yourself, “He better not screw this up.”
“Y/N!” Jeno’s voice rang out through his helmet’s mic, directly out of the speakers. He pointed at you, earning a cheer from the crowd. “This one’s for you!”
You rolled your eyes, your face heating up as you pulled your hands over your eyes. The spectators around you erupted into laughter and applause. “Great,” you muttered. “Now I’m part of the show.”
The announcer continued hyping up the crowd. “Jeno will attempt a daring backflip over not one, not two, but three flaming trucks! A feat no rider has dared before!”
Your stomach sank. Flaming trucks? Three? You shot Jeno a warning glare as he revved the bike again, giving you a wink in response.
Oh we’re so fucked.
Unbeknownst to you or Jeno, a group of shadowy figures loitered near the equipment trucks at the edge of the arena. But they weren’t here for the show. Instead, they were here for revenge. One of the men, a burly figure with a scar slicing through his brow, tightened his grip on a wrench.
“Showoff thinks he can cheat us and walk away?” he growled, “Let’s see him jump when his bike doesn’t even make it halfway.”
The group moved swiftly, one of them sneaking into the mechanics’ pit to tamper with Jeno’s ramp. Another slipped toward his bike, loosening key components. They didn’t care about the collateral damage. This was to send a message.
Jeno revved his engine once more, signaling to the crew that he was ready. The crowd roared as he sped toward the first ramp, flames rippled against the sides of the trucks he was about to clear.
You leaned forward in your seat, heart pounding. “Please don’t die. Please don’t die,” you muttered under your breath.
Jeno hit the ramp with precision, the bike soaring into the air like a black comet. The first flip was smooth, flawless even, and the crowd erupted in cheers.
But something went wrong on the descent.
The bike wobbled midair, tilting dangerously to the side. Jeno fought for control, but the tampered suspension buckled on impact with the second ramp. The motorcycle skidded, sparks flying as Jeno tumbled, his helmeted head slamming into the ground with a sickening thud.
The crowd gasped in unison, the cheers turning to horrified murmurs. You were on your feet in an instant, heart in your throat.
“JENO!” you screamed, scrambling down the bleachers toward the arena floor.
Before you could reach him, the saboteurs’ plan spiraled even further out of control. The flames from the trucks flared, spreading to the hay bales that lined the arena. As you sprinted toward Jeno’s crumpled form, one of the burning bales exploded, sending debris flying.
You didn’t even have time to react as a sharp piece of metal tore through the air, striking you across the side. Pain bloomed in your ribs, and you crumpled to the ground.
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Dazed but conscious, Jeno pushed himself to his hands and knees, shaking off the stars in his vision. When his gaze landed on you lying motionless on the dirt, blood seeping into your shirt, something inside him snapped.
“No, no, no…” he muttered, dragging himself to his feet. His bike was destroyed, the flames were spreading, and you. You were hurt because of him.
Ignoring the chaos and his own injuries, Jeno stumbled toward you, scooping you into his arms. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Please.”
He didn’t know where to go, only that he had to get you help. Cradling your limp body, Jeno ran blindly, the roaring flames and chaos fading into the background. His arms ached from carrying you, your weight heavy but nothing compared to the crushing guilt that clawed at his chest. He glanced down at you, your face pale, a streak of blood running from your temple.
“You’re gonna be fine. You hear me? Just fine.” he whispered hoarsely, his voice trembling. 
The junkyard loomed ahead, its twisted silhouettes of rusted cars and mangled scrap metal casting long shadows under the moonlight. The attackers had scattered once the chaos at the arena spiraled out of control, but Jeno wasn’t about to risk being found. Not with you like this.
He stumbled into the junkyard, his knees nearly buckling as he reached what looked like the remnants of an old garage. The air was thick with the metallic tang of rust and oil. He carefully laid you down on an old tarp, brushing a strand of hair from your face with shaking fingers.
“Okay, okay…” Jeno muttered, looking around frantically. “Think, Jeno. Think. I need to—need to stop the bleeding.”
He tore a strip from his tattered shirt and pressed it against the wound on your side, and watched as your chest slightly rose up and down. Relief flickered in his chest. This meant you were still alive. 
The makeshift bandage was quickly soaked through. “Dammit,” he hissed, running a hand through his hair, smearing grease and sweat across his face. He needed help, but there was no one here. No one except—
The motorcycle.
It caught his eye in the far corner of the garage, half-buried under a pile of scrap. Its frame was unlike anything he’d ever seen, sleek yet ancient, with intricate carvings etched into the metal. It seemed almost alive, faintly glowing with an otherworldly orange light that pulsed like a heartbeat.
“What the…?” Jeno muttered, taking an unsteady step toward it. He couldn’t explain it, but something about the bike drew him in. The air around it felt heavier, charged with an unnatural energy that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
He glanced back at you, lying unconscious, and then at the motorcycle. Desperation clouded his judgment. Maybe. Just maybe? It could help. He didn’t know how or why, but the pull was undeniable.
Jeno reached out, his fingers hovering over the handlebars. The metal was warm, almost hot to the touch, and the glow intensified as if reacting to his presence.
“This is insane,” he muttered, but his hand closed around the grip anyway.
The second his skin made contact, a searing pain shot through his arm, up his spine, and into his skull. He screamed, his knees giving out as an overwhelming heat consumed him. Flames erupted from the motorcycle, engulfing him in a fiery inferno that didn’t burn but felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside.
Memories flashed before his eyes. Every reckless decision, every lie, every failure. The faces of those he’d hurt, including yours, swam in his vision. And then, a voice echoed in his head.
“Lee Jeno.”
Jeno’s body convulsed as the fire intensified, his skin crawling with molten energy. When the flames subsided, he was no longer the same. His hands burned with chains of fire, and his eyes glowed a fierce, demonic orange. He looked down at himself, his reflection faintly visible in the bike’s chrome. His face was a skull, wreathed in flames. The Spirit of Vengeance had awakened. Jeno was its vessel.
“My new Ghost Rider. Your sins are heavy. But your vengeance will be greater.”
“No,” Jeno whispered, his voice distorted, sounding like something almost inhuman. “What…what did you do to me?”
And then, Jeno heard the shouts of the attackers. They had followed him, closing in to finish what they started.
But they weren’t ready for what they found.
Jeno stood, the chains in his hands igniting with blistering heat. The Spirit of Vengeance surged within him, and with it came a single, overpowering urge: punish the guilty.
The attackers froze as he stepped forward, his skeletal face illuminated by the flickering flames. “You came for me,” Jeno growled, his voice echoing unnaturally. “Now you’ll burn for it.”
He lashed out with the chains, each strike searing through metal and flesh alike. The air was filled with screams as the flames consumed the saboteurs, leaving them scorched and broken. Vehicles erupted in explosions, sending shards of scrap flying through the air as the hellfire spread uncontrollably.
When the last of the attackers fell, Jeno stood motionless amidst the chaos, the flames dancing across his body slowly beginning to recede. The roar of the Spirit dimmed, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.
And then he saw you.
The sight of your unconscious form lying so still on the ground sent a jolt through him. The fire in his chest flickered, replaced by an overwhelming horror. He dropped the chains and stumbled to your side, his skeletal hands trembling as he reached for you.
“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice raw and human once more. The flames that had raged across his body faded completely, leaving him kneeling in the dirt, cradling you as his normal face returned.
Tears stung his eyes as he pulled you close, his arms wrapping protectively around your limp body. The junkyard was silent again, save for the faint crackle of dying embers.
“What have I done?” Jeno whispered, his voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. Even as the Rider, his mind. his heart. It all was still his. He couldn’t lose you.
The sound of distant sirens jolted him from his thoughts. He knew that if he stayed the two of you would be questioned. He gently lifted you onto the back of the fiery motorcycle, the flames reaching your body but leaving you unharmed. The bike seemed to growl beneath him, its power thrumming in his veins, and for the first time, Jeno felt a strange sense of control over the chaos.
With a sharp kick, the motorcycle roared forward, flames streaking behind it as Jeno sped off into the night. 
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The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing you heard as you drifted back into consciousness. It was followed by the faint hum of fluorescent lights and the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital room. Your body felt heavy, and when you tried to shift, a sharp pain lanced through your side.
“Easy,” a soft voice said.
Your eyes fluttered open to find Jeno sitting beside your bed, looking utterly wrecked. His black hoodie was rumpled, his knuckles bruised and scraped. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, and his normally cocky demeanor was nowhere to be found. Instead, he looked worried for once in his life, like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.
“Jeno.” you rasped, your throat dry. 
Relief flooded his face as he leaned forward, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. “You’re okay,” he breathed. “You’re okay.”
“Jeno.” you repeated again, your voice stronger now. 
He hesitated, guilt flickering across his face. “There was an accident at the show,” he began cautiously. “You…you got hurt. But you’re safe now. I got you out of there.”
The memories suddenly came rushing back. The flaming trucks, the explosion, the searing pain in your side. And then…nothing.
Your heart rate monitor began to beep faster as anger bubbled to the surface. “The show,” you said bitterly. “Of course. Because you just had to pull another one of your stunts.”
“Y/N, it wasn’t—”
“Don’t,” you cut him off, your voice sharp. “Don’t you dare try to defend yourself right now. I almost died, Jeno.”
His shoulders sagged, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I’m so sorry. If I could take it back—”
“But you can’t, can you?” you snapped, your hands pointed at him accusedly. “You can’t take it back, Jeno. Because this is what you do. You push and you push until someone gets hurt, and this time, that someone was me.”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
“That’s the problem,” you shot back. “You never mean for it to happen, but it always does. And I’m the one who has to pick up the broken pieces.”
Jeno flinched, like your words had physically struck him. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes. “I can’t do this anymore, Jeno. I can’t keep watching you destroy yourself with drugs and alcohol, while dragging everyone else down with you.”
“I’m trying to change,” he said desperately, leaning forward. “I swear, Y/N. I’m done with all of it, the…everything. I’ll stop.”
“You always say that,” you muttered bitterly, turning your head away. “But nothing ever changes.”
The room fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the faint beep of the heart monitor.
“I’ll make it right,” Jeno said after a long pause, his voice trembling. “I don’t know how yet, but I will. I promise.”
You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The pain in your side was nothing compared to the ache in your chest. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him as he slowly stood and stepped back.
“I’ll let you rest,” he said quietly. “But…I’m not giving up on us, Y/N. I’ll prove to you that I can be better.”
The door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the sterile, too-quiet room.
Sometimes Jeno’s promises were often just as hollow as the man who made them.
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The roar of the motorcycle echoed through the empty streets as it skidded to a halt in the middle of an empty alley. Jeno ripped off his helmet, his chest heaving as he stumbled away from the bike. The orange glow of his eyes dimmed, leaving him in the dim light of a flickering street lamp.
“What the hell is happening to me?” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. His reflection stared back at him in a cracked window—human again, but the memory of his skeletal visage haunted him.
This wasn’t the first night he’d changed. Every time he closed his eyes, he felt it—the fire in his veins, the overwhelming urge to hunt, to punish. It wasn’t just a feeling; it was a presence. Some demon was inside him, whispering in his mind, urging him to give in.
“They deserve to burn.”
The voice was deep and guttural. It slithered through his thoughts like a venomous snake, tightening its hold every time he tried to ignore it.
“I’m not listening to you,” Jeno growled, gripping his head as the voice chuckled darkly.
“You can’t silence me, Jeno. You’re mine now. We’re one.”
The demon never introduced itself. It didn’t need to. Jeno already knew as soon as he touched that damn motorcycle. Zarathos. The Spirit of Vengeance. The demon that had bound itself to his soul, using his body as a vessel.
Jeno clenched his fists, the faint glow of hellfire flickering across his knuckles. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I didn’t ask for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’m not a killer.”
“But you are a sinner,” Zarathos hissed. “And sinners punish sinners. The world is full of filth, and we will cleanse it.”
“No,” Jeno snapped, his voice echoing in the empty alley. “I’m not your executioner.”
The demon’s laughter rang in his head, low and mocking. “You say that now. But you felt it, didn’t you? The thrill? The power? The fire in your blood when you burned them? You enjoyed it.”
Jeno’s stomach churned at the memory of the attackers writhing in agony, the fire consuming them. He hadn’t wanted to hurt them—at least, not like that. But Zarathos was right about one thing: the power was intoxicating. And that terrified him.
He slammed his fist into the brick wall, leaving a charred dent in the crumbling stone. “You’re not in control,” he growled. “I am.”
“For now.”
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By day, Jeno tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy. He performed his stunts, practiced at the arena, and plastered on a smile for his fans. But every time he climbed onto a bike, the fire inside him stirred, eager to be unleashed.
It was always worse at night.
Jeno stood on the rooftop of a dilapidated building, the city sprawled out below him like a labyrinth of shadows and flickering lights. The Spirit of Vengeance buzzed in his chest, pulling him toward something or someone.
He saw the scene before he heard it: a man in an alleyway, grabbing a young woman by the wrist. She screamed, struggling to pull away as the man loomed over her, a knife glinting in his hand.
Jeno’s vision blurred, his body moving on autopilot. The flames ignited before he even touched the bike, and when the Ghost Rider landed in the alley, the ground cracked beneath the weight of his fiery presence.
The man froze, his eyes wide with terror as the skeletal figure loomed over him. 
“You,” Jeno growled, his voice layered with Zarathos’ demonic timbre. “You prey on the innocent. What do you think you deserve?”
The man dropped the knife, stumbling backward. “I—I didn’t mean to—please, don’t hurt me!”
But the Spirit of Vengeance didn’t care for apologies. The chains in Jeno’s hands ignited, wrapping around the man and lifting him off the ground.
“Stop,” Jeno muttered, his human voice fighting to break through. “He’s not worth it.”
“He’s guilty,” Zarathos snarled. “And guilt demands punishment.”
The man screamed as the chains tightened, the hellfire scorching his skin. Jeno’s hands trembled, his skull burning brighter as he fought to regain control.
“He’s human,” Jeno argued. “I won’t kill him.”
The demon roared in frustration but relented, the chains loosening just enough to drop the man to the ground. The would-be attacker scrambled to his feet and ran, his screams fading into the distance.
Jeno stood in the alley, the flames around him slowly fading. He turned to the woman, who was staring at him with equal parts fear and gratitude.
“Go home,” he said gruffly, his voice still tinged with the Rider’s growl.
She nodded quickly, thanking him and disappearing into the night.
When the alley was silent again, Jeno collapsed against the wall, his human form returning. He buried his face in his hands, his body trembling.
“You see?” Zarathos sneered. “You can’t stop me forever. And soon, you won’t want to.”
Jeno closed his eyes, the weight of the demon’s presence pressing down on him. He didn’t know how long he could keep fighting. But for now, he had to try.
The neon glow of the gas station sign flickered in and out, bathing the parking lot in harsh, artificial light. Jeno leaned against his motorcycle, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in the other. His hoodie was pulled low over his face, but anyone who looked close enough would see the cracks in his façade—the trembling hands, the bloodshot eyes, the faint glow that threatened to seep from his skin if he let his guard down.
The whiskey burned his throat, but not nearly as much as the fire that roared in his chest every night. Zarathos was relentless, clawing at the edges of his sanity, and the only way Jeno could silence him was by drowning himself in the haze of alcohol and pills.
“Just a little longer,” he muttered to himself, taking another swig. “Just until I figure this out.”
The lie tasted bitter, but it was easier to believe than the truth. He was losing control.
The next morning, you found him slumped over in his garage, reeking of smoke and booze. You hadn’t heard from him since you were discharged from the hospital, so you wanted to at least check in on him. But you weren’t pleased with what you saw. So much for promising change. 
“Jeno,” you said sharply, crossing your arms as you stood in the doorway.
He stirred, groaning as he lifted his head. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that,” you shot back. “Why aren’t you at practice? Or, I don’t know, trying to clean up your mess for once?”
He winced at your words, sitting up and rubbing his temples. “Not now, okay? I’ve got a headache that makes me want to kill myself right now.”
You scoffed, stepping closer and yanking the bottle out of his hand. “Are you serious right now? This is what you’re doing with your time? Drinking yourself into oblivion while I’m out here trying to recover from almost dying?”
“I’m trying to deal with it!” Jeno snapped, his voice louder than he intended. He stood, swaying slightly, his eyes bloodshot and tired. “You think this is easy for me? You think I don’t hate myself for what happened to you?”
“Then stop making it worse!” you shot back, your voice rising to match his. “You’re spiraling, Jeno, and you’re not fighting this addiction at all.”
“I didn’t ask for this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. 
The raw emotion in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.
Jeno exhaled shakily, running a hand through his messy hair. “I didn’t ask for any of this,” he said quietly. “But I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”
You shook your head, your anger softening but not disappearing. “If this is your idea of trying, Jeno, then you’re failing.”
As you turned to leave, something stopped you. A memory from the news. Whispers of a “fiery skeleton” that had been spotted taking down criminals in the dead of night. You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder.
“Jeno,” you said cautiously. “You’ve been out a lot at night. You wouldn’t happen to know or run into that ‘fire guy’ people are talking about, would you?”
His entire body stiffened, his back turned to you. He didn’t answer right away, but the silence was damning. “...No.”
“Jeno,” you pressed, stepping closer. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
“It’s nothing,” he muttered, his voice strained. “Just…forget about it, okay?”
But you didn’t believe him. Not for a second.
“Jeno,” you said again, your voice soft but firm. “Look at me.”
He didn’t move.
“Jeno, look at me,” you repeated, more insistent this time.
Finally, he turned, and for the briefest moment, you swore you saw it—a faint glow in his eyes, like embers dying out. Your stomach twisted, a mix of fear and concern swirling in your chest.
“What happened to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Jeno shook his head, stepping back. “You don’t want to know,” he said quietly.
“Yes, I do,” you insisted. “I’ve known you my whole life, Jeno. I’ve stood by you through everything. Don’t shut me out now.”
But he just shook his head again, grabbing his helmet and heading for the door. “I can’t,” he said, his voice hollow. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”
And with that, he was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit garage, more confused and worried than ever before.
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So you needed a change of pace. If Jeno wanted to shut you out, then maybe you could use your time to focus on yourself more. 
You found yourself in your favorite cafe. The snug little store was warm, the scent of roasted coffee beans wrapping around you like a comforting hug. You were halfway through your drink, scrolling aimlessly on your phone, when the chair across from you was pulled out.
“Mind if I join you?”
You looked up, startled, to see a strikingly beautiful woman with an air of effortless confidence. Platinum blonde hair framed her sharp, elegant features, and her icy blue eyes sparkled with curiosity. Her tailored white coat and knee-high boots screamed sophistication, making you suddenly self-conscious of the oversized hoodie and jeans you’d thrown on.
“Uh…sure?” you replied hesitantly, gesturing to the chair.
She smiled, setting down her drink with precision. “I hope I’m not intruding. You looked like you could use some company.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Do I?”
She tilted her head, studying you like you were an interesting puzzle. “Call it intuition.”
“I guess you’re not wrong,” you admitted, leaning back in your chair. “It’s been…a rough few weeks.”
“I’m Karina,” she said smoothly, extending a hand.
“Y/N,” you replied, shaking it. Her grip was cool and firm, her smile almost too perfect.
“So, Y/N,” Karina said, resting her chin on her hand. “What’s been weighing on you? I’m a great listener.”
You hesitated. Something about her was disarming, almost magnetic. Before you could stop yourself, the words started spilling out. “It’s…complicated. Let’s just say someone I care about is making it really hard to keep caring about them.”
Karina nodded sympathetically, her expression never wavering. “The burden of loyalty. It’s a heavy one, isn’t it? Is this about a man?”
“Yeah,” you said, surprised by how much her words resonated. “I’ve known him forever, but lately…I don’t even recognize him anymore. He’s hiding something, and it’s tearing us apart.”
Karina sipped her drink, her gaze never leaving yours. “Sometimes, people hide because they’re afraid. Afraid of being judged, or rejected. But that doesn’t excuse them from the hurt they cause.”
You blinked, caught off guard by how accurately she’d summed up your feelings. “Exactly,” you said quietly.
“I know it’s not my place,” Karina continued, her tone gentle, “but maybe you need to take a step back. Focus on yourself for a while. You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”
Her harsh words settled over you, surprised at her directness. But it was comforting to hear such honesty for once.
“I was thinking of it, but I don’t want to lose him either.” you admitted.
Karina’s smile widened just a fraction. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, other than him, I’m here.” She slid a sleek, white business card across the table. “Call me anytime.”
You picked up the card, turning it over in your hands. There was no title, no address—just her name and a number embossed in silver.
“Thanks,” you said, tucking it into your pocket.
“Don’t mention it,” Karina said, standing gracefully. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. You deserve it.”
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Over the next few days, Karina became a fixture in your life. She’d text you to check in, send little messages of encouragement, and even invite you out for coffee or dinner.
At first, you were wary. People didn’t just waltz into your life like this without a reason. But Karina was warm, attentive, and had an uncanny ability to say exactly what you needed to hear. Plus, she was looking for friends in the city too since she had just moved here. 
“So, what’s the full deal with this guy?” she asked one evening over dinner, sipping a glass of wine. “The one who’s been giving you all this grief.”
“His name is Lee Jeno,” you said reluctantly. “He’s my…well, we’ve been friends since we were kids. But he’s got issues. Big ones.”
“Oh damn. The stunt biker guy.” Karina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Issues like ‘he forgot your birthday,’ or issues like ‘he’s a raging alcoholic or drug addict or some other addiction’?”
You laughed, though it was tinged with unease. “Closer to the second one, honestly. Well, he’s always struggled with it. Yet, he’s been acting so weird lately. Disappearing at night, avoiding my questions. And sometimes, when I look at him, it’s like he’s not even Jeno anymore.”
Karina leaned forward, her expression unreadable. “And you’re sure it’s just him trying to hide his addiction? Nothing…bigger going on?”
The question caught you off guard. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothing,” Karina said breezily, waving a hand. “Just that sometimes, people go through changes. Big changes. Ones they don’t know how to explain. And sometimes, it takes someone else to help them see their true potential.”
You frowned, her words stirring something deep inside you. “I don’t know. Jeno’s not exactly the ‘ask for help’ type.”
Karina’s smile turned enigmatic, her blue eyes practically glowing. “Maybe not. But some people just need the right nudge. And who better to do that than you?”
There was something in her tone, something that made your skin prickle. But before you could dwell on it, Karina raised her glass in a toast.
“To new beginnings,” she said, her voice smooth as silk.
You hesitated, then clinked your glass against hers. “To new beginnings.”
As you drank, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Karina knew more about your life and Jeno’s than maybe she was letting on.
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The opulent room was bathed in shadows, the flickering light of a chandelier casting jagged shapes on the polished mahogany walls. Karina stood at the center of the large, round table, her white ensemble a stark contrast against the room’s dark and decadent decor. Around her sat the upper echelon of the Hellfire Club, an underground organization of mutants with a reputation for ruthlessness and manipulation.
“Karina,” a deep, commanding voice said, breaking the silence. It belonged to the Black King, the leader of the group, whose piercing gaze bore into her. “My dearest White Queen. You’ve been unusually proactive lately. Care to share what’s captured your attention?”
Karina smiled coolly, folding her hands in front of her. “I’ve found something—or rather, someone—of immense potential.”
The Black Queen, a woman with sharp features and an even sharper tongue, leaned forward with an arched brow. “Do tell. Potential isn’t exactly rare these days. Why is this someone worth our time?”
Karina stepped closer to the table, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “Her name is Y/N. She’s a baseline human. Or so she thinks. She’s yet to manifest her mutant abilities.”
She paused, letting the words sink in before continuing. “Her energy is…raw, untapped, but powerful. I’ve felt it. It’s dormant now, but when it awakens, it will rival even the strongest of us. I’m surprised it’s taking her so long to manifest, but that’s what makes it so powerful.”
The Black King steepled his fingers, his expression unreadable. “And what makes you so certain she’s worth the effort? If her powers haven’t manifested yet, there’s no guarantee they ever will.”
Karina tilted her head, a hint of amusement in her smile. “Oh, they will. I’ve already seen the signs—subtle as they are. Her emotions are volatile, and she’s drawn to chaos like a moth to flame. It’s only a matter of time before the spark ignites.”
The Black Queen’s lips curved into a smirk. “Interesting. And what do you propose we do with her once this ‘spark’ ignites?”
Karina’s smile turned predatory, her blue eyes gleaming. “We guide her. Shape her. I’m sensing some crazy electrical forces. Imagine what we could accomplish with her power under our control.”
“And if she refuses?” the Black King asked, his tone cold and measured.
Karina’s expression didn’t falter. “Then we ensure she has no choice. After all, loyalty is just another form of control. And I’ve already begun earning hers.”
A murmur rippled through the room as the other members exchanged intrigued glances.
The Black King leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Karina. But if you can deliver on your promises, the rewards will be worth the risk.”
“I always deliver,” Karina said smoothly.
The Black Queen raised her glass, the golden liquid catching the light. “Then here’s to your little pet project. Let’s hope she’s everything you claim she is.”
Karina raised her own glass in return, her smile never wavering. 
“Oh, she will be.”
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Jeno stood outside the café, arms crossed and jaw tight as he watched through the window. There you were, sitting across from Karina again, laughing at something she’d said. The way you leaned in, the way she smiled that calculated, flawless smile—it all set his teeth on edge.
He clenched his fists, the faint flicker of flames threatening to ignite beneath his skin. Zarathos stirred in the back of his mind, growling low like an animal sensing danger.
“She’s not who she seems,” the demon whispered, its voice grating like embers crackling.
Jeno didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. He’d felt it the moment he’d laid eyes on Karina. Something about her was too perfect, too polished. And the way she’d latched onto you so quickly? It wasn’t right.
He waited until Karina had left before stepping inside. You looked up, surprised to see him, but your expression quickly shifted to irritation.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone defensive.
Jeno didn’t answer right away, pulling up a chair and sitting across from you. His leather jacket creaked as he leaned forward, his dark eyes searching yours. “We need to talk.”
You sighed, already bracing yourself. “If this is about Karina—”
“It is about her,” he cut in, his voice firm. “Y/N, you don’t know her. Not really.”
“And you do?” you shot back, crossing your arms.
“I don’t need to,” he said, his tone rising. “Something about her is off. I can feel it.”
You rolled your eyes, exasperated. “Oh, great. Now we’re relying on your ‘feelings’ to judge people? Like your intuition ever worked in the first place. I’m lucky to be alive right now.”
Jeno’s jaw tightened. “I’m serious, Y/N. She’s not who she says she is. People don’t just waltz into your life and start playing therapist out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“Maybe she actually cares,” you snapped. “Unlike someone who disappears for days at a time without a word and comes back smelling like smoke and regret.”
Jeno flinched at your words, but he pushed forward. “I’m not perfect, okay? But I know when someone’s trouble. And Karina? She’s got ‘trouble’ written all over her.”
“Why do you even care?” you demanded, your voice rising. “You don’t get to swoop in and play the hero after everything that’s happened. I don’t need your permission to make new friends.”
Jeno looked at you, his expression a mix of frustration and something softer—hurt, maybe. “I care because I don’t want you to get hurt. Again.”
For a moment, you almost softened. Almost.
But then you thought about Karina. How she listened, how she didn’t judge you, how she made you feel seen in a way Jeno hadn’t in months.
“You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t trust,” you said coldly. “Karina’s been more of a friend to me lately than you have.”
Jeno stared at you, his lips pressed into a thin line. “You’re making a mistake,” he said quietly.
“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you shot back.
He stood, his chair scraping against the floor as he shoved it back. “Fine,” he muttered, turning to leave. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Later that evening, you met Karina at her apartment. A sleek, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the city. God, you were poor as hell. She greeted you with a warm smile, handing you a glass of wine as you settled onto her plush couch.
“You seem tense,” she noted, sitting gracefully across from you.
“Just had another fight with Jeno,” you admitted, swirling the wine in your glass. “He’s convinced you’re some kind of…villain or something.”
Karina chuckled, the sound light and melodic. “He doesn’t trust me?”
“Not even a little,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s like he’s looking for reasons to push me away.”
Karina reached out, placing a hand over yours. Her touch was cool and comforting. “Sometimes people lash out because they’re afraid. Fear can make them see threats where there are none.”
You sighed, leaning back. “I just don’t get it. Why can’t he see that you’re trying to help me?”
Karina’s expression softened, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes—something calculated. “It’s because he doesn’t understand you the way I do. You’re special, Y/N. More than you realize.”
You frowned, her words catching you off guard. “Special? What do you mean?”
Karina smiled enigmatically, her fingers brushing against yours. “You’ll see. In time.”
Her words left a lingering unease in your chest, but you pushed it aside. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t know what he was talking about.
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Jeno leaned against the wall of his garage, staring blankly at the ground. Zarathos growled in the back of his mind, restless and impatient.
“You should have burned her,” the demon hissed.
Jeno closed his eyes, his hands balling into fists. “Shut up.”
“She’s manipulating her. The girl you care for. Can’t you feel it?”
Jeno’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need Zarathos to tell him that. But what could he do? You weren’t listening to him, and every time he tried to warn you, it only pushed you further away.
“Then stop warning her,” Zarathos said, his voice low and menacing. “And show her what that woman truly is.”
Jeno opened his eyes, the flames flickering faintly in his irises. For once, he found himself agreeing with the demon. 
“You’re finally listening,” Zarathos hissed, its voice echoing in Jeno’s head.
“Don’t get used to it,” Jeno muttered, gripping the handlebars of the bike. “I didn’t ask for you, and I’m not letting you run the show.”
The Spirit of Vengeance laughed, a dark, grating sound that sent chills down Jeno’s spine. “You think you can control me, boy? You’re nothing without me.”
Jeno scowled, the flames creeping up his arms flaring brighter in response to his frustration. “You don’t get it, do you? I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for her.”
“Ah, the girl,” Zarathos sneered. “You think she’ll forgive you? That she’ll see you as anything but a monster?”
“She will,” Jeno said firmly, his voice steady despite the doubt gnawing at him. “But first, I need to figure out how to use this…whatever this is.”
Zarathos growled. “Vengeance isn’t a tool, boy. It’s a purpose. A fire that consumes everything in its path.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not here to burn the world down,” Jeno snapped. “I’m here to protect it.”
The Spirit laughed again, its voice dripping with disdain. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
Determined to understand his new abilities, Jeno spent every spare moment testing the limits of his powers. He discovered that the flames responded to his emotions, roaring to life when he was angry or scared and flickering out when he calmed himself.
One night, he stood in the middle of an abandoned road, the cursed motorcycle idling beside him. He took a deep breath, focusing on the growing warmth in his chest, and held out his hand. A whip of fire erupted from his palm, coiling and snapping like a living thing.
“Not bad,” he muttered to himself, extinguishing the whip with a flick of his wrist.
But every small victory was overshadowed by the constant presence of Zarathos. The Spirit’s voice was a relentless whisper in his mind, urging him to give in, to embrace the fire and let it consume him.
“Why fight it?” Zarathos taunted. “You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The power. The thrill.”
Jeno ignored the voice, climbing onto the motorcycle and revving the engine. The flames along its frame flared to life, illuminating the darkness around him.
“I’m not your puppet,” he muttered, tightening his grip on the handlebars.
“We’ll see,” the Spirit replied, its laughter echoing in his ears as he sped down the road.
One evening, while patrolling the outskirts of town, Jeno stumbled upon a group of men mugging an elderly woman in an alley. His first instinct was to intervene, but as the flames began to crawl up his arms, Zarathos’ voice returned, stronger than ever.
“Punish them,” it hissed. “Make them suffer.”
Jeno hesitated, his heart pounding. The men turned to face him, their eyes widening in fear as they took in his glowing eyes and the flames licking at his jacket.
“Hey, man, we don’t want any trouble,” one of them stammered, backing away.
Jeno clenched his fists, the fire burning hotter. Zarathos was screaming in his mind now, urging him to unleash his fury.
“They deserve it!” the Spirit roared. “They’re guilty!”
But as Jeno looked at the terrified men, he saw something else—fear. Regret. They weren’t innocent, but they weren’t beyond saving, either.
“No,” Jeno said aloud, his voice steady. “Not like this.”
He extinguished the flames, stepping forward and forcing the men to flee with nothing more than his presence. The elderly woman thanked him tearfully, but as he walked away, the weight of Zarathos’ disapproval settled over him like a storm cloud.
“You’re weak,” the Spirit snarled. “One day, you’ll see. Mercy has no place in vengeance.”
“Maybe not,” Jeno muttered, mounting his motorcycle. “But I’m not just vengeance. I’m also me.”
The more Jeno used his powers, the more he began to notice strange connections—patterns he couldn’t ignore. The criminals he encountered often mentioned a name in hushed tones: Karina.
One night, he followed a lead to an abandoned warehouse, where he found a cache of high-tech weapons and equipment. The markings on the crates were unmistakable. This wasn’t ordinary crime.
“She’s not just some innocent bystander,” Jeno muttered, running a hand through his hair.
“You’re finally catching on,” Zarathos sneered. “She’s more dangerous than you know. And she has her sights set on your girl.”
Jeno’s heart sank. He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was piling up. Karina wasn’t who she seemed, and if she was connected to you, that meant you were in more danger than you realized.
He revved his motorcycle, the flames roaring to life. “Not on my watch,” he muttered, speeding off into the night.
The fire burned hotter now, fueled by a new determination. Jeno wasn’t just fighting to control the Spirit of Vengeance anymore. He was fighting to save you.
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You sat in Karina’s sleek, modern apartment, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the pristine walls. A strange tension filled the room. Karina’s usually serene demeanor had shifted; there was an intensity in her gaze, something calculating behind her sharp blue eyes.
“You’ve felt it, haven’t you?” Karina asked, her voice soft yet commanding.
“Felt what?” you asked, frowning as you set your cup of tea on the table.
“That spark,” she said, leaning forward, her fingers steepled beneath her chin. “The moments when your emotions run high—fear, anger, pain—and something stirs inside you. Something you can’t explain.”
You blinked, your pulse quickening. You had felt something—fleeting moments of electric energy coursing through your body, like static building up but never quite releasing. But you’d written it off as stress or adrenaline.
“How do you know about that?” you asked warily.
Karina smiled, a knowing, almost maternal expression crossing her face. “Because I’ve seen it before. I know what you are, Y/N.”
Your throat tightened. “What I am? You make it sound like I’m not a human.”
“You’re not just human,” she said, her tone dripping with certainty. “You’re a mutant.”
The word hung in the air, heavy and charged. You stared at her, the weight of her statement pressing down on you. “That’s not… I’m not…”
“You are,” Karina interrupted gently. “It’s why you’ve always felt different, why strange things happen around you when you’re upset. It’s your gift, Y/N. Your power.”
Your mind raced, flashes of unexplained incidents from your past bubbling to the surface: the lights flickering during arguments, the faint hum of electricity in your veins when you were scared. 
A mutant? But mutants were both feared and loved by society. Oh god, what would Jeno think?
“I… I don’t know what to say,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
Karina reached out, placing a hand on yours. “You don’t have to say anything. I know how overwhelming this must be, but you’re not alone. You don’t have to go through this by yourself.”
You looked up at her, tears pricking your eyes. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t even know how to control it.”
“That’s where I come in,” Karina said smoothly. “I can help you. I’ve been where you are, Y/N. I know what it’s like to feel lost, to feel like the world doesn’t understand you. But I do.”
Her words were like a lifeline, and for a moment, you felt a flicker of hope. But then a small voice in the back of your mind—Jeno’s voice—echoed faintly: She’s not who she says she is.
You shook your head, brushing the thought away. Karina had been nothing but kind to you. Jeno didn’t understand.
Karina led you into a hidden room within her apartment, the walls lined with advanced tech and holographic screens displaying maps, dossiers, and data that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.
“What is all this?” you asked, glancing around in awe.
“This,” Karina said, gesturing to the room with a flourish, “is part of something much bigger. A movement, if you will. The Hellfire Club.”
You turned to her, confusion etched across your face. “The Hellfire Club? What is that?”
“We’re an organization dedicated to ensuring mutantkind rises to its rightful place in the world,” Karina explained, her voice laced with passion. “For too long, mutants have been oppressed, hunted, and treated as less than human. But we’re done hiding. We’re done being afraid.”
Her words stirred something in you—a mix of fear and curiosity. “What does this have to do with me?”
Karina stepped closer, her gaze piercing. “Everything. Your powers, Y/N—they’re extraordinary. Once they’re fully awakened, you’ll be capable of things most mutants can only dream of. But you need guidance. Training. And that’s what I’m offering you.”
You swallowed hard, your mind spinning. “I don’t know if I can do this. I didn’t ask for any of this.”
“None of us did,” Karina said, her voice softening. “But we don’t get to choose what we are. We can only choose how we use it. And you, Y/N, have the potential to change everything.”
She paused, letting her words sink in before adding, “But to do that, you have to let go of your fear. You have to embrace who you are. And you have to trust me.”
There was something magnetic about her, something that made you want to believe every word she said. But deep down, a seed of doubt began to take root.
“What’s the catch?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly.
Karina smiled, her expression unreadable. “No catch, my dear. Only the promise of a future where you can be free—where we can all be free.”
You hesitated, torn between the comfort of her words and the nagging feeling in your gut. “I need time to think.”
“Of course,” Karina said smoothly. “Take all the time you need. But remember, Y/N. Your power is a gift. Don’t let anyone convince you otherwise.”
As you left her apartment that night, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to believe her, to trust her, but something about her intensity unsettled you.
And as you walked into the cool night air, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were standing at the edge of something much larger and much more dangerous than you’d ever imagined.
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Jeno sat on the curb outside your apartment, his head in his hands, shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion and regret. His jacket was torn, his knuckles bloodied from a fight he barely remembered, and the faint smell of whiskey lingered on his breath. He stared blankly at the empty bottle in his lap, the flames of his inner turmoil simmering just beneath the surface. The night was quiet, the kind of stillness that made his thoughts louder, more unbearable.
When you stepped outside, startled to find him there in the dead of night, his eyes met yours. They were glassy, but not from the alcohol. There was something raw and vulnerable in them, something you hadn’t seen in a long time. For a moment, you hesitated, unsure whether to approach him or turn back inside. But the sight of him—broken, disheveled, and so unlike the confident Jeno you’d always known—pulled you forward.
“Jeno?” you said cautiously, stepping closer. The cold night air bit at your skin, but the tension between you was far more chilling.
He looked up, his eyes hollow yet filled with a desperation that made your chest tighten. “Y/N,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. He stood, swaying slightly, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I—I needed to see you.”
Your heart clenched at the sight of him. He looked like a ghost of the man you once knew, his charm buried beneath layers of pain and self-destruction. “It’s the middle of the night,” you said, crossing your arms, trying to shield yourself from the emotions threatening to spill over. “You can’t just show up like this.”
“I know,” he said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I know I’m a mess. But I—” He paused, his voice cracking. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
You frowned, torn between frustration and concern. “What do you mean?”
Jeno’s hands trembled as he gripped the bottle tighter, then hurled it across the street. It shattered against the pavement, the sound cutting through the stillness like a scream. “This!” he shouted, gesturing wildly to himself. “I’m losing control, Y/N! Of everything. Of my powers. Of… of me.”
You stepped back, startled by the outburst. “Jeno, calm down—”
“I can’t!” he yelled, his voice breaking. “I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried. But it’s like I’m fighting this thing inside me, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep it at bay.”
His hands ignited for a split second, flames licking at his skin before fizzling out. You froze, your breath catching in your throat. The sight of the fire—real, tangible fire—coming from his hands was impossible to process. Your mind raced, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen. “Jeno… what was that?” you whispered, your voice trembling.
He clenched his fists, shaking his head as if trying to push the Spirit’s voice out of his mind. “It’s me,” he said bitterly. “Or… it’s not me. I don’t even know anymore.” He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and shame. “I’m not just some messed-up stunt rider, Y/N. I’m… I’m the Ghost Rider.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Your mind reeled, struggling to reconcile the Jeno you knew with the stories you’d heard about the fiery vigilante haunting the city. “The Ghost Rider?” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. “That’s… that’s impossible.”
“I wish it was,” he said, his voice hollow. “But it’s real. The flames, the power, the voice in my head—it’s all real. And it’s killing me, Y/N. Every time I transform, it feels like I’m burning from the inside out. And the things I’ve done… the people I’ve hurt…” He trailed off, his hands shaking as he ran them through his hair again. “I’m a monster.”
Your heart ached at the pain in his voice, but the shock of his confession kept you rooted to the spot. “Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, your voice rising. “All this time, you’ve been dealing with this alone, and you didn’t think to tell me?”
“Because I didn’t want you to see me like this!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster. You’re the one person who still sees something good in me, and I couldn’t risk losing that.”
Tears welled in your eyes as his words hit you. “Jeno, you don’t have to do this alone. You don’t have to carry this by yourself.”
“And then there’s you,” he said, his voice softer now, filled with anguish. “You’re the one thing. The only thing that makes me want to be better. But I’m screwing that up too, aren’t I?”
“Jeno…” You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words leaving you stunned. Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Shock, fear, anger, and an overwhelming sadness for the man standing in front of you.
He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Not to her. Not to Karina.”
You stiffened at the mention of her name. “This again? Jeno, I told you—Karina’s helping me. She understands me in a way you don’t. She—”
“She’s using you!” Jeno snapped, his voice rising. “You think she cares about you? She’s manipulating you, Y/N. I’ve seen it. I feel it.”
“You don’t know her,” you shot back, anger flaring in your chest. “You don’t know what I’ve been through or what it’s like to feel so out of control. Karina does.”
“And I don’t?” Jeno asked bitterly. “I’ve been out of control my whole damn life. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’m trying because of you.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and he ran a hand down his face, his composure crumbling. “I love you,” he said finally, his words barely audible. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. And I’ve been too much of a coward to say it until now.”
The confession hung in the air, heavy and charged. Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jeno… you can’t.” you began, your voice faltering. “That’s so unfair. You can’t fucking drop that on me?” 
He grabbed your hands, his touch warm despite the cold night air. “Please,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Please don’t trust her. Don’t let her pull you into whatever she’s planning. I can’t lose you to her.”
You pulled your hands away, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “You don’t understand, Jeno. I’m finally starting to figure out who I am, and Karina is helping me. I can’t just walk away from that.”
“And what about me?” he asked, his voice breaking. “What about us?”
“I don’t know,” you admitted, tears welling in your eyes. “I don’t know what I feel anymore.”
Jeno stared at you, his expression a mix of heartbreak and resignation. “You’ve already chosen her, haven’t you?”
You couldn’t answer. The silence between you was deafening, and when Jeno finally turned and walked away, the flames that had always surrounded him seemed smaller, dimmer.
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The air inside the abandoned factory was thick with tension, the kind that made your skin prickle and your breath catch in your throat. The dim, flickering lights overhead cast long shadows across the rusted machinery and crumbling walls, creating an eerie backdrop for the confrontation you knew was coming. You stood frozen at the edge of the room, your heart pounding as you tried to steady your breathing. Your hands trembled at your sides, tiny sparks of electricity dancing between your fingers. You clenched your fists, trying to suppress the energy surging through you, but it was like holding back a tidal wave.
Karina stood at the center of the room, her white suit pristine despite the grime of the factory. Her diamond-shaped earrings caught the faint light, glinting like shards of ice. She watched you with a calculating gaze, her lips curled into a faint smirk. “You feel it, don’t you?” she said, her voice smooth and unnervingly calm. “The power inside you, begging to be unleashed. You don’t have to fight it, Y/N. Let it out.”
“Stop. Get out of my head.” you snapped, your voice shaking with a mix of fear and anger. 
Her smirk widened. “Darling, you can barely control your own abilities. I’m just helping you clear your mind. To help you relax. ”
Before you could respond, a deafening roar tore through the silence. The factory doors exploded inward, shards of metal and wood scattering across the floor. Flames erupted in the doorway, and through the inferno, Jeno emerged on his motorcycle, the Ghost Rider in full form. His flaming skull cast an ominous glow across the room, and his chain dragged behind him, leaving scorch marks in its wake.
“Karina!” Jeno’s voice was a guttural growl, distorted by the Spirit of Vengeance. “Step away from her.”
Karina turned toward him, her smirk never faltering. “Well, well,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “The Spirit of Vengeance finally decided to crash the party. How… predictable.”
You took a step forward, panic rising in your chest. “Jeno, don’t do this!”
He glanced at you briefly, his fiery gaze softening for just a moment. “Get out of here, Y/N. I don’t want you to see this.”
Karina laughed, a cold, melodic sound that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, she’s not going anywhere. Not when she’s finally starting to understand her potential.”
Jeno’s flames roared brighter, his chain snapping taut in his hands. “You’re not laying a finger on her.”
Karina’s eyes glowed with a faint silver hue, her telepathic powers flaring to life. “I don’t need to lay a finger on her to destroy you, Jeno.”
The telepathic assault hit Jeno like a freight train. His flames flickered, dimming as he staggered back, clutching his skull. The Ghost Rider’s growl turned into a pained roar as Karina’s voice echoed in his mind, sharp and venomous.
“You’re a failure, Lee Jeno,” she hissed, her words cutting deeper than any physical blow. “A coward. A junkie. You think you can protect her? You couldn’t even protect yourself.”
Jeno dropped to his knees, his chain clattering to the ground. His fiery skull dimmed further, revealing glimpses of his human face beneath, twisted in agony. “No,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “No, I—”
Karina stepped closer, her voice dripping with venom. “You left her to die, Jeno. You’re the reason she almost bled out in that junkyard. And now you think you can save her from me? You’re pathetic.”
“Stop it!” you screamed, stepping forward. But an invisible barrier, a telekinetic shield, held you back. You slammed your fists against it, sparks of electricity crackling against the force field. “Let him go!”
Karina didn’t even glance at you, her focus entirely on Jeno. “You’re nothing without the Spirit of Vengeance. Just a broken man with nothing to offer.”
Jeno’s flames sputtered, his body trembling as he fought against her mental assault. But then, something snapped.
A surge of electricity exploded from your body, shattering Karina’s barrier and sending a shockwave through the room. The force of it knocked Karina back, her telepathic hold on Jeno breaking as she stumbled. Sparks danced along your skin, and the lights in the factory flickered wildly, casting the room in a chaotic strobe of light and shadow.
Karina’s calm façade cracked for the first time, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you. “What…?” she muttered, her voice tinged with disbelief.
You looked down at your hands, electricity arcing between your fingers. The buzzing energy in your veins was overwhelming but exhilarating, like you were finally alive for the first time. “I don’t know what you did to me,” you said, your voice trembling but firm. “But I’m done letting you manipulate me.”
Jeno rose to his feet, his flames roaring back to life as the Spirit of Vengeance surged within him. He turned to you, his fiery gaze filled with both awe and concern. “Y/N… your powers…”
You met his gaze, a flicker of resolve igniting in your chest. “We’ll figure it out later. Right now, we stop her. Together.”
Karina’s lips twisted into a scowl. “You think you can stop me? Both of you are just scared little children playing with powers you don’t understand.”
Her eyes glowed again as she prepared to strike, but this time, you were ready. Electricity coursed through your body as you raised your hand, sending a bolt of lightning toward her. Jeno’s chain ignited in flames as he lashed out, the Ghost Rider and your newfound powers colliding in a chaotic, electrified storm of fire and fury.
Sparks flew as your electricity surged wildly, ricocheting off metal beams and machinery, while flames from Jeno’s Ghost Rider form scorched the ground. The air was thick with smoke and the acrid smell of burning metal, the heat of the battle pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Karina narrowly avoided both attacks.
You stood in the middle of it all, suddenly trembling as the power in your veins pulsed out of control, the air around you crackling with raw energy. Every breath felt like fire in your lungs, every heartbeat a thunderous drum in your ears.
“Jeno, stop!” you shouted, your voice breaking through the storm of noise. “I can’t— I can’t control it!”
“Y/N, get out of here!” Jeno growled, the hellfire in his skull burning brightly as he dodged a telepathic assault from Karina. His chain lashed out, the flames leaving a trail of fire as it whipped through the air. “I’ll handle her!”
“You can’t handle me, Rider,” Karina sneered, her diamond-covered hand catching the flames of Jeno’s chain and deflecting them with ease. The impact sent a shower of sparks cascading to the ground, illuminating her cold, calculating smirk. She twisted her body back to flesh, her eyes glowing as she aimed a telepathic blast toward you. “And neither can she.”
The attack hit you like a freight train, sending you stumbling backward. Your head throbbed as Karina’s voice echoed in your mind, sharp and venomous. You’re a danger to everyone around you, Y/N. Look at him. He’s already breaking because of you.
“No!” you shouted, gripping your head as electricity sparked uncontrollably from your body, burning holes in the ground. The pain was unbearable, a searing heat that threatened to consume you. “Get out of my head!”
Jeno roared, swinging his flaming chain toward Karina with a ferocity that shook the room. “Leave her alone!”
Karina turned to diamond just in time, the chain clashing against her hardened form with a deafening clang. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the factory, shattering nearby windows and sending shards of glass raining down. Jeno pulled back and lashed out again, but the attacks only glanced off her unyielding body, leaving faint scorch marks on her diamond skin.
“You’re predictable,” Karina taunted, reverting back to her human form. Her voice dripped with malice as she stepped closer, her heels clicking against the cracked concrete. “And reckless.” Her eyes narrowed, her telepathic powers flaring as she struck again, this time targeting Jeno. Which is why you’ll never be enough for her.
Jeno froze, his flames flickering as the words hit him like a punch to the gut. The Ghost Rider’s growl faltered, his fiery skull dimming as Karina’s mental assault dug into his deepest insecurities. “I… I…” he stammered, his voice trembling.
Seeing her opening, Karina lunged, her diamond form shimmering into existence as she aimed a devastating punch at Jeno’s chest. The blow landed with a sickening crunch, sending him flying into a stack of metal crates. He hit the ground hard, the flames around him sputtering as he struggled to rise.
“Jeno!” you screamed, your voice raw with panic. Electricity surged through you, the power building to a dangerous level as your fear and anger took over. You raised your hands, the energy crackling wildly as you unleashed a massive bolt of lightning toward Karina.
She shifted to diamond just in time, the electricity ricocheting off her hardened form and striking a nearby generator. The explosion sent a wave of heat and debris crashing through the factory, the force of it knocking you off your feet. You hit the ground hard, the breath driven from your lungs as pain shot through your ribs.
Karina emerged from the smoke, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. A thin trail of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, her once-pristine suit now torn and scorched. “You’re meddling in things you don’t understand, Y/N,” she hissed, her voice laced with frustration.
“And whose fault is that?” you shot back, electricity arcing dangerously around you. Your body ached, your vision blurred, but you forced yourself to stand. “You lied to me. You used me.”
“I gave you purpose!” Karina snapped, shifting back to her human form as she tried to invade your mind again. But you were ready this time.
The moment her telepathic influence touched you, your electricity surged outward in a massive wave, cutting off her connection. The lights in the factory exploded, plunging the room into flickering darkness lit only by Jeno’s flames and the electric blue glow of your powers. The air buzzed with energy, the tension so thick it felt like the room itself was holding its breath.
Jeno took advantage of the distraction, his chain wrapping around Karina’s leg and yanking her off her feet. She hit the ground with a sharp thud, immediately shifting to diamond to avoid his next attack. Jeno’s flames roared brighter as he swung his chain again, the fiery links crashing against her diamond form with enough force to send her skidding across the floor.
“You’re out of tricks, Karina!” Jeno snarled, his skull blazing with hellfire.
Karina smirked, standing slowly. “Am I?”
With a wave of her hand, she sent shards of diamond-like energy hurtling toward you. Jeno’s flames flared brighter as he leapt in front of you, the shards disintegrating against his burning form. But the force of the attack sent him staggering, his flames flickering as he struggled to stay upright.
“Y/N, focus!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder at you. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, his human form flickering beneath the Ghost Rider’s flames. “You’ve got this. I know you do.”
You swallowed hard, your heart racing. The chaos of the battle overwhelmed you, but Jeno’s words anchored you, giving you the strength to push past the fear. Electricity sparked and crackled around you as you raised your hands, channeling the power into a focused current. The energy shot forward, slamming into Karina with enough force to send her flying into a pile of crates.
She staggered to her feet, her diamond form flickering as she struggled to maintain it. For the first time, she looked rattled, her breathing ragged and her movements slower, more deliberate.
“This isn’t over,” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.
“We’ll see about that,” Jeno growled, flames flaring as he stepped forward.
You steadied yourself, your hands still sparking, ready for whatever came next. For the first time, you felt a glimmer of control over your powers. With Jeno by your side, you knew you wouldn’t back down.
Karina straightened, her diamond form flickering as she reverted to flesh. She held up a hand, her expression unreadable. “Enough,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost resigned. “I can’t keep this up forever.”
Jeno growled, his chain igniting in fiery protest as the Spirit of Vengeance pushed him to finish the fight. “You don’t get to walk away, Karina.”
But you stepped forward, placing a hand on his burning shoulder. “Jeno, wait,” you said, your voice firm but calm. “Let me handle this.”
Jeno’s skull turned slightly toward you, the flames in his sockets flickering with hesitation, but he relented, lowering his chain. “Fine. But don’t trust her.”
You turned to Karina, your chest heaving as you fought to steady the overwhelming power coursing through you. “Why are you doing this?” you asked, your voice trembling—not with fear, but with exhaustion and hurt. “You said you were helping me. Was it all a lie?”
Karina’s diamond form flickered briefly before she reverted fully to flesh and blood. For the first time, you saw something human in her eyes—regret, perhaps, or maybe doubt. She wiped a smudge of dirt from her cheek, straightening her posture.
“I didn’t lie,” she said, her voice softer now. “Not about everything. You do have incredible potential, Y/N. More than you realize. But… I didn’t approach you purely out of kindness.”
“Then why?” you demanded, the electricity around you sparking dangerously.
Karina hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Because I needed you. Your powers. For the Hellfire Club’s plans. You were… a means to an end.”
Your chest tightened at her words, but before the anger could take hold, she continued.
“But,” she said, glancing away, “it wasn’t all manipulation. I—” She paused, the unflappable Karina momentarily at a loss for words. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Y/N. You’re smart, kind… and you made me see things differently.”
“Differently?” you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.
Karina met your gaze, her icy composure softening. “I’ve spent so much of my life doing what I thought was necessary—making hard decisions for the ‘greater good.’ But being around you… it reminded me of who I used to be, before all of this. Before I became... this.”
Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming but still present. “If you’re having second thoughts, prove it. Walk away.”
Karina looked between you and Jeno, her expression conflicted. For a moment, you thought she might lash out again, but instead, she reached into her coat pocket and pulled out a pair of sleek, metallic gauntlets.
“Here,” she said, tossing them to you. You caught them instinctively, the cool metal humming faintly in your hands. “They’ll help you control your powers. Keep you from accidentally frying someone. I was supposed to give them to you after you joined us.”
You stared at the gauntlets, then back at her. “Then why are you giving me these now?”
Karina smiled faintly, a flicker of genuine warmth breaking through her usual cool demeanor. “Because I don’t want you to make the same mistakes I did. Power without control... it’ll destroy you. And I’d rather not see that happen.”
Jeno crossed his arms, his fiery gaze narrowing. “This doesn’t absolve you of everything you’ve done.”
“I know,” Karina said, her voice quiet. She turned to you, her expression serious. “If things get worse. Like if the Hellfire Club comes after you. Call me. I’ll help you.”
“Why?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.
Karina gave you a small, almost sad smile. “Because despite everything, I care about you, Y/N. More than I expected to.”
With that, she turned on her heel and began walking toward the factory’s exit.
“You’ll never stop looking over your shoulder if you go back to them,” Jeno called after her, his voice hard.
Karina paused at the doorway, glancing back over her shoulder. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But we don’t all get to ride off into the sunset with a gorgeous woman who can manipulate electricity by our side, do we, Rider?”
And then she was gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.
You stood there, clutching the gauntlets tightly, your heart a storm of emotions. Jeno stepped closer, his flames dimming until they extinguished completely, leaving him in his human form.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice softer now.
You nodded, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was true. “I think so. For now.”
He gave you a small, tentative smile. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”
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The factory was a wreck. The floors were scorched, the walls cracked from the battles you fought, and the lingering scent of burnt rubber and ozone filled the air. You and Jeno both stood in the aftermath, looking like a pair of survivors who had just stumbled out of a warzone—except, in your case, the war was against a woman who could turn into a diamond. And, you know, manipulate minds. No big deal.
You winced as you flexed your wrist, the burn from a stray blast still making your skin tingle. Glancing at Jeno, you noticed his own set of injuries: deep cuts across his arms and a nasty gash on his forehead, not to mention his previously pristine jacket now reduced to ash and scorched fabric. Classic Jeno, always wearing the most expensive thing in a junkyard brawl.
“Hey, so…” you began, shifting uncomfortably as you tried to ignore the awkward silence hanging between you two. “About all the… revelations tonight.”
Jeno shot you a sideways glance, and you could see the weight of everything that had happened sinking in. The Spirit of Vengeance had left him, so at least he wasn’t looking like a flaming skull for now, but you could still see the lingering guilt in his eyes. The man was a walking metaphor for a storm. Wild, unpredictable, and, apparently, in need of a good therapist.
“Yeah, you don’t say,” he muttered, rubbing his head. “So, uh, what now? Do we pretend that didn’t happen? Or is the whole ‘electricity-generating mutant’ thing a forever deal?”
You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “You think I just woke up one day and thought, ‘Hey, I’ll be a walking lightning rod for the rest of my life’?”
Jeno winced as he straightened up, his movements stiff. “No, I didn’t, but... you know. Seems like that’s exactly what’s happening.”
“Great. I’ll add it to my ‘What I Did Wrong Today’ list,” you muttered, feeling the familiar surge of frustration rise in you. But it wasn’t just at your powers. It was at the one thing you couldn’t quite shake off: Jeno.
You narrowed your eyes at him, your tone suddenly more serious. “And what about you, huh? Still think popping pills and riding a bike through fire is a good coping mechanism? Especially since you’re apparently made of fire now?”
Jeno flinched, and for a moment, it felt like the old Jeno was retreating back into his shell—the one he built to protect himself from all the things he couldn’t face. He kicked the ground, looking at his scuffed boots. “I didn’t— It’s just…” He sighed, unable to finish the sentence.
“Jeno,” you said, voice softer now. You placed a hand on his shoulder, though he didn’t meet your eyes. “I’m serious. If you want to stay in my life. If you really care about me at all. You need to get help. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
Jeno glanced up at you, his usually cocky demeanor replaced with something a little more vulnerable. “I know,” he said quietly. “I know I’ve messed up. And I promised you I’d get better. But—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “You’re right. I don’t want to be that person anymore. I don’t want to lose you.”
You took a deep breath, your frustration dissipating just slightly. The old, familiar bond you shared was still there, tangled in with the new, raw emotions. You nodded, but added with a small, teasing smirk, “If you ever try to pop a pill in front of me again, I’ll use you as a lightning rod. Got it?”
Jeno gave a half-laugh, a lopsided grin tugging at his lips. “Got it. No more pills. Just the occasional dramatic motorcycle crash for old time’s sake.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s so much better,” you deadpanned. “But seriously, Jeno, I can’t help you if you don’t help yourself first. I won’t watch you burn up from the inside out.”
He met your gaze, the flicker of sincerity in his eyes making you pause. “I’ll try, Y/N. I swear. I’m tired of hurting myself—and you.”
You nodded again, feeling the weight of the conversation settle into your bones. “Good. And, uh, while we’re on the subject—if you ever want to not be on fire for five seconds, I’ve got these new gauntlets that could help with the whole ‘literal fire hazard’ thing. Maybe we should figure out how to duplicate them.”
Jeno’s eyes flicked to the gauntlets you were still holding, raising an eyebrow. “You think those are going to keep me from turning into a human torch?”
“Well, they won’t stop you from being a hot mess,” you quipped, “but they might help with the literal hot mess part. Try them on. See if they can cool you off. But give them back, I don’t wanna electrocute you later.”
Jeno chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re something else.” He pulled the gauntlets on with a shrug. They fit perfectly, “Better than getting burned alive, I guess.”
“That’s the spirit,” you said with a small smile. “See? We’re making progress.”
He gave a small, half-smile in return. “One step at a time.”
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The first few days after the chaos in the factory felt like the world had hit the pause button. You were still grappling with the full weight of what had happened—the fight, Karina’s departure, and the truth about your powers. But more than that, you were trying to figure out how to not burn down the nearest building while you practiced controlling your mutant abilities.
Your bedroom had turned into an impromptu testing ground for your electrical powers, and you were starting to actually feel like a walking lightning rod now. The first time you accidentally zapped the toaster, you almost burned down the kitchen. It’s fine, you told yourself. I’ll just keep a fire extinguisher in every room.
"Okay, just breathe," you muttered, staring at the lamp in front of you. Your hands crackled with electrical energy. "Focus. You’re not going to fry this lamp into oblivion. You’ve got this."
The lamp flickered. Then, with a sudden snap, it exploded in a burst of light.
"Okay, maybe not. Plan B: Try not to set anything on fire this time," you groaned, rubbing your forehead. You glanced at the charred remnants of your lamp. Great. I’m a walking disaster.
Meanwhile, in the next room, Jeno was wrestling with his own set of issues. His recovery wasn’t as simple as just kicking a habit. It was as if his very soul had to unlearn years of reckless behavior and self-destruction. And while he was committed to getting better, you had a sneaking suspicion that his journey would involve more than a few missteps along the way.
You walked into the living room, where Jeno was sitting on the couch, staring at a glass of water like it held the answers to all of life’s problems.
"How’s it going, big guy?" you asked, leaning in the doorway.
Jeno glanced up and sighed dramatically. "I’m just sitting here, contemplating the universe. You know, the usual."
"Right. The deep, soul-searching kind of contemplation." You gave him a pointed look. "Or are you trying to convince yourself that water can’t be addictive?"
He shot you a dry look. "Very funny. But no, I’m actually just trying to make sure I don’t relapse into firing up my bike for no reason."
You raised an eyebrow. "And that’s going well, I assume?"
"Actually," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, "I’m being good. No fire, no bike stunts, just... boring old rehab."
"Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll find a way to be extra dramatic about it. It’s your brand."
Jeno smirked, the hint of his old self shining through. "Yeah, well, I’m trying to unbrand myself."
You chuckled. "Good luck with that. I’m pretty sure the Ghost Rider brand is hard to shake."
Jeno exhaled through his nose, rubbing his forehead. "I hate that name."
You threw your hands up. "What? It’s catchy!"
"Catchy? It sounds like I’m auditioning for a cheesy horror movie," he grumbled.
"But the cool demon guy gave you it."
Jeno gave you a playful glare. "And he wants me to exterminate every sinful person in this world, so is he really ‘cool’?"
You shrugged, smiling. "I’m just trying to make sure you don’t fall into your bad habits again. Humor is the only thing that gets me through this madness."
Jeno stared at you, a mix of amusement and sincerity on his face. "Thanks, Y/N. Really. I... I don’t know what I’d do without you."
You softened, though you couldn’t resist throwing in a final jab. "Probably set something on fire, knowing you."
"Don’t tempt me," Jeno warned with a grin.
"Okay, okay," you relented, holding up your hands. "I’ll stop. But hey, how about we both try and figure this out without burning anything down, deal?"
Jeno looked at you, a little more serious now. "Deal."
And so, you began this new chapter, with a growing sense of purpose. You and Jeno were both trying to reclaim control over your lives, and though it wasn’t easy, it was at least a little bit more bearable with each other’s help.
As for you, well, you still had a lot to learn about controlling your powers. But you figured you could start small, maybe with not blowing up your appliances. After all, if you could survive your own chaotic life, maybe saving the world wasn’t that far out of reach.
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The night was cool, but the air still carried the buzz of the day’s chaos. The city sprawled out before you, lights flickering in the distance, the world oblivious to the storm that had just passed through. You and Jeno stood side by side in the parking lot, where the remnants of your battle and struggles were already fading into the distance.
Jeno’s bike sat next to you, the engine idling with that low growl that had always gotten your heart racing—before you knew all the trouble it would bring. You felt the familiar charge in the air as your hands crackled with electric energy, but it was different now. Controlled.
“Well, this is... weird,” you said, tapping the side of your gauntlets and watching the sparks dance around your fingertips.
Jeno shot you a sidelong glance, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, you being the dangerous one now. What’s next? You’re gonna start taking over the world?"
You rolled your eyes. “World domination? Please. I’ll start with not burning down my apartment.”
Jeno gave you a knowing look. “One step at a time, right?”
He mounted his bike and revved the engine, the sound echoing through the empty streets. You followed suit, stepping onto the back of his bike with a practiced ease that only came from years of friendship—and more than a few questionable decisions. 
As Jeno revved the engine again, you looked at the skyline one last time, feeling the electric hum of your powers simmer beneath your skin.
"You know," Jeno said, breaking the silence as his hand gripped the handlebars tighter, "I think I’ve got a name for you."
You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, no. I’m not falling for this again."
"No, seriously. You need a name," he insisted, glancing at you with that same cocky grin. "Surge. It fits. You’ve got the whole ‘electricity’ vibe going on."
You stared at him for a moment, and then—after a deep, soul-searching pause—let out a dramatic sigh. “Surge? Seriously?”
“Yeah, it’s perfect,” he said with a shrug, clearly pleased with himself. "It’s got that ‘superhero’ ring to it."
You immediately shoved him lightly, making him almost lose his balance. "Shut up, Jeno. That’s the worst name I’ve ever heard."
“Come on, it’s not that bad!” he protested, his laughter echoing in the night. "Alright, alright, we’ll work on it. But you can’t deny it—Surge has a nice ring to it."
You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. “Just drive, Jeno. You’re lucky I’m not zapping you off this bike right now.”
“Okay, okay, you win.” Jeno started the bike and, with a final glance toward the horizon, sped off into the night, the flames of his chain lighting up the road ahead.
The wind whipped through your hair, the flames of Ghost Rider and the crackling electricity of your powers illuminating the streets as you rode side by side. The world still had its dangers, but right now, the night felt endless. 
“Like would our ship name be Surge Rider or Ghur—”
“Shut the fuck up and drive.”
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TAGLIST ↬ @lyvhie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @yizhrt @polarisjisung @multifandomania @spacejip @peterm4rker @viasdreams @mango-bear
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luxaofhesperides · 1 year ago
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Dancing in the rain ; requested by @wandixx!
He hadn’t been expecting the Signal to chase after him. It is, after all, well after midnight, and he had seen the vigilante out earlier during the day. 
Maybe the Bats are understaffed tonight, he muses as he leaps over the rooftops, a wild grin on his face. Being on the other side of a chase is a lot of fun, he’s discovering. He can see why Selina enjoys it so much.
Though, it probably has to do more with who’s chasing her than it is the chase itself.
But Danny’s become a bit of an adrenaline junkie after a few years of being a hero, fighting ghosts and governments. He’s not a hero anymore, especially not in Gotham, but being Catwoman’s partner in crime is way more fun than being responsible for everyone’s safety.
It’s like he’s doing anything bad, either. Selina can steal whatever she wants; if they couldn’t protect things against her, then should they really have it? Danny doesn’t focus on jewelry or gems. No, he takes ghost artifacts or items contaminated with ectoplasm back to the realms where they won’t cause problems to any humans. There are enough ecto-contaminated people in this world, solely from Amity Park. Best not to let that number grow.
So here he is, leaping over rain-slicked rooftops and only using a little bit of flying to keep ahead, holding a cursed pocket watch that a ghost had requested he return to them, with the Signal chasing after him, disappearing into shadows and popping up unexpectedly. 
“Stray! Get back here!” Signal yells, and Danny takes a moment to spin on his heel to face the vigilante to stick his tongue out at him, then backflips away.
“I didn’t even steal anything important!” he returns, tossing the pocketwatch in the air ahead, then jumps up to catch it and scales his way up to the roof of the next building. 
“Seriously,” Signal says, suddenly in front of him. “Stop running and we can talk this out.”
“Woah!” Danny tries to get around him, trips over his own feet, and crashes into the Signal’s chest. 
“Careful, there.” He looks up to see the Signal’s smile, and he absolutely can not be blamed for having his half dead heart skip a beat. He’s in the arms of a hero who’s smiling at him so sweetly, what’s a guy to do? “Ready to talk now?”
Danny goes intangible for a moment, smoothly sliding out of the Signa’s grip. “Nope,” he grins, starting up the chase once again.
The rain isn’t very strong, and the drops feel cool against his face as he runs, getting a little more air with each jump as he uses more of his flight to keep ahead. He can hear the Signal chasing after him again, heavy footsteps that start and stop unpredictably as he travels between shadows. 
Just to be safe, Danny stashes the pocket watch inside his chest, leaving his hands free to grab onto the rough brick of the walls and scale them up, aiming to go higher and higher. Maybe if he finds a good building, he can dramatically fall off the edge and fly away invisibly. 
“Got you!” 
The Signal pops up out of the wall and grabs Danny, who yelps and tries to pull his arms away. The Signal is too strong, and his tight grip on Danny’s wrists is warm against the chill of the rain. 
They stand there for a moment, just staring at each other as they try to catch their breath. And then, “Is that any way to treat a guy?” Danny jokes, trying one last time to pull his wrists free.
“It is when it’s you,” the Signal replies. “Man, you sure know how to run.”
“I’ll be sure to put that on my resume for my next heist.”
“Seriously, can we talk?”
Danny eyes him curiously. The other Bats mostly tried to take back whatever it is he’d stolen that night, occasionally trying to get information from him. None of them had outright asked to have a chat with him. The Signal at least has some manners, compared to the rest of him. There’s no harm in sticking around for one conversation.
It helps that the Signal is cute, especially when he had saved Danny a few weeks ago. 
Sue him, he’s a bit soft on the Signal. Wouldn’t anyone be with their favorite hero?
“Alright,” Danny says, relaxing. “Go ahead. Talk.”
“Great! Okay, um.” The Signal bites his lip and Danny should really look away, but his eyes are fixed to his mouth. He doesn’t speak for a solid minute, during which Danny really begins to feel the chill of the rain. “Can I get less comments from the peanut gallery?” he says suddenly.
“What?” Danny laughs, confused.
The Signal sighs. “My comms are on. The others are being annoying. If they wanted to ask you questions, they should have caught you first.”
“Oh, protecting me from the big bad Bats? My hero,” Danny says sweetly, pretending to swoon. Except, the Signal follows his movements, releasing his wrists to catch him by the waist, holding him steady. Danny’s breath hitches, and from how close they are, he has no doubt that the Signal heard it. They freeze for a moment, then the Signal dips him like some fainting Victorian maiden.
“Well, I certainly wouldn’t mind sweeping you up in my arms.” The smirk on his face only lasts a moment before he grimace and says, “I shouldn’t have said that on open comms. Man, they’re annoying. It’s not my fault I know how to flirt.”
Danny…
Well. Danny short circuits for a moment, running the words over his mind again, then blushes so hard he’s sure there’s steam coming off his cheeks. “You’re flirting?” he squeaks. “With me?”
“Flirting,” a new voice confirms, making them both jump, stumbling against each other as Black Bat hops down onto their rooftop. “Both shy and silly. I’m better.”
“You can’t even ask out Spoiler,” the Signal retaliates.
“She can’t even WHAT?” Spoiler yells as she also vaults herself over the alley below to join them. “You want to ask me out?”
Though she doesn’t say anything, Danny can practically feel Black Bat’s glare through her mask. The Signal winces, then says, “Oops.”
“Man, you can keep yourself busy, clearly Sig doesn’t need backup,” Spoiler says. “I need to go on a date with Black Bat. The rest of you suckers are on your own!” And then she grabs Black Bat’s hand and grapples away.
There’s a beat of silence, then Danny and the Signal share a glance and start laughing. 
“Well,” Danny says, “Good for them! Good for them.”
“They’re probably just going to Bat Burger.”
“And are you going to be treating me to a burger any time soon? I should be compensated for this conversation, you know.”
“Please, if I was taking you out on a date, it wouldn’t be to Bat Burger. I’d take you out dancing.”
It sounds like a date his dad would take his mom on. It sounds nice. Danny smiles and leans in closer to the Signal, taking hold of one of his hands. With the other, he puts Signal’s hand on his waist, then brings his own up to the Signal’s shoulder. 
“Why not dance with me now?”
Danny leads them in a few clumsy turns of a waltz, silently thanking Sam for forcing him to take a few ballroom dance lessons with her. The Signal seems a little dazed, following his lead, and when he lightly squeezes Danny’s waist, he shivers. 
Catwoman should be done with Batman soon. They had agreed to meet up at the newly opened Vintage Boutique in Diamond District, and he intends to beat her there. 
Reluctantly, Danny pulls away from the Signal with one final spin, and hops up onto the edge of the roof. “If you can find me during the day,” he says, “Then I’ll dance with you again. See you around, Signal!”
And with that, Danny hops backwards off the roof, free-falling towards the ground before he lets gravity lose hold of him and slips into invisibility, flying up just as the Signal peers over the edge, searching for him.
Unable to help himself, Danny floats closer until he can give the Signal a quick kiss on the cheek, then flies off, grinning wildly. 
He certainly can’t wait to see the Signal again. 
Maybe if he hired a few guys to pretend to rough him up while Signal’s out patrolling…
Well, either way, this cat is already half dead so he can jump straight to satisfaction bringing him back. And, hopefully, back into Signal’s arms again when they won’t be interrupted by other Bats. 
He’s already looking forward to it.
. . .
[send me a ghostlights prompt!]
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manias-wordcount · 1 year ago
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um !! so ive totally been using ur page as my nightly routine teehee and like. sorry in advance if ur requests r clsoed , im new to tumblr so i seriously have no idea how to check😭😭
but i was thinking ;; could you please write a smut for totk link and fem reader ? in whichhh u both hide in a closet together in like the castle or smth.. and to calm u down he like lets u ride him HAJHAH
so embarrassed, but imagining the shakey breaths and sounds of his armour clanking against the wall as he thrusts upwar ds .....
i know im a slut but im only a girl !! i cant help it..!
- r 🍒
Hero's Duty (BOTW Link x Reader)
𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!
𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝘃𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘀𝗲𝘅, 𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗹𝗼𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝘂𝘀𝘀𝘆 𝗟𝗠𝗔𝗢
𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩
𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?
𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?
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He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be giving in like this. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be thinking like this. He shouldn’t be  wanting  this. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t.  He shouldn’t. 
  But fate is a cruel mistress. And he can’t stand it when you squeeze your thighs together and look at him like he’s the only thing you’ll ever need.  He can’t stand it.
  Still, He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. Disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified.  Honorable.  He’s supposed to be  all those things.  And he is! He swears, deep down inside he is. He knows he is.  Everyone  knows he is. He’s been congratulated by the king directly before. Called upon by him to take up arms and join the fight. And He serves Princess. He serves the people. He serves the kingdom. Hell, he’s even wearing some of his royal armor right now. He’s supposed to be a knight. He’s supposed to be a hero. He’s supposed to be  protecting you  right now.
  Not lifting up your dress and gripping your hips as he bounces your needy little hole down onto his cock over and over and over and over again. 
  It’s not what he should be doing. He has a mission. He has orders. He has a task to complete. Duty to fulfill. People to  protect.  People who  need  him. But your pussy feels so tight and so warm and so  wet  around his cock it’s amazing how he managed to last this long. But now that he started, he knows he can’t stop. He  won’t  stop. Not until he’s finished. Not until you’re  both  finished. 
  “ Ah….um, Link- Ah~”
  However long it takes. 
  “You like that, princess?” He murmurs lowly, blue eyes narrowing in on your face as your eyes cross and your mouth falls open into a lewd expression. You don’t respond- at least, you don’t respond with words to his question. But at this point, he’s not even sure if you would have been able to hear him over the sounds of your cute little whimpers and moans as he thursts his hips into you. Or maybe it’s the dirty sounds of your  soaking  wet little cunt taking in every single inch of his dick that keeps you from hearing the sound of your lover’s voice. He doesn’t know for certain, but the selfish,  selfish  part of him likes to think it’s a combination of the two. And the rational part of him? “You’re taking me so well pretty girl.  So well. ”
  The rational part of him  knows  it’s a little bit of both. Plus the fact that you always manage to get a little dick drunk when someone fucks you good and proper. And luckily for you, Link’s happy to play knight in shining armor to his needy little princess and her  perfectly tight little holes -
  Fuck,  you bring out the worst in him. But you know that don’t you? He swears it. He swears you do. He swears you  have to .  Goddesses,  he doesn’t even remember what he’s supposed to be doing right now. He knows it was supposed to be something important. Something only he could do. But then you started getting anxious. After every battle, after every fight- you still manage to worry about him. You still manage to fear that your powers and your efforts as his support won’t be good enough. 
  It’s cute how you worry. It’s cute how you care. But he had a job to do. And he needed you in good shape to do it. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t quell your nerves. Your silent shaking. Your quiet whimpers. And worst of all? Every promise that he’ll protect was starting to fall flat in your ears. Every comforting touch didn’t seem like it worked. Didn’t seem like it was  enough . But he had a job to do. A job that included your safekeeping and your safe return. So he did what any good knight would do. 
  He pulled you into the nearest closet he could find and got you nice and relaxed on his fingers before stuffing you nice and full with his cock. 
  Now your moans bounce off the walls like hymns in a church. Now his name falls off of your lips like deities in a prayer. Now you can be protected. Nurtured. Cared for. All by him. All for you. 
  And maybe there were better ways of taking care of you and your fears. Maybe an orgasm and a good dicking down isn’t exactly what you need in this moment. But your precious little pussy is taking his cock so effortlessly that he’s starting to feel less of a knight and more like a man. A man who can’t help but have wants. A man who can’t help but feel lust. A man who can’t help but need to  fuck  a pretty girl when he’s not supposed to and make excuses about it.
  And he’ll do it again the next chance he gets. He’ll do it all over again. 
  “ Mmm, Link I’m…I’m close…”
  Your whimper is quiet, but within the four walls of this closet, it could be the loudest thing in the world right now. Louder than the loud slap of his pelvis hitting against your skin. Louder than his armor groaning and creaking under all this movement. Louder than the sound of you get exactly what you asked for when you look at your hero to distract you- to  save you - from this moment of fear. 
  “ Oh, yeah baby? You’re getting close? ”
  But that’s the thing… he knows. He knows because you’ve been getting louder. He knows because you’ve been getting  tighter . He knows because every single time his gaze falls back to the spot where your bodies join, and his dick gets swallowed up by your  perfect little cunt  time after time, he feels his own core tightening up in a way he can only assume will leave you nice and full and  messy  until he gets the chance to clean you up later on. He  knows  you’re close. He  knows .
  “ Well, that’s too bad, princess.”  He grinds out, eyes narrowing into slits as his hands tighten his grip on your hips. And  goddesses,  how you whimper. Goddesses, how you  whine . But no matter how many times you beg him and you cry to him he doesn’t change up like he knows you want him to. He doesn’t shift his angle to hit deeper. He doesn’t speed up his thrusts to hit faster. He doesn’t cater to your every whim. He doesn’t listen to your heavenly cries when you beg him to let you reach euphoria with every single breath you take. At least, not this time. At least, not yet. 
  But fuck,  you bring out the worst in him. You bring out the absolute worst in him. You bring out the  man  in him. So it’s only fair. It’s only fair that he takes what’s his. It’s only fair that he calls the shots. That he makes the orders on this battlefield. That he fucks you how he wants to. That he fucks you how he needs to. 
  That he fucks you like he absolutely should.
  Because deep down in his mind, he’s still a knight. He’s still disciplined and proper. Courageous and strong. Polite. Gallant. Respect. Dignified.  Honorable.  He can learn to say no to you. He can learn not to give into your every want. To your every need. He can learn. He can do it. He’s your knight in shining armor. He’s your one and only hero. Your one and only  everything . So he can do it. He can do it. He can. 
  Can’t he?
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katsukiizmoon · 1 year ago
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╰┈➤ ꒰🍓💌🥛 ┊boba time : stealing lip balm꒱
♡ I haven’t been writing like an idiot ! So sorry if my quality is going up and down/ is weird. This isn’t edited and was written on a whim.
Katsuki keeps stealing your lip balms. It isn’t much of an issue until half of your stash is ran through and missing.
You know he has to be the one taking them. Every time you kiss him, he licks his lips a little. Wet tongue swiping over puffy lips, top teeth coming to dig into it. His tongue makes it’s way over his lips again and he lets out a low hum.
Every time except when you’re not wearing a lip balm.
When you aren’t wearing fruity or too-sweet lip balm, he licks his lips quick to get spit off and grunts. The only exceptions to this rule is when you’re making out or in bed. Those are special cases, you decide.
Your fingers curl into the fabric of your sweatshirt, carrying it over your arm. The winding halls of the agency amplify the echo of your steps and huffs. And with a heating face, you make quick work of finding your husband’s office.
The spare key rests in the front pocket of the black bag, nestled safely beneath a clasp and on a key ring. Nimble fingers snatch the metal items out with a clink and your lips curl into a pout. When the door clicks open with the turn of your wrist, your chest puffs out in a final rush of anger.
“Katsuki— where the fuck is my lip balm going?”
The poor boy freezes like a deer caught in headlights. Thick hands fiddle with a massive stack of paper, much too daunting for your own eyes. And he sighs, low and heavy, groaning as they leave the paperwork on wood in defeat.
Mercy, his body language pleads.
“I only got a few of ‘em.” Katsuki grunts and grumbles, leaning up to open a drawer while you shut the door and careen toward him. His eyes dart toward you for a moment and then he rolls backward in his chair. Away from you.
You gawk at the thin drawer filled with a plethora of your lip balms. The shame from katsuki radiates as you tilt your head in confusion and awe.
You turn on your heel with a brow raised.
“Why do you have them?”
Pink lips pout out for a moment, you notice his tongue swiping over his teeth before he sighs for the umpteenth time.
“You taste good— n’ I keep forgetting to give ‘em back.” The pro hero pouts and mumbles a half ass excuse.
You walk closer, standing between his knees now, brows still raised expectantly.
“God fine. Goddamnit, they taste good and my lips are dry so I use them all the time. But I forget to give them back, then I get another, and forget again.”
The exasperated, mildly embarrassed look on his face makes you Cave. You practically coo, looking at his flushed tan cheeks and angry look. His brows furrowed, arms crossed over his chest and pouting like there’s no tomorrow.
“Baby, you can use my lip balms but you gotta bring them back..” you lean forward and kiss the furrow of his brows ”.. it’s kinda cute, but seriously, some of these fuckers are expensive. And some of them are lip plumpers.”
His brows shoot to his hair line, cherry eyes widening as he seems to put two and two together.
Katsuki frowns again and looks away, not wanting to admit it.
“You gotta be shitting me. That’s why my lips have been burning like satans asshole.” His hands fumble around with his pockets until he pulls out a balm— made for lip plumping.
“Yup. Fucker, that’s what you get.” You snicker.
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doumadono · 11 months ago
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MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST
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Officer!Bakugo is a seriously scary motherfucker - he's really tall and big, and he gives off an intimidating vibe. I mean, he gets annoyed over the tiniest stuff
Officer!Bakugo is a stereotypical “bad cop” type - tough, no-nonsense, and not afraid to bend the rules
If Bakugo slams his fist on the table during an interrogation, you can bet you'll spill all your secrets, whether you like it or not, thanks to those intense crimson eyes boring into your soul
Officer!Bakugo owns a big K9 dog named Blast. The massive belgian malinois is super intimidating - nobody dares to move when the dog is around, showing off its long fangs. The dog pays close attention to whatever Katsuki commands
Bakugo often goes undercover to bust drug rings. His intense look, paired with his scarred face and that maniac grin, makes him appear like someone who tasted cocaine or any other heavy drug for breakfast
When Bakugo raises his voice, it makes both kids and adults cry
Officer!Bakugo harbors a cache of dark secrets, ranging from covering up crimes to manipulating evidence. He becomes adept at concealing his corrupt actions behind a facade of a dedicated officer
Bakugo really likes wearing the uniform because it makes his ass, chest, and shoulders look awesome
Officer!Bakugo drives his cop car like crazy, but he's super skilled at it - when he's chasing someone, he always catches them
Can and will swiftly pin anyone down in just 1 second flat (he's used this move on his one-night stands numerous times)
One of the corrupt things officer!Bakugo does is take it easy on the cute girls (basically all the girls he finds attractive) when they come to his office to report a crime or seek help
He's definitely used handcuffs on a few girls in his career
Sex in his office is a must, but his police car is also on the list
Bakugo's preferred position is doggy style - he just loves the feeling of being in total control and able to thrust as hard and fast as he pleases while spanking the ass of his lover, like when he apprehended you for exceeding the speed limit, and due to your earnest pleas and appeals, he opted to fuck your little, sweet-scented cunt rather than revoke your driving license. You found yourself pinned down to the backseat of his car, your ass raised up as Bakugo fucked your cunt mercilessly from behind, spanking your ass every now and then. The vehicle was swaying with each forceful thrust as he assaulted your drenched pussy, growling like an animal. "Just like that, you little whore. Look at you, taking my cock so well. Dripping wet just f'me like a good slut you are."
Officer!Bakugo has a kink for public sex. There is something thrilling about the danger of being caught, the thought of someone stumbling upon you in the act only added to the excitement, especially when you're bent over, sucking his dick while he's smoking a blunt in his police car, guiding your head more towards his pelvis, and the only thing you can do is to choke on his fat cock as its tip hits the back of your throat repeatedly
Officer!Bakugo has a particular fondness for dominating his girls, both physically and mentally. He enjoys the thrill of manipulating them into submission, leaving them begging for more and being on his mercy
Officer!Bakugo quickly gets turned on when a girl pleads for mercy with doe eyes; also, he really likes skimpy skirts that hardly cover her ass
Officer!Bakugo enjoys night patrols the most because there's a better chance of catching criminals and tormenting them. Plus, Katsuki can smoothly hand out fines to loud tipsy ladies leaving the clubs, and he even doesn't hide that he's checking them out
Officer!Bakugo who has a preference for younger girls (Katsuki is in his mid-30s, but he won't hesitate to flirt with someone barely over twenty-year-old)
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izvmimi · 1 year ago
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stubborn - izuku x reader
cw: infidelity as a topic, escalating mind games, jealousy, tbh toxic behavior but it’s okay cuz uwu, fem!reader, smut (oral female receiving, use of the word ‘brat’, penetrative sex). 5.6k words. summary: izuku is as good at playing games as you are, or is he? a/n: a repost!
Izuku is far too placid when in the midst of an argument, you blurt out that you’re officially done with him. 
In fact, there’s the ghost of a smile that flickers on his features, and you know that smile. It’s the same smile he gives you when he teases you, especially when he’s balls deep inside you and you’re whining about how little more you can take while he coos and reminds you that you can give him just a little more room, the same way you’ve done many times before, right? 
It’s the smile that signals that he is in no way taking you seriously, that he knows you are completely and utterly wrapped. Your teeth clench and so do your fists.
“Midoriya.”
His eyebrows raise. From his vantage point, you look as cute as usual, eyebrows knit together and lips twisted into a snarl. It reminds him somewhat of an angry prey animal, he thinks, and he’s resisting the urge to pat you on the head.
“Yes, baby?”
He makes the mistake of widening his grin as he says this and defeated, you let out a cry of frustration, blood rushing to your ears and heart thumping as you rush out of the living room. There’s a loud slam that sounds once you’ve reached the bedroom and the hero is left alone to consider his actions. 
Izuku tolerates a lot from you, he thinks. It doesn’t mean he thinks he’s always right and does manage to begrudgingly accept his shortcomings, but the jealousy, the mood swings, and the neediness can sometimes get to him, even if they’re flaws you wear cutely. Giving you a moment to simmer down and letting the argument replay in his head, he lets out a sigh and settles on the couch to take off his boots. If you were out here, you’d complain about getting his sweaty suit off your furniture, but you’re not here, are you?
Izuku doesn’t think too much of the situation until he’s fully showered and knocks on the door to change into comfortable pajamas, only to find that the door is unlocked, you are laying on your stomach with your feet kicking, positively giddy, and in deep focus on your phone. Thinking that the argument has dissipated - you’re never mad at him for more than a couple hours anyway - he lets himself approach and decides against laying his entire weight on top of you, instead choosing to lay behind you, eyes on your form. You’re pretending you don’t even notice him.
���What’s got you giggling so much?” He finally asks, curiously turning to the side and resting his head on your shoulder. You don’t move sharply, instead allowing yourself to support the weight.
“I’m finding my replacement.”
He holds in a sigh that nearly rattles his bones.
“You can’t be serious.”
At that, you turn immediately, eyes wide, classic crazy look in your eyes. He purses his lips. 
You are definitely serious.
Before he can even begin to reason you, you excitedly show your phone to him, scrolling through a list of matches you’ve already procured for him, despite the fact that you could not possibly have been working on this for more than an hour.
“You’re quite popular, Mr. Number One Hero!” you chirp.
He rolls onto his back and grabs a pillow and screams lightly into it for a moment, before turning back to face you calmly. 
“Please delete this.”
“Why? I have three dates lined up for you over the next two weeks.” You pout. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint these lovely women, would you, Mr. Midoriya?”
There’s a nervous tick in his jaw at the polite appellation but he can see the glint in your eyes. Two can play this game.
“You’re right, and I trust you, darling,” he says, lips curling into a teasing grin. He rolls over onto his belly, pulling off the small towel that wraps around his waist and tosses it to the side, a motion that engages the muscles of his back just enough that you can pretend you don’t see them ripple. You try not to look at his ass because you’re angry. You are so, so angry.
“Give me the schedule and I’ll go. I don’t think they’ll manage to be as lovely as you, but I’ll try my best.” His green eyes twinkle as he watches you not look, then places a hand on the small of your back, and the contact almost shocks through your spine. 
You get up immediately and leave the room, ignoring his low chuckle as you hide the warmth blooming in your face.
Midoriya cannot believe he’s actually seated at a mom and pop restaurant at the end of the week with a woman he’s never met in his entire life. You had actually called his bluff at calling your bluff, and had even gone so far as to lay out his clothes in the morning and adjust the collar of his shirt.
“Can we not do this?” He had asked right before leaving the house. You’d simply smiled sweetly, venomously. 
“Real love awaits, sir!” You flashed him a thumbs up and the genuine way in which your teeth gleamed almost struck fear in his heart. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”
His entire way to the location, he had been considering what manner of trap this was. Would there be cameras? Kirishima, who was like an older brother to you waiting to beat his ass (even though he wasn’t completely sure what he did wrong and arguably may have done nothing wrong aside from being extraordinarily busy for the past two weeks)?
But alas, rather than a trap, or you in a different outfit, there was an admittedly beautiful young woman who smiled shyly back at him as he took his seat.
The first thing he does is tell the truth.
“Hi, um, yeah so…” he scratches his head. “Let me explain a couple things first before there’s any misunderstanding…” 
His voice trails off as he notices the slight distress in her features, but decides it’s better to hurt her feelings now than later.
“I was not the one managing my Tinder profile. Whatever may have been said to you was not said by me and-”
She nods emphatically and he stops. “Wait, you know what I’m about to say?”
“Yeah, your profile says it’s managed by your ex-girlfriend and we chatted a bit through messages.”
There’s a little bit of heat that reaches his ears, not pleasant heat at all, but mild irritation. He presses his lips together as she continues.
“She said something about wanting to make sure she set you up with someone better than her since you won’t accept your breakup.”
Izuku’s eye twitches but he smiles peacefully and takes a sip of his coffee.
“She said you were a very sweet guy though so I’m assuming you’re on good terms?” The young lady laughs coyly, a hand covering her mouth as she does. Coquettish, he thinks, then he remembers how you literally said you’d set him up with someone cute and coquettish and his heart starts to race.
“We’re on excellent terms,” he says finally, breathing through his nose, then takes a look at the menu. 
She giggles a bit and it annoys him because none of this is funny. Not for a second.
“She chose really good pictures,” the woman says softly, who Izuku recalls from the schedule you had the nerve to send him is named Sachiko, reaching for her glass of water. Izuku mirrors the action because his throat is suddenly terribly dry.
He clears his throat. You’ve gone too far.
“What would you like to order?” Izuku asks in his most charming voice.
“You didn’t take her home?” You ask, voice dripping of malice, curled up into the bedsheets of your California King. He considers shooting you a dirty look but he doesn’t; rather he strips painfully slowly and again you avert your eyes. This time he doesn’t laugh at your ridiculous attempt to pretend you don’t find him attractive, and instead, he stands stark naked in his underwear, arms crossed and feet squared as though you are an actual adversary. Maybe you enjoy being the villain in his story for once. 
You look up from your book, noticing his stillness in your peripheral vision. He looks good when he’s angry, you think, his face twisted into a scowl and breathing a little heavier than usual. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, then bid him to speak.
“What?” 
He shakes his head, like he can’t believe he’s really saying what he has to say next.
“First of all, I don’t fuck on the first date.” You tilt your head ever so slightly with a mock inquisitive look that bids him to go on.
“Don’t look at me like that, if I did, we absolutely would have,” he replies flippantly. You pretend to disregard that sentence. Then it hits you. We, as in you and him or we as in, he and her?
“Second of all, you’re going to regret this. Good night,” he insists before finding his way beside you in bed. You dramatically scoot over to the very edge of the bed, but he’s annoyed enough that his back is turned to you. 
Good, you think, and turn the page in your book. The plot thickens deliciously.
Izuku doesn’t bother explaining himself on the date the following week. Rather, he treats it like a business meeting and speaks politely, diverting any flirty comments to other topics. He wishes you hadn’t picked such an expensive restaurant but the truth was, the food was good enough to match the price. 
The woman today is not Sachiko - while Sachiko was petite and sold the moe angle quite well, Natsumi was a bit more direct and businesslike. Still, not quite like you and frankly a little bit too talkative. According to you, who were having the time of your life swiping right and left with his likeness, Sachiko had wanted a second date, but any time you broached the subject, he simply refused to respond and you, despite all of your ability to push buttons know when to stop. Now faced with Natsumi who was giving him his life story and testing his patience while he was trying to get through his Hamburg steak, he realized Sachiko might have been better.
“So why did you and your ex break up?”
Izuku swallowed another piece of meat quickly.
“We did not.”
Natsumi gave him a quizzical look.
“So why are you on a date with me?”
“To indulge her.”
Natsumi leans back in her chair then picks at her fingernails.
“Wow, you really are in denial, like she said.”
In Izuku’s eyes, this date is even more over than it was when it began.
When he comes home this time, you are talking and laughing animatedly on the phone to your mother as you cook a late dinner for yourself and rather than interrupt your conversation, he slips past you and puts the entrée he’d gotten for you in the front of the fridge.
You give him a glance then look away. Your mouth twists to the side, now that you realize you’re testing more than a little of his patience.
When you finally hang up the phone and put away your hot food to reheat the one he’s brought back for you, you ask in a small voice:
“Did you enjoy the food?”
He’s staring at the TV, looking without looking, and you can see that muscle in his jaw again tense before he turns to face you.
“It was delicious.”
You poke at the plate in front of you and concur. The food really is heavenly. Maybe you should pull back. It’s very clear that this man has no intention on breaking up with you and you can’t even remember what you were even mad about. There’s still a date left but canceling it with a 5 days notice isn’t the worst thing you can do. Your boyfriend has clearly learned his lesson, you think.
Then he says,
“Hey, can you arrange a second date for Sachiko? I’d like to see her again.”
And then rage consumes you again.
“Of course,” you say sweetly.
“I didn’t think I’d see you again!” Sachiko exclaims. Izuku had watched her run towards him, beaming smile accentuated by the bright winter sun’s rays reflected by the snow. Her cheeks are red and she looks as though she is blowing smoke, huffing and puffing as she catches her breath. She’s dressed for the weather, and so is he, and he notices the thick gloves that she’s wearing. His own hands are bare.
An ice skating date.
You must actually be prepared to lose him at this point.
Sachiko grins widely and Izuku, looking down at her again now that she is right next to him, realizes she really is cute. Not cuter than you, he wouldn’t go that far, but cute enough.
She doesn’t know how to ice skate and stays very close, and Izuku lets her cling onto his sleeve, then eventually hold his hand.
Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.
The phrase ran through your head over and over again, and had been the first thing you thought of when you reread her message for the third, the fourth, and the fifth time. 
Hi, I hope this isn’t weird but I just wanted to thank you.
(I hope it’s not you, Izuku, ‘cause that would be awkward! 😊)
I wanted to let you know that it must be hard to give up your partner, especially when they seem so nice! But I’m grateful. We’ll be texting privately from now on! 
Maybe we can be friends someday? I’d like to meet you in person too!
You swallow hard for a moment, reading the message again and again and again.
Texting privately. The familiar use of his name. It was two dates only. Why was she so confident? Why was she thanking you?
You found yourself thumbing through her profile again, really scrutinizing her again, taking particular care to commit her soft features to memory and the warm demeanor you could see through her many photos.
You swallowed hard again.
Did you mess up? Did you finally push too hard?
The sound of the door opening suddenly startled you enough that you ended up dropping your phone in the bowl of the bathroom sink. Izuku, appearing behind you suddenly as he turned into the bathroom to check looked you up once up and down and muttered a soft greeting. 
“You okay?”
Maybe you were imagining it, but the timbre of his voice was less Izuku and more Deku, the Hero, who asked everyone if they were okay. Who belonged to everyone. Or maybe really not everyone, just not you.
Despite your throat feeling as though it would close up, you nod. He says nothing more and suddenly you wish you could take it all back.
Two weeks have passed since your declaration of singlehood akin to a declaration of war, and just a few days since Sachiko thanked you for handing over the love of your life on a platter. Unwilling to admit that you regret your game, you resort to not speaking to him at all - at least not more than to reply to his good morning or his good night. You can feel him shift gently in the middle of the night, sometimes to face you, and you wonder if he’ll put his arm around your waist and nuzzle his chin in the crook of your shoulder, but he stops short and you’re left wanting, regretting. Now you start to make arrangements. Where will you go once you officially break up rather than theoretically? This is his apartment after all. Should you tell your mother so she’s not surprised when you turn up at her doorstep and she can’t call him her future son-in-law?
You’re not sure what your endgame was, but whatever this is, you don’t like it.
So you do what you do best. Make do with what is presented to you.
Izuku doesn’t say a word once he leaves your home just before noon, leaving you to quietly attend to work-related affairs as you type on your computer. From the calendar on the refrigerator, you’re reminded he has a midday shift 12-10pm, but still a part of you wonders if he’ll sneak off at any point to meet Sachiko. Why wouldn’t he? You’re broken up after all. 
Sachiko is so cute you would date her if you had the chance. You really did choose far too well.
You can’t focus on work anymore, you decide after staring at a blank screen for the next hour. Your head is pounding and your throat, although it no longer wants to close up, is dry and water isn’t fixing it. There’s a crick in your neck and a tenseness in your shoulders that Izuku would have massaged out for you if you weren’t locked in battle for days on end. 
So you make a profile for yourself. Is it desperation for validation now that suddenly all your inadequacies are brought to light or fear of losing? Whatever it is, you are very lucky, because you’ve arranged a date for just a few hours from now. 
You cannot, will not, spend the night in an empty house.
Izuku’s hands are fidgety, enough that his patrol partner notices the incessant tapping of his foot and the repeated running of his hands through his hair.
“You okay there, man?” 
“Yeah.”
It’s not like he can say No, actually, my girlfriend’s phone is unreachable and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s mad at me or because something actually happened to her, but if I’m wrong about danger, it will only make our already terrible relationship worse.
His partner tonight is a non-UA alum who is new to the city and initially came in excited to work with the great Midoriya only to run into someone whose naturally charismatic Hero smile now carries an undercurrent of moderate unease. The two however continue to roam the district in a predetermined path, making sure to detect any suspicious activity as it may come up. This particular area is known for its elevated nightlife and particularly rich patrons. There’s a Michelin 3-star restaurant whose reservations are hotly contested that he spots along his path as he walks, and he remembers he’d considered it among others for your eventual engagement, if you ever made it there at this point. 
The fact that Sachiko has texted him three times today grates on his nerves and he wishes he had never given her his number, even though he continues to reply politely. He looks down to mute the text thread, and as he looks up, he sees you.
And his blood runs cold. 
You can’t remember the last time you’ve been on a first date. You do remember that you’re supposed to feel somewhat jittery - you remember being this way when you first went on a date with your soon-to-be ex - but your nerves aren’t firing in all directions in a pleasant, pure sort of way.
What exactly are you trying to prove? You wonder as you stride carefully, one heeled step before the other on the cobbled street, a handsome stranger by your side. You march unevenly, and you can tell he wants to reach over and help you, but your body is sufficiently frigid that he keeps a polite distance away. 
Until you accidentally trip and he steadies you with a gentle grip of the hand.
“Hold on to me,” he asks. Yoshi’s smile is pleasant and reassuring, a little like Izuku. He’s not as tall and not as broad, but he’s pleasant to look at. 
“Thank you,” you say, gingerly allowing your hand to settle on his outstretched elbow. It doesn’t feel right but you tell yourself it’s natural to feel that way, considering you only started talking this afternoon. 
Yoshi isn’t a complete stranger though - you learn he works in another division at your company and you have mutual friends. It had just turned out that he had gotten stood up for his intended date today despite having had reservations for a month, so you might as well have taken the opportunity to go to such an exclusive eatery.
“I forgot to tell you you looked breathtaking,” he says once you’ve moved closer to him, and you can’t help but to smile first, then feel disgusted that you’re letting another man compliment you.
“You look quite nice yourself,” you reply nevertheless.
The queue to the entrance is several couples and groups long despite your reservation so you check in first before heading over to a waiting area until you get called.
You do get called from behind before you even get to sit, but it’s not by the restaurant.
“Fancy seeing you here!”
You freeze. Of course. What did you think would happen?
There are two things that run through your head. Either you can pretend you didn’t hear his voice and keep walking, and you know damn well he would not allow himself to be ignored or you could turn and risk a very public argument or-
He chooses for you.
Izuku is in front of the two of you now, grinning far too wide, far too poisonously. For once your heart is actually racing, and you remember that despite how soft he’s been with you, he’s actually quite large and obviously strong and the fact that he’s barely concealing the fact that he’s genuinely upset at you as he looks you up and down, fists clenched by his side and knuckles white as chalk, means that he could be unpredictable.
“It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?” he says, with a tinny laugh. Your eyes widen as you look to him then to your date who looks genuinely confused as to why this Hero is unkindly interrupting his date out of the blue.
“Hey, um-”
Deku flashes a smile at you that doesn’t reach his eyes then looks back at Yoshi.
“The two of you look like a lovely couple! Are you waiting for this restaurant?” He says, pointing to the entrance. “It’s a great restaurant! I personally like one of their pasta dishes myself and had been meaning to take my girlfriend here for a while but we just haven’t gotten the chance to-”
Yoshi, bold enough that even you’re taken aback, has the nerve to take your wrist gently and pull you a little behind him - a move that is not lost on Izuku and your blood chills because Izuku finds himself holding back a chuckle.
“Can I help you?” Yoshi asks, clearly annoyed.
You start to move instinctively but Izuku’s placed a hand on Yoshi’s shoulder and proceeds to pat it. He leans in ever so slightly to clear the height difference between them, staring him directly in the eyes, and you hold your breath. It’s clearly a challenge and you pray that neither of them take the bait. 
You can see Yoshi move to shrug the shoulder off but he’s forced into place and now the confusion on his features is even more intense. You can nearly cut the tension in the air with a knife but then you hear the other young man approaching.
It’s Izuku’s partner who has finally caught up, and the sound of Deku’s name being called from afar as he approaches seems to snap Izuku back into the reality of the situation. Some of the pounding in his temples clears and he tries not to look at you, patting your date on the shoulder.
“Stay safe out there and don’t stay out too late,” He offers. There’s still an edge to his voice and his hand and eyes linger but eventually he lets it trail off. The warning is for you specifically. 
Your face is hot and you’re thoroughly embarrassed but that’s the least of your concerns right now. Your stomach twists into a knot.
Your table is called.
When you finally slip back into your apartment, it’s a couple minutes to midnight and you are Cinderella fleeing back home to where the magic wears off.
The lights are on and Izuku is staring holes into the front door as you come in - he almost startles you when you slip off your shoes and turn to find him sitting at the kitchen table, facing in your direction. 
A small gasp leaves your throat.
He cocks his head to the side.
“What? Do I scare you?” His voice is somewhat gruff as though he’s waking up from sleep, low, and makes your heart pound.
You open your mouth, then close it. There’s not really much you can say at this point. You literally went on a date without his knowledge. You expected a fight when you came back, especially given how obviously angry he was just a couple of hours ago. 
You push and you push and you push and you don’t really know why you’re pushing.
And then you remember why. Sachiko.
“No,” you reply, moving forward in bare feet on wooden flooring, and dropping off your apartment keys in a shared bowl on the counter. You purse your lips and try not to engage him but wonder how long he’s been waiting for you, hunched forward on his elbows, pressing his fingertips together. There’s an untouched glass of wine besides him, and he rarely drinks.
“How was your date?” he spits.
You stop for a moment, his tone sinking in, and you selectively hear anger instead of the pang of rejection. You whip around to face him, the metal on your purse strings making the action unnecessarily loud. 
“It was great, actually! How’s Sachiko?!”
You didn’t mean to raise your voice but you did nevertheless. 
“Who..,” he starts, but his eyes widen, seething. “You sent me on that date.”
“That doesn’t mean you can fuck her!”
Izuku lets out a groan but his scowl softens to a frown once he sees the tears in your eyes despite his still tightly clenched fists.
“I did not, first of all. I deleted her number hours ago. We literally never met after the dates YOU arranged. Meanwhile you’re prancing around, hanging off some random dude’s arm, and what am I supposed to do? Accept it? What the fuck do I look like to you,___?”
You don’t have a response to that. How easy can it be to tolerate your mood swings? You were never done with him. You don’t want to be done with him. Of course he laughed at you when you said it, because it was obviously not true.
But you just want to feel heard so badly sometimes.
There’s a bit of silence as the two of you stand across from each other, your tears streaming down your face.
“Come here,” Izuku murmurs.
“No,” you mutter. He sighs as he follows you into the bedroom you disappear to, and watches you carefully as you sit down on the edge of the bed. You’re clearly still unsettled, but by now he can tell that you are no longer angry but confused as to what to do next. What comes after this mess?
“Did you fuck him?” Izuku asks in a quiet voice.
“Obviously not,” you quip, crossing your arms not out of self-defense but for self-soothing.
“Did you kiss him?” His voice is tentative as though he dreads the answer. His palms open and he flexes his fingers but he crosses the distance towards you on the bed.
“No.”
He pauses again, then kneels down before you. There’s a hand that finds its way onto the side of your cheek tenderly, turning your face so that you face him, and him only.
“I’m done fighting with you,” he finally decides. “Open your legs.”
Your face twists into surprise, but he dives deep, pulling up the bottom of your dress to your waist. He plants several kisses on your thighs, then waits for you to part your legs for him - he’s not going to tell you twice - before pressing his nose on the wet spot forming on your panties.
He breathes in and the inhale of your scent runs through his whole body, enough that you shudder yourself.
“God, I’ve missed this,” he says and your face warms. His calloused hands grip firmly, but not roughly, on the skin of your legs and push you open even further to accommodate his broad shoulders - you lean back onto your elbows as he slips two fingers under the crotch, and tears them apart with a snap.
“‘Zuku!” You hiss. Those panties aren’t your best ones but you still liked them.
He doesn’t reply and rather hastily, penetrates you with his tongue, and you squeal his name again, relishing in the thick muscle exploring your folds and the harsh grasp of his fingertips as he keeps you still. 
“B-baby… ah!”
He’s sharp and precise, because you’ve loved him long enough and he’s loved you long enough to know exactly what you need. You don’t tip but you careen over the pleasure of his tongue working your folds and your clit and your soft center, whining as pressure builds in your lower belly. 
“S-stop, it’s…” your breath falters, “I d-don’t deserve…”
He stops briefly with a kiss, then looks up at you, mulling over the words he needs to say to this woman who causes him so much trouble. 
He decides on the following:
“You’re right. You don’t deserve it, not right now, so I’m punishing you,” he finally teases. There’s a half grin on the slick covered lower half of his face and your eyes widen at the sight of his glistening skin. He lifts your ass gently and slaps it hard enough that your breath catches, the pain searing up and down your leg. You gasp, and he grabs a handful of your ass cheek, rubbing it to mull over the sensation. 
“You’re a fucking brat, you know that?” He hisses. His body presses over you, pushing one of your bent legs against your chest as he continues to squeeze at the fat of your bottom. You nod and he kisses you. 
“Simply awful.”
Another spank comes and you’re nearly blinded in pain and he dips down, biting at your lip. 
“I indulge you far too much, don’t I?” His teeth tug gently and release, and then he motions for you to pull your arms up. You’re sure if you don’t hurry up, he’ll rip it to shreds. 
The dress comes off and so does your breasts out of your bra and into his cupped hands. Sucking, biting at your nipples, leaving marks - it’s desperate and possessive and you wonder what would have happened if you had really taken Yoshi or whatever his name was seriously, and really pushed your Izuku to the brink. 
“I’m s-sorry,” you choke out eventually through sighs and then sobs. Izuku rolls you onto him, clasping his arms around your waist as you straddle him, playing with your breasts as you roll against him. The rhythm is new and hasty, but some of the fundamentals are the same. You know his body and he knows yours. He sucks at your neck and you nip at his earlobes - your fingers twist into his curls and he pulls at your hair. Kiss after kiss after kiss.
“I’m sorry, too,” he murmurs into your neck. His strong arms still enclose you and you’re settled onto his cock. There’s a soft groan as he presses upwards into you and some of you collapses into him, but he rolls his hips as you cling to his chest and you’re in a rhythm yet again.
“You make me crazy but I’m sorry.”
You can only whimper something unintelligible back as you suck up every inch of him, even your walls clinging tightly and desperately to his body inside yours. Your fingers curl into fists, laying against his chest and he uses a hand to pull it before him and kiss your knuckles.
“I’m awful,” you moan, crying into his chest.
“I shouldn’t have teased you,” he insists.
He flips over and you find yourself under him, and he interlaces his fingers with yours above you. Green locks graze gently atop your forehead as he stares into your eyes.
“I love you,” you say first.
“I love you too,” Izuku replies. He stirs into you more, letting the pressure of his weight comfort you as he strokes deeply, then rises up on his elbows to pick up his pace.
“Promise you’ll never leave,” you beg him before he begins. His hands press onto yours and pin you down and he kisses at your belly, then up to your lips.
“You can’t get rid of me,” he laughs.
“Even when I’m shitty enough to try?”
He pauses, dips down to press his forehead against yours. His lips graze above yours again. 
“Even when I’m angry enough to fight back, I won’t leave you.”
Reassured, you rock your hips against his and he takes it as an invitation to speed up. His strokes are fast and deep and tender - with every plunge you fall deeper in love with him, as does he. You push back but gently, resisting every strong movement with a clench of your thighs against him.
“You feel fucking amazing,” he insists, and you can his voice lowers. “Fucking amazing, baby, fucking-”
It’s his tell - he holds on to you desperately and you can feel yourself tense up as your coil snaps and sharp jets of cum spurt at your cervix, coating you thick and full. He shudders as he comes, heavy body shrouding you in a warm comfort.
He’s never leaving and neither are you.
No matter how many games you play.
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iamgonnagetyouback · 3 months ago
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ivyyyyyyyy i think a frostbite with barty and "tell me three reasons why I should put up with you." "well, for starters, I'm cute." would be super adorable in your style <333 congrats again mwah
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ cute
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synopsis: ever since you met barty, he’s been a dramatic menace. you’ve learned to deal with it, but when you ask for three reasons you should put up with him, he’s determined to prove he’s worth the tolerating—starting with the fact that he’s cute content warnings: excessive dramatics (courtesy of barty), fluff, and one (1) very smug boy who takes being called cute way too seriously prompt ➺"tell me three reasons why i should put up with you." "well, for starters, i'm cute." author's note: thank you for celebrating with me, love!! <3 hope you like it ♡
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,112
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You sigh, looking over at Barty with an eyebrow raised, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as he leans lazily against the wall, his hands stuffed in his pockets. You’re not sure what he’s done this time to drive you up the wall, but he’s certainly acting like he hasn’t just spent the last twenty minutes making it his life’s mission to be a menace.
“Tell me three reasons why I should even put up with you,” you say, arms crossed and giving him an unimpressed look.
Barty’s eyes spark mischievously, clearly ready to meet your challenge with enthusiasm. He straightens up, putting on a look of mock-seriousness as he dramatically flips an imaginary lock of hair over his shoulder, like he's about to deliver a line from a play.
“Welllllll,” he begins, drawing out the word as if he’s really contemplating it, “for starters, I’m cute.” He flashes you a grin that’s as smug as it is endearing, the corners of his mouth curving up like he’s already won.
You can’t help it—you scoff, rolling your eyes at him as you cross your arms tighter. “Yeah, sure, you’re cute.”
To your surprise, Barty’s face lights up in a way that’s so genuine it makes you falter for just a second. His eyes glint with excitement, and he practically beams at you, looking like a kid who’s just been handed a massive candy bar. “Oh! So you do think I’m cute!” he practically shouts, clearly reveling in the supposed compliment.
You can’t believe how easily he’s fallen for that, and a smirk tugs at your lips. You’re not going to let him have his little victory so easily. “If by ‘cute,’ you mean overly obnoxious, a bane to my existence, an insufferable little gremlin with no respect for personal space, then yes. You’re adorable,” you say, layering each word with as much sarcasm as you can muster.
Barty gasps, clutching his chest dramatically like he’s just been mortally wounded. “How could you?!” His voice cracks as he stumbles backward, casting you a wounded look as if you’ve stabbed him with betrayal itself. He clutches an invisible wound on his chest, stumbling back to collapse onto the couch like a tragic hero in the final act of his life. “Obnoxious? A gremlin? A bane to your existence?! How could you say such hurtful things? I thought we had something special!”
By now, you’re laughing despite yourself, trying to cover your mouth as a few giggles slip out. Barty peeks from under his hand, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you, his face breaking into a victorious grin as he sees your shoulders shaking with laughter.
“See?” he says, dropping the act entirely and flashing you that ever-smug grin. “That’s reason two: I make you laugh, and you know you love it.” He wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, looking at you with such exaggerated confidence that it’s impossible not to laugh harder.
“Oh, Merlin,” you mutter, trying to compose yourself even as he gazes at you with the utmost satisfaction. “I don’t know if I ‘love’ it, but you sure do keep things interesting.”
Barty pretends to be offended, once again clutching his chest like he’s barely holding himself together. “Only ‘interesting’? Treasure, please, don’t shortchange me,” he says, rolling his eyes in mock despair. “I’m magnificent. I’m a vision. A one-of-a-kind gem in your otherwise humdrum life. Who else brings the kind of sparkle, the absolute pizzazz, that I do?”
You try to keep a straight face as you reply, “Pizzazz? The only ‘pizzazz’ you bring is when you manage to knock over three things in a row and try to play it off like it was intentional.”
He gasps again, this time managing to look somehow even more insulted. “You think I’m clumsy?” he asks, eyes wide with faux horror. “No, no, my love, that’s just me leaving a mark on the world, showing my… my undeniably charming presence.”
“Oh, is that what you’re calling it now?” you reply, trying to fight back a grin. “And here I thought it was just you being a klutz.”
Barty sniffs, lifting his chin with a dignified air. “Well, I don’t expect you to understand the intricacies of my charm, Treasure. It’s a rare gift, one that mere mortals such as yourself might struggle to comprehend.”
“Rare gift?” you echo, chuckling as he leans into his own grandeur. “If anything, it’s a rare torture.”
He laughs, clearly enjoying every second of your banter. “Oh, admit it,” he says, leaning forward, “you’d be absolutely miserable without me. Who else would provide you with endless entertainment, constant compliments, and the kind of delightful companionship that I do?”
You raise an eyebrow at him, trying to look as unimpressed as possible. “Endless entertainment, maybe. As for companionship… I think I could find quieter, less ego-inflated options.”
He gasps yet again, stumbling back into the couch as if he’s been struck. “Quieter? Quieter? How could you even suggest such a thing? The silence would be deafening, and you’d be haunted by the memory of my delightful voice, echoing in the void.”
“Haunted by your voice? That sounds more like a nightmare than a fond memory,” you say with a grin, unable to keep up the unimpressed act much longer.
Barty pauses, noticing the way you’re smiling at him, and his expression softens for a moment, a genuine glimmer of happiness slipping through his playful mask. “Alright, reason three,” he says, his voice lower and a little gentler. “I make you smile, and I know that’s worth something.”
You try to stifle your reaction, but the warmth in his voice catches you off guard, and you find yourself unable to hide your smile.
“You think that counts as a real reason?” you ask, half-jokingly, even though you’re fully aware that it’s a perfectly good reason.
“Of course it does,” he says, leaning in closer with a look of triumph. “So, tell me, have I convinced you?”
You give him a long look, trying to keep your face serious but failing as a smirk creeps in. “Fine. Maybe you’re not entirely unbearable,” you admit.
He grins, looking as overjoyed as if you’d just handed him the world. “I’ll take it!” he says with a flourish, sweeping you into a dramatic bow. “It is a privilege and a pleasure to be tolerated by you.”
Laughing, you give him a playful shove. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Oh, it’s far too late for that, Treasure.” He winks, flashing you that smug grin again, and you know, despite the constant teasing, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.
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seungrem · 10 months ago
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Dick Grayson x Male!reader
‘Confidential’ ~*+
Masterlist - Part 1 of ??
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summary: When reader and a friend fall victim to a scheme in Gotham, a cute cop (if that’s what he really is) takes reader in for protection. Waiting for the mystery regarding his friend’s disappearance to be uncovered, reader insists on helping the cop.
( overview: college student!reader, cop?grayson, Alessio Falcone = made up character, kidnapping, hero-canon-typical violence, a murder attempt, protective custody, and police. basically a plot intro, Batfam & Red Hood cameos )
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emoji code:
🌿 ( long story & series - 5.1k words )
🧸 ( light fluff )
🫧 ( light angst )
☁️ ( stands for y/n )
likes, comments, & reblogs r appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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Sunlight gleamed through the trees above as ☁️ sat alone at a table, his computer buzzing softly. A gentle breeze brushed against his hoodie, cooling the boy in this unusually hot spring air.
The sound of someone clearing their throat caused ☁️ to jump, him then noticing a man standing opposite to where he sat. The man placed his brown satchel onto the seat as ☁️ lowered his computer screen.
“Hello, are you ☁️?”
“Hello-oh...”
☁️ lifted his gaze from his computer to the man, looking him up and down. He was tall and handsome with long dark hair and blue eyes. His muscular build was visible through his blue shirt and black jacket. The boy assumed he was simply another student- a hot one at that.
“Oh? Are you not..”
“No, no- sorry. I am, what’s up?”
“I’ve been looking for you. Do you mind if I join you for a sec?” The man’s tone was soft, and his voice not too deep.
“Sure.” ☁️ responded, motioning him to sit. As the stranger sat, the boy stared expectantly at him.
The man reached into his jacket pocket, grabbing a golden badge and briefly holding it in front of ☁️’s face. He quickly placed the badge back into his pocket and then looked around.
“My name is Richard Grayson, but you can call me Dick. I’m with the GCPD and I’d like to ask you a few questions.” He paused. “You’re best-friends with Alessio Falcone, right?”
☁️ huffed, annoyed.
“Not really. And you’re the fourth cop who’s come up to me since he went missing. I already told-”
“I only have two interviews on file. Who’s the third one?” Dick said, pulling a tan folder from his bag. He opened it, looking through the pages.
“Tim.. something. I forgot the last name.”
“Drake?”
“Probably.”
Dick cursed under his breath, placing the file on the table.
“I need you to go over the events of last Friday again. Give me every detail.”
“I have a paper to write.” ☁️ said, getting agitated. He rolled his eyes, turning his attention from Dick to his laptop. Dick swiped the laptop away with quickness, closing it, and then placing it into his bag.
“I need you to take this seriously.”
☁️ exhaled. “Alessio and I were only school friends. He’s impulsive and stubborn, and I would be very surprised if he was still alive after two days.”
“He’s a Falcone, after all. So you two were only school friends? Nothing more?”
“Is that not what I said?”
“Play nice or I’m taking this home.” Dick said, tapping his bag.
☁️ sighed, intertwining his fingers and placing his hand in his lap.
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- 2 days ago -
Roaring past ☁️ and Alessio, two black vans turned the corner in front of them.
“We’re getting farther from campus. Let’s head back.” ☁️ suggested, looking around at the cloudy sky above. Alessio pretended not to hear him, the two continuing down the sidewalk and turning the corner. Upon turning, the sidewalk came to an abrupt end, with a long path of grass in its place. The two vans parked far in the distance, in front of a seemingly abandoned black barn.
“I wanna see what they’re up to.” Alessio pushed his long brown hair from out of his eyes, him then looking over to ☁️. Alessio wore his signature gray polo-shirt with straight black pants and black loafers, his style making his rich lifestyle particularly obvious.
“That’s an easy way to get killed. We’re still in Gotham.” ☁️ responded as he stopped. Alessio noticed, him doing the same.
“We don’t need to get super close, I just wanna see what they bring inside.” Alessio smiled, gesturing ☁️ to continue forward. His watch reflected the little sunlight that came from the sky as he did so.
Only a few blocks away from Gotham City University, Alessio and ☁️ continued through the grass. The two passed the buildings beside them, a small field of trees now standing in between them and the barn. The road turned into a dirt path, with many thick trees shading each side of it.
“Stay behind the trees.” ☁️ instructed as the two creeped through the mini-forest.
Getting close enough to see what the people from the vans were exporting into the building, ☁️ noticed that the barn was much larger than it appeared. Alessio and ☁️ watched as metal suitcases were carefully lifted and brought inside by a few people at a time.
“What do you think are in them?” Alessio asked in a low tone, keeping his gaze on the small group.
“Drugs, probably. We should head back now.”
“We still have 20 minutes until class.”
“That’s not what I mean. We’ve gotten too close, and it looks like they’re leaving soon.”
The small group of people walked outside, talking loudly amongst themselves. ☁️ could only make out a few phrases, like “..that guy’s a total creep..” and “..what do you think he’s doing with..”
Alessio crept toward a tree that was closer to the group, standing behind it as he listened. ☁️ peaked over at him every few seconds, obviously worried.
After a few minutes, the vans roared down the dirt road and back onto the main one. Alessio hurried back to ☁️, squatting down beside him.
“There’s something weird going on in there.”
“We can just call the cops. I’m not going in there.”
“Well, I am. Be my lookout.”
☁️ grabbed Alessio’s arm, holding it stiffly.
“Alessio, I will NOT go in there if anything happens. Please, let’s report it and go back.”
☁️ doesn’t remember what happened after that, but he does remember freaking out after waiting for 25 minutes. He sent the boy 6 messages, and his battery was getting low.
-
An hour passed, and the clouds were getting darker. ☁️ called the cops, explaining what he had seen and how his friend wasn’t responding. He power-walked his way back to campus as suggested by the dispatcher on the phone, where he met with an officer.
“What do you mean you’re not going in there?! He could be hurt!” ☁️’s eye twitched as another cop pulled to the curb beside the two. The first cop leaned against his car, filling out a packet on a clipboard.
“That property actually belongs to someone, despite it looking abandoned. I’m making your report now, and then we’ll request an emergency warrant.”
“How long will it take?”
“A few hours to a day. This number will give you call with any updates we have of your friend.”
The officer handed ☁️ a small card with a number on it as the second officer approached them.
“It’s being handled.” The first officer stated as he turned to the second, the two then looking at ☁️.
“I’m going to speak to him privately for a moment, we’ll be right back.” The second cop said.
☁️ stood still as the two walked over to the other side of the car. He tried his best to listen in on their conversation, but he once again could only recall certain parts.
“Another missing..” and “could be related to..” with “I know that the warrant … granted, but..”
The boy waited impatiently for them to return, figuring their conversation was referring to the three other students who had also gone missing over the past week. The news spread like wildfire on campus, but the topic quickly faded out of circulation. The paranoia, however, lingered behind.
The officers walked back to where ☁️ stood.
“I’m going to put this in asap, if you have any concerns call the number on the card or the non-emergency number.” The first officer said, him then getting into his car.
“I know this is a tough situation. Do you need a ride home?” The second officer asked, watching as ☁️ looked down and nodded.
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- 2 days later -
“Did they give you an update on the warrant?” Dick continued writing on his small notepad.
“Yes, they said it was approved and that they would send their tactical team in tomorrow morning. I’m just worried that it’s too late.”
“I’m not sure why they waited so long considering there’s been another two students missing since.” Dick placed his head into his fist, clearly thinking out loud. “It’s not a coincidence.”
“Whatever creep is in there probably has my friend..” ☁️ paused, his mouth becoming dry and his head pounding. “Are we done? I don’t wanna talk about this anymore.”
“Have you slept since then?”
☁️ was taken aback by the question, but looked up with a monotone gaze, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry.” Dick muttered, him then grabbing the computer from his bag and placing it in front of ☁️.
“No need to be. Is that all?”
“No.”
☁️ exhaled again, hoping to make the cop go away with a harsh tone. “What more do you want?”
“Can you show me where that barn is?”
☁️ gave him a glare, becoming suspicious.
“Are you sure you’re a cop?”
“I showed you my badge, didn’t I?”
“You seem too young.”
“I’m in my early twenties, same as you. I’m only a year or two older.”
“Right..” ☁️ glanced around him. “I think I’ll pass.”
“Do you wanna find your friend or not?”
-
“I’m stopping here. You can see it down that path and behind the trees.” ☁️ turned to Dick, who walked into the middle of the empty road.
“Thank you. I’ll try to investigate tonight.”
☁️ furrowed his eyebrows.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m going to come back and see if I can find anything.”
“Alone?”
“Probably not.”
“Can I come with?”
Dick turned to the boy.
“Absolutely not.”
“But you’re going.”
“I’m a cop.”
“I still don’t believe you.”
☁️ turned around and walked back around the corner. Dick followed closely behind, choosing to stay silent. As the two walked down the sidewalks in silence, they crossed the street to the GCU. ☁️ stopped as he stepped onto the stone path and turned to Dick.
“So, I’ll see you tonight?”
“Nope. I don’t need another student going missing.” He responded, looking around. “You shouldn’t be alone around campus, anymore. Let me walk you back to your dorm.”
“How’d you know I dormed?”
“I read the report before I came.”
“So you had me re-explain everything even though you knew?” ☁️ scowled at Dick, which seemingly amused him.
“I had to make sure your story matched up with what you told the cops.”
“Hm..”
☁️ took a few steps away from Dick.
“I think I’ll be fine walking alone, I’ll see you tonight.”
“☁️, I’m serious. I shouldn’t have told you-”
“I need to find my friend. Please.” ☁️ turned his back to Dick and motioned him to follow, the two continuing down the path.
“It would be easier to scan the area if you had more people helping.”
“I don’t think you understand how dangerous this is. We don’t know what ‘creeps’ are in there, if they’re affiliated with a crime boss or villain, how many there are, and if your friend is even still inside.” Dick hesitated, continuing, “..I’m going to tell you something confidential, can you promise to not tell anyone?”
☁️ turned to him and nodded, Dick beginning upon observing the gesture.
“Carmine Falcone is livid, and he’s been sending his guys to the area to retrieve his son. From what I’ve heard, his guys have been going missing too. It’s not just students getting picked off. Anybody who’s in the area is… and I’m very surprised nobody’s come to get you yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“Considering you pretty much exposed the operation to the police, I expected whoever was behind it to get at you next. To keep you quiet or.. you know.. Which is partially why I’ve come today.”
“You’re confusing me.” ☁️ groaned as the two passed a small group of students. Waiting for the group to gain some distance, ☁️ continued.
“Who are you? Actually.”
“I’m a private investigator. Pretty much a cop.”
“And who hired you?”
“Confidential.”
“Then I guess our conversation ends here. My dorm is down the block. If you find anything, please fine me again.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask for your number. For professional purposes, of course.”
“Oh, sure.” ☁️ smirked, taking Dick’s phone. After typing his number in, he handed the device back.
“Thanks.”
☁️ nodded, walking off. He felt Dick continue behind him, causing the boy to turn around.
“I told you I was fine from here.”
“I know, I just need to go back with you.”
“What? Why?”
“Precautionary measures.”
“For?”
“We’ll see.”
“Dick, I don’t think you need to-”
“I expect someone to be in your dorm. That’s why I insist on going with.”
“You mean my roommate?”
“Don’t you have your own room?”
“How do you know that?”
“Private investigator.”
☁️ huffed and nodded, turning around the corner toward a large beige building of gothic architecture. Dick walked in front of ☁️, opening the glass doors and waiting for him to step through. ☁️ smiled at the gesture, whispering his thanks to the man. Pulling out his student ID from his backpack, ☁️ approached the front desk with Dick not too far behind.
“Hello, this man is another cop. He’s going to inspect my room quickly.”
☁️ watched as Dick took his badge from out of his jacket pocket. He held it over the desk for the front desk lady to see, her then nodding in understanding.
“No problem, I’m just going to need to scan his ID.”
Dick pulled out his ID from his jean pocket, sliding it over to the lady. She took it and placed it over a small black box, it beeping only a second later. She handed the ID to Dick and smiled.
“All good.”
“Thanks.” Dick smiled, following ☁️ across the lobby and to the elevators. Their shoes tapped against the marble floors, ☁️ watching Dick look around from over his shoulder. The two stopped in front of the elevators as ☁️ tapped the button.
“Have you ever been inside this place?” ☁️ asked, Dick continuing to look around.
“Once when I was younger, so it’s been a while. My adopted dad went here and contributes to the school pretty often.”
“Oh, that’s cool.” ☁️ responded. The elevator beeped and opened, the two stepping inside.
The ride was quiet, with ☁️ keeping an eye on Dick. Dick noticed, breaking the silence as they finally had reached the sixth floor.
“Still don’t trust me?”
“That’s right.”
The two strolled down the hall, ☁️ recognizing a classmate he was friends with.
“☁️, hey!” She said, walking up to the two guys.
“Ah, hey. How’re you?”
“Good, how’re you? And who’s this cutie?” She whispered the last question, leaning into ☁️ while looking at Dick. Dick looked away as the two quickly conversed.
“Nobody, he’s just taking a quick look at my room.” He whispered back. The friend gave him a suggestive smirk, which made ☁️ shake his head.
“It’s not like that, he’s a cop.”
“How’d you pull a cop?”
“He’s just so full of charm.” Dick said sarcastically, nudging at ☁️’s arm. Though confused, ☁️ and his friend waved goodbye to each other as they parted ways. Dick and ☁️ continued down the hallway, Dick still gripping the boy’s arm.
“You don’t have to hold my arm anymore.”
“You pulled a cop, remember? Take responsibility.” Dick teased, though the boy smiled and rolled his eyes in response. He pulled away from Dick as he arrived to his door toward the end of the hallway.
“Here we are.” ☁️ said softly, grabbing his keycard from his backpack pocket. As he was about to slide it into the door lock, Dick stopped him.
“Wait, here’re the rules. I walk in first, and you stay three steps behind me. If someone’s in there, just stay back. I’ll take care of them.” Dick whispered, leaning into ☁️.
“You’re awfully confident. And paranoid.” ☁️ whispered back.
“This isn’t my first rodeo.”
☁️ blinked at the comment, ultimately ignoring it. He placed his card into the lock, allowing Dick step in first. ☁️ followed around three feet behind as the two tiptoed into the room. Dick placed his bag down, him then quickly opening the closet in the hallway, with nothing but a few pairs of shoes and jackets inside. He continued slowly, stopping in front of the bathroom door to the right- it slightly ajar. As Dick was about to push it open, a man jumped out and tackled him to the floor. ☁️ fell back in shock, crawling backwards.
Dick used his legs to toss the man off and behind him, quickly standing up. The man did the same, repeatedly lunging at Dick with a shiny object in his hand. Dick smoothly dodged the attacks, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling it, Dick then kneeing him in the stomach. With a swift punch to the temple, the man fell to the ground, unconscious.
Dick hurried back to ☁️, helping him stand up. He looked back, then holding his hand to his lips to keep him quiet. The two continued down the hallway into the tiny kitchen, there luckily being nobody there. Opening the last door down the hall, Dick walked into ☁️’s bedroom. ☁️ remained outside, staring at the unconscious man on the other side of the hall. He turned his attention back to Dick, who looked through his closet and then under his bed. Upon giving the ‘okay,’ he walked back over to ☁️.
“They only sent one goon. That’s rare.” Dick muttered before walking down the hall. ☁️ followed slowly behind him.
“I’m not gonna say I told you so. But..”
“I know, I know. Thank you.”
Dick nodded, walking into the bathroom and turning the light on. ☁️ waited outside again, Dick carrying a duffle bag out only a few seconds later.
“Assuming this isn’t yours?” Dick asked, ☁️ whispering a ‘no.’ He placed the bag beside the man on the floor, Dick then going through his satchel. The man on the floor now had an extremely apparent bruise on his temple, directly under his receding hairline. He wore a plain white tee with a few dirt marks on it, along with dark green cargo pants and big black boots.
Dick hurried to dig through his bag, him pulling a pair of handcuffs out and pushing the guy onto his stomach, handcuffing him. He then checked the guy’s pockets, finding an old smartphone and a walkie talkie. Dick placed both objects into his bag before turning to ☁️.
“Hurry and pack your stuff. You can’t stay here for a while.”
-
Dick had called the cops to take the intruder away as ☁️ followed the small group outside. The officers and Dick carried the man into a cop car, while ☁️ waited outside with a suitcase and his backpack.
Dick walked back to him, a pitiful expression across his face.
“I’m sorry that it has to be like this. It’ll only be until I crack this case.”
“I understand, but where am I going to go?”
“Do you have family in Gotham?”
“If I did I wouldn’t be dorming.”
“Oh, right… Wanna stay with me?”
“Not sure that I’d feel much safer with a mysterious private investigator.”
“Lucky for you, I’ve got a family full of them. I also already told the officers that you said you would.”
☁️ pursed his lips and furrowed his eyebrows.
“Oh don’t give me that look. My family’s very nice.”
“I have no doubt about that. I just don’t wanna be a burden.”
“Oh stop, I’m inviting you.”
☁️ nodded. “Does this mean I can go with you tonight?”
“Still no. I have to make a few calls, just follow behind me.”
The two conversed as they continued through the campus, ☁️ trying to get some information out of Dick.
“So, do you know the cop I spoke to last night? Tim-something?”
“Yes, but it’s complicated.”
“How so?” ☁️ asked, raising an eyebrow.
“That’s not his actual name, and he’s my brother. He uses our other brother’s name when he’s out.”
“That’s.. odd. Is your name actually Richard, then?”
“Yes, I don’t do that. Only they do.”
☁️ nodded in understanding. Dick continued.
“You’re going to love my little brothers. Tim is a genius and the most considerate boy I know. And Damien is very kind-spirited- he’s outspoken and also very observant. You met Jason, already. He’s just a big teddy bear, honestly.”
☁️ raised an eyebrow at the last comment as Dick continued.
“I have other siblings, but they aren’t staying with us at the moment.”
“The Jason I met was big and scary..”
“That’s just ‘cause he’s working. He’s a softie, and he’ll make you laugh a lot when he’s not out.”
☁️ didn’t necessarily believe him, as the Jason he met yesterday was very straightforward with a somewhat aggressive tone.
“Right..”
After that, the conversation ended and the walk was silent once again. The silence didn’t last long, as Dick kept peering over to ☁️.
“So.. since we’re being honest with each other.. Is Alessio really your friend?”
“Yes, we met last semester. I thought that he was an asshole until we worked together on a project. He’s a lot nicer than people say.”
“So you aren’t dating?”
☁️ looked over to Dick, his eye twitching.
“This is the second time you’ve suggested that. What makes you think we’re together?”
“Mm.. just wondering.”
“Did you wanna take me out or something?” ☁️ asked, sarcastically. He smiled and turned to Dick.
“Maybe.”
“Wait, really?”
“You pulled a cop, remember?”
“How long are you gonna hold that against me?”
“Dunno.” Dick shrugged. Now, he was the one to grin at the man next to him.
-
A black SUV pulled beside Dick and ☁️ in the campus’s parking lot. Dick leaned against his motorcycle, still on the phone. Though ☁️ tried his best not to eavesdrop, Dick had called a man named Alfred to pick him up. Then, he called someone named Bruce, explaining ☁️’s situation in soft whispers. Now, he was on the phone with Jason, who seemed to be giving Dick a hard time. ☁️ only heard bits of the conversation.
An older man got out of the black SUV and opened the trunk, Dick gesturing for ☁️ to walk over to him.
“Hello, Mr. ☁️, right?”
“Yes, hello.” ☁️ said, watching the man take his suitcase and gently place it into the vehicle.
“What’s your name?”
“Please call me Alfred.”
☁️ nodded, watching as Alfred walked past him and opened the backseat door. He pointed inside, ☁️ saying a ‘thank you’ and stepping inside with his backpack around his shoulder. Alfred closed the door, approaching Dick as he hung up the phone. The two conversed for a few seconds before Alfred walked back alone, stepping into the vehicle.
“Master Dick has some errands to run before he joins you at the manor. He should be back shortly after you arrive.” Alfred explained as he started the car engine.
“Okay.” ☁️ said dully, watching out of the window as Dick sped away on his motorcycle.
Alfred and ☁️ conversed for the entirety of the ride, with the boy explaining his peculiar situation. After a few minutes, the vehicle pulled up to a set off tall, black gate doors. The estate fencing spread far down the road, with a sharp point on each post top- the bottom end going through lined brick along the ground.
Alfred pulled out his phone, the tall gate doors opening moments later. He turned his gaze to ☁️ in the rear-view mirror, ☁️ unintentionally returning the gaze as the man drove into the property. He drove down a stone path lined by large bushes before turning slightly, a mansion of brown and blacks now in view.
“Master Dick volunteered the manor as your safe house as opposed to a protective custody facility. There must be something very special about you, Mr. ☁️.”
☁️ felt as though his tone was rather suggestive, but nodded and smiled as Alfred parked the car.
The two got out, Alfred opening the trunk and grabbing ☁️’s suitcase. They then proceeded up the steps, with the door opening as soon as Alfred placed the suitcase back onto the ground. ☁️ peaked from behind him, seeing a tall man with black hair and a scar on lip in the doorframe. It was Tim- or rather- Jason, the cop who ☁️ spoke to yesterday.
“I’ll take it, Alfred.” Jason said, picking the suitcase up as if it weight nothing.
“Master Jason will take you to your room.”
“Thank you.” ☁️ turned from Alfred to Jason, who began walking into the manor and toward the double staircase. ☁️ followed closely behind, the size of the home making him feel small. The two walked up the left side of the staircase in silence. Upon reaching the top, Jason placed the suitcase down softly and turned to ☁️.
“Hi. I know we met before and it’s weird seeing me again. My name’s actually Jason, my brother is Tim-“
“I know, Dick told me about it.” ☁️ interrupted with a gentle tone, saving Jason the explanation.
“What else did he tell you?” Jason asked as he began down the hallway.
“You’re both private investigators. And that you’re a ‘big teddy bear’ apparently.”
Jason scoffed at the comment, a smirk forming on his face.
“Do you think I’m a ‘big teddy bear?’” Jason turned to him as he stopped at a door to his right. He pushed it open, dragging ☁️’s suitcase inside.
“More of just big.” ☁️ muttered, looking him up and down- Jason wearing a white shirt with wrinkled black jeans, his hair just as messy as it was yesterday. He was taller than Dick, but his muscles could be seen from his clothing just the same. Jason heard ☁️’s response and tried not to look offended.
“I mean in a.. muscular way..” ☁️ said, walking in front of him to look at the room.
“Wow..” Jason responded sarcastically.
The room was large with walls of maroon and gold accents. A wardrobe, dressers, a nightstand, and the bed frame were all a dark brown wood material. The ceiling was white, as were the window frames. Wooden flooring reflected a light brown, though it didn’t creak as ☁️ walked across it.
“This was my room, but I don’t mind you staying in it for a bit. The sheets are clean and the dresser next to the bed is empty, so you can put your clothes in it.”
“Where are you going to sleep, then?” ☁️ asked, turning to face him.
“The couch. I have my own place- I’ve just been staying here for the past few days to deal with.. y’know.. your case.”
“I don’t think I understand, but I don’t want to take your bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.” ☁️ said, grabbing his suitcase handle and dragging it toward the door. Jason stepped in front of him, blocking the doorway.
“I don’t mind. Unless you want to take Dick’s room. He’s got a thing for you, and if you don’t feel the same way, I think that’d be a little awkward.”
☁️ looked away from Jason, and smiled.
“I do, just a bit. He’s cute, but I barely know him.”
“He’s dated, like, three people in his entire life. I don’t think you have much to worry about.”
☁️ nodded as Jason moved out of his way.
“It’s the next door down. I’ll wash his sheets for you.”
“Thanks.”
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Moonlight emitted through the room windows, illuminating the bed in which ☁️ sat on.
Dick’s room was comfortable and just as large as Jason’s. He visited ☁️ shortly after the boy arrived at the manor, obviously pleased to see the ☁️ in his bed. Not too long after, Alfred gave him a tour of the home, introducing him to the Wayne Manor. Both surprised and intimated to be in the Bruce Wayne’s house, ☁️ remained in the room to avoid meeting more of Dick’s family.
After falling asleep in Dick’s bed, it was now nighttime. ☁️ grabbed his phone from the nightstand, pulling up the man’s ‘Hey, this is Dick.’ message. He noticed that it was around 11pm as he began typing.
‘Hey, are you still going back there tonight?’
He placed the phone in his pocket and walked to the door, peaking out to make sure nobody was around. He silently wandered down the hallway and to the railing between the set of stairs, finding Alfred dusting the shelves below him. He walked down, watching as Alfred turned in his direction. ☁️ approached him.
“Hey Mr. Alfred. Do you know where Dick is?”
“I’m sorry, you missed him. Master Dick left an hour ago.”
“Did he say where he was going?”
“He said it was ‘confidential.’”
☁️ furrowed his eyebrows, contemplating on whether or not Dick went back to that barn.
“Actually, Mr. ☁️, Master Dick informed me that you had hoped to join him tonight. He gave me specific orders to keep you inside- it seemed he did not want you leaving due to safety concerns.”
Annoyed, ☁️ pursed his lips. “Oh.. I understand. Thank you.”
Alfred nodded. “While you slept we had dinner, and I packed some food away for you. It’s in the fridge, please help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”
☁️ nodded again, thanking Alfred as he walked down the hallway and toward the kitchen. Jason was in there, running around the island as he rushed passed ☁️. Upon realizing that ☁️ was behind him, he quickly turned back around.
“Hey ☁️, did Dick reach out to you in the past hour?”
☁️ shook his head. “Alfred basically said he left to the barn an hour ago.”
Jason nodded, about to turn around before ☁️ began grilling him.
“Why? Is he there? Is he okay?”
“..Confidential. I might have to head over there as well.” Jason said, not looking ☁️ in the eye.
“Why does everybody keep saying that to me? Take me with.”
“I can’t.”
“Jason, please. I want to help.”
“Help by not getting yourself killed.” Jason said, pulling out his phone as it buzzed. He read the words on the screen before looking up at ☁️.
“Actually, I’ll have a friend pick you up. Be ready in 10 mins. To avoid anybody seeing you, climb out the window and use the gutter to get to the ground. Walk across the garden and use the bird bath next to the gate to jump over it. Walk around and meet him in front of the entrance.”
“Gonna assume you’ve done that before?”
“Many times.” Jason said before smiling and rushing out of sight. A skeptical Alfred peaked from down the hall, forcing ☁️ to return to the kitchen. He grabbed a fruit and quickly ate it before walking back to his room. He threw on a black sweater and zipped it up, him then opening Dick’s window and climbing out. The night’s cool air brushed against ☁️’s face almost immediately, with the sounds of crickets and leaves swishing together filling the air.
‘I’m an idiot for doing this- trusting these people and going back to that place. But I really need to know what’s in there. I need to see it for myself.’ ☁️ thought to himself as he carefully slid down the gutter, trying to make his escape a silent one. He ran across the grass through a garden of large bushes and flowers, finding the bird bath Jason had mentioned. He climbed on top of it, leaning forward and grasping the side of a post’s sharp point. Leaning forward, he hoisted himself over the gate, barely grazing the posts’ sharp tips. ☁️ bracing for impact, he landed on his knees and elbows. He brushed himself off, and then ran along the gate. Cutting around the corner, he found a pair of glowing red eyes piercing through him. The Red Hood was waiting for him.
“Get on.” Red Hood instructed, his voice deep and synthetic.
☁️ hurried over to the motorcycle Red Hood sat on, holding onto his waist as the two sped off into the night.
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likes, comments, & reblogs appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
a/n: i’ve been itching to do a dc fic :,) ik this isn’t usually what i write, but thx for giving it a chance ! <3
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deobienthusiast · 7 months ago
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i love you | h. jisung
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• pairing: bf!jisung x gn!reader
• genre: unbearably teeth rotting fluff, there’s no angst, this is just about jisung being an absolute loverboy
you bring your boyfriend along to help go grocery shopping, but jisung’s love for you ends up being the cutest distraction.
wc: 1.0k words
warnings: han jisung being an absolute softie for his love, overly cute nicknames. look if you don’t like fluff this isn’t the drabble for you, mmkay.
notes: i have been DEEEEEEEP in my hanji feels. i don’t know where it came from, but i wrote this in thirty minutes at work so here ya go. this isn’t proofread btw.
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it wasn’t all that often that jisung had the opportunity to spend time with you. his busy work schedule coupled with your busy school schedule left very little time in between to see the other. you both made it work, though.
there was nothing jisung loved more than spending time with you. when you told him at the beginning of your relationship that your love language was quality time, jisung took that shit seriously. any waking moment of free time he had, jisung was at your doorstep. you have a doctor’s appointment; jisung was there. having a study session? jisung lended his quiet company as a form of support. even something as little as going to the grocery store. jisung was stuck to your side like glue.
“sungie, you don’t have to come with me.” you told him as you made long strides to keep up with him.
jisung saw your grocery list hanging on your fridge and took it upon himself to drag you to the store.
he pulled you along the sidewalk, turning ever so slightly so he could see your face. he gave you a large, lopsided grin as he shrugged.
“you didn’t have to. i just want to spend some time with you.” jisung counters.
you chuckled. “even at the crowded grocery store?”
jisung slowed up slightly, allowing you to catch up with him. “if it means you get what you need, i can handle it.”
you pecked his lips, causing a blush to creep onto his face. “my hero.”
this time you took the lead, pulling jisung into the store. he watched you navigate your way through the aisles, slowly but steadily, running your fingers across the tags to read the prices of certain items.
he could watch you do this every minute of every hour of every day. it never got old to him. you were everything to him. his friend felix liked to say you were the entire galaxy in his eyes. jisung would get teased that anytime he was looking at you, he was doing so with the most obvious heart eyes. jisung didn’t care. jisung lived and breathed quality time with you.
everything was absolutely perfect when jisung was with you. birds chirped a little louder, the wind blew a little softer, the sky lit up a little more blue. life was perfect with you.
jisung. jisung.
“han jisung!” you shouted, making your boyfriend jump.
he shook his head, looking around to familiarize himself with his surroundings as he looked back at you. you had a shit-eating grin growing behind your hand as you giggled.
“i, im sorry. i didn’t hear what you said.” jisung mumbled softly, becoming embarrassed.
a pout crossed over your features as you pulled the boy in for a kiss, your hands gripping his face tightly. instinctively, his hands went right for your hips, holding on to you tightly as if you might float away.
you pulled away, giving his cheeks a soft squeeze as you whispered. “focus.”
jisung nodded almost immediately. “yeah, im focused. totally focused over here.”
you smiled as you went back to grocery shopping. there was no hold, however, on jisung’s hand and your boyfriend began to pout.
“baby,” jisung whined.
you giggled. “yes my love?”
jisung stopped. “you’re not holding my hand.”
you turned to look at him. “because im holding things, jisung.”
immediately jisung took off to the front of the store. you didn’t even bother to try and keep up because before you knew it he was back in front of you with a shopping basket. taking the items from your arms, he laid them in the basket.
he held out his free hand. “here.”
you narrowed your eyes playfully as you turned around, ignoring the boy.
jisung’s mouth was agape as he jogged to catch up with you. he cut you off, stepping in front of you.
“hold my hand.”
you put your hands on your hips. “jisung, don’t start.”
the boy pouted before stomping his foot, making you grab his hand to keep him from further embarrassing himself and you in front of the aisle of people.
“fine, you big baby.” you whisper-yelled.
jisung cheered softly as you dragged him to the frozen section. you looked over the different flavors as you began to contemplate what to buy for yourself and your boyfriend.
“jisung, what do you want?” you asked.
jisung was, once again, not paying attention. he couldn’t help it. he was really trying, but when it came to you, all he can do is just admire you.
“yes,” you heard jisung say, making you laugh.
you turned to the boy and felt your face heat up. there was your handsome boyfriend, in all of his glory, looking at you like you were his entire world. it wasn’t unusual for jisung to do this. you had been told time and time again about the fact that jisung looks at you like that. this just happened to be the first time that you had ever caught him doing it in public.
you looked away really quick, reaching into the cooler to grab a pint of ice cream as a way of distracting yourself from your boyfriend’s adoring eyes.
“jisung,” you began.
“yes?”
“stop staring at me like that.” you told him.
a small smile grew on his face. “i’m in love with you.”
this time a smile bloomed on your face. “you’re too cute.”
jisung pulled you into him, nuzzling his face into your neck. “say it back.”
his words were muffled as he spoke right into your skin, making you laugh.
jisung lifted his head slightly, catching the beautiful smile he loved so much. he nudged you with his head.
“say it back.”
you couldn’t help but nudge him back. “i love you, han jisung.”
your boyfriend pecked your cheek as you spoke again. “now come on. we gotta get the ice cream back home before we eat it here in the store.”
as you pulled away, jisung kept a hold of your hand as he spoke again. “i love you.”
you giggled, making jisung smile. “i love you too, loverboy.”
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salty-an-disco · 1 month ago
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OK– so this is gonna be the last time I have to do a full line up to my guys, right? Right?
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seriously tho, very proud of this piece and how far my designs have come, and this will probably be the main look I'll settle with for all my voices.
Full line up and some design notes + headcanons under the cut:
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and here's the first ever sketches for comparison:
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Hero: didn't change much from my original sketch, but I certainly got a lot better at drawing his body type. Sparrow; general shape is a square with rounded edges. Reliable and strong, but still soft. He wears that red shirt I sometimes draw him in under the leather armor, and the feathers on his helmet are fake, his real ones is brown like the rest of him (how does it stay perfectly hidden in the helmet? ✨Magic✨). He/Him.
Contrarian: Changed a LOT from the original sketch, and got details added to him a lot as I drew him. Hummingbird; tall and lanky silhouette, mainly broken by their hair and wings. They start off with a different color palette in the construct, that becomes faded out in Strange Beginnings, and finally, gets a lot more colorful as they develop outside. They/He.
Cheated: also changed a lot, as I struggled a bit with properly conveying his shape language. Seagull; sharp lines with lots of pointed bits in his design (mainly triangles and losangles); overall look is somewhat asymmetrical to add to the 'patched up' feel. Detachable arm, and more limbs could be too, but she's trying to be careful with her own body. She/He.
Skeptic: the general vibe of his final look was there in the initial sketch, but how I decided to convey it changed a lot. Hawk; the only things his wears is his hat, gloves, scarf (and sometimes a waist purse), with the feathers around his chest and tail giving the impression of a suit/coat. The feather on his hat is one of his own, he has a similar feather poking out of his head that gets hidden by the hat (*points* bald). He/Him
Smitten: design didn't technically change from how I initially drew him, just the way I draw it that evolved. Macaw (pink macaws don't exist?They do with the power of belief!!); all round edges and soft lines, giving him an approachable and harmless appearance despite his size. Has the most human face out of everyone here. He/Him, but won't complain if you use other pronouns too (especially she/her, it's a lovely pronoun set <3)
Stubborn: almost didn't change at all from my earlier designs. Mainly exaggerated his features and shapes a bit more. Ostritch. Big and bold lines for a large square as the general shape. Ear tufts looking more like horns, and his fluffy wings help break the pattern a lil bit. Gave him a cat face cuz I thought it'd be cute and the shape works well with his ear tufts. He/Him (but in a lesbian way).
Broken: Also didn't change all that much. Small and unobtrusive, their general shape is smth of a slouched square, and the head is shaped like a teardrop. Pigeon; takes the most from The Long Quiet in terms of general traits, tho much more worn down. The sack-as-cloak is supposed to invoke the look of an abandoned pet. Some of their feathers grow back with time, and they forgone the sack to get some actual clothes, but it's a long way till then. They/Them.
Opportunist: Gave me the most trouble designing, but once I had the initial doodle down, designing him went a lot smoother lol. Magpie; car salesman attire. The always-loose tie is supposed to look like a snake's tongue, and his head shape is kinda like that of a scorpion's tail. He does have an actual scorpion tail, but that remains hidden in case of emergency. Face looks like a porcelain mask despite being an actual face. He/Him (also occasionally use Ey/Em too).
Hunted: Changed the most out of all my designs, getting a full rework at some point. A hybrid between hare, deer, and quail; prey animals, while Beast has more predator traits. Has no depth perception like a lot of prey, and its stance makes it look smaller than it is (it's about as tall as Cold). It/Its.
Paranoid: The initial sketch is pretty incomplete, but the general idea is there. Loon; big eyes and uneven feathers to give her a 'frazzled' look. Feathers always falling out looking like she's always sweating bullets. Cloak covers overpreened wings and most of her markings. Fun fact: the exposed brain was initially visualized as just a bald spot, but since it looked like a brain, I just rolled with it. She/Her.
Cold: Pretty much had the general idea for his design nailed down since the initial sketch lol. Owl; another lanky and tall dude, tho more retangular with almost nothing to break the pattern but the little hair strand. Head also shaped after water, but while broken is a teardrop, for him I visualized raindrops. Has an X scar on the chest just under the X pendant on the cloak. Any pronouns.
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