#currently away from home waiting to put that print on my wall

[oilith]

HOLY FUCKING SHIT AOAÖSÖDBJEOAUSHWHDHSHHSHSJAJAJAKAASDGHWHGH

I HAVE OBTAINED HER

LOOK AT HER

[cesium-sheep]

I don't think it was necessarily a direct link in their minds but at least to me to kind of make up for yesterday being such a disappointment we went out again today, at first we were just gonna re-deposit the money but matt had some books to sell and the grocery store is right there and they're starting to put out easter stuff at the craft stores and arin also had some cash to deposit, so all three of us got to go out together for like 3 entire hours, I got to pick out nice chocolate and mentos at the grocery store and get a decaf mocha since decaf seems to be safe for me and we looked around the bookstore and I was allowed to get any ya fantasy novels I wanted as long as I didn't already have them since I think ya fantasy is a good place to start reading again, so I found a tamora pierce book I haven't read (possibly the only one lol) and the first book of the raven cycle since it got talked up by a lot of the same people that talked up capri iirc, and I got the next volume of hitorijime my hero since it was cheaper than digital and the volumes I already have are physical anyway, then we went to joann and I got to look at alllllllllllll the ribbon and lace cuz I noticed that I've repeatedly been disappointed by my current stash so it's actually very reasonable to get more and I also actually got to look at the fabrics for the first time in years now that arin got a sewing machine so I can actually sew stuff without it taking months, so we got some fabric to make another blanket like the one jordan made for me since it's the prize blanket of the couch and it would be nice to have a second one (even though it's going to start warming up soonish)

arin says she'd like me to wait until she has time to learn about her sewing machine for me to make the blanket, since I can run her through the basics while I do it. I'll probably just set it up on the floor since a blanket is too big to sew on my desk against the wall anyway. although we do have that folding table, I should probably use that tbh.

there was also a nice person in line with us at the fabric counter who was just casually chatty about my wheelchair in a comfortable way despite being ambulatory, and the person at the checkout counter was extremely efficient and on top of things. and the person cutting the fabric gave us the last extra bit of one of them for free, the cute printed one. it's got nice kinda ink painting bunnies on it.

I got so many treats and I got to go out with both of them and matt said it made him very happy to get to do these things with me and hear me laugh and point at things. I had a good time even though I still feel kind of like crying 👍

they're going to his dad's now, I stayed home because even though I feel okay right now doing any more would definitely overextend me if I'm not already. (also being very autistic at the craft store with my partners is honestly a lot easier on me than trying to socialize with an awkward old man who I like but don't trust yet.) I took my extra meds as soon as I sat down from putting everything away and I'm gonna play kingdom hearts which is very close to doing nothing in terms of the energy demand. (especially on easy mode the combat is just mashing buttons, and I care about the plot but it's melodrama so it's not exactly Cerebral)

[thebluerose]

[There’s the shuffle of fabric and the whistle of wind in the distance. Heavy footsteps crunch over what sounds to be dirt followed by heavy breathing.]

Okay, I think I have this thing running. Usually I use this for transcripts for my videos for accessibility, but this will work too.

[Leaves rustle as someone pushes away some foliage.]

So to give a recap, A-, my coworker and I have been searching for this guy who fought the giant kaiju monster, which I later learned was a demon. Hell exists, as well as demons, which were what destroyed Red Grave City. Great stuff so far…!

[A flashlight clicks on.]

Yeah, that definitely looks like blood, but I’m not sure if it’s good if it’s dried. Maybe we missed him.

[A feminine voice says something in the background.]

Wait, are you serious? Let me see!

[The pace picks up to a jog.]

Holy shit… those are footprints! Look at how they suddenly change to boot prints. This has to be our guy. Awesome work Amanda!

[There’s more sounds of walking, the soft sound of running water growing louder with each step.]

Hey look, a cave! And it looks like some of the rocks have been disturbed. Alright, stay on guard but remember, apparently he’s one of the good guys. We just got to make sure not to spook him.

[There’s a muffled confirmation before the echo of boots bounce off the cave walls. There’s a sudden gasp, followed by a whisper.]

Is that him? I think he’s sleeping. I hope he’s sleeping. I don’t like how much this place smells of blood.

[A tentative footstep and a deep calming breath.]

Nero?! Hey, Nero is that—?!

[A deep growl resonates around the cave. There’s a speedy step back.]

Uh, hm. Uh huh. That’s not good. Uh, for everyone at home, we found Nero but uh… he doesn’t seem very happy to see us. He’s in his creature form right now and—.

[There’s the audible click of a gun.]

Amanda?! What the hell do you think you’re doing?! We’re here to help him!

Really Jim? After all these years, you’ve never put two and two together. You really think a regular camerawoman just knows how to hack into a smartphone and locate a monster by just knowing it’s trajectory. I have no idea how you’re such a good reporter Jim, seeing that you’re absolutely blind.

I just thought you had a lot of hobbies! Amanda, we can talk about this. Just put down the gun.

[A step echoes closer as another steps back.]

No Jim, I don’t think I will. Not after I went to all the trouble to summon that so called “Behemoth” to lure out the blood of Sparda. And what do I get, the runt of the litter. Typical.

Amanda… that was you?! How could you?! All those people…!

In the grand scheme of things, those people’s lives mean nothing. Same as yours.

[A tense silence follows.]

Goodbye Jim. I’ll make sure to tell everyone you died trying to save me from this monster.

Amanda—!!!

[A fearsome roar rattles the cave followed by a series of gunshots. During the chaos, the phone and its current owner are thrown to the side, skidding across the stone floor. Amanda screeches in the background.]

How dare you beast?!

[The squelch of blood and flesh is followed by a monstrous howl of pain. A metallic object clatters to the floor and there’s another yell, this time much more human.]

No! How did you—?!

[Amanda is silenced before she can finish. There’s a dull thud, like a body hitting the floor. The cave is silent for a few moments, other than someone panting.]

Shit… is she…?

[Another moment of silence. Something or someone collapses.]

Shit! Hey! Nero! Hey! Open your eyes up, okay?!

[There’s a strange warbling noise that almost sounds… confused. Nero’s voice is layered with a demonic hum.]

How do you…? Whatever… you’re not gonna stab me too right…?

[Jim sighs.]

I’m going to end the recording now.

What recordi—?

[End of recording.]

Wait, I think I see something up ahead. I’m going to audio record all of this so everyone knows what’s going on. Give me a few minutes.

[tinyhistory]

It’s the first of September! The first day of spring, which is my least favourite season on account of its unpredictability.

Anyway, here’s a snippet of a fic request I’m currently filling for @stargazing-enby who submitted it two years ago aaaagh

The office is tucked away in the suburban sprawl of Bexley. It’s an old terrace townhouse; the original staircase, a hefty wooden beast, smells of furniture polish. The floorboards creak beneath Harry’s feet. The reception room is converted from the front parlour, and still has touches of the home that was once there: a lace doily over a dainty hall-table, and faded curtains framing the window. Harry glances at the wall, noticing the vintage brass light switch. This was once a Muggle home, then.

“May I help you?”

There’s an elderly witch he doesn’t recognise at the reception desk. She’s peering at him suspiciously over her spectacles, one hand resting on a typewriter which is furiously tapping out letters by itself.

Harry looks away from the typewriter. “Harry Potter. Here to see Malfoy.” It’s a little petty, he knows, but he won’t use Malfoy’s full title. Cursebreakers love that. They love the showmanship of it. The little flourishes of their wand (completely gratuitous), the dramatic pauses (unnecessary) and of course, their amazed and grateful customers (audiences; the only thing missing is the applause). It’s why Harry won’t see Levinson any more, or Sheldrake, or Vittily. It’s why he ditched Fromer after just one appointment, and why he left Clarkson’s office without even beginning the appointment. One glance into Clarkson’s delighted face — ooh, the great Harry Potter! What fantastic publicity for my little agency — and Harry had turned around and walked wordlessly out the door.

Now he waits for the usual reactions. But the witch doesn’t widen her eyes, or glance at his scar, or nervously smooth her robes. She just keeps squinting at him, and then she says, “Henry Potter…”

“Harry.”

“Harry.” She frowns. “Potter with a P?”

Harry can’t imagine what other letter Potter might begin with: he pauses, then says, “Erm. Yes.”

She picks slowly through a little wooden box filled with small white cards. “Ah. Here you are. Eleven o’clock?”

“That’s right.”

She puts a neat little tick onto the card and then moves it to another box. “Take a seat. Tea and coffee’s across the hallway.”

He sits down on one of the straight-backed wooden chairs next to the dainty hall table. There’s a little magazine rack nearby, with very well-worn copies of Cosy Homes for Country Witches and Enchanting Gardens of Magical Britain. Once Harry thumbs through them and then finds a copy of Knitting Patterns for Thrifty Witches, he begins suspecting the collection has been generously donated by the elderly receptionist. He glances up at her, then at the grandfather clock standing ponderously by the door. It’s only been fifteen minutes, but perhaps Malfoy is sitting somewhere in a comfortable office, laughing at the fact he’s keeping Harry waiting.

The receptionist speaks then, as if sensing his thoughts. “Mr Potter? Mr Malfoy will see you now. Directly up the stairs, second door on the left.”

Harry dutifully goes upstairs. There’s a narrow hallway with a window at the end of it, showing a rather unspectacular view over the grey rooftops of Bexley. He passes by the first door, which looks like a cleaning closet, and then stops at the second.

D. Malfoy

5th Order HCJ (DefM)

Cert HM (C. II)

It’s a faded set of letters printed upon the frosted glass pane. The dark-blue paint of the door is beginning to slowly flake away. Harry’s annoyed, though he can’t pinpoint why. All the other cursebreakers he’s visited have had their name, bright and glossy, upon their doors, with CURSEBREAKER emblazoned in large letters below. They love that word. It’s exciting. Full of action and danger. Curse, and breaker. Destruction and glittering shards. Smashing spells to pieces and then getting called a hero for it. Of course Malfoy would love to call himself cursebreaker.

But instead Harry’s left to decipher 5th Order HCJ (DefM) and Cert. HM, C. II.

The door swings open suddenly, leaving Harry blinking at Draco Malfoy’s face. He’s seen him around in the years following the war — it’s hard not to, really, with the magic community as small as it is — but always a distant glimpse of a blond-haired man disappearing into a shop, or waiting for one of the elevators at the Ministry (and despite Harry firmly telling himself he’d outgrown schoolyard scuffles, he’d always elected to choose a different elevator instead).

Now, however, an awkward meeting seems inevitable.

Malfoy looks down his long nose at Harry and says, “Take a seat.”

Harry won’t give him the satisfaction of pausing. He walks into the office and sits down in the nearest chair; a squeaky relic from the seventies, by the look of the avocado-coloured vinyl and slightly rusted metal legs.

Malfoy closes the door and then sits at his desk, ignoring Harry and picking up a file instead. Harry had expected the cold shoulder, and anyway, it gives him time to look around. He’s been in plenty of cursebreaker offices. Large and grand affairs, with ceiling-length windows and bookcases lined with rare tomes, and little gold name-plates on solid-oak desks. And the trophies, of course. Cursed jewellery glittering in the sunlight. Beautiful dresses stained with unicorn blood. Portraits of subjects which whisper just too quietly to decipher the words.

But Malfoy’s office is small and neat and efficient as a Ministry cubicle. There’s two framed certificates on the wall, which give Harry his answer to the riddle on the door — Fifth Order of Defensive Magic specialising in Hexes, Curses, and Jinxes, and Certificate of Healing Magic, Class II. There’s no grand bookcase, but instead a simple row of tattered texts on a shelf above the desk. A filing cabinet, grey and mildly threatening, sits in the corner.

Malfoy says, without looking up from the file, “You’re here today because…” He turns a page, “…you’re not very good at your job.”

“What?” Harry asks incredulously.

Malfoy does look up then. His expression is blandly polite, which somehow only makes Harry more angry. “You don’t currently fill the criteria of your role as an Auror. Is that correct?”

“No, that’s not correct. I’m a fully qualified Auror — ”

“Says here,” Malfoy says, looking down at the page again, “That your supervisor has referred you here on the basis that…” He taps his finger against a line of spindly writing. “Let’s see… ‘Auror Potter requires further training in sensing areas of concentrated magic.’ Says last December, you walked directly into a ward and set off a Caterwauling Charm, which compromised the entire operation.”

“What? Well - what it doesn’t mention is that the ward was very well-hidden in a staircase — ”

“And in February, you tripped a jinx when you opened a door during another operation, which resulted in several minor injuries.”

“Yes, but it was — ”

Malfoy turns a page, somehow managing to do it loudly. The rasp of paper cuts through the air. “February again. Declared a room cleared when in fact it was still armed with a Severing Curse. Your partner suffered a significant injury.”

Harry looks away. That had been a particularly difficult incident, and the guilt still lingers. “I could’ve sworn that room was — ”

“March. Picked up a cursed wand, resulting in moderate burns.”

“I had to, I was trying to disarm — ”

“Which brings us to April,” Malfoy says, closing the file. The pages flutter shut. “Ran straight through a basic security ward, shattering it. Minor injuries sustained.” He finally looks up, his expression indecipherable. “Anything you care to add to these notes?”

“I do my job,” Harry snaps. “And I do it well.”

“Mm,” Malfoy says, and it’s maddening exactly how much condescension he manages to fit into a single syllable. “Well, that particular judgment is up to me, isn’t it?”

[dr4cking]

Hello lovely - Could plz you do draco smut on the hogwarts express with breeding kink? but they keep going after he finishes 😶‍🌫️🤪

Hogwarts Express.

masterlist taglist

draco malfoy x reader | smut | anon requested.

a/n : hii bby thank you for requesting, this one is wild i admit and was kinda hard to write but i like it nonetheless 😩💞

the 9 3/4 platform are full of wizards and witches coming back from their home, hagrid already waiting and calling them to come inside the train, but he still waited as he saw the blonde haired guy still standing outside.

“malfoy, you gonna miss the train if you keep standing there!” hagrid shouted at him getting impatient by the time.

“a minute hagrid. i’m waiting for my girlfriend!” hagrid rolled his eyes at him taking a seat on the nearest bench while the train already honking at them.

finally, draco spotted his girlfriend running to him with her belongings, he quickly wrapped the girl in his arms.

“hey my love, how’s your summer?” draco asked taking her stuff in his hand helping her as both of them now entering the train.

“it was good i had so much fun with my parents! what about you?”

“it was nice i guess but it would be better if you were there with me..” y/n chuckles at her boyfriend.

“next time i promise, pinky promise!” he laughs as he opened the empty cabin and motioning y/n to go inside.

“why dont we sit with our friends, dray?” y/n asked him in confusion while draco placing her stuff in the trunk.

“i miss you too much to sit with them today, love” draco sits beside her, cupping her face in his hands as he finally gets the taste of her after being separated from summer break, y/n kissed him right back until they broke the kiss.

draco and y/n talked about how their break, random things for hours as the train still on its way to hogwarts, y/n is currently eating her snacks that she bought from the trolley lady but she stops when she watched draco swished his wand and the window covered instantly. she widen her eyes as one of draco’s hands squeezed her thigh under her skirt and rubbing small circles on it, she looks up at him who now held a lustful gaze in his eyes.

“draco.. not here.” y/n warned him but its only made his hand trailed higher, draco gives her a cheeky smirk.

“cant blame me.. you’re too hot to resist and i cant wait until we get to hogwarts i miss you too much..” draco leans into her face biting and licking her earlobe then kissing her jaw making the girl letting out soft whimpers.

“b-but what if someone comes in, draco? its too risky.”

“and thats what it made this more fun, right?” draco chuckles lowly as he took out his wand from his pocket and casted a locking and silencing spell at the door.

“you’re unbelievable” y/n laughs, her hand removing his blazer and unbuttoning his black shirt and draco does the same to her.

“i can tell you that you wanted this too. i bet you’re thinking of me while touching yourself in your room, wishing it was my fingers instead, hmm?” y/n moaned at his dirty words she hated to admit but it was true.

“use your words and answer me.” draco slapped her thighs making her gasped.

“y-yes” she stutters as he starts to rubbing her from her panties.

“yes what?”

“yes draco.. p-please touch me” y/n begged desperately at him getting more aroused at his touch.

“i’m touching you.”

“no.. you know what i mean, dray..” y/n leaned back to her seat and widen her legs for draco making him chuckles deeply.

“you’re just a needy slut, aren’t you?” y/n nodded eagerly at him, running her hands around his bare chest and abs causing him to rolled his eyes back at her simple touch.

“yes i am, please i need you” draco pulled down her panties throwing it to her side, y/n’s breath got stuck in her throat as his thumb made a contact with her clit.

a moan left her lips as he thrusted his fingers into her, she quickly put her hand over her mouth to muffle her moans making draco stop.

“dumb slut, be as loud as you can i’ve casted a muffliato.” draco put her hand off of her mouth and replacing it with his lips instead, he kissed her roughly, their tongue dances together fighting for dominance. draco won of course as y/n moan into the kisses when he inserts his fingers back into her and starts to pumping faster.

y/n’s hand going down to his clothed boner rubbing it causing draco to let out a hiss but he quickly slap her hand away.

“you dont get to touch me. dont be a bad girl or you wont get to cum” draco curls his fingers inside her and thrusting faster hitting her spot making y/n squirmed in her seat.

“draco please i’m so close..” and with that draco pulled out his fingers making y/n whining in frustration.

“not yet little slut” he pulled y/n from her seat and stood her up against the window.

draco quickly unbuckled his belt and and letting his trousers falls onto the floor, he pushed her skirt up to her waist and hooking one of her legs to his waist as he lining his cock up and down her slit.

“beg for it, slut.”

“please dray please please fuck me fill me up with y- ah- yes- oh my god!” y/n screaming out loud instantly as draco gave her no warning and pushed his cock all the way inside of her, he gives her no time to adjust as he starts to rocking his hips against her.

“fuck you’re so tight- wrapping my cock so tight.. such a good girl-” draco pounding into her harder and faster making both of them feeling heavenly. one of his hands squeezing her breast, twirling and pinching her hard nipple making y/n dug her nails deeper on his back.

draco’s thrust getting sloppier as he feels the knot tighten in his stomach, he forced his cock deeper inside her nearly brushing her cervix making y/n screaming louder.

“i’m gonna cum.. please let me cum!” y/n pleaded at him cant hold her high anymore as draco doubled up her pleasure by rubbing her clit with his fingers.

“shit- cum baby, now.” y/n came instantly with loud moan left her lips after he said that, her legs began to shake, her walls clenching and pulsing around him making his cock throbbing inside her.

“thats it- ‘m gonna fill you up baby, stuffing you full with all my hot cum, fucking hell-” draco came to a full stop as he shoots all of his cum into her, spraying his cum inside her filling her up like he promised, he ride out their high.

fuck, he was still hard.

draco made no move to pull out, he captured y/n’s lips back on his as he still rocked in and out of her snapping his hips against her making the girl moaned again.

“im not done yet with you baby, now bend over the seat” y/n obeyed getting into the position, getting all fours, draco gives her a few spanks on her ass making them printed with his hand print.

“safeword?” draco said as he lining his cock back on her cunt, their juices making it slippery and made his tip slipped into her causing y/n to winced.

“no need draco, please just fuck me again.” and with that draco slammed his entire length into her, granting her wishes, profanities left their lips.

“such a greedy girl, only for me”

“yes yes only for you, harder please” draco was surprised that y/n hasnt sensitive yet, he thrusted harder and sped up his pace at inhumanly pace, clapping sounds and moans filling the cabin.

“fuck draco!” y/n couldnt contain her scream anymore she only wanted to screaming his name while she came undone around his cock.

“holyshit- y/n!” draco grabbed her neck pulling her up to his chest as he shoots his cum for the second time inside her, y/n moaned feeling so full. draco lazily ride out their highs and pulling out as he softening. their mixed cums dripped out of her and he quickly pushed it back inside. he reached for her panties and pulling it up.

“keep it there, wanna see you walking around with my cum inside you” y/n blushes madly at his order.

they quickly redressing themselves, their bodies feels so sticky. and to their luck the train has stopped at the same time. they quickly bring their stuff before opening the door.

“merlin it smells like sex in here” theodore nott said as he passed through their cabin.

“thats because we just had sex” draco replied without hesitation making the poor guy scrunched his face in disgust.

“you guys are so gross i dont ever wanna sit there again!”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

tagging : @dracoscum @hellounicorn @onyourgoddamnleft @whoreforgeorgeandfred @turn-to-page-394-please @malfoysbiitch @f4iryluvy @arzfia @slut4dracoo @alexthealexthealex

[barnesbabee]

collab || J.Y

ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ���ᴀʏ 2 - ᴋɪɴᴋᴛᴏʙᴇʀ ᴍ.ʟɪꜱᴛ

Summary: Two famous porn stars have a fun collab together.

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x gn!reader

Words: Just enough

⚠ although there is no mention of gender, the reader wears makeup and lingerie, so if you are uncomfortable with that, don't read  ⚠

As Yunho dried his hair with a small towel, he heard the familiar ding sound from his social media. He had just finished uploading the edited version of his live stream, so it wasn't unusual for him to be contacted by a bunch of people right after, however, he didn't expect to see you.

You weren't well known in the porn scenario, as you were fairly new and the competition was vast, but your 'Around The World' series had become a huge success and a major hit for its originality.

Yunho was quite a fan of the series, so when he saw your message, his fingers were crossed.

Y/N: Hello! My name is Y/N, I'm not sure if you know my work, but I am a porn star that is currently doing a series called 'Around The World' where I... well, fuck people all around the world. My next stop is South Korea and I have seen your work before and I think our style is very similar and I would love to do a collab with you! Feel free to check out my work on my page, I hope to hear from you soon! xoxo

The tall man squealed like a high schooler getting a text from his crush, he's always wanted a collab and now he was about to get one in one of the biggest series of the moment!

Yunhxxx: Hello Y/N! I am aware of your series and I am a fan! I would love to do the collab with you! I'll send you my number so we can talk about the details more comfortably :)

Part of your anxiousness died down at his response. Most porn stars were very polite and kind in front of the camera, and in business discussion, all for that quick buck, but you'd find, with your series, that a lot of them were just assholes with a huge ego. You had a good feeling about Yunho, but you didn't want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed.

The arrangements didn't take long, as you were both excited for the collab to happen, making it very easy to communicate. Yunho was kind enough to offer his own home for you to sleep in, arguing that 'whoever fucks me gets to sleep in my house for free'.

Yunho spent the weekend preparing everything for your arrival on Monday morning: he cleaned his whole house, stocked his fridge and cabinets with all sorts of food, and sanitized every toy of his. By the time he received your 'I'm on my way!' text, his house was the cleanest it had ever been.

The man showered, put on his best cologne, and applied some dark eyeshadow under his eyes. As he stood in front of the closet in his briefs only, he wondered what he should go for. A sophisticated look? A sexy look? An outlaw-looking look? He wanted something to get you immediately attracted to him. Yunho wanted to make you feel good, not to make you act as if you felt good.

Ultimately he chose a black button-up and black suit pants. He decorated his long fingers (that he had come to learn was something many people liked about him) and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

Yunho was aware of his innocent appearance. He had had his cheeks squeezed one too many times, so he caught on quickly. However, the man loved to play with his looks. He loved to make people wonder what kind of person he was, with a cute face, yet an intimidating look.

Before he knew it, his doorbell rang. Yunho took one last look in the mirror, just to make sure everything was in its place and walked towards the door. The first hello wasn't awkward at all, as you'd already had a few zoom calls to discuss what would happen in your collab, just to make sure there were no misunderstandings.

Once you stepped in with your suitcase, you couldn't help but notice how neat, modern, and well decorated his house was. The walls were white with big windows, and the furniture was a mix of grey, light blue, and white. Yunho lead you to the guest room where you'd be staying, and it was a lot nicer than you expected. The bed was high and large, the duvet was grey with a bunch of fluffy white and red pillows decorating it. In front of the bed was a modern black vanity with lightbulbs around the squared mirror, and against the wall in front of the door was a black, sliding door wardrobe, with a large, orange, and red abstract painting of a couple. His house looked simple yet classy, with just the right amount of colour and decoration. You took a look at him, his dark look contrasting the house.

"You already got prepared?"

Yunho looked a little puzzled for a second, but then understood. "Oh! Oh no, you've just arrived, you must be tired! This is just... how I dress?" He said, feeling a little embarrassed.

You took a good look at his outfit.

"You always dress like that? Wow..."

Yunho's cheeks became a little red at the comment, and he stumbled over his words as he thanked you. He was used to receiving compliments when he had his clothes off, but with clothes on? Not so much... Before closing the door, Yunho told you to feel at home, and that when you were ready you could start setting everything up in the room he used to shoot.

The man had never felt that nervous, so when he finally closed the door, he immediately headed to his living room, and found the whiskey bottle he kept for emergencies. He poured a generous glass and sat on the couch, scrolling through his phone as he waited for you.

You were pretty much used to the routine, and since you had a stopover in a neighboring country and spent the night there, the trip hadn't been too tiring. You sat on the very convenient vanity and re-did your makeup. You liked to match your look to your type of content, so you went for a dark look: dark purple lipstick, a heavy, black smokey eye, and loads of mascara. You made sure to apply a lot, so it would run down your face and give the viewers the fucked out look they loved to see.

The lingerie matched your makeup: black lace lingerie with some bling here and there, and a garter belt to accessorize. You grabbed your robe from your suitcase and exited the room.

"Yunho?" You called, peeking your head from behind the wall.

"Hm?"

His eyes widened when he looked up. You were completely different from the person he had met.

"I am ready if you are!"

He nodded and stood up, downing the rest of his 2nd whiskey cup in one go. Yunho took you upstairs and opened the door to his 'studio'.

In the center of the room was a carpet, and a big, empty space behind it.

"I usually move the bed or the couch over there, depending on what I want to do that day. I found that it was easier to move the furniture than the whole set up." He explained, pointing at the empty space.

Against the wall, opposite of you, there was a bed, much like the one on your bedroom, and a nice, black leather couch. Beside you there was a closet, where Yunho kept all his toys, accessories, and streaming outfits. Other than that it was just the usual setup: a desk with a computer, professional lights, and a camera.

Yunho walked over to the couch and moved it with ease to the empty space.

"So we've already decided?" You asked.

The man smirked as if simply entering the room turned him into a completely different person.

"I already have everything planned out for you dear, it would be rude to have my guests work."

You blushed slightly, and sat on the couch, waiting for the green light.

You watched as he opened the closet, displaying his wide collection. He picked a bunch of stuff that he set on top of a towel on the floor.

"Alright, that's about it."

You cocked your head to the side, in confusion.

"You're not getting dressed?"

Yunho reached for the choker he had brought and softly placed it around your neck, tying it just tight enough. He hooked his finger on the big metal ring on the front and tugged on it. You followed his silent command and knelt on the ground, in front of the couch.

"I'm already dressed, for the concept we're gonna try."

You were getting curious and excited. You stayed still as he started up the live stream. Yunho turned on the lights, set up the camera, and pressed 'Start Live Video'. The screen counted down from five, until the live started.

Yunho sat on the couch behind you, and placed his large hand on your head.

The man smirked as soon as the comments started raining.

There was a mixture of fuck yeah's and happy cheers as they recognized Yunho, and became excited for what was to come. The live was obviously happening on your account, although you would always split the tips with the person you worked with.

"Hello," Yunho started, and you let him take the lead "welcome to the 24th edition of Around The World, I am today's guest, and we have such a great show for you today, don't we?"

Yunho tugged on your hair, making you wince. You looked at the camera and nodded.

The 30 dollar donation ding sounded, announcing that someone had made a request.

'Make her sit on your thigh'

You let Yunho take the lead once more, hooking his finger on your choker's hoop and pulling you up, to sit on his thigh. You hummed as you rolled your hips, causing friction between your core and his thigh. Your hand ran along his torso, feeling the fabric of his shirt.

"He has too many clothes, don't you think?" You asked the camera, in a flirty tone.

There was a rain of comments agreeing with you, and you immediately got to work, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. His dick print was already very visible in his pants, and you could now understand why he wanted to wear that look.

You removed his shirt, slowly and teasingly, as the viewers praised Yunho's toned body.

The male hooked his finger on your underwear and snapped it against your skin. Your little whimper at the sudden pain made him smirk.

Yunho ran his hands along your body, making you shiver from the cold metal of his rings.

Tips and donations rained down with many requests, and so you went back on the floor and laid your head on Yunho's thigh, your face mere inches away from his hard-on. You perked your ass up and traced the shape of his cock with your finger.

"What do you think? Should we reward them?" Yunho asked, petting your head as he stared into the camera.

As expected, everyone gave you the green light to continue, so you slowly opened his fly, to find he had no underwear on. You freed him from his pants, gripping his length in your hand. You kept eye contact with the male, and although you were a professional, you were always nervous when you had to take dicks on the bigger side.

You spat on his tip, and played with his cock for a second, before slowly inserting it in your mouth. Yunho groaned and threw his head back, taking in the warmth of your mouth. His hand was tangled in your hear, gripping it and tugging on it from time to time.

"Shit, you're doing so good..."

Yunho was very vocal, to your (and the viewer's) pleasure.

The 50$ notification ding sounded, and a message played right after.

'bby I wanna see you jump on his cock'

Yunho smirked and gripped your hair, in a firm, yet not painful way. He swiped his thumb across your bottom lip, cleaning the remaining saliva.

"Hmm, you know what, so do I."

You stripped from your underwear, in a sensual way for the viewers (and Yunho) to enjoy.

Yunho slapped his thigh, and you climbed onto his lap, slowly but surely sinking down on his length. You gripped onto his shoulders for stability and groaned as every inch of his cock disappeared inside of you.

His hands gripped your ass, spreading your cheeks in a beautiful way for the camera to see. The male helped you, as you rode him, not only by holding your hips and guiding you, but also by snapping his hips up against yours. Filthy slapping sounds along with the mixture of your moans echoed in the room, and the donations were reaching their peak.

"F-fuck baby you're s-so good, you're doing so well."

You gripped his shoulders harder, as his praises drew you closer and closer to your edge.

"They're c-close! Should we l-let them cum?"

It was impressive how professional Yunho was. How he looked so immersed in you, so tired and fucked out, with his fringe sticking to his forehead and eyes burning into your soul, yet he didn't forget to interact with the viewers.

There were many people leaning towards yes, begging to hear the way you sounded as you came, and so he worked hard until you screamed his name and tightened around his cock. He let you rest and recompose for a second, but the way you clenched around him made it impossible for him to hold it in any longer.

"Shit, get on the ground."

You gladly complied, and got on your knees for him, immediately sticking out your tongue, as you could predict what would come after.

Yunho jerked himself off to your fucked out face, and soon a string of curses came out of his mouth, as he spilled all over your face. He smirked and wiped some of his cum off of your face with his thumb.

"Say ah, pretty baby."

You smiled and opened your mouth. He inserted his finger in your mouth and you happily licked it clean.

Yunho cupped your face with his hand, and smiled.

"You behaved so well, I might have to reward you again."

His head tilted to the side, pointing to the couch, and you followed. You sat down on the couch, and Yunho knelt in front of you. His arms wrapped around your thighs and pulled you forward, so your hole would be of easy access to him.

The man teased you, as his tongue danced around your hole, not quite getting where you wanted him. You rolled your hips up, earning a slap to your inner thigh.

He looked up at you, with a hint of darkness in his eyes.

"Behave."

It didn't take long for you to get what you wanted, as he started tongue fucking you, with the help of his fingers. You gripped his hair, and your back arched as your high approached once more.

You came quickly, with his tongue still inside you, and he held your trembling legs and body, to keep you stable.

He didn't move for a second, giving you time to breathe and rest. After you had recomposed yourself, he helped you up, and the two of you shared a heated kiss, Yunho's hands never leaving your ass, that he definitely had a fixation with.

You finished the stream by thanking the viewers and donors and shut everything off. Once everything was done, you sighed and plopped onto the couch.

"Do you not want to shower?" Yunho questioned, as he saw the mess in your face and body.

You chuckled.

"Yes I do, very much, but I'm so fucked out..."

Yunho very kindly scooped you up.

"Well, I wouldn't want my guest to work too hard, I'll help you out."

[jovialjuggernaut-draws]

idk if you take riddlebat prints or smth, but imagine that Edward is known to date the millionaire Bruce Wayne. Someone spots Edward on a rooftop kissing... Batman? That someone then proceeds to take photos and spread the info that Edward Nygma is not only a redeemed criminal but is also cheating on Bruce goddamn Wayne with the vigilante! Both Bruce and Edward loose their shit over this

Bruce took a deep breath, putting on a deep look of worry onto his made-up face for the wall of cameras currently blinding him. "I'm... hurt, of course, how could I not be? But this isn't a conversation I want to have with a bunch of reporters. It's a private matter between Edward and myself."

"Please, Mr. Wayne-" One especially determined reporter insisted, shoving herself between two others to reach her microphone closer to him, despite the best attempts of his security team. "Gotham needs to know! Is this scandal going to affect your public support of the city's vigilantes and Batman in particular?"

He winced. Alfred and the car were so close, he just needed to get to them.... "I still believe in Batman's mission, of course, and the safety of Gotham's citizens is more important to me than any personal drama-"

"That's not all there is to it, though, is it?" She pressed, stretching her arm despite being bodily pushed away from him. Finally, he was able to reach the car, Alfred holding the door for him.

Ducking into the car, he left them all with one final statement. "I'll just say this: If Batman has any honor, he'll face me, mano y mano, and earn my respect back. Until then, I will do my best to remain professional in my dealings with him."

More questions followed, of course, but they were muffled by the slamming of the door. The tinted windows significantly dimmed the flashing of the lights, and Bruce blinked spots out of his vision while shrugging his jacket off.

"Sounds like you're having a tough time," Edward's voice cooed from the seat beside him, his thin, freckled hands appearing over Bruce's shoulders to help take the heavy fabric from him. "A disloyal lover, is it? Tsk tsk tsk. Even a catch like you can't compete with a big, tough vigilante, can he?"

Bruce rolled his eyes, slumping back into the seat as Alfred pulled away from the tower. "Reporters. Nosy little pests, all of them...."

Edward tossed the jacket aside, curling into Bruce's side. "Oh, please. We both know you're going to milk this for all it's worth. It's gonna be a huge blow for the 'Bruce Wayne is Batman' theorists."

"Hmm." Just because he had a point didn't mean Bruce had to acknowledge it. "And I know you well enough to know you're going to bask in every second of media attention over it."

"Perhaps," Edward purred. "I'm also going to use the excuse to beg makeup sex from you."

Bruce snorted. "Every time you 'cheat' on me, huh?"

"Oh, yes. Every time. Speaking of which... Bruce or Batman?"

"Right now? Bruce."

"Then..." Edward walked his fingers up Bruce's tie, tugging at it faux-nervously, worrying at his lip. "Oh, Brucie. You'll forgive me, won't you? I'll do anything."

Bruce glanced up, seeing Alfred rolling his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Not yet. Maybe wait until we get home."

[iwadori]

Getting hurt in argument PT 1 (Iwaizumi, Tsukishima)

hi!! so can i request a hurt to comfort with iwaizumi, tsukishima and any character that you want ? i saw you had reblogged a prompt list so you could us 18 for inspiration! @sheiscalling

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Word count: 2.1K

Genre: angst,fluff

masterlist

Tsukishima:

You and Tsukishima just moved in with each other a few days ago

Sharing a house has kind of put you at odds

As getting used to each others habits takes a while to get used too

You just hope that after a while things will go back to usual

Tsukishima has been conveniently busy since you guys moved in together, claiming he has to practice more since the Sendai Frogs have a supposed upcoming tournament. 

So he’s left you to your own devices unpacking boxes, picking out and buying furniture whilst working from home. Today’s task is choosing the wallpaper, which you wanted to ask Tsukishima’s opinion on (since he’s always been judgmental of certain colours, patterns and prints.)

Y/N: Hey Tsukki! You coming to *insert store that sells wallpapers here* today… it closes at 5pm??

Kei: Yhh practices finishes at 1 so I’ll probably run some errands get changed and meet you there for 3

Y/N: Okay! See you then <3

You were ecstatic, Tsukishima is finally going to do something for your new place and on the plus you get to spend time together. Maybe you’ll get to go to that new desert place across the road from your house.

2:45PM

You decide to get there a tad bit early so you can have a few options picked out (as you know how detailed and picky Kei can be.) As you picked out paints and swatches you noticed how time went by…

3:14PM

Surprised that Kei isn’t here right on the dot (since he despises lateness and on many occasion have reprimanded you when you’ve been just a tiny bit late) but just assume he’s stuck in traffic or something.

3:32

You’re still standing outside waiting, getting a tiny bit embarrassed of the looks of the passer-by strangers as if they could tell you’re desperately waiting for someone. You checked your phone, expecting a message from Kei explaining his lateness or saying he’lll be there soon.

4:00

He’s now an hour late, with no contact at all which got you frustrated as you really hoped that he would do at least one thing for you today. So you decided to go and choose what YOU want since it seems that Kei doesn’t seem to really care.

5:15

After nearly emptying the store with all your choices and additional furniture picks you finally make it back home with still NO word from Kei. You are completely over it! But he is now the least of your worries, now your current agenda is unpacking plates and cutlery (so you and Tsuki actually have something to eat of off and that’s if he ever joins you for dinner)

You’re washing and polish plates as you hear your front door open and shut with a slight slam. “Ugh practice was draining today” he said, tired 

You did not acknowledge his presence at all, you were beyond agitated that he made plans with you and then didn’t show up AND THEN didn’t even make sure the first thing he did was apologise. “Babe, whats for dinner” He asked entering the living room.

AN: Btw you have like a open kitchen type of thing so you can see the kitchen and the living room in the same room if that makes sense ://

You still ignored him, washing your plates annoyance slowly but surely building up inside of you the more he spoke “Y/N, did you hear me i asked what was fo-” Tsukishima stopped his words as he saw all the stuff you’ve bought for the house and before realising that he blew off your plans together he says,

“Y/N.. what the fuck is this shit”

That made you take a pause, and freeze ‘That is all he’s worried about’ you think. As you’re still ignoring him and he’s wondering why you decided to buy all this ‘crap’ (in his words not yours) he picks up one of the wallpaper designs and brings it to you.

“Y/N you really think we’re putting this shit on the walls..?” He asked 

You still ignore him, scrubbing harder and harder on the same plate you’ve been washing since he’s got here ( you definitely know it’s clean by now but who cares )”Y/N, are you listening to me” He then grabs your shoulders turning him to face you “Why the fuck would you buy this??” 

By now you were raged, “Is that ALL you care about!” You shout “You don’t care how I’ve been slaving away getting this place, our NEW place ready for us to live in but you don’t care you’re so self obsessed that all you’ve been doing is going to practice and complaining!”

He was about to speak before you stopped him again “Oh and by the way if you’ve got a problem with my choices for our walls then maybe YOU should’ve been at the store at the time we agreed upon! You dick.” after saying this his lips part in surprise, as he now remembers the promise he made you. 

You turn your body back to the sink, tears filling your eyes as you go back to ferociously scrubbing the plate again. 

“Y/N I’m sorry I-” He starts

“Oh shut the fuck up Tsukishima” You say a bit to agressively slamming your hands (and the plate) down on the counter, cutting your hand in the process 

“Shit” You say as blood starts to seep through your hand well there goes the clean plate you get a towel and hold it against your hand stopping the blood for a short while and you bend down to start picking up the plate remains as Tsukishima just stands there not really knowing what to say or do.

“Y/N i’m sorry about EVERYTHING” he says bending down to your level as you still pick up the plate remains. “What can I do to make this all better?”

“Just fuck off Tsuki” You say bitterly not looking him in the eyes

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay” he says grabbing your wrist softly to stop you from further injury “Just come sit down so i can atleast bandage your hands”

You finally look up at him, tears still in your eyes but you silently agree getting up and letting him lead you to the couch. He bandages you up, not saying a word as your sniffles and whimpers fill the quiteness in the room.

“Y/N. I am really truly sorry I-” He says

“Why don’t you care anymore?” You interrupt tears now streaming down your face “I know i can be overbearing at times, but I just wanted you to be excited about moving in with me as I was about you. Do you not want to live with me anymore” you cried

“I’m sorry i’ve been so busy it’s just practice and tournaments and … I was kind of nervous about moving in with you I just love you so much and I don’t want to mess anything up” he said “And I’m sorry about not coming to the store I just got tired up with practice and I’m just really sorry Y/N”

He goes over to the things you’ve bought and picks up one of the paint colours you chose (your favourite option) “This is beatiful Y/N you have such a great taste and I like anything that you like to be honest.”

He stares at you for a response as he noticed your tears have stopped running, which is a good sign. “I just want you to be more involved and show that you care about me about us “ you say

“I will and I do.. I always do” He said pulling you into a hug 

“I love you Kei” You say into his chest 

“I love you too” 

You spend the rest of your night unpacking plates, putting up wallpaper, painting walls and putting up furniture ending up on the couch with two slices of strawberry shortcake from the bakery across the street watching an episode of *insert your favourite TV show here* in your new place which you can finally call a home.

Iwaizumi:

You and Iwaizumi have been dating since highschool

You’ve had a past with anger issues but that was all sorted before you met Iwa

You’re very hard working and sometimes overworking but you have Iwa to always make sure you’re not too hard on yourself

You play volleyball just like your boyfriend, being the captain of your team is your pride and joy but sometimes you are way too hard on yourself trying to reach perfection. 

You’re in the gym way past normal hours setting to yourself against the wall with sweat dripping down your forehead breathing slightly more than usual

‘5 more minutes’ you think to yourself knowing damn well it’s going to be more than 5 minutes but you just have to perfect your form then you can stop.

You stop for a small water break and also to check your phone seeing 5+ messages from your lovely boyfriend Hajime

Haji: Y/N how was your day 

Haji: What do you want for dinner

Haji: I think we should get chinese

Haji: Y/N… you alive

Haji: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMeffhpeE/

Haji: I just ran into *Insert Best friends name* and she told me you were last seen at practice I hope you’re not in the gym Y/N

Haji: I’m coming to the gym… you better not be there

By the time you start going back to set against the wall you look up to see a semi mad Hajime at the doors of the gym..

“Y/N.. I thought you said you wasn’t going to keep overworking yourself this term” He said slowly approaching you 

“Just” set “Gotta” set “Fix” set “My” set “Form” 

“Your set is fine babe, it’s perfect … you’re perfect” he says reaching out to touch you

“Well I guess perfect isn’t good enough then” you mumble

“Y/N that’s not what I meant” He responds touching your shoulder

Out of reflex, your hand flicks to his face your nail (which are amazingly sharp and long) catches him on his cheek causing a petite cut to now appear and small amounts of blood to come out of it. You both are frozen shocked at what just happened, you never meant to touch him like that at all. 

You quickly rush to your stuff leaving your volleyball in the gym running out the doors. How could you be so horrible, hitting your boyfriend in the face after doing so much work getting over all your anger issues. ‘Hes going to hate you now’ you think.

You stop at a bench trying to clear your head, crying softly to yourself worrying now about your relationship with Haji and where it stands now. Without you noticing, Iwaizumi sits down next to you, waiting for you to compose your self before speaking.

“I know you didn’t mean it Y/N” he said pulling you under his arm 

“Iwa, I’m so so sorry I didn’t mean to stay late in the gym it’s just that we have a competition next week and last time we lost because of me and I just … wanted it all to be perfect “ You said sniffling you look up at him and see the cut on his face that you caused making you even more upset “I am really sorry, I understand that you probably want to break up with me for hurting you which is completely valid”

You don’t want him to confirm your suspicions of him breaking up with you, so you abruptly stand up getting reading to move onwards again before he grabs your wrist “you’re not leaving till I know you’re okay” he says

which makes you laugh a bit “It’s crazy that I’m the one that messed up, yet you’re worrying about me”

“Well that’s my job Y/N, I always worry about you when you’re overworking yourself and being hard on yourself it’s not good” he said “accidents happen, I know you didn’t intend on me getting hurt and I know you’re going to do great in the upcoming game babe dont worry”

A week later, all was forgotten Iwa’s cheek healed quickly and he never blamed you for it all and reminded you that it wasn’t your fault whenever it seemed you felt bad about it.

You’re now playing your volleyball game Iwa in the stands cheering you on as loud as he could and of course you were doing your best because in Hajime’s words you are perfect.

AN:Thank you so much for my first request I hope you like it. I’m not really a fan of the Iwa one but the tsuki one i like the way it went even though I was meant to add a third character but got too tired. But thank for the request keep them coming!! 

[dinogoofy]

Erron black/F! Reader

Old friend.

This one took a little bit, sorry if it's not quite as quality as my other fics!

MAJOR TW for Guns, threats, and Kano being a dick to precious puppies.

You and Erron black had grown up together. Two kids brought closer by horrible lives. Sharing the scraps of food you had with each other. Ranting about awful parents, ranting about school. In your teenage years, you were the one to patch him up after fights. He was the one to beat the shit out of your bullies. The two of you hated that town and everyone in it. You used to think the two of you would stay as thick as thieves forever. Your paths only split when you wanted to live a normal life. Live the peaceful, country way you had seen so many others do, but never grew up with yourself. Erron, however, only wanted money, glory. He wanted to take the back roads and do all the things normal folks wouldn't dare to get his fill. 

You didn't understand his choice to be a mercenary, but it wasn't your choice to make for him. Whatever life he wanted to have was good enough for you as long as he made it out of that shitty town. He didn't contact you much. He only really showed up on your doorstep when he was dying and needed someone to patch him up. But at least he was coming to see you, right? 

With a sigh you stepped into your little country home, smiling slightly at the immediate sounds of your fur babies running to meet you. A blur of orange fur rushing to thread between your legs and trip you, while your sweet pound mutt waited patiently for you to set your keys on the key rack. 

"Hey boys." Chester meowed at you rather loudly, only to take off when you leaned down to pet him. The crazy feline darting under Archie's body as he happily waited for his own pets. It was easy to smile at the warm welcome, immediately a little more relaxed after finally getting home. You stretched at the door, setting your bag down to head into the kitchen.

The first thing you settled on was giving your boys their long-awaited scoops of food, both of them sat down neatly next to each other. Only Archie waited for your go-ahead, Chester already digging in by the time you gave him a laughing "Ok, Archie." 

You patted your mutt before taking some leftovers out, eyes catching on the printed photo of you and Erron from senior year. It's been a few months since last he came to visit. The thought made you a little sad. But the memory of the photo gave you a nostalgic, happy feeling. With an arm slung around his shoulders, and a goofy look on your face, Erron was the complete opposite of you. The goof pretended to be annoyed at your antics, but you could see the slight smile at the corner of his lips.

"Come on! Just one photo. It's not like it's going to kill you, Erron."

"It's not going to kill me, no. But I might end up killing you."

"Pfft- yeah right."

Your smile grew a bit wider. You sat down at the table alone as you finished your dinner. Erron had always been a strange one. Always tough, trying to be unfeeling. Not wanting anyone to be close. Not wanting any affection besides the one-night stands and the women he infatuated. Always the one to flirt, but never with you.

No. Not ever with you. You smirked. He always acted differently around you. More nervous, more fidgety. You'd been in love with him since before you even knew what love truly was. And you had known for years that he loved you back. You had just been waiting for him to admit it. You'd scoffed at yourself time and time again for not making the first move, but Erron wasn't ready for that. You didn't think he was, at least. You just wished he had gotten therapy like you had asked him to.

The scraping of your fork against your plate was your only indication that you had finished eating, you definitely spaced out a bit. You always did when you thought of Erron. Maybe he would visit soon. Maybe you should stop thinking that to make yourself feel better. 

The plate clicked lightly against the floor when you set it down for Archie to lick before you set it in the sink. By the time you turned off all the lights and headed to bed Chester was already asleep on your pillow, Archie curled up in his own bed next to the nightstand. You moved the orange tabby slightly to the side so you could lay down, and he yelled in protest the way that annoyed kitties do. It was easy to slip into a comfortable sleep with your boys next to you. 

The sound of your sweet Archie growling a feral warning was what woke you up that night. You shot out of bed, ripping off the covers and grabbing the shotgun from under your mattress. Archie never growls. An unhinged bark sent a jolt of panic through you, along with Chester, who woke up to sprint under your bed and hide. Archie certainly never barked. Not like that. Not in that way. Something was wrong. You clicked off the safety and cocked the shotgun.

You moved slowly at first, creeping your way over to the sound of Archie's growls, but when he let out a sharp whine, your vision went white-hot with rage. 

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY DOG!" You shouted, finally turning the corner and into the living room where two figures lurked. The lamp was still on, and as your eyes adjusted you could make out the masked face of Erron, and the form of some asshole looming over Archie with your baby backed into a wall. 

Erron didn't respond at all at the sight of you. The unknown figure by your dog stood up slowly and whistled.

"You did say she was a feisty one." You scowled, keeping the gun pointed squarely on the man.

"Erron. I don't know why you're fucking here, but please tell me you don't know this asshole so I can just shoot him." Erron rolled his eyes at you. The figure laughed, moving away from Archie, who sprinted over to you so that he could cower behind your legs. Your eyes were trained on the figure as he proceeded to sit in your own fucking armchair.

"Name's Kano. Leader of the black dragon." The black dragon. The group of mercenaries that Erron had joined. Why the fuck did Erron bring this guy into your home. Erron called your name.

"Set the gun down, sugar." You didn't take your eyes off of Kano. 

"Respectfully, Erron, I don't think I will." Kano laughed, but you didn't think anything was funny. Erron called your name again, strutting over to you carelessly. Archie growled as he got closer. He set a hand on the gun, pushing it down.

"Calm. Down." You huffed but gave in. Sending your friend a nasty look as you lowered your defense. Erron wouldn't willingly let you be in danger. There's no way he would. You had to remember that.

"We came here for some help. 'Know that cave at the edge of your property?" The cave? You found it when you had just moved in, part of an old interlocking set of mining tunnels carved out of the land in the early 1900s. When you checked it out at first, it was Erron who actually went with you. You had a fond memory of fucking around in the tunnel, only to find an old elevator next to a dead-end tunnel with bloody handprints and markings that trailed across the wall and into the elevator. That was enough to get the two out of there. What would they want with it?

"What about it?"

"Those runes we found in it match what a client is looking for. We just want to check it out, and get outa' you're way." You laughed, glancing between Kano, who was currently putting a cigarette out on your favorite chair- and Erron, who still stood next to you in an almost defensive manner.

"Am I supposed to believe that there's no catch to this? No killer secrets? No blackmail?" Kano snickered, standing from his chair and walking over to you. You stood strong, but the beating of your heart sped up. You hated feeling afraid.

"The catch is, you show us the cave, and we leave your little buddy here alive." You scowled, and Erron sighed deeply at his boss, knowing already that he had started something.

"First of all, you don't get shit if you threaten my dog, asshole. You piece of human sh-"

"Just think of it as a favor between friends." Erron interrupted. You frowned at his words. His paycheck was definitely depending on it. Your thoughts split In two different ways. One, the fact that he's using your friendship to manipulate you into doing him a favor, two… it felt relieving that he still thought of you as friends. 

You finally gave in, sighing and relaxing almost completely. Archie nuzzles your leg before running off. You turned your head just slightly to watch him out of confusion when a sudden yank catches your attention. Kano had snatched your shotgun straight out of your hands. Erron stiffened next to you.

"I'll take that!" 

"You-!" Erron held out back just as you went to lunge at Kano. You struggled against him for just a moment before he gave you a bit of a push to set you back. What had gotten into him?!

"Ah ah ah! Sorry, Sheila, there's no way we're gonna let you keep this on you. Erron?" Kano taunted. You went to yell in protest but only yelped, Erron's hands suddenly holding onto your arm.

"Just comply. It'll be over soon." Erron whispered. You grumbled in protest but didn't fight it as they took you from your warm house. 

Kano walked proudly ahead of you and Erron while navigating to the cave. Fucker didn't even know where he was going. You had been scowling the whole time, a surprising feat while Erron was around. Speaking of which, His hand on your arm had softened its hold, but the strangest thing was that he still wouldn't look at you.

"This is your idea of a visit?" You mumbled to him. He shook his head, his heavy steps landing on a twig he forcefully snapped as you walked. He was definitely in a mood.

"This' a business trip, hun. Wouldn't be here if it weren't for that." You snickered.

"Yeah right. You'd end up here eventually." You said the words but didn't quite believe them as you walked. "Don't think you could stay away if you tried."

"-And I tried." You ignored the painful sting in your chest, going silent before shouting another set of directions to Erron's dipshit boss. You could almost feel Erron's gaze change as his eyes remained on you.

"-look, I didn't want you to get caught up in all this. It's bad enough that I'm here now." The words made you frown slightly. You elbowed Erron in the side, trying to make a little light of the situation.

"Better than Kano coming out here by himself." Erron laughed. 

" 'Betcha you'd've killed him the moment he stepped into your house."

"I almost did." You couldn't see Erron's smile through his mask, but the happy look in his eyes was infectious. You couldn't help but blush a bit, walking closer to him. His hold on your arm was loose and comfortable at this point, and you couldn't make yourself break out of it.

"You lovebirds done shit-talking or what?" God, you hated this Kano guy. The rest of the walk was silent. After about 30 minutes of almost tripping on fallen limbs, you finally made it to the cave. 

"Quite a big place for such a little property, huh?" You didn’t respond to Kano. Ignoring him as Erron guided you to walk past him.

"Oh don't be coy. Where'd all that fire go?" Kano was taunting you again, but both you and Erron ignored him this time. Erron spoke over him when he tried to speak a third time.

"Which way d'you go from here?" You laughed.

"You think I know? I try to stay away from this place as much as I can. Haven't been here since you were with me." Erron furrowed his eyebrows, taking a moment to click a flashlight on. He looked around for a moment, before setting out in a direction. Kano followed behind, a little too close to your back for your liking. 

Shivers ran rampant across your skin when you finally found the elevator. Kano pushed past you forcefully, knocking you off balance. Erron caught you with a steady hand around your waist. You relaxed in his touch, and once again pushed forward.

"Ahh! Look at that beauty!" Kano took out a camera, and you flinched at the flash. 

"I'm sure the client won't mind if we keep a few copies of the pictures to ourselves, now would he?" Kano laughed. Being around Erron was nice, but you were losing your patience. It was late, you had work in the morning, and you were just plain tired of this black dragon bullshit. You didn't notice when Erron's arm fell away from yours.

"Look, I showed you the cave. Just give me my gun, and let me go back to bed." Kano snickered at your words, Erron loomed behind you. 

"I don't think you'll be going far." Kano spat on the ground after he spoke, you scowled. 

"Excuse me?" Kano's smile was gritty and disgusting. He whistled at Erron, walking past you with your shotgun held loosely in his grip. You contemplated snatching it, but when you whipped around-

It almost felt like you couldn't breathe. You were staring down the barrel of Erron's pistol for a long moment. 

"Look kid, we can't have someone like you knowing about this cave thing, it's too risky and all that blabber, you understand. You've been such a delightful host and all, but it's time for you to go." Kano laughed.

"Can't tell any divine dipshits about our little meeting if she's dead anyway, now can she Erron?" Erron had never been so out of focus before, his stomach wringing in knots. He hardly knew what to think as he pointed the gun at you, something he'd never thought he'd ever do.

"Hey?" A little voice called out. A little face leaning down to peer at the little boy with his head buried unto his knees. He hardly glanced up. 

"Hi." He had murmured so quietly.

"Do you want to share this sandwich with me? You look lonely."

"Erron?" Your voice quivered. Panic was written all over your face. His finger lingered on the trigger as his chest squeezed.

"Sit still, dumbass." You squeezed his bloodied arm.

"That shit burns!" He hissed out. You laughed at him, dabbing at the large cut he had gotten from some idiot with broken glass on the school grounds.

"Well duh. It's isopropyl alcohol. It's gonna burn like hell." He was cute when he was confused. You laughed. 

"It disinfects the wound, Erron."

"... I knew that. I'm not fucking stupid." He had grumbled.

"Nothin' personal." He finally spoke. The words hurt him as they came out.

"That's not how you use a rifle." Throwing popcorn, at Erron, you quickly stole the remote to turn the volume up.

"Shh! Just shut up and enjoy the movie. Westerns aren't exactly supposed to be realistic."

"Well I can't really enjoy an unrealistic western, can I?- he's holding that wrong-"

Your face started to shift from panic to anger as kano patted Erron's shoulder, walking back into the rickety elevator.

"Panicked now, aren't ya Sheila? Want to beg? Or are you the proud sort?" You snarled at him.

"No." You said stiffly. "No. I want to see you do it, Erron." Kano laughed from the elevator. Erron remained stiff, his smooth voice taking a moment to come out.

"Look, you don't know-"

"I said do it, Erron!" You snapped, stepping closer to the cowboy. He didn't step back, his hand didn't waver. You stepped close enough to him that the barrel of his pistol pressed to your forehead. 

"Go ahead! Be Kano's little lapdog. Shoot me." You spat, the adrenaline working its way into your system. "Shoot me and say goodbye to all the FUCKING years I took care of your ass and bury me in that shitty town we grew up in Erron!" Erron's stone-faced seriousness finally broke, and even though he was wearing a mask you could still see the rage in his eyes as he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and forcefully yanked you closer to him. He kept the gun pressed to the side of your head.

"Do you have any idea who you're provoking? You. don't. know me. anymore. Sugar. You don't have any idea what I'm capable of!" You let out a curt laugh.

"You and I both know I still do." You snarled. Both of you went silent, the tension crackling between the two of you. You could see the panic that hid under the steely overlaying emotion in his eyes. Only Kano's ongoing childish taunts remained.

"Well then, Erron? Get on with it!" Erron's stiff posture remained, he spoke to Kano, but his eyes remained on yours. 

"Fuck off Kano." Kano didn't take that well.

"Excuse me? I'm your boss, dipshit. You can't just-" All of a sudden, Erron pushes you back, reels around, and shoots through the spaces in the old metal elevator, the bullet hits the back of the wall, and ricochets through the old, decaying pulley rope that held it up. Kano looks up in horror and rage. His screaming and cursing faded as the elevator launched down and crashed to the very bottom of the mine.

All is silent. All that can be heard is your labored breathing from all the shouting and adrenaline.

"Still want me to shoot you?" Erron asks. Speaking smug words with a tone only you could recognize as him trying to hide his panic. You scowled again. Walking over to him with tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.

"You're such a fucking asshole!" You shouted, punching him in the shoulder. Erron didn't flinch.

"And?" You couldn't stop the tears now. All the pain, and heartbreak, and sadness rushing out at once. You weekly hit his shoulder one more time, and grappled him into a hug, burying your face into his chest without being able to stop your sobs. Erron stood stiff. After a moment, his arms slid around your waist, and he held you back tightly.

"Kano's gonna kill you for that." You laughed through the tears. Erron didn't respond. His hand left your side for only a moment, and when it held onto again he had taken off his mask, letting it drop to the floor. Erron buried his face into your hair, holding you a bit tighter than before. 

It was quiet again. Erron squirmed after a moment.

"...I wouldn't have buried you in that town." You snorted, not taking your face out of his chest, biting your nails into the fabric of his shirt just a bit.

"So you admit you would've shot me?" Erron didn't react to the words. He only sighed into your hair, lifting a hand to pinch your ear. You pulled yourself out of his chest with a laugh, and his hands settled on your waist. You wiped your tears, your nose, and tried to make yourself a little better. It didn't really work. Erron could see that. He lifted a calloused hand to your cheek anyway.

"Just because you've come to your fucking senses doesn't mean I'm not still mad." You sniffled, smiling still as the bitter words fell out of your mouth.

"Yeah, well you should be. Kano was being an asshole anyway. That's the only reason I let you go." Erron coughed, you raised an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying it. He rolled his eyes, huffing through his nose.

"... Maybe not the only reason." The smile returned to your face, and you rolled your eyes at him this time. At this point, it was almost like he didn't realize it himself.

"God, you're really not fooling anyone, dumbass." Erron scowled, about to retort when you decided, Fuck it. And clutched his face to pull him into a kiss. He didn't respond at first, stiff and uneasy.  Always so stubborn. After a second or two though, he melted into your lips, pulling you closer. It was hard to hold on to all your anger when he was just so kissable. He'd get his ass beaten for this little stunt. You would make sure of that, but right now all you wanted to focus on was the relieving kiss you had waited so long for.

[gh0styyt0astyy]

"You can hide from me forever~?" .. emm.. maybe you can do this we hank?(lee hank if it is ok?) No presure

✨ [Run and hide] ✨

( anon. anon *holds ur shoulders* i loved this prompt thank you )

———————————

⭐️ [Summary] — If you asked Hank how he got into this situation, he’d much rather die than say anything. (Lee!Hank and Ler!Deimos + Ler!Sanford)

fellas is it gay to platonically cuddle your homies after they absolutely wreck your shit

key: deimos hank sanford

⭐️ [Warnings] — TICKLE FIC; MILD LANGUAGE; AND CUDDLING AT THE END; if you don’t like then please just scroll on T_T

⭐️ [Prompt(s)]: “You can’t hide from me forever!”

✨ Enjoy ! ✨

— — — —

“Haaaaaank!” Deimos’ gruff voice echoed down a hall; a quiet snicker in his tone as he looked for the merc. Hank, who was currently staked out in a dark room (had the rooms always been this dark? How’d he never notice this?), held his breath.

Putting a hand on the doorframe, Hank leaned out slightly and stared into Deimos’ back.

The shorter guy seemed to be too busy with looking in the complete wrong direction that Hank started calculating his options. Hank had been stalking around this shitty “apartment” that he, Dei and Sanford all called home (Temporary home at least. It’s hard to keep a stable base of operation in this shitty, genocidal state okay?) for at least an hour now. Deimos wanted something from Hank; and whatever game Deimos was playing the taller man didn’t want any partake in it.

“Cmon, Haaank. You can’t hide from me forever now!” Deimos called out again, but beginning to turn around now. Shit. Hank quickly darted into a different room, one with a little more light. At least he could see now.

…However he failed to realize that Deimos could see the faint outline of a shadow, which is ironic really; seeing as how Hank; a 6’6 man can fit inside a tiny crate with no one noticing, yet he forgets to cover his tracks of a shadow.

Deimos’ footsteps came closer to the room Hank sheltered in, and Hank started to crawl backwards to the closet. ‘Shit- shit- shit.’ Hank opened the closet door and quickly stepped inside. Deimos suddenly leapt into the room, a sound of vague disappointment rumbling in his throat. “Damn.”

Hank felt a very light breath leave his chest as he slowly slid down the wall. Maybe Deimos had finally given up his chase. As Hank waited for Deimos to leave the room, he listened to the quieting footsteps. The goggled man silently opened the closet door and looked out, spotting no sign of Deimos. He began to slowly step out of it.

His legs were quickly and suddenly swiped out from under him, causing him to land roughly on his chest with a solid “oof” and a wheeze when something plopped heavily onto his back. “There you are!” Hank could hear the grin in Deimos’ voice.

“Uagh- get off of me you lug.” Hank grunted, reaching back and swatting at one of Deimos’ knees. “Hank, you’re good at hiding, know that? Had me in circles for an hour! You ever play hide and seek when you were a kid?”

Hank was having none of it as he continued to swat and push at Deimos. (Sure the man was significantly shorter than him, but damn; bitch could put some weight when he wanted.) Deimos hummed as he put his head in a hand. “Okay well obviously you wanna move on. So let’s do that! While we’re at it…” A different hand went down to between Hank’s shoulder blades, causing the merc to tense. “Let’s chat! You remember how you crushed my cigs a bit ago?”

Hank did remember that.

“Aaand how you spilled water on me for no reason?”

Hank remembered that too. (And, also Deimos, for your information; it was not for no reason you will NOT burn down another temp home.)

“Oooh or- or how about the time you threw that huge ass centipede at me? Remember that one?”

…Hank remembered that one, as well. Very vividly, might he add.

Hank nodded and Deimos did too. “Yeah. I remember all those too. Especially that last one you asshole.” Hank shrugged. “I mean, it was a little amusing.” Deimos feigned hurt as he put a hand to his chest. “You wound me, Wimbleton.”

Hank started to get antsy now, as he shifted underneath Deimos’ weight. “Will you get off me? Or are you just going to keep me here.” Deimos grinned again. “Antsy, Hanky? Daw okay. I guess I can get on with it.”

“It?” What the hell was “it?” Hank narrowed his eyes under his goggles and when he tried to look back at Deimos three fingers suddenly dug into the soft area between Hank’s shoulders. Oh. Oh that was it. Hank felt his eyes suddenly shoot open as he fell completely limp to the floor, electricity running up his back. His body shuddered with repressed… laughter? Noises. “Deimos—“ Hank spoke through gritted teeth, feeling lucky for the mask covering his betraying face. “Hank.” Deimos answered back. Hank felt himself trying to writhe away from Deimos to no avail. “Shihit.” He hissed, mentally cursing himself.

“Ahha! That’s the response I’m looking for!” Deimos said, taking his other hand and tapping against Hank’s ribs. Making the downed man make a strangled noise into the crook of his elbow. “Pihihihiss ohohoff-!” Hank growled, tried to growl. It was hard to be intimidating with fingers wiggling on your ribs and your back. Deimos was slow, methodical for a moment… before the hand on Hank’s back went from slowly moving to clawing at his shoulder blades. “SHIHIHIT! Deihihihimos you sohohon of a—!” Hank suddenly erupted; Deimos letting out a victorious and satisfied laugh. “Right here is bad? Damn, and I’ve only just started!” Hank tried thrashing his shoulders to get away from Deimos’ hands.

Deimos snickered mischievously, repositioning himself on top of Hank and sitting on his waist instead. “Y’know what Hank? This is super interesting,” Deimos said, one hand continuing to torture Hank’s shoulder blades as the other hand trailed back and forth from his ribs and his sides. “You’re, like, Nevada’s most dangerous Mercenary. And yet I haven’t even been thrown into a wall!” Deimos added, grinning at Hank’s misfortune as the man went limp again. “I hahahahate yohohou—“ Hank hissed through gritted laughter. “Have you even tried getting me off?” Deimos ignored Hank’s previous statement. As Hank began to lift himself with his elbows, Deimos’ hand suddenly shot underneath him and started prodding at his stomach. “YOHOHOHOU BIHIHIHIHITCH!” Hank fell back down.

That’s when a quiet *ahem* and knock on the doorframe made both the men look up. Sanford stood there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed and an amused look. “Dei, what are you doing to Hank?” He asked, and Hank felt Deimos’ hands slow down until they came to stop. Deimos snickered evily and put a knee on Hank’s back to keep him down. Hank didn’t like that, didn’t trust that evil giggle from Deimos— so he began trying to escape. “San, y’know what I found out?”

Oh shit. He wouldn’t. “What’d you find out, bud?” Deimos you’d better not. “Did you know that Nevada’s most wanted, dangerous Mercenary is ticklish?” That son of a bitch. “Oh, really now?” Goddamnit.

Sanford was waved over by Deimos, and the two started whispering to each other. Hank tried to listen in but to no avail. Suddenly the weight on his back was lifted and Hank tried to shoot away quickly.

But he was grabbed around the waist and pulled back into a heavy chest. Sanford’s arms held onto him tightly as they went back to the floor, except now Hank was sitting up. (Which was better, actually, because being sprawled on the floor like that really isn’t comfortable.) Sanford’s arms were hooked under his, crossed tightly against his chest and keeping him in place.

Deimos was sat at Hank’s legs, grinning at him with a look that could only mean chaos.

“I swear to God.” Hank rumbled, pushing against his captors. Deimos gave an evil chuckle as his hands curled into claws. “Deimos I’m warning you.” Hank pushed at Deimos with his foot, neither of them really acknowledging the now dirty shoe print on Deimos’ jacket. “One.” Deimos said.

…Excuse him?

“Two.” Sanford’s low voice followed.

Hank started wriggling in Sanford’s arms with a little more strength.

…

…

“THREE!” Suddenly both the men yelled— and Hank lost his shit. Deimos’ clawed hands tasering into Hank’s ribs and Sanford’s kneading into his hips. “OHOHOHOH MY GOHOHOD! YOU AHAHAHASSHOHOHOHOLES!” Hank suddenly shrieked in laughter. (It was so much louder than his voice, louder than his usual tone. It surprised all of them and Hank wasn’t sure if he liked the volume coming from himself.) Hank writhed in Sanford’s arms as he fought against himself. “Holy shit! Dei, you weren’t joking!”

“I know! Hank, you’re incredibly lucky that it’s just us who know about this!”

Hank thought about the idea of someone else finding out about…this. Whatever “this” was. Hank wanted to say something but all he could get out was that loud, wheezy laughter. And eventually he stopped trying to fight it, he went limp in Sanford’s hold and gave in. “SHIHIHIHIT! I’m gOHOHNNA KIHIHILL YOU TWHOHOHO!” You know, it’s really hard to be threatening when you’re being undone. His nerves felt like they were being electrocuted and were on fire, Hank’s legs kicked slightly. “GOHOHOD DAHAHAHMN IT! MOHOHOHOVE YOUR HAHAHAHANDS!”

Suddenly it stopped— Deimos’ hands stopped at least. Sanford’s were at his ribs now, poking and prodding between each bone. Hank screwed his eyes shut; Sanford’s hands were so slow and methodical it was driving Hank up the wall. Hank’s face was warm, completely undone to giggling. It was embarrassing.

“San, you wanna know something else?” “Deimohohos.” “Hit me, Dei.” “You behehtter nohohot!” “Hank’s scars are way more ticklish than the rest of him.” “You bihihihitch!”

That bastard. “Reaaaally now?” Sanford’s voice was low again, close to Hank’s neck. Deimos nodded. “Yuh uh.” Hank tried to squirm out again. “I hahahate you!” He listened as Deimos drew in a big, deep breath and felt as his shirt was lifted. (He knew today was a bad day to go without his jacket.) “Deheheheimos I swear to Gohohohod!”

Hank had literally no time to process anything before—

PBBBFFFTRRTTTT!

“OH SHIHIHIHIT! SHIHIHIHIT SHIHIHIT SHIHIT!” Hank squealed, he squealed. (Hank never wanted to die on the spot more than in that moment. Do you think that he could find Jeb or Tricky or someone to strike him down after this?)

Deimos had raspberried Hank’s stomach— against a huge ass scar that went from his left hip, over top and across his navel and to the right side of his ribs.

And Sanford had started blowing smaller raspberries against Hank’s neck, again, on the scars that went across it.

Hank literally felt like he was about to die in that moment. “OKAHAHAHAY! OKAHAHAHY I YEHEHEHEHILD! I YEHEHILD! I’M GONNAHAHAHA DIHEHEHEHE! STOAHAHAHAHAP!” Hank gasped, writhing and kicking his legs. And it was like that, the sensations just stopped. Phantom feelings buzzing through his body and against his skin. “Ohohoh my gohohd.” Hank breathed, his body somehow going limper against Sanford’s. Deimos grinned and Sanford laughed lightly. Hank felt Deimos press against his chest and a light squeeze of a hug from Sanford.

Hank panted lightly, cursing the two mentally. Deimos just grinned up at Hank. “Sooo. I think San and I win!” Sanford hummed in agreement as he nodded grinning too as he bonked his head against the back of Hank’s. “Somehow that went way better than I had expected it to go.”

“You two better sleep with one eye open tonight.” Hank threatened, feeling his body physically relax against Sanford and Deimos. “Yeah yeah, whatever you say.”

[barkkletshunt]

Those Worth Fighting For Part eight

I feel like I’m really pushing out these parts right now lol It’s been so long since I’ve had a few days off to work on this. I hope you like it! 

Part one             Part two

Part three           Part four

Part five             Part six

Part seven         Bonus scene 1

Part eight (You’re here)

Taglist: 

@ladybug-182 @fruit-snacc-ace @miraculous-simmer7 @lavenderjunes @use-flamethrower @fan-written @all-mights-asscheeks @birdie-posts

Marinette looked over her pajamas, wondering why she thought having a pajama date as one of their first dates was a good idea. It was her idea and she wasn’t going to go back on it, but oh God why didn’t she own any cute pajamas? 

“Marinette, I thought you wanted to have a laid back date? Why are you stressing out about your outfit?” Tikki knew Marinette better than anyone else, but even she had a hard time understanding her current holders mind sometimes. “Why not wear your comfiest pajamas?”

The blue haired girl looked over to the pajamas she had worn the night before, the comfiest pajamas she owned, and sized up the hot chocolate stains and the tear on the left leg from when she got it caught on the balcony bar. She meant to fix it, but with school and her other projects as MDC the PJ’s were put on the backburner. “Yeah, no, that’s not happening. I’m still trying to impress him.”

“Then what about the set your Grandfather bought you for christmas?” Tikki asked, floating above Marinette’s shoulder to look at the silk pin striped PJ’s. “Those are impressive!”

“But they’re too impressive. It won’t look natural and it will come across as I’m trying too hard.” The woman began biting at her lip, looking over the other pairs of pajamas she owned. “What if I wore the pair Chat Noir bought me? They are comfortable, kinda cute, and they come with slippers to match.”

“The Ladybug ones?” Tikki thought it over for a moment. “They are nice without being too nice, and comfortable without being overworn. I think they’re a good bet!”

Marinette changed into the pajamas her former hero partner had given her, and tucked her feet into the boot slippers that matched. Although they were too big for her as a teen they now fit her perfectly now that her body looked more like her body as a heroine. She was taller now, and from constant training with her mother and Kagami her muscles had grown strong and resilient. She still couldn’t leap from building to building as a civilian, but she could certainly hold her own when it came to freerunning and parkour. 

“I wonder what he’s going to wear,” she said absentmindedly to her kwami as she changed, stripping off her school clothes and hopping into the pajama pants successfully without falling over. “Something flashy, I’m sure.”

“Maybe he has normal pajamas and is worried you’ll think he isn’t as fancy?

“Ha, I wish. He’s fancy through and through.” Marinette laughed, pulling the shirt over her head. “Maybe I can convince him to dress like a normal person like the rest of us mere mortals. He’d look really good in a turtleneck.”

She looked herself over in the mirror and sighed. She looked too much like Ladybug for her own comfort. While they were the perfect level of baggy, and the colour was slightly off from her actual suit, having red pants with black polka dots made her take a second look at herself. 

The shirt was white, with a pun on it, with red sleeves that matched the pants, and even the booties matched the ladybug pattern to tie everything together. She either looked like someone who absolutely loved Ladybug, or Ladybug herself trying to throw off someone's scent by pretending to be a die hard fan. Either way, she needed to change.

Knock, knock, knock.

Or she would change if Felix wasn’t so damned punctual.

Marinette grabbed her coat and the baked goods she got from her parents earlier and headed towards the door. On the other side was Felix, looking as handsome as ever. She could see baggy track pants underneath his black trench coat, but none of that mattered the second he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on the top of her head.

“I brought you coffee.” His voice was soft, as if worried saying anything would stop the butterflies that began to flutter in her stomach. “Are you alright with pizza tonight? I was running errands all day and I didn’t have a chance to pick anything up to cook.”

Marinette wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight, feeling him stiffen for just a moment before returning the affectionate gesture. It wasn’t the first time she had hugged him since reuniting with the blond, but it was the first hug she had given him that she allowed herself to savour. 

She could feel his back muscles through his thin coat, and wondered briefly what he did to make them so defined. In his suits it was hard to tell how muscular he was, but from the hold he had on her she figured he was a lot stronger than he looked.

It was just a simple hug, but he held her like he was afraid to let her go. Maybe it was just her mind going haywire from how good the man before her smelt, like fresh soap and coffee. It was warm and clean and she loved it. 

The hug was over too soon and both parties let go with mild embarrassment at how much they enjoyed it. They looked at the walls and the floors, anything not to meet each other's gaze until they finally did. Neither could help the laughter that bubbled from their lips at seeing how the other felt the same way. It was easy and light being with him, and she wondered if that was how the starting of love was supposed to be. 

“So, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, are you ready to go back to my temporary Parisian home with my cousin and his fiancee and look over the seating placements?” Felix asked, trying to regain his air of formality but failing as his smile kept returning. He offered his arm to her, finally giving up on hiding his giddiness at their first official date. “And start preparing the invitations to what I assume is half of France itself?”

“Why, Felix!” She giggled, taking his arm and walking down the hallway of her apartment building with him. “I thought you’d never ask!”

Felix was a gentleman. This was an irrefutable fact. He took the bag of baked goods from her to carry it himself, he opened the car door for her and waited until she was in and buckled before closing the door and getting in on his side. He made sure to get out of the car first to hold her door open for her again, and did the same at the front door of the house. It didn’t even seem like he was trying to impress her, it was just his natural habits. 

“Fel! Mari! Good timing!” Adrien’s voice called to them the second they were in the house, before Felix had a chance to take her coat and hang it up. “We’re in the living room.”

The two looked at each other, their confusion etched upon their faces. 

“Well, better get this over with.” Felix sighed, slowly unbuttoning his coat and taking it off. Revealing the black t-shirt underneath with the design of a suit printed on the chest. She wanted to laugh. Of course, how did she not think of it? This way he could still wear a suit to bed! “Oh, it gets better. I have a matching pair of slippers to yours.” 

As Felix reached into the closet to put his coat away, he pulled out a pair of familiar looking slippers. She hadn’t seen them before, but she had seen up close where the design came from. The slippers Felix put on resembled Chat Noir’s boots. Without planning it out ahead of time the two of them matched. No wonder they liked each other so much.

When they made their way to the living room, with a slight detour to the kitchen to set down the pizza and the baked goods, they saw Kagami and Adrien sitting on one of the sofa’s dressed like they came right out of a 90’s parent teacher conference. Kagami wore a blouse Marinette was sure she had never seen on her friend before, and Adrien wore a dress shirt with a sweater vest over it. They both had glasses on, and she knew for a fact neither of them needed glasses. 

Adrien looked at Marinette and seemed to freeze for a moment before returning to his disappointed face. 

“What’s going on?” She began to ask, but the two crossed their arms and nodded towards the couch across from them. 

Marinette and Felix sat down, looking confused as ever. 

“Marinette, darling, we need to talk.” Kagami started, her monotone voice not matching her words. “We were informed today about something that shocked us to our core.”

“We’re not mad that you didn’t tell us,” Adrien continued, nodding along. Marinette noticed the model was wearing a fake mustache. “Just disappointed.”

“And what, prey tell, was I supposed to tell you?” She wanted to laugh. She knew their game, she knew exactly what they were playing at. It didn’t make it any less hilarious to her. 

“And Felix, I expected better from you than withholding secrets from me.” Adrien fake cried onto Kagami’s shoulder, who only patted his back in an attempt to soothe him.

“It’s okay dear, as her father I will handle this.” Kagami whispered.

“I thought I was the father, that’s why I’m wearing the mustache.” Adrien lifted his head.

“You’re the emotional mother who doesn’t know how to handle her daughter's secret life, and I’m the father who will be stern but also loves his wife despite the facial hair because you have a beautiful spirit.” Kagami stated. 

“You’d be a great dad.”

“I already am.” Kagami adjusted herself. “Marinette, how could you not tell us you were dating Felix?”

Felix stared at his cousin and his fiancee. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Had Adrien always been this goofy? Had Kagami?

“Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, it’s still new. This is our first date.” Marinette leaned forward and grabbed Kagami’s hand. Felix groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. If he wasn’t already smitten with the blue haired woman, he was sure he’d fall for her again right then and there. His cousin and his soon to be wife, correction, his family loved Marinette so much that they had these silly little jokes and the woman had no problem playing along. She was every bit of the family already and if they were that protective of her then he knew he was falling for the right girl. 

“First date so far, but thankfully you two have given us enough excuses to spend time together that we’re bound to have more dates in the future.” Felix nudged Marinette lightly with his elbow. “Maybe we’ll even, gasp, become a serious relationship and rival your fame.”

“You will if Alya has anything to say about it.” Kagami mumbled. 

“What?” Marinette squinted at her friend, but Kagami shook her head and refused to answer. 

“Well, do I need to grab my sword and threaten you not to hurt my daughter?” Kagami asked Felix, all joking leaving her. 

“No worries, Ma’am, er, sir? I will treat Marinette with the utmost respect.” Felix gave a salute to the Japanese woman. “Now can we go and finish our mission of preparing the invitations to your wedding? While we may be dressed for night time, we aren’t planning on working all night.”

“Speaking of how you’re dressed,” Adrien’s voice wavered for a second. “Marinette, where did you get those pajamas?”

She looked down at herself. How was she supposed to say that the former black cat of Paris gave them to her alter ego self for Christmas? She wasn’t. “A friend got them for me, I’m not sure where he bought them from. Why? Are you jealous?”

Adrien laughed, but it almost sounded forced. “You got me. I wanted them, but oh well.”

Kagami looked at her fiance who just waved her off.

“Well, those pajamas look good on you, M’lady.” Adrien stood up and offered his hand to Kagami who took it and followed his lead. “We’re going to go spar for a bit. Let me know if you two want to join us!”

M’Lady? When had Adrien ever called her that? 

“Well Miss. Bug, shall we be off?” Felix’s voice snapped her out of her train of thought, and then immediately threw her down another hole of questioning. Did he just call her Miss. Bug? The same way that Alley Cat did? Was it just her pajamas making the two blonds act this way, or was there more to the story? God, she was beginning to sound like Alya. 

“Pizza first, invitations second, and third movie time! Sounds good?”

“Anything sounds good if you say it.”

Marinette’s cheeks burned. With all thoughts of Chat Noir and Alley Cat forgotten, the two of them left to the kitchen.

[flutteringdreams-matw]

Out of Time (4)

Dan frowned as he looked down at Amity Park under the green shield. His wail definitely made a dent, but now it seemed like the infernal thing was back to normal. He brought himself down toward it, standing on top of it as he looked beneath him. The logo printed on his chest was visible across the town from this angle, shining hopefully up through the buildings through the shield and at the spectre above. It sickened him.

Walking across it, he felt the shield sizzle against his boots; the electric power keeping him out but also something else, something he couldn't quite place. "Figures," the dark Phantom muttered, testing it with his weight. "Even in this timeline, the brat still thinks he has a chance." His hands ignited with energy, darkening rapidly as he considered his next move. The energy dissipated as he gasped, heat rising from his core and through his nose as the shield shifted below his feet. Dan chuckled, waiting for an attack or quip, but it didn't come. Mildly intrigued at the lack of attack, he turned; this timeline's Danny Phantom floated up and out of the shield slowly, landing gracefully on top of the shield with a soft thud. Dan eyed the teen; still young, the infuriating green eyes and messy white hair still matched what he presumed the human half mirrored. Dan watched as small waves of power rippled at the boy's feet. "Surprised to see me?" he taunted.

Danny crossed his arms, but remained silent. His eyes looked the evil ghost over as he reassessed the situation. Namely how much he wasn't ready for this fight. The shield beneath his feet hummed as some of its energy started to flow back to his body, making him feel more confident in his powers for the first time in days. His confidence in his powers, however, did nothing to quell the uneasiness he felt as he stared back at his future self.

"What? Nothing to say?" he goaded. "No 'But I defeated you?' 'Not possible?'" He gestured to the shield below them. "But you gave me such a great welcome!"

Danny's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why are you here?" he asked finally.

Dan's eyebrow rose slightly. "Really? I thought it would be obvious by now." His hands ignited with green ecto-energy, making the younger half-ghost tense slightly.

"This isn't your world," Danny told him, hands also igniting in ecto-energy. "Not anymore."

"Of course it isn't," the evil ghost smirked. His ecto-energy disappeared as he started to pace around the teen. "You trapped me in a thermos for what? A year? Did you think I would just go away? I've been here for 10 years Danny. I'm inevitable."

"So what now? You know I'll never become you," Danny said. He looked down at the town below; the town's people were starting to notice the two ghosts above them.

Dan smirked at the worry his younger counterpart held for the town. "Funny isn't it, how they look like insects from up here," he replied, ignoring the question and drawing a glare from the younger ghost. Dan smiled slightly as he saw Danny's mask crack. "Feels like it too, when you watch them run from an ecto-blast." Danny's eyes lit up a little more neon in anger. The darker Phantom chuckled humourlessly. "How long do you think this will hold me Danny? How long before you realize you can't protect them from yourself." He smiled wickedly, his fists shining brightly against his aura. "Especially, when I do this!" Dan released a stream of ecto-energy towards shield, causing it to spark at the sudden attack. The shield rebound the energy upwards, sending a shower of green to explode above them under the grey clouds overhead. Dan watched the teen falter slightly; catching the way he tried to hide how much that blast affected him. The evil ghost smiled predatorily, confirming his theory as Danny let out a deep breath before meeting his gaze with a glare. "Oh, did that hurt? How about this!"

Dan flew straight for the teen, blast at the ready. Danny hastily brought up a small ecto-shield, managing to block the attack with some effort. Dan pushed down onto the shield, but Danny pushed back, repelling his older self backward. Flying up, Danny fired a flurry of ice blasts toward Dan, who dodged them with ease. The evil Phantom caught an ice blast and melted it, staring the younger down. Danny's eyes widened in shock slightly before launching himself toward the target. They tumbled in the air twice until Dan caught his balance, grabbed Danny's arm and threw him away from the battle. Danny landed hard on top of the shield, crying out in surprise as he skidded to a stop. Crouched low, he sent a disc of ecto-energy back at the ghost. It hit its mark, but Dan walked straight through, almost as if it didn't affect him.

Crap Danny thought, dodging a blast with a back handspring. He hissed as the missed blast hit the shield again. How do I manage this?

"What's your plan here?" Dan goaded, splitting himself in three. "You can't surprise me with the wail anymore. It's not like you have anything to beat me."

Eyes shining blue, Danny launched a series of ice blasts towards Dan. Caught by surprise, two of the duplicates disappeared as the older ghost growled. Dan's fists glowed light blue as a series of flames launched at the younger boy. Danny yelped but defended himself with an ice blast. The blasts collided, holding fast between the two ghosts. The fire blast started to push the ice blast back, Danny gritted his teeth as he was pushed back against the shield. Eventually, it exploded, sending both ghosts flying.

Danny hissed as small flames burned his hand. He stood up slowly and glared across the shield as Dan did the same. His future self smiled cruelly as he laughed. "Really?" he asked. "Did you think an ice core would do much against a heat one? My hair is literally on fire."

"Yeah, you're a real hot head," Danny retorted. Again, he launched an ice blast, this time freezing the top of the shield and Dan's feet to the shield. With the evil ghost trapped, he froze a ball of ecto-energy and threw it at Dan, watching it explode. Dan stood up slowly, glaring at Danny. Both Phantoms held the glare for a few tense seconds before they flew at each other.

:-=-:

Clockwork frowned atop the current apartment roof he called his home, watching Danny face off against his future self. They were locked in combat, trading punches and quips. Thankfully, they looked evenly matched. Clockwork shifted into a form of a child as he looked at his staff worriedly. If he was right, it wouldn't be long now.

"Are we going to let him have all the fun?"

Clockwork didn't turn as he felt Ethelwulf appear beside him. The Time Master could sense the concern for the boy oozing off the ghost; it almost rivalled his own. "Patience," Clockwork said calmly.

Ethelwulf scoffed. "That's all you ever say," he replied with a growl. His black wings opened, stretching up in anticipation. "That shield has been up for as long as we've been here; Danny's putting too much energy into it. If his future self is as powerful as you say he is, we should be doing more!"

"Everything is as it should be," Clockwork said, shifting forms into adulthood.

"Forgive me, I forgot how insufferable you can be," Ethelwulf countered, with a roll of his eyes. "Clockwork, he can't keep this up for much longer. We need to help him."

Clockwork ignored him, closing his eyes. He felt the world move, time shifting through the twists and turns of the time stream. The battles to come and the price made him shutter as he hoped that he was wrong. He sensed the battle above the town; Danny and Dan floated ten feet away from each other, the former looking more run down than the latter.

Three. Both Phantoms manoeuvred their way to the top of the shield again, neither looking away from the other. Clockwork's eyes flew open as he felt the timeline slow.

Two. Danny tensed as the older ghost yelled something at him. They both took a deep breath in quickly, bracing for what was to come.

One. Both Phantoms unleashed their wails, colliding in a wall of sound. The ground shook, as the raw power reverberated overhead. Screams from the town echoed below.

"Time out!"

A pulse of power erupted from within Clockwork's being and through his staff, a wave of blue washing over the town and outward. Grunting softly, the Master of Time doubled over in pain as the wave pushed past the shield toward the rest of the world.

"Clockwork!" Ethelwulf exclaimed, moving closer to his friend. Yellow eyes quickly assessed the ghost in concern.

Clockwork shifted into the form of an old man, hunched over and glowing. As the world ground to a halt, the eerie silence was overrun by the deafening roar of the Ghostly Wails above them. Ethelwulf looked down below of the humans frozen before turning his gaze back to the time ghost. Clockwork sighed heavily, recovering from the initial pain of stopping time before he looked at the confused face of wolfish companion.

"Why didn't they stop?" Ethelwulf asked, worry laced in his tone. The wail continued, unconcerned at the halt of time. "Clockwork – why didn't they stop?"

Clockwork's old eyes looked up at Danny Phantom with worry and self-loathing. "It's begun."

:-=-:

Danny's limbs shook as he continued the wail. He was siphoning the energy from the shield into the attack, but his evil self was powerful; there was no way he could keep this up for much longer. He was fading, vision swimming in front of him. Dan's wail started to push him backward but Danny stood his ground, pushing back. Eventually, the wails exploded, sending both ghosts flying backward and colliding hard with the shield.

Danny bit his lip as he felt the shield falter slightly. He focused in maintaining the shield, groaning in agony as he felt unconsciousness threaten to take him. Getting up on his hands and knees, he tried to shake his head to clear it.

"Is this it?" Danny stiffened as his evil self's snide drawl floated to his ears. "I almost expected more from you."

Come on Danny thought desperately. He searched deep within his core for any spare energy that he could muster.

"Still no quips?" the Dark Phantom provoked. He stomped the shield, releasing a small disc of ecto-energy from his feet. Danny cried out in pain as he felt it crack, but still managed to keep the shield. "Hmm… Maybe you're stronger than I give you credit for."

Realizing his only option, Danny breathed through the pain and focused on the raw energy deep within him. Already, he felt the electricity rise through his core, screaming to be released.

A wordless roar and a yelp of surprise broke through his concentration, making his eyes shoot open. Ethelwulf, appearing from nowhere, shot up through the shield and tackled Dan, large leathery wings moving like blades through combat. Dan retaliated quickly, sending multiple rounds of ecto-energy to his new foe. Ethelwulf dodged before sending a large series of ecto-blasts back at the evil spectre.

"Ethelwulf," Danny murmured in confusion. He pushed himself up slowly, standing slightly before falling. To his shock, a pair of hands grabbed him before he reached the surface of shield. Blue skin, a long grey beard and a purple cloaked ghost held the ghost boy up. "Clockwork?" Danny steadied himself with the help of the Time Master and looked at him in confusion. "What-"

"No time," Clockwork said simply, his voice still eerily serene even with the urgency in that statement. "Can you go on?" Danny nodded readily. Clockwork frowned, looking the boy over in hopes for a more truthful answer, but continued. "Okay, listen carefully. When time resumes – a natural portal will open and shut quickly above the town. We need to get Dan into it."

Danny looked from Clockwork to Ethelwulf and back again. "I don't understand," he said faintly, sinking further into Clockwork's grip.

"Later," Clockwork assured, holding him steady. "I'll explain when we get rid of the more pressing issue. Don't worry about the shield – focus on getting him out of your world."

Ethelwulf skidded across the shield, stopping in front of Clockwork and Danny. The wolf ghost growled protectively around the two. Dan floated down slowly, smirking at the trio of ghosts at his mercy.

"Meddling again Clockwork?" Dan asked, annoyed. He eyed the Time Master quickly, laughing as he saw the feeble form he was currently in. "What will you do, huh? Doesn't look like you're up to any tricks- Is that why you brought the mutt?"

Neither Ethelwulf nor Clockwork responded to the jab. Danny, on the other hand, broke away from Clockwork and stood his ground.

Dan laughed. "Oh, you're kidding me! Do you truly believe you three stand a chance against me? Don't you understand what I'm capable of?" A wave of ecto-energy flew at the evil ghost courtesy of Ethelwulf's wings.

"Any time now Clock!" Ethelwulf yelled. "Literally!" He flew back at Dan, a large paw hitting the ghost in the chest. Danny flew up slightly, holding his side, but watched Ethelwulf and Dan exchange attacks and looked for an opening.

"Time In!" Danny heard Clockwork exclaim. What he didn't notice was his friend double over in pain as time started to move forward.

True to Clockwork's word, Danny saw the natural portal open directly above the fighting Ethelwulf and Dan. I need to get him up there quickly… but how? Ethelwulf's tail hit Dan's shield – creating a series of sparks as the evil ghost was pushed upwards. Dan was so enthralled with Ethelwulf's attacks, he had stopped paying attention to Danny or Clockwork. Seeing the opportunity, Danny flew into a position where a good clean shot would send him flying. Ethelwulf and Dan flew higher still, until Dan was right where the younger ghost wanted. "HEY!" he yelled, getting the attention of both ghosts. "Leave my town ALONE!" Danny unleashed his Ghostly Wail for the second time, watching as Ethelwulf quickly darted out of the way so his older self got the brunt of the attack. Dan yelled in frustration as he was pushed up and through the ghost portal. Danny, utterly spent, fell a few feet and hit the shield as the portal closed. He gasped for air, forcing himself to stay conscious and in ghost form as he tried to process what happened.

As he tried to regain his breath, Danny felt Clockwork and Ethelwulf come around him. "You did good kid," Ethelwulf said, worry evident in his tone.

Danny shook his head. "The shield," he rasped, looking out desperately to the cracked shield around Amity Park. "He'll be back."

Ethelwulf frowned, watching the teen's desperation overpower any sense of reason. "Danny, you've already used too much core energy on that shield. It's a miracle you've made it this far," Ethelwulf told him gently. When Danny didn't answer, Ethelwulf turned to Clockwork for help. "You tell him."

Clockwork floated beside the kneeling boy, putting a withered hand on Danny's shoulder. Danny only barely recognized the ghost's presence. "Do what you need to do," he said quietly. "Just remember that you will not stop him if do this alone."

Danny nodded, accepting the advice. He put a shaky gloved hand on the shield and breathed deeply. His ghostly aura pulsed around him as the shield glowed, the cracks slowly being repaired. He shook in strain, trying to control the energy flowing through him. With the cracks repaired, Danny fell sideways with a groan, Clockwork catching the boy as he fell.

Ethelwulf sighed, moving closer to Danny. The ghost in question was still stubbornly conscious, breathing heavily against Clockwork's chest. "Rest, Halfling," Ethelwulf soothed, yellow eyes searching for any serious injuries. Thankfully, it only looked like he was bruised and exhausted. "Let's get you home."

:-=-:

"Here."

Maddie jumped slightly as a white mug with her husband's face on it settled in front of her at the computer station, the smell of fresh coffee greeted her senses. Glancing back, the ghost researcher turned to face her husband. "Thanks Jack. Is Danny back yet?"

Jack sat in the chair beside her, frowning. "Nope – but I'm sure it's fine Mads. It's not even 9 yet! He's probably on his way back now." Maddie smiled weakly and turned her attention back to the data on the screen, frowning in concern. Sensing her worry, Jack rolled the chair closer to her and glanced at the numbers and charts. "Find anything on Danny's files?"

"Kind of – there are a lot of schematics for weapons that would be good against sonic attacks, heat attacks, cold attacks – everything you can think of. Except…" Maddie trailed off, frowning as she mused her theory over in her head one more time. "Except, these files don't look like they're solely on this evil Phantom…"

Jack's eyes widened as he caught on. "They're files on if our Danny goes dark," he finished, looking over the data with new understanding. Jack let out a low whistle as he watched Maddie scroll through a list of powers his son currently held and a possible counter for each one. "He's really worried about this, huh?"

Maddie nodded, frowning as she looked down at her notes. "The only problem is that our tech reacts to Danny's ecto-signature in some way. There's nothing in these files saying that they have different ecto-signatures. So how do we create weapons to defeat this ghost if they also target Danny? Or a ghost shield?" She rubbed her head in her hands. "How can we help him if he believes the only way how is to hurt him?"

Jack rubbed his wife's back soothingly. "First of all, Danny doesn't think we're going to hurt him," Jack reassured confidently. "He wouldn't have given us this file if there wasn't a threat. Second, the ghost we're up against is half Danny – or a version of him at any rate. Even if he's worried about turning evil, he's probably the best one to judge what will work against that ghost." Jack paused for a second, taking in everything he just said. "Mads, that's it! The Ecto-Signature!"

Maddie turned to her husband in confusion, before her eyes lit up in understanding. "He's half of Danny! Meaning that the other half will affect his ecto-signature! All we have to do is find out which ghost is the other half!" She flipped through her notes quickly. "Danny said Dan had some fire attacks, which must be what he's referring to here." She pointed at the screen under heat attacks. She frowned as she noticed a small acronym. "What does 'CH' mean?"

"It could be anything really. Unit of measure for ecto-energy? Core Heat perhaps? Personally, I think of cheese but maybe I'm just hungry."

Maddie tensed, a memory of Danny calling Vlad a 'Cheesehead' running across her mind. Making a note to inquire later, she relaxed slightly and nodded to her husband. "Let's just ask Danny, hmm?" she said, picking up the coffee and taking a sip. Looking at the clock, she frowned slightly as she noticed the time. 9:20. "Jack, he should be back by now."

Jack opened his mouth to respond but was cut off. Both hunters jumped as the ghost alarm went off, the shrill beeping intensifying the worry that both parents shared. They jumped into action; Jack typed in the password to disable the alarm as Maddie pulled up the map of the town. "There's a huge spike of ecto-energy above the city!" she cried.

Jack swallowed nervously as he looked at the map. There were 2 dots on the screen, both with high ecto-energy levels, clashing on screen. He stared as both dot collided with each other and rebounded away. "How long?"

"Looks like thirty minutes – give or take." Maddie reached for her cellphone and grimaced as she saw the twenty missed calls between Jazz, Sam and Tucker. Jack didn't miss the look of dread on her face.

"We need –" Jack started before the entire lab was coated with a soft blue light. Both Fentons froze as time halted. The analog clock on the wall continued moving, as if nothing was wrong. The ticking clock continued until it read 9:40 before the blue light washed over them again, resuming. "To go!" Jack finished. As both hunters ran to acquire weapons, the computer let out another shrill beep.

Maddie, frowning in worry, ran over to the screen. "What on earth…" she said, looking at the screen. Not even ten seconds ago, there were two ecto-entities on the screen; now there were four. "Jack!" she called. Maddie watch as three of the dots ganged up on the last one. "Jack, the TV. We need eyes now!"

Sensing her worry, Jack fumbled with the remote and turned the T.V. on. Sure enough, there was coverage of the ghost attack from ground level, but no sight of Danny Phantom. As she combed through the grainy footage, she managed to make out an animal looking ghost with black wings fighting with a larger looking ghost with blue skin and flaming hair. "Where's-" she started worriedly, before the audio crackled and a loud wailing blasted through the speaker of the T.V. Maddie let out a sigh of relief as Danny came into the frame, attacking with his Ghostly Wail. Danny attacked, pushing the enemy up and out of sight. As the larger ghost disappeared, she was brought out of her stupor as Danny fell, hitting the shield hard. "Danny," she whispered worriedly.

"That looks like Ethelwulf," Jack said, pointing to the animal ghost. He then moved his finger to the last small figure on frame, who was dressed in purple. "Who's that?"

Maddie shook her head. "Change in plans, first aid kit. And where did we put the E-Scanner?" As they gathered supplies, Maddie looked back at the T.V. screen again and gasped as the trio of ghosts disappeared. "Where'd they-"

A bright light cut Maddie off as both Fentons shielded their eyes. When the light subsided, they saw Ethelwulf's large wings opening to reveal the ghost in purple holding their son. Not giving anyone time to readjust, Ethelwulf shifted forms to stand on two legs, getting rid on his wings and tail and moved directly to the Fentons. "He's okay," the ghost assured the worried parents. "With some patching up and a little bit of rest, he should be fine."

Both parents stared at the three ghosts as they processed what just happened. Maddie was the first to recover, eyes honing in on Danny's limp form. "Someone care to tell me what the hell is going on here?" she asked angrily. She glared at the quiet ghost currently holding her son. "And who the hell are you!?"

The ghost was unfazed by her anger and just floated closer to the ground. He nodded at Jack, silently beckoning him closer. Jack hesitated for a second before glancing at Danny and hurried forward. He took his son his arms as Danny finally reverted forms, unable to hold out any longer. Maddie's anger disappeared as Danny relaxed into his father's hold, unconscious. "My name is Clockwork," he finally replied serenely. Both Fentons turned to each other in recognition of the name. "As for your second question, that is a rather long story."

Link to Ecto-Storm Series

First/Last

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

The Hangover (Def Leppard x Reader)

(Happy birthday to my blog!! To celebrate 3 years of the place where I concentrate my insane Leppard obsession, I thought I’d celebrate by posting the FIRST Def Leppard fanfic I EVER wrote ((which I have NEVER posted anywhere before!)) I began writing this exactly 3 years ago today- the day I made this blog ((February 19th, 2018))- and officially finished it about a year later. This is not intended as a romantic/sexual fic, it’s simply just an x reader in which the reader is basically one of the guys. In other words, it’s on crack.)

((I am aware this is kind of cringe-worthy at times... but I still like a lot of things about it. While I revised it very slightly before queuing it,  I was still 16 when I started writing this, okay... gimme a break...))

(Illustration by @paper-sxn​)

Words: 8,684 Prompt: Dublin, 1984. You’re with the Leppards in their early pre-Hysteria era house. You all wake up with hangovers after a boozed-up night at home, and you each try to put the pieces of the previous night back together. Meanwhile, you’re praying that one particular piece won’t fit in anywhere... (partially inspired by the “Blitzgiving” and “The Pineapple Incident” episodes of How I Met Your Mother)

-----

Gently piercing white light made its way through the windows of the bedroom. It hit your eyelids, and it hit your brain, igniting a brief but killer headache. As your eyes clasped together more, you turned your face into the gloriously soft pillow. For a second you asked yourself why you would have a headache so early in the morning, but then…

You laughed quietly into the bed, recalling without warning some vague happenings from the night before. There wasn’t much you remembered, but you clearly saw the image of the guys flat out drunk at some point (you along with them). There were some blips of you all singing together, Sav hanging from a door frame, you chugging some scotch, Joe chugging some vodka, Steve’s hair being in pigtails, and you think Phil might’ve been giving you a lap dance... or vice versa. It was, all in all, hysterical (at least- that’s what you wanted to think).

 Other than those faint events, unfortunately, the night was gone. Still, you were thrilled that it happened. Crazy times with your boys were always good.

You rubbed your eyes, ready for more sleep to combat the pounding in your head. When you did, they opened a little, and you realized… this wasn't your room you were in. Squinting around, you noticed that you were sleeping in Phil’s room instead of yours.

Oh, it’s not that much of a problem, you mused, I’m sure he doesn’t mind. I’ve woken up to worse in this place.

You let your eyes close again easily, and you found peace as you began to fall under again. That is, until you felt someone move next to you.

When it happened, you became aware of the warmth coming from someone else in the bed. They only shifted in their sleep a little bit before going still again. Your eyes went wide, and you held your breath. You don’t remember getting into bed with someone (in fact, you don’t remember getting into bed at all). Turning your head, you looked to see what sort of stranger was in bed with you currently. Instead of a stranger, scraggly blonde hair over a kind and shy face met your sight, and you were instantly calmed upon realizing that it was just Steve. That was good, that was good, but why were you and Steve sleeping in Phil’s bed? You were sure you didn’t have sex last night- at least, not with Steve. This tiny moment of appeasement and confusion was cut short by the faint sound of guitar chords coming from downstairs. The music echoed to your ears, signaling that it had to be Phil, and that he was playing the opening to Bringin On the Heartbreak. Cautiously taking the covers off you- not wanting to wake Steve- you felt obliged to go to the other guitarist. When you stood up and began walking, you nearly fell forward from the sudden vertigo of your hangover. You had to hold onto the counter of Phil’s dresser for extra support, and that’s when your reflection in his mirror caught your eye. Not only that, but that’s when your outfit also caught your eye. One of the guys’ Union Jack tank tops had been slipped over you somehow, and two hand prints were on either side of your face in dried paint; one was blue, one was green. "What…?“ you whispered, touching your face and feeling the shirt on you. It seemed to fit you alright, which made you wonder whose it really was. You were also in black underwear, and nothing else. While eyeing yourself, you took notice of Steve in the reflection. You now saw a few big red lipstick stains on his face, untouched and unsmudged. It was pretty cute, you had to admit, but another thing that came to your attention was that it wasn’t you who was wearing the lipstick at the moment. So then who kissed Steve all over his face? You treaded carefully down the hallway, putting one foot in front of the other and dragging a hand on the wall for support. The melody of the distant guitar didn’t cease the whole time you trekked through the house to get to Phil. When the chords of the song dragged on to the part where the vocals should have begun, no vocals came. Everything in the house looked remarkably the same (despite everything you remember from last night). There were large, ripped pieces of cardboard in the middle of the hallway;  scattered out as if leaving a trail. Alongside that, there was a piece of paper labeled “pay 2 the orerr of Rick: one fuckin bendee straw” in what may have been Sav’s handwriting on top of the stairs, and blue paint smudged on the railing going downwards (guaranteeing that whoever did that eventually got to your face, too).

Step by step you descended as the scenery of the house teetered around you (a little too reminiscent of Me & My Wine, you would add). When you reached the bottom of the stairs and looked into the living room, sure enough, Phil was there, strumming away.

“But it’s easy come and easy go…” he hummed.

“You’re…” you mumbled, burped a little, and continued, “Awake. How?” He stopped playing and crossed his arms, quietly sassing you, “Ah, she rises again. You regrettin’ anything yet?” You blinked and rubbed your eyes, scratching a little bit of paint off of your face and inquiring in a scratchy, tired tone, “I guess so… but- how? You, how?” Phil took off his guitar and stood up with his hands in his pockets, “Because I barely drank at all last night, and I also sure as hell didn’t shag Steve in someone else’s bed!” “How do you mean- I didn’t- wait- and Steve- what?” you rubbed your head, getting dizzy, causing Phil to guide you to the couch. “I didn’t- I didn’t shag Steve last night,” you insisted. “Mm hmm,” the guitarist hummed disapprovingly, “Alright.” “What the hell are you on about?” Phil smirked evilly and laughed, “He carried you upstairs, we heard the door close, and then some rather happy noises were heard, so we all just assumed-!” “That’s not-” you swallowed and lay your head back on the couch, “-a valid assumption.” “Oh, you poor thing,” came the sarcastic remark, “You really don’t remember, do you?” “Well I figured if I ever fucked any one of you I would- you know- remember it!” you raised your voice at him, then rubbed your temples. “I’m touched, really. But I’ll fill you in a bit,” Phil yanked up his guitar he’d put down, placed himself next to you, and played the into to “Ballroom Blitz”. Then a bit of the night came back to you. “Oh... that’s what started it all, didn’t it?”

~The night before~ Rick began banging out a tune on his drum kit in the house with you, Sav, and Steve sitting close by, them being at the ready with their guitars. “You ready, Steve?” you mimicked the original lyrics. “Uh-huh,” he replied exactly like Steve Priest in the original song. “Savy?” you said next. “Yeah,” Sav bopped his head to the beat. “Rick?” “Okay.” “Alright, fellas,” you called out, “Let’s go!” The two guitarists let their instruments ring out around the house, playing the all-too-familar tune. As soon as they started this, the front door opened, and none other than Phil and Joe walked in. Joe was holding a bag that was weighed down by the mass inside it (a painfully obvious sign that there were a few bottles of booze). Although the two of them weren’t talking, they were physically hushed upon hearing the situation you and the others had created. “Oh life’s been getting so hard, living with the things you do to me…” you sang lowly and quietly along with the music being made, just to make sure the musicians knew their places. You noticed Phil run out of the room in excitement, and into the one where he keeps his guitars. Joe, on the other hand, stayed put and watched the rest of you from afar, fighting a smile. “My dreams are getting so strange, I’d like to tell you everything I see…” You stood up, and Joe began walking towards you when you called out the next line of the song, “Oh- I see a man in the back, as a matter of fact, his eyes are as red as a sun!” Joe chimed in without warning at the next line, putting an arm on your shoulder and pointing at you, “And the girl in the corner, let no one ignore her, ‘cos she thinks she’s the passionate one!” *** “It’s, it’s a ballroom blitz, it's, it's a ballroom blitz,” Phil sang the ending teasingly to you when he put his guitar back. It felt like he was rubbing his energy in your face (since you lacked it). Before Phil could continue, Joe suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Yeah! It’s a ballroom blitz!” he announced, throwing his arms into the air and taking a bow. He sounded a bit tipsy still. Joe was wearing his Union Jack shorts, but no shirt. Instead of a shirt, though, he had the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” sloppily painted across his chest in blue and green paint. Right over his nipples there were also two handprints, almost exactly matching the ones on your face. Joe stumbled in the doorway, falling to his knees and groaning in discomfort, “Ohh... probably should’ve stayed in bed.” Phil sluggishly trekked over to the singer and pulled him partially to his feet, yanking him towards the couch, “Oh yeah? And by ‘bed’, you mean-?” “Definitely not the bathtub.” Joe assured him, but winked at you. “No matter where you slept, it’s still not as bad as where she slept,” Phil pointed at you, “And what she did there.” “Why? What’d you do?” Joe’s tipsiness wore away in his sentence, making him sound genuinely concerned and curious. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly what Phil was going to say, “Phil, I-” “It’s not what she did, it’s who she did- she shagged Steve in my bed!” the guitarist accused you again while pointing a finger. Immediately Joe exclaimed, “Nice!” and held up a hand to high-five you. “Joe!” you scolded him, surprised that he took this as good news. “Oh-uh, not… nice?” he took away the offer of a high-five and scratched the back of his head awkwardly instead, “Also, is that my shirt?” You took a look down at the Union Jack tank top you were wearing and back at Joe’s torso. Then something clicked in your head. “Ohh…” you continued staring at Joe’s chest, feeling yourself blush as old memories unraveled in your head, “I think... I think I remember something else that happened last night.” *** You were all drunk; it was no lie. After your quick jam session, there was a booze-filled music fest going on in the house. Joe had even put on his Union Jack outfit, pretending he was getting ready for a show. At one particular point of this “festival” you'd all created, records were being played, and you ended up dancing in front of Joe to REO Speedwagon’s “Take It On the Run”. “You’re bringing up your white lines, you’re pullin’ on a bedroom eyes, you say you’re going home, but I won’t say when,” you sang the wrong lyrics as you swayed and drunkingly made flirty faces at Joe on the couch. Sav, meanwhile, was playing with some old craft paint off in the corner. The blue and green substances were all over his hands (but somehow, one color managed to stay on each hand). “Yeah, you dance for him, Y/N!” Rick cheered you on from the kitchen as Steve and Phil sat on the couch. Phil was perfectly sober, and Steve was giggling and laying with his head on Phil’s lap. You, on the other hand, were now moving closer to the singer, almost like you were giving him a lap dance. “You take it on the run, baby,” you sang along, slowly taking Joe’s Union Jack tank top off of him (with no objections from below), “If that’s the way you wanna, baby...” In return to Joe being shirtless, you slowly took off your own shirt (triggering wolf-whistles and cheers from the guys) to replace it with Joe’s tank. “Sav, mark him up!” you ordered the painted bassist in the corner as you tried to dress yourself. He happily made his way over to you and questioned, “What should I mark him with?” A single hazy idea came to you, and you eagerly whispered it into Sav’s ear. He giggled in response, and proceeded to move over to Joe, drawing something on his chest in the paint. To keep Joe from looking at what it was, you went behind the chair and covered his eyes, ordering coyly, “No peeking!” “All done!” Sav announced and retreated back to whatever he was doing in the corner. “Now, wait, Sav!” you sped over to him, lifted his hands up, and double high-fived him, getting the paint on your hands as well. To finish off what Sav had started, you ran back over to Joe on the chair, and slapped your hands on his chest, right over his nipples. Laughter erupted from everyone in the room (including Joe) and you repeated Sav’s words. “All done!” Joe gazed down at the words “PROPERTY OF DEF LEPPARD” on his chest as you continued to dance to the song playing. “You’re mine, now! You take it on the run, baby... if that’s the way you want it, baby...” Joe tried to tell you in a sexy voice, “Am I your baby now?” “If that’s the way you want it baby,” you repeated the words from the song to him, “Now I’m done dancing for you! Somebody dance for me!” Steve began pointing at everyone individually, childishly suggesting, “It should be, eenie, meenie, miney, Phil!” “Why me?” Phil laughed in objection as you took a seat across the room. “Because you’re not wasted,” his terror twin argued, poking him on the nose. The sober guitarist looked over at you with happy anticipation, awaiting a comment, while all you did was wiggle your fingers at him with a goofy grin. After that, you returned the gesture to the man on his lap, giving Steve a sexy wink. *** “Oh my god...” you put your head in your hands shamefully as Phil and Joe giggled at the memory of the previous night, “I can’t believe I did all that...” “That was a treat!” Phil laughed, hugging you from the side and pulling you closer to him in consolation, “It was funny! We never get to see that side of you!” “There’s a certain reason why you don’t...” you moaned with embarrassment, then asked out of guilty curiosity, “How many times did I grab your ass during that lap dance...?" Phil thought for a bit before telling you, “Four. Well- four and a half...” You gave a loud groan of protest as Joe laughed and slumped back into the couch. “Oh, you only did those things because you weren’t thinking!” Phil consoled you, swayed back and forth with you in his arms. Joe chimed in, “Yeah, and see what happens when you don’t think? You do! Most importantly, you do Steve!” “I didn't do Steve!” you shot your head up and yelled at Joe. You received only laughs and snorts from both men in reply. Suddenly, Sav appeared on the staircase and began singing “Squeeze Box” by The Who with a tired yet cheeky smirk, “Mama’s got a squeeze box she wears on her chest, and when Stephen comes home, he never gets no rest-” Joe and Phil joined into his song with, “Cos' she’s playin’ all night, and the music’s alright! Mama’s got a squeeze box, Stephen never sleeps at night!” You just put your head back in your hands, trying not to accept your fate of being teased. You didn’t want to think that you possibly shagged Steve. He always seemed so innocent to you in a way, and you feared that this would kill your friendship. If everything the boys said was true, you would never hear the end of it, and you don’t even know what Steve would think of you from now on. Was it possible that he remembered anything about the night before? “It didn’t happen, it didn’t happen...” you repeated to yourself in a whisper as Phil unwrapped his arms from you. Sav came all the way down the stairs; his body language making him look grumpy with the world, but his tired grin signaling that he was pleased with seeing you. “Oh, it happened, sunshine!” the frizzy-haired bassist laughed, but quickly regretted it and rubbed his head with his still-painted hands, “Ah- yep, it happened. You could probably hear you two up the whole damn street.” As Sav wearily joined you all on the couch, Joe complained, “Sounds like that was a treat; I wish I remembered it!” Phil was caught off guard at the comment. His head turned to Joe in the blink of an eye and gasped, “Wait, you don’t remember hearing them?!” “I wish I could say I do, but there’s nothing there,” Joe stood up after he spoke, and quickly held onto the wall nearby. His hand went over his stomach as he whined, “Oh... fuck, Y/N, why did you make me race you last night?" “'Race me'?” you squinted as you inquired, “Race you with what?” Joe didn’t answer, but slowly took steps into the kitchen, using the wall as his guide. His answer came when you, Sav, and Phil all heard him throw up into the sink. You sighed, resting your hands over your eyes, trying to remember the cause of Joe’s sickness, “Oh no, was that really my idea?” *** “Look what I found!” you trotted into the room tipsily, holding two bottles; one of scotch, one of vodka, “Only half full! Who wants em?” While you weren’t full-on drunk, it was no secret that the title wasn’t that far away. After your little Ballroom Blitz, it was one beer after the next, then it was digging into the fancy liquors that Phil and Joe had just brought home. Your judgment was impaired, no doubt about it, and so was the judgment of all the guys. Joe even changed into his normal live-show-only Union Jack tank top, claiming that he was gonna "put on a show." The only one who was still sane and sober was Phil, who seemed to be staying away from your poison. Upon registering your sacred offer of alcohol, Rick ran forward, chanting, “Me! Me!” You lifted the bottles away from him, commanding, “Uh-uh! I get the scotch.” “Oh, bollocks, then you can keep the vodka,” the young drummer grumbled and turned away from you. Just as Rick rejected your offering, Joe sprung up and eagerly trotted over while shouting happily, “I’ll take it!” “Sold!” you handed the bottle over to him, “Betcha can’t finish before me!” “Betcha I can!” he sneered back before taking the cap off his bottle. There was no official “ready, set, go” for the race; you both just kind of went for it without any saying. While your throat and stomach were already protesting your actions (and you could almost sense that Joe’s were doing the same), you didn’t stop once; neither of you did. You held up your bottle and announced, “Done!” Looking over, you saw Joe was also finished. “I finished first!” “Nuh-uh!” you insisted, “It had to be me! Tell him, guys!” The four others hadn’t been paying attention to you and Joe’s little competition; they were instead focused on a box that Sav had pulled out from a cupboard. From the box they pulled out bottles of paint and various types of used makeup.

Joe scolded them all in a more sober manner, “Oh come on, you lot weren’t even watching!” “Yeah, yeah, it was probably a tie, anyways,” Rick chuckled, pulling out more items from the box. “This box is much more interesting, too," Phil protested, holding up a stick of lipstick as Sav held up two bottles of paint, "This is a box of makeup that I had for me and the lads in Girl! Just look at it all! Think we can have some fun with this?" "Oh, piss off," you threw the empty bottle onto the couch, "We need some music." Joe had slumped down onto a chair, and you stumbled your way over to the shelf with all the records on it, flipping through and eyeing them all as carefully as your body would let you. After only a few seconds of searching, your eyes lit up at a discovery. "Here's a good one!" you exclaimed as you pulled out a copy of Hi Infidelityby REO Speedwagon, "Let's give it a spin!" ***

Joe wandered back into the room and fell onto the empty couch with a grumble. “Sorry, Joe...” you muttered over to him, realizing that you pressured him into more consumption of the booze. “It was probably gonna happen anyway...” he admitted, wiping his hands over his face, “It’s was my stupid choice to go through with it.” “Woah,” Phil pointed out out of nowhere, looking at you with great surprise, “What’s that on your neck?” You felt your heart drop into your stomach. “What!?” you shot up from where you sat (bringing on more dizziness), and rushed over to a mirror. Once your dizziness subsided, and you could finally see your reflection, the pink shape of a hickey on the side of your neck was now clearly conspicuous. You wondered how you hadn't noticed it before. Joe exclaimed with a smug and proud grin, “Is that from Steve!?” You groaned angrily, feeling yourself become more and more defeated. “I can’t believe it,” you gasped, slapping a hand over the mark, “Something did happen between us-!” “Y/N,” Phil pointed out again, “There’s lipstick on your thigh...” Looking down at your legs, you saw that he was right. There was a single red symbol on your right thigh that marked a kiss from the night before. Upon seeing this, what you saw when you woke up popped into your head. “Looks like Steve went to town down there,” Sav smirked at you, only wanting to rub it in more. “Guys,” you softly noted, “That wasn’t Steve... he has lipstick marks all over his face from someone else...” The three men all exchanged confused looks with each other. There was a dead end to the story of the previous night. None of them knew how to solve the mystery of the lipstick. Not even Phil, who was as good as sober 12 hours ago, didn’t have any input. Sav suddenly blurted out, “Wait a minute, I know what happened- I think...” No one said anything, but eagerly leaned forward, ready to hear the tale the bassist had to tell. “You lot remember how we found that box of old makeup last night?” he began, “Well, I walked into the bathroom with you afterwards, Y/N...” *** Rick looked at himself in the mirror in the bathroom, carefully applying the makeup to his lips, and being extra careful to not get it on the blazer he was wearing. The drummer put on his best suit just to see how it would look with the makeup he was putting on. He thought he was doing a good job for the most part; he didn’t look half bad at all! It was far easier than he expected it to be, and wondered if he was good enough to help you with your makeup at times. Thinking of you seemed to have made you appear in the doorway next to him. Both of your hands were still covered in paint. “Sink,” was all you commanded of the drummer. He moved without a word and you began to wash your hands. At the same instant, Sav appeared nearby. He grabbed the doorframe and began to swing from it, leaving conspicuous handprints afterwards. “Aren’t you gonna wash up, too?” Rick crossed his arms to sass him. “Nah, I want the colors, they’re makin’ me feel- colorful...” Sav grinned, walking over to you at the sink, requesting, “C’mere.” You looked up, only to have your face taken in Sav’s paint-covered hands. He softly giggled as you squared your vision in on him with a sneer. “Rude,” you teased, then went back to washing your hands; paint now all over your face. “What’s really rude,” Rick pulled back the shower curtain and taking a step into the tub, “Is you two interrupting my makeup time! Good night!” He sat himself down in the tub and laid himself down as if he was going to sleep.

Before he had the chance to catch some shut-eye, you marched over to the tub and objected, “Rick, if you’re gonna sleep, I want a goodnight kiss first.” Without another word, Rick sat up and planted a kiss on your thigh (since it was closest to him). There was now a bright red imprint of his lips on your leg. “Thank you.” you smiled down at him, “Now goodnight.” “Don’t leave the water on, you hear?” Sav nagged him, pointing a colored finger, “You’ll drown." Rick chuckled with his eyes closed, “I’ll drink myself out. I'm in a drinkin mood, anyways." “Oh yeah? You haven’t got a straw or anything,” the intoxicated bassist continued to argue with him. “Then don’t let me drown! Get one!" “I’ll get you one later. I’ll just-“ Sav burped, and continued, “I’ll write a note or something.” “Sounds good, mate,” Rick slumped further into the tub and pulled the curtain closed, “Now you gonna stay here all night?” “Actually,” you noted out loud to yourself, different alcoholic emotions boiling up inside you, “I wanna go downstairs- I just need to see Steve- like right now...!" You turned on your heels, speeding past Sav and flying back down the stairs. *** “So that explains the paint on my face, and the paper in the hallway, and the lipstick, but what happened after that?” you asked Sav, as you were now slumped on top of Phil’s arm again. “Beats me,” Sav ran his still-painted hands through his hair, “That’s all I’ve got.” “But wait, if you said that Rick fell asleep in the bathtub...” Phil began his sentence, only for you and the other two men to exchange knowing looks with each other. All four of you immediately sprung up and rushed (as much as you could) up the stairs and into the bathroom. Upon getting there, Phil flung back the shower curtain to reveal a partially awake Rick, dressed in a suit, and still wearing the lipstick from the night before. “Mornin’,” he groaned as he stretched, then winced, “Ah, fuck- sleeping in here wasn’t the best idea for me neck.” Sav looked back at the paint on the doorframe and asked the drummer, “So then why did you sleep in here?” “Oh,” Rick looked around the tub, stating as-a-matter-of-factly, “The porcelain keeps the suit from wrinkling. I guess drunk me was very careful last night.” “I’ll say,” Joe complemented, “The lipstick’s still holding up pretty well.” Phil halted the conversation, “Wait, so you were in here when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night?” Rick chuckled, “Yeah, and let me tell you, for a smaller guy, you’ve got a big bladder.” “Wait,” you slowly turned and pointed at Joe, “I thought you said you slept in the bathtub-?” He gave you a cocky smirk in return, “I told you, ‘definitely not the bathtub’...” Rick sleepily laughed and pointed at you, “Ha- Y/N, you look like Joe!” “Why, just because of the shirt?” you inquired, pointing at Joe’s tank top on you. “And the paint!” Rick corrected you, “I can’t believe you guys didn’t wash it off yet!” In a second, you felt a rush of worry upon realizing that Rick hadn’t said anything about you and Steve yet. It made you suddenly come to the possible conclusion that he may not know about it all. “Wait,” Phil snapped his fingers, “So you do remember some stuff from last night?” “Yeah, a bit, I think. Why?” “Philip Kenneth Collen, don’t you fucking dare....” you growled at him in an almost pleading manner, rubbing your temples and grinding your teeth. “What do you remember?” Phil asked him, not giving any sort of reaction to your begging. Rick thought for a few seconds, clearly as hungover as the rest of you. It didn’t take him long to list off some brief happenings he recalled. “Well, I remember us singing Sweet, there was a lap dance, I remember- uh, being denied a bottle of scotch, there was, uh... there was lipstick... and did I try to ice-skate on pieces of cardboard down the hall...?” “Is that why there’s cardboard all down the hallway?” you motioned towards the door. Rick gave you a big proud smile and a nod in response. “So...” Joe looked around, definitely looking eager, “What’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep?” Rick rested his head back on the tub again, thinking as hard as his hungover mind would let him. You hoped to every god there was that he didn’t say anything about Steve. “Just Phil comin’ in here and having a long piss, that’s all.” came the verdict. “You sure you didn’t hear-“ Phil anxiously began to ask him, but got a hand slapped over his mouth by you. “No!” you yelled on impulse, sending more daggers through your burned-out head. All eyes were now on you, and silence fell. For a few tense seconds, you stared into Phil’s eyes, sending him visual messages of both threats and desperate requests. “...what the hell happened last night?” Rick broke the silence in a tone of utter confusion, knowing that something more serious than what he remembered had taken place. You pulled your hand back from Phil’s face, “Yuck, Phil, come on!” “You licked her hand, didn’t you?” asked Sav. “Yes,” Phil confirmed, and continued without missing a beat, “And I’m glad you asked that, Rick, cos' I know what happened after Y/N and Sav paid you a visit last night.” “Phil, if you love me in any way, shape, or form, you will not tell Rick what happened,” you begged to him as you began to walk out the bathroom door, heading back downstairs to wallow in more of your shameful hangover, “I refuse to believe it happened until there’s hard proof.” “Well what more proof do you want? A positive pregnancy test?” Phil shrugged, but suddenly slapped his own hand over his mouth, realizing what he’d just said. You shot him an angry look. You were too tired to have it out with him, so you stumbled away. Right about now, you were ready to give up and accept the fact that you probably did shag Steve. Phil turned to Rick, gaping, and slowly began to speak again, "Right... so last night, after those two were in here, I think that’s when they came back downstairs..." *** "So why are you tying up my hair again?" a drunk Steve asked Phil, who was happily putting his hair into pigtails. "Because I knew you’d look pretty, and I knew you wouldn't object, either," the other guitarist laughed evilly as he finished tying the second bundle of golden locks together, "There, you're all done now." "Cool... I think," Steve tilted his head, staring at himself in the mirror on the wall as footsteps began pounding their way down the stairs. "I think you look pretty, Steve. Pretty, pretty, pretty," Joe giggled as he was flipped off by the pig-tailed guitarist. As this happened, you trampled the stairs in your descent, calling out, “Steve- Steve! Come here!” More than happy to be ripped away from Phil’s pigtailed plans, he let you run up to him as you belted out, “I’ve got an idea...!” He didn’t say anything, but he did let you whisper something in his ear. The second he heard your idea, his eyes lit up and an evil smirk crossed his face. Steve was always in the mood for causing terror. You pulled back and exchanged the same look of understanding with the guitarist. He stared at you with a sort of appreciation, and without another word, swept you off your feet, carrying you bridal style now. With a quick smooch to your lips, he began carrying you up the stairs as you giggled with some sort of glee. Phil’s jaw dropped, looking at Joe with astonishment in the process. The singer’s face mirrored the exact same expression. “I should’ve bloody known...” Phil gasped in astonishment, “She’s been eyeing him up real funny all night... I can’t fucking believe it!” Sav came down the stairs slowly, his life depending on the railing as he dragged his hand on it. He left a long streak of blue paint as he did so. “What’s gotten into their pants?” “Each other, apparently,” Joe scoffed, taking a sip of a beer he found, “Lord knows how the hell that happened.” *** You were all sitting back on the couches in the living room, all seemingly regretting the night before (you knew you most certainly were). Everyone knew that the end of Phil’s story was the true ending of the night. Now there was really a dead end to the whole tale. “I can’t believe it,” you whispered with sorrowful acceptance, “Me and Steve...? What happened next?” Joe scoffed, “Well that’s kind of a stupid question.” “That’s where it ends, Y/N. I went up to bed afterwards, only to hear-“ Phil cleared his throat to impersonate you and Steve, “‘Oh, Steve! Yes!’ coming from my room! So after an immense helping of disapproval, I slept in Rick’s room.” “No, no, that can’t be it!” you insisted, “Guys, what really happened next?” “Can’t say,” Joe mumbled, holding his head. “Sorry, mate,” Rick apologized. Sav remained silent, but looked apologetic. “That can’t be where it ends...!” you persisted, “Sav? Tell me I’m right!” Sav rolled in his lips, and darted his eyes away from you. You continued to stare at him suspiciously, but no one else thought anything of it. Phil tried to finalize your fate sympathetically, “Give it up, Y/N, at least it’s all over now.” “But it still happened! What am I gonna say to Steve when he wakes up? You know what- no. It didn’t happen, I refuse to believe that it did.” “How much more proof do you want?” Rick shrugged, pointing at Phil and Sav, trying to make you face the terrible truth, “They both heard ya, and Steve even gave you a hickey.” You hung your head, thinking you might just decide to cry out of shame. Yes, you loved Steve, just as you loved anyone else in the band, but you never had (or planned to have) any sort of sexual relationship with them. Even if you ever did, you were afraid it would ruin everything your friendship had stood for. “Sav, what’s wrong, mate?” Joe asked out of the blue. The bassist in question was still avoiding the conversation, staying eerily silent and weaving his hands together. At this point, you noticed that he was also blushing. “That wasn’t Steve.” he stated bluntly, still not looking at you. “What wasn’t Steve?” you asked as you stared at him dead on, your heart now pounding. “That hickey... that wasn’t Steve,” he paused, “That was me.” Immediately you gasped and slapped a hand over the mark on your neck. “What?!” the other three exclaimed. Joe and Rick immediately hissed at the searing pain their outbursts caused. “Sav, what the hell?!” you scolded him, finally happy that you weren’t the only one being called out for their mistakes. “Now before you say anything else,” he finally looked at you and held up a hand, “It was your idea.” Your face fell, softly asking him, “What do you mean?” “Well, after you and Steve-you know- and only Joe and I were downstairs, you actually came back down, too- wipe that smug look off your face, Joe. You’re not entirely innocent here, either.” *** You stumbled down the stairs, giggling to yourself. Your mission was now accomplished, and Steve was asleep upstairs. In a word, you were pleased. In two words, you were still drunk. Records were still being played when you returned to the living room, and Joe currently had his copy of Sheer Heart Attack on the turntable. “She Makes Me (Stormtrooper In Stilettos)”flowed softly from its speakers. “There’s our killer queen!” Joe cooed to you happily. He was now sprawled out on the couch, two empty beer bottles on the floor beside him. Sav wasn’t too far off. The paints on his hands were now dry, and he was reclined in a chair across the room, twiddling a bottle in his hand. They both looked ready for bed, and it made you wonder how they held out for this long. The singer slurred on with an interested smirk, “You two have fun?" Sav spoke up with a scoff-like laugh, “Sure sounded like it!" “Oh, you know it,” you gave them a wink, setting yourself down on the couch next to Joe, “Guess Phil finally ditched, huh?” “Yeah, the wanker went to bed- but you’ve lost your pants!” he gestured to your black underwear, made room for you to lay down with him, and took you in his arms like a teddy bear with a sigh of appeasement. You reached back and playfully poked at Joe’s dimple, “Steve's fault." “Well, that’s no good,” Sav objected, pushing the footrest of the chair in and returning to a sitting position. “What isn’t?” Joe asked him, "Steve gettin' into it with her?" “No, that cuddlin' you're doing- it’s boring. You stay like that, you’ll fall asleep on me!” He was certainly right about this. With you in Joe’s arms and his face nuzzling into your hair like some sort of animal, he was already falling asleep. “What do you want us to do?” you chuckled, thinking that Sav was only jealous of his friend. Joe mumbled happily into your hair, “How 'bout you just do me like Steve, and we’ll be good.” At this point, you noticed the feeling of something pressing lightly against the bottom of your back; a certain weight where Joe’s hips were, and a weight that wasn’t there at first. “Joe,” you whined at him, “You’re fucking gross.” He chuckled, then slowly moved his hips to lightly rub himself against you, a low quiet moan rising in his throat from the temporary pleasure it provided. “Ah- Joe!” you protested again, reaching back and hitting him as best as you could. You wiggled out of his embrace as he burst into giggles like he had just accomplished something. Sav, on the other hand, cringed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re even hornier than when you’re sober!” you grabbed a pillow and whacked Joe with it. “You’re one to talk! You just shagged Steve!” he smirked evilly, "Why not me?" “Ha! The only way I’ll do you is by some miracle, or at least a dare,” you threw yourself onto the other couch, picking up a nearly empty beer bottle and pouring whatever was left into your mouth. Sav’s eyes finally lit up, “That’s what we oughta do- truth or dare!” “Ooh, sounds like terrible fun,” you turned yourself so you were sitting upside-down on the couch, “Sav, truth or dare?” “How come he gets to go first?” asked Joe, “I wanna get down to business!” “Dare,” Sav declared, ignoring the singer’s objections. Immediately, your intoxicated mind thought of a scheme. Despite the plan you and Steve had executed ever so perfectly, you were still a child seeking more terror. You knew Joe wanted you, and it was no secret either, so how exactly would you use Sav to reign terror over him? You wanted something to rub in Joe’s face- something that would leave a mark on him. “I dare you to-" you clumsily pointed to your neck, "Gimme a hickey.” Joe's jaw dropped with offense and jealousy; exactly as you had expected. Sav began to laugh rather loudly at the request, and stood up, now understanding your true intention of making Joe jealous. “C’mere,” he motioned with his hand. More than happy to obey the command, you strutted over to him and paused, waiting for him to make the first move. He took a step so your bodies were practically pressing together, moved your hair out of the way on your neck, and dove right in. You smiled with glee, taking in the feeling of Sav’s mouth and tongue moving over your skin (as well as Joe’s groans of protest coming from a few feet away). As the bassist sucked on your neck without hesitation, it only made you think of one thing: “Wow, there’s definitely gonna be a mark after this.” *** Rick and Phil were staring at Sav with their mouths open in shock. You kept a hand over the mark he left on your neck to prevent everyone from looking any more than they already had. “So, wait, if it was you who gave me this, why didn’t you say anything before when we said it was Steve?” you asked Sav, more suspicious than outraged now. “I- ah, didn’t... wanna say anything...” he looked away, beginning to blush again, “I guess I was too embarrassed." “I think the only person who should be embarrassed is you, Joe,” Rick turned his attention back to the singer, “You fuckin dry humped her!” Joe exclaimed in his own defense, “Yeah, and I don’t even remember it! It’s not my fault- I was drunk and horny!” “See! Just like me and Steve! I don’t remember shagging him, either! So I guess we’re even.” “Even Stephen,” Phil scoffed. You slumped into the couch more, staring blankly ahead and realizing, “So I pretty much got to second base with all of you last night...?” “I think you made it all the way home with Steve,” Rick pointed out. “Thanks, Rick,” you kept your head hung, “I feel like a slut.” “You mean you’re not?” Phil joked, only to be hit in the arm by Sav.

Just then, you all heard the sound of movement upstairs. Your heart stopped and your blood ran cold; Steve was awake now. Everyone's jaws hit the floor, and for a second, you thought they were all afraid of what you were fearing. "He's awake..." Rick announced in a sing-song voice, teasing you. “Oh no...” you gasped quietly, “Oh no, oh no! Oh god, what am I gonna do? What am I gonna say to him?!” “Hate to break it to ya, but this isn’t necessarily our problem!” Joe shrugged in a panic, hearing Steve’s footsteps get closer. “But guys! You’ve gotta help me! You’re his best friends! What should I say to him?!” “Just act like it didn’t happen! Maybe he doesn’t remember-?” Sav proposed. Rick suggested, “Just straight up ask him if he remembers anything!” “Just get out of here!” Phil made a swatting motion towards the other room. “None of those are gonna do me any good! It still happened!” you yelled at them in a whisper, “I have to live that with that fact, even if neither of us have any memory of it to live with!” It was too late for any salvation; Steve was already at the top of the stairs. The band members held their breath, and- without words or warning- all scrambled out of the living room. “No!” you whispered, “Guys- wait!” You caught Rick by the wrist when he stood up. “Rick, c’mon, please don’t leave me here!” you begged. He yanked out of your grip and apologetically condemned you, “Sorry, Y/N, but this is your business.” As the four of them retreated, you tried to bolt after them. As soon as you hit the doorway, however, Phil turned around and pushed you back on the couch nearby as slowly as he could. It was so sudden that you were on your back before you knew it, and they were all gone. “Hey!” you called out after them, “Assholes!” Steve’s voice suddenly came to your ears (rather closely, too), “What’s their problem?” You jumped, “Ah- Steve!” He had a silent step, and made it down the stairs and across the room without making a sound. He also looked just as he did a little while ago when you first woke up; scraggly hair, lipstick stains all over his face, but no visible evidence of a hangover. “Hey, wow,” you forced an awkward chuckle at him, “Nice- uh, nice- lipstick...” Steve slumped down onto a chair and grumbled, “Thanks. Who even did this to me? Doesn’t look like it was you.” “That was, that was Rick- I’m assuming... I don’t remember that happening and I don’t think he does, either. He’s still got the lipstick on, too.” He played off the remark with a tired smile, “Oh, nice... last night really was something, wasn’t it?” Heat rushed to your face, and you tried to look away without being conspicuous. “Ha ha... yeah... really something!” you faked your amusement for him, now wondering if he was implying anything about the previous night. Steve leaned forward and asked, “Do you remember Sav and the paint? That was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” Still blushing, you darted your eyes around the room and nodded in agreement, “Mm hmm, yeah... he was like a toddler or something.” He sunk back into the chair again and closed his eyes, reminiscing about the events of the previous night. For a second you thought you were in the clear, and that maybe he didn’t remember the specific event that Phil and Sav did.

That illusion was shattered when his eyes snapped open, whispering “Wait a minute”, and sitting back up. Immediately, your heart dropped into your stomach.

“How did our plan go?” he questioned quietly, figuring that the others were still somewhere nearby and listening. “P-plan?” you stuttered, partially afraid of what he meant, but partially caught off guard, “What plan?” “You know-” he whispered again, thinking you remembered, “It was your idea. Did they believe it? We were convincing enough?" You darted your eyes down to the floor, confused, but also embarrassed. 'Convincing'? What did that mean? "Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t remember!” he smiled playfully. As you stared at him with fearful confusion in your eyes and redness on your cheeks, his smile was suddenly wiped away. He muttered under his breath as his face fell, "Oh... you don't remember... bloody hell, okay, this is gonna be hard to explain..." "Then explain it, because I'm really fucking confused..." your voice wavered with a sarcastic chuckle. Steve sighed and leaned forward, slowly weaving his hands together. He didn't know where to begin. "This is one of the few things I remember from last night..." he started off, "And there's no way to make this sound... good... in any way, but you came up with the idea of us pretending to shag- like making noises and shit like that- to trick the others into thinking we really did. For some reason I thought it was a great idea, and I'm pretty sure I carried you upstairs, too.” Instantly, a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. It wasn't real; you didn't shag Steve, and he could even tell the guys himself! You blew out a big sigh of relief, and slumped back into the couch, closing your eyes. "Oh, god," you slowly panted, "What a huge relief- I suppose we were really convincing, then." "Why d'you say that?" You laughed tiredly, now feeling rather thankful for your raging hangover, "The guys are all convinced that we fucked last night. Only Phil and Sav seem to remember it, though. They've been hounding me about it all morning. I kept telling them it couldn't be true- and I was right!" "What, would it be so bad if we actually did?" he teased you in a hushed voice. "Well, I've had to live my day so far under the impression it did happen. I was teased, ridiculed, embarrassed, and felt guilty about it. I was afraid it'd ruin our friendship if it was true... I was kinda hoping you didn't remember so we could just forget..." The red in your face returned all over again. Steve, however, didn't seem bothered. "If you really want to, we can keep pretending it happened and steer into the act; give em' what they want." "What? No!" you laughed out loud, standing up, "You're crazy, Clark! I think I better go tell the others the bad news. They'll be disappointed-ha!" You walked across the room to go find the others and disclose unto them the "bad news", giving Steve a pat on the shoulder when you passed him. Once you were gone and out of sight, Steve also blew out a big sigh of relief. "She didn't remember anything," he thought to himself, "That was a close one." While he knew you two didn't go all the way the previous night, he figured if you didn't remember it, then it was for the best you didn't find out. It was nothing serious; just a bit of fooling around, really. Just a bit of drunked-up teasing, and nothing more. The guys had no proof that anything actually happened between you two, and you were about to tell them the partial truth anyway, so why say something to reignite the suspicion? After all, they were all hungover to begin with, so there wasn't much memory of the whole affair, either. "Thank god for these hangovers,"Steve thought, "Thank god. I couldnt've asked for anything more." ~Epilogue~ When you got to the top of the stairs, Steve put you on your feet and spun you around. "You ready?" he whispered, childish excitement in his voice. You nodded with equal excitement, "Take me away, Clark." The two of you began eagerly walking hand-in-hand to whatever room you pleased, but before either of you had the chance to pick one, the bathroom door opened, Rick popped his head out and commanded, "Stop right there!" Both you and Steve froze and looked at him. He still had his lipstick and his suit on, and a kind of serious look overtaking his face. A finger was kept in a pointing position at you, a few large pieces of cardboard were underneath his other arm, and he slowly took steps down the hall to meet you. Neither of you moved, but both of you waited. When Rick got to you, he didn't say a word, but did take Steve's face in his hands (dropping the cardboard in the process), and proceeded to the kiss the man all over his face.

Steve remained silent, and let Rick have his way until he decided to stop. When he did, there were several lipstick stains on various parts of the blonde's face.

"Thanks, mate," Steve muttered sarcastically as Rick kicked some of the cardboard pieces in different directions. He then stepped on two of them, trying to slide down the hall on them as if they were ice skates. When he got back to the bathroom, he went back inside and shut the door again.

Without another word, you turned Steve's face toward you, gave him a peck on the cheek as Rick had done, and kicked open the door behind you (which just so happened to be Phil's bedroom). You both fell back into the room, giggling with makeshift lust in your eyes.

After all, you had to make this authentic, right?

[lovelytarou]

just let me adore you

— in which dabi wanted to buy you clothes and see you in only the best cloths there is in the world, the only problem is how you see yourself and he will do anything to prove how much he adores you

pairing: dabi x female!reader

genre: fluff, slight angst if you squint, suggestive

tags: hurt/comfort??, the reader's insecurities (nothing too detailed), negative thoughts, i advise not to read this if you don't want any of that

a/n: i'm so excited to post this that i just can't wait another day!!! also pls give feedback i spent all my love and time in this instead of schoolworks sksksk but really, i hope y'all like this and i'm sorry if i made dabi too soft in this, the fandom needs more soft dabi every once in a while. sorry if i'm putting my inner dabi fuckr in this fic 🤧

“what are you wearing?” dabi asked one night after you emerged from the shower.

you saw him lounging in your shared bedroom, waiting for you as he was scrolling on his phone when you arrived from work. you quickly excused yourself and took a shower with a promise of cuddling with him afterwards.

snaking your arms on his neck, you gave a peck on his cheek and grinned.

“it's one of my old shirts, why?” you frowned, looking down at your clothes.

dabi wrapped his arm on your waist, holding you closer to his body as you sit on his lap. his other hand reached up to your face and tucked your still damp hair behind your ear.

“it looks like shit,” he bluntly admitted while looking in your eyes fondly.

that earned an offended gasp from you as you attempted to wiggle out of his grip but to no avail. dabi may not look like it, but he sure is one muscular guy.

“well, i'm sorry if i don't have such expensive tastes when it comes to casual clothing!” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. the action itself made dabi look down on your breasts and bit his lip.

if only you can see how he sees you right now.

“exactly. you only deserve to wear the finest silk,” his hand travels down your exposed thighs, slightly lifting up the oversized shirt in the process.

“the most exquisite lace that shows off your boobs and your delicious curves,” his voice dropped into a sultry tone, his wandering hands squeezing your sides making you smack him playfully on his chest.

“stop it!” you hid your face on his neck, his jaw resting on the top of your head.

“what? it's true.” he chuckles, kissing your hair.

he brought his index finger under your chin so you can meet his eyes. there is nothing but love and adoration swimming in those beautiful teal irises.

“i love seeing you in fancy clothes, but...” his warm breath that faintly smelled of smoke and mint that makes your head spin fanned your face, his lips ghosting over yours in a gentle dance.

as if the world turned upside down, you're now on your back as dabi towered over you, “you're even gorgeous when naked,”

his lips sealed over yours again and again. that night, he threw your old shirt where it could not be seen anymore and you were more than thankful for it as you spent the entire night making love.

the next few days, dabi made it his mission to buy (read: steal) clothes for you. in the morning after hours of rearranging your guts, dabi basically threw away all of your clothes in the trash and made you wear his shirts. you almost wringed his neck because of that but you let it slide when he told you that he'd replace them with better ones.

back at the league of villains hideout, dabi eyed all of the people gathered around the room. shigaraki's currently holding a meeting for their next attack and here he is, imagining you in the most beautiful outfit he'd get for you.

his teal eyes landed on the back of himiko's blonde head.

heaving a heavy sigh, he kicked toga's seat.

“hey, nutjob” he called lowly, not wanting to get the others' attention.

she scoffed at the nickname before turning her body towards him.

“what is it, staples? do you need something?” she cocked an eyebrow at him, playing with her knife in boredom.

“yeah. you like...cute things, right?” dabi inwardly cringed at his choice of words. never ever in his life did he imagine he would say such things to someone and worst of all, he needed her help.

toga chuckled lightly at him, noticing the small blush on dabi's face.

“oh? what's this all of a sudden? are you taking a liking to me now?” toga's smirk widened upon seeing the latter's growing annoyance.

“in your dreams,” dabi grumbled, “i needed help with something.”

pinching the bridge of his nose, dabi closed his eyes and cursed at himself. after this conversation, his colleague would definitely find something to tease him for. but then again, he's willing to look like a fool if it's for you.

after the boring meeting that lasted for approximately four hours, dabi and toga exited the hideout to raid a few malls.

“i don't understand why you didn't just choose the clothes yourself?” toga hummed, examining a cute top with cat prints on it.

she placed it over her front and modeled it in the mirror before her, posing this way and that. from the corner of her eye, she sees dabi leaning against the wall, arms crossed with a bored look on his face.

“don't you think i wouldn't ask for your help if i can do that?” dabi rolled his eyes in exhaustion, this is taking too much time. the two of them have been in twenty shops already and raided five malls in only half a day.

toga poked her tongue at him and clutched the cute top along with the other clothing. she pushed them all into dabi's arms, making him drop most of it on the floor.

she suddenly stopped and gasped as they exited the store, the neon pink lights reflecting on her eyes as she squealed in delight.

without warning, toga dragged dabi into the lingerie store.

upon entering, the cashier immediately cowered under the counter as the two villains surveyed the place. the person was about to reach for the telephone when toga stabbed the glass counter near their hand.

“don't even think about it,” she grinned down at them menacingly.

dabi ignored them as he looked around. it's filled with many lingeries that he doesn't know which one to look at first. there is no doubt that anyone would love to see their lover dressed in those promiscuous outfits.

his thoughts immediately wandered over to you, dressed in black lace set, writhing under him and making pretty noises just for him.

before his lewd thoughts could wander, he called toga over and nodded his head at the item of clothing he's been eyeing.

“i want that one.”

the first thing you noticed upon coming home was that it's empty. the mugs that was left in the sink that morning was still where you last saw them, the unfolded laundry is still in the basket, and the television in the living room is off.

dabi must not be home yet.

you let a small frown form on your face. you had expected to come home to your beloved boyfriend and welcome you with open arms and kisses.

today wasn't the best of days, to say the least. the series of bad things after another drove you mad and all you wanted was to go home and be wrapped in your lover's hug as if the two of you are the only people in the world that exists.

taking your shoes off, you padded towards your shared bedroom and slowly took off your work clothes and sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

rubbing your arms, you caught sight of yourself in the body length mirror at the corner.

your gaze lingered for a long while, eyeing every expanse of skin exposed. you chewed on your lip anxiously as you made your way to the mirror.

your mind was clouded with negative thoughts and jabs at yourself. this is the reason why you hated being alone, you are left with nothing but hate at yourself and there's nobody to pull you out of it. you are suffering by yourself and having to push through it.

slowly, you unwrapped your arms from your sides and stared at the body in front of you. staring from head to toe, listing each thing that you find a flaw, an insecurity, an imperfection.

what did dabi see in you?

you don't have the most attractive body that rivalled any pro-hero's, or a killer charisma, a beautiful face that could take anyone's breath away, your skin isn't as clear as the ones the models in tv and magazines have, you have a lot of scars from childhood and growing up, there are uneven skin color, a wound, and your hair isn't as pretty as other girls'.

so, why? why did dabi stayed? why did he, a handsome, powerful, strong, smart man, asked you to be his girlfriend when he could have anyone he wanted in the world that is much better than you?

tears streamed down your face as your body was wracked with sobs. slowly sliding down to the floor, you clutched your chest as you felt an excruciating agony. repeating over and over in your head why dabi doesn't love you.

through your tears and cry of pain, you didn't hear the door open and close. nor the sound of your boyfriend's voice calling to you or the door to the bedroom opening and the sound of numerous shopping bags falling to the ground as dabi takes hurried steps towards you, who is reduced to a ball of sadness on the floor.

“baby? what's wrong? why are you crying?” he didn't get too close to you at first, expecting you might not want any sort of contact at your moment of vulnerability and decided to ask you instead.

you're still trembling as small sobs leave your lips.

you gasped, shocked to hear that he's home as you quickly sat up and sloppily wiped your tears with your hands and arms.

“d-dabi! you're home!” you sniffled, doing your best to look alright although it's futile since he has already seen you crying your eyes out.

your boyfriend can only look at you with concern filling his eyes. he hovered his hand in midair between the two of you as he looked at your eyes intently. you answered him wordlessly by leaning towards his touch.

it evoked a sigh of relief from your lips as you felt his charred and normal skin, clutching his arm like your life depended on it. and maybe at that moment, it did.

he's relieved to know that he's not who you were upset about, but it didn't lessen his worry.

dabi leaned down to kiss your temple, his lips lingering there as he brought your face close to his chest.

“tell me what's got my baby so upset,” he mumbled against the skin. hearing the deep rumble of his voice against his chest calmed you down a bit.

you closed your eyes as you exhaled, surrounding yourself with dabi. his scent, his touch, the feeling of his heart beating against your ear, his lulling voice pulling you out of your waning thoughts.

“it's...stupid,” you laughed breathily, shaking your head.

“nothing about you is stupid, angel.” he immediately rebutted, pinching your waist.

you hid your face in his chest, not wanting him to see you like this. vulnerable and weak.

“i-i was just having a bad day, and all i want was to come home to you and...” you paused, your thoughts suddenly coming back to you. you fought a sob that threatened to spill from your lips, biting it down.

“i don't understand what you see in me,” you whispered, voice cracking at the end.

he shushed you softly, stroking your hair and rubbing your lower back in circles.

never in his life had he seen you so down. you seemed like the type of person who always got their shit together. like nothing wrong ever happens in their life. he'll look at you and all he sees is this amazing woman who loves to smile and bring happiness in his miserable life.

he admits that he may not be the best boyfriend in the world, but damn it if he didn't even make you happy every second of every day of your life like you did in his.

seeing you so upset makes him want to go out there and find whatever that will make you smile again.

“i'm sorry i'm not home to comfort you, baby. but i'm here now, okay? i don't like seeing you cry, pretty girl.” he muttered, facing your head up to him as he pecked your tears away.

you softly giggled at the nickname.

“you wanna know what i saw in you?” he asked, and you nodded your head at him.

his lips fluttered over your forehead, giving you a kiss there, “you're the most amazing person i've ever met–” another kiss on your nose, “the most beautiful, sweet, caring–” a kiss on your eyelids, the apples of your cheeks, “you're so fucking hot and kind that i didn't know what i did in my fucked up life to deserve you.”

he cupped both of your cheeks in his hands and made you look into his eyes. there's still the same adoration and love in them, it made your heart swell with many emotions just for him. only he can make your heart beat wildly inside your chest.

not letting him say another word, you surged forward and crashed your lips to his in a deep, passionate kiss. a few tears escaped, but this time it's because of happiness and the overwhelming love he have for you.

you were both panting when you pulled away, grinning stupidly as your foreheads touch, staring lovingly into each other's eyes.

“i love you, d'you know that?” you breathed out, pecking his lips once more.

“yeah, i know.” dabi smirked, wrapping his arms around you and picking you up. your legs wrapped around his slim waist in return.

he threw the both of you on the bed, you on his lap as he stared up at you with a lovestruck look in his eyes.

“say it back!” you whined, pouting playfully at him.

he pecked your lips this time and tugged softly on your bottom lip, making you moan.

slowly, you felt him lower you down on the mattress as he placed open-mouthed kisses from your jaw to your neck. the fire ignited inside your core as you gripped his biceps, the way his lips are doing things to you, you can't help but just lay there accept all he had to offer.

“mmm, i love you, too. but i wanted to show you how much instead,” he whispered lowly in your ear before biting at your sweet spot and creating a mark for everyone to see.

his lips traveled lower to where you needed him the most, gripping his hair as you sang beautiful songs for him.

“y/n! are you done, yet?” dabi asked for the umpteenth time that day as he waited for you to come out of your shared bedroom.

you both decided to go on a date and it's been two hours since you told him that you're ‘almost done’. he's been waiting patiently for you, knowing that you'd come out of that room and take his breath away. hell, you can wear the dirtiest rags and he'd still think you're the most beautiful girl he has ever seen.

“just one sec!” you called out from inside.

he couldn't help but groan in annoyance, his patience wearing thin.

he glanced at the time on his phone.

how long are you gonna be in there for?

“babe, i swear if you don't come out of there after five minutes, i'll leave without y-”

he didn't get to finish his words as you came out of the bedroom wearing only the skimpiest, thinnest, and revealing lingerie that left nothing to imagination.

he found himself swallowing his words as his gaze hungrily drank your figure up and down, focusing on every detail, every skin exposed to his eyes.

you decided to tease him, wearing only the lingerie he had ‘bought’ you a few days ago. you were surprised when he did admit he had bought the clothes for you. when asked when he got the money from, he only said that he stole it from some ‘abusive bastard's credit card’.

you shyly standing there wearing a sexy outfit did nothing to his raging problem. within seconds, he stood in front of you, staring at you like you were some sort of goddess that graced the earth and he'd happily kiss the ground you walk on.

“did you...like it?” you hesitantly asked, looking up at him as you played with the ribbons of the lace hugging your body.

his pupils dilated, eyes darkening with want and he picked you up as you squealed in surprise, carrying you back to the bedroom.

“that's it, the date can wait another day.”

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Paw Prints

Pt 5

Werewolf! Dabi x Fem Reader. Quirkless AU

Reader finds a helpless boy in the woods and discovers hes a werewolf, you decide to take care of him and help him grow. But as he gets older & matures,strange feelings grow too.

W! Mentions of breeding/stepcest

Tags. @babayaga67 @marvelousbakugou @dumdumsquad @celesterdzc18 @jparra4587

“Ill give you your puppies, Dabi” it brought a fangy smile to his face. Dabi pressed you on the wall taking you in and sniffing your neck making sure his scent was there. He was relieved he did not have to force you, he did not want to do that. You tried to stay calm and take in the situation; Dabi, your adopted werewolf pup.. Wanted to put puppies in you. It seemed like only yesterday he was running around the apartment begging you to take him for a walk.. His little hair clip on his hair so he could see.. His box bed… it was all gone now. This was your son now, an adult werewolf needing to breed and start a pack.

“Dabi..” you pressed your hands to his chest pushing him back, he growled moving back to look at you, he blew his hair up and out his eyes. “What?” he spat out just to go back to your neck lickign it this time.

“When...when do you want to leave,,” you shivered under his hot tongue , it was rough against your gentle skin, it felt like it left scratches almost.

“Now” he told you, pulling away to go grab a box and give you a look. “ i found a cabin, it was not empty, but it is now. “

You knew what that meant but you did not dare say anything. “Okay Dabi, do you want me to drive?”

“No, just hurry up, its going to take all day and night to get there” he told you, leaving the apartment with the box. You rubbed your face taking one final look at your home, looking in every room. Memories flashing before your eyes with each room. The night you found Dabi and brought him home, cleaning him up in the tub…. Being woken up by him at 5 in the morning to go running.. The excitement on his face when you dragged that big box into his room.. The blood stains on the kitchen floor you could not get out when he got into the bones. You sighed walking to the door taking one final look back before closing it forever.

*

The car ride was very quiet, no one was really talking and no one wanted to say anything. The radio had some kind of old news station on and it just made things thick between you and Dabi. was he going to be like this forever ? angry and closed off around you? You did not want that. What would happen when you have the puppies? Would he still want you there?

“Dabi..”

“I dont wanna talk” he told you, turning left and getting on the highway.

Slowly you pulled your bag up from the floor to open it revealing a baby book . you opened it up on your lap looking at the pictures instead..

It was an hour before he said anything, when he did he asked about the book. “Whats that?”

“Your babybook” you told him

“Who still has a damn baby book?”

“I had to .. buy it online, they dont exist anymore really but i wanted one for you.”

He leaned on the car door on his free hand while his other steered. “Well whats in it” he asked you , a little annoyed, his tail was swishing though.

“Well.. “ you went back to the beginning. “One of the first pictures is you asleep on the couch, it was the night i found you. You were all cleaned up finally.. “

“Fucks that mean?”

“Dabi you hated baths…” you chuckled a bit “i had to get in with you or you refused. “

“Pfft…”

“You were knocked out on the couch, on your back, one leg dangling off , your tail swishing and a paw on your chest snoring. And you had a pink hair clip in your hair.”

“Excuse me?!” he looked over at a stop light growling and you pointed to the picture.

“You could not see unless i did that. Even now you refuse to let me cut that hair.”

“What's wrong with my hair ?” he ran his claws through it to get it out of his eyes.

Your giggle made him smile a bit. You continued to tell him what was in the book on the ride, at every stop sign and red light he would look over at what picture you were talking about. He saw how happy he was as a puppy and how fast that smile on his face faded when he matured.

“I dont want to see anymore right now,” he told you.

“Okay. can we .. stop soon”

Dabi pulled into a gas station unlocking the door and getting out to lean on the car while you rushed inside to use the restroom. It was about 6 at night and dark, he had his hands shoved in his pockets and was hunched over while he waited.

You had finished up in the restroom and decided to grab some snacks and water for you and Dabi. He was thinking about the pictures trying to figure out when he changed , was it when he turned a certain age? When he got protective of you? Matured? He was not sure. He ran a paw up his tattoo looking up at the night sky taking in a deep breath.

“..” his head turned to the right and the fur on his tail stuck up.

“Dabi? I got us some sna”

“Get in the car.” his fur was growing .

“O-okay.. But whats wrong?”

“Just fucking.. Do what i say ..” he was grinding his teeth and trying to get his fur to go away.

You got in not saying anything but looked out at your son watching him huff and puff. He was snarling and let out a long howl. You saw two golden eyes disappear in the distance and Dabi got in the car speeding off.

“...Dabi…”

“I dont want-”

“Have you ever seen another werewolf before Dabi”

He hit the wheel and pulled over snarling at you. You reached over and grabbed his left ear at the tip and twisted it making him quiet down.

“Stop it. Bad boy.” you told him and he still gave you a angry look. “Have you or not” you asked again.

“..no”

“Okay” you let go of his ear and cupped his face. “ im sorry i had to do that. But this is one thing you cannot charge into. You could get hurt or worse, okay?”

Dabi took in a big breath and leaned into your hands mumbling. “I smelled him, i couldn't figure out what it was till he growled and.. I wanted to kill him, run off and kill him. If you weren't here i would have.”

“I know” you kissed his forehead. “But you cant have puppies if you do that and he kills you. So please.. “

“I know.” he pulled away, getting back on the road not talking.

It had been a couple hours, Dabi was still driving and you were asleep , he had taken his jacket off at some point to put it on you. He was hoping this would go smoothly, but it looks like that wont be happening,

[royivia]

The Neighborhood

Sibyl Campbell wasn’t even mad when she woke up on a hot ass May morning in her room, drenched in sweat. Instead, she bypassed anger and went straight to resignation because the HVAC system in the Robert Moses Houses was broken — again — and she didn’t have the time or the energy to bitch about it. In fact, the heating and cooling stayed shutting off across Groundview Gardens. It had become a predictable kind of disappointment in the neighborhood, more so than flooding during superstorms or the fact that no matter which part of the neighborhood you were in, you could feel the rumbling of the shuttle every seven minutes.

Sibyl had spent all night coughing and turning in her bed from the claustrophobic heat that agitated her asthma. Her mother had already gone to work, otherwise, she would have heard Mildred Campbell yelling in indignant patwa over the phone at an Arcadian Realty & Management representative “to fix the damn AC” before she threatened to call 311 on their ass, and report them to the city. Both Mildred and the AR&M rep knew it was an empty threat, but to shut her up, they’d call someone who’d tinker with the system and the air would come back on for a couple of days or so, before it chipped out. And then, the routine would start again.

Sibyl checked the weather. It was already ninety-five degrees. She took a puff from her inhaler and scrolled through her timeline. The same picture of a little girl with a big bright smile captioned with different variations of “RIP Destiny’’ and prayers for her family flooded her feed. Sibyl forced herself out of bed. The sweat on her body made her feel uncomfortable. She hauled a clunky, old portable air conditioner out from her closet and plugged it into the wall. Management would fine them for the spike in their energy use, but she didn’t care. She pushed the power button on, and waited for the box to cough out some hot air before it eventually cooled the room down from a humid haze to a lackluster lukewarm.

#

SOIL had been trying to meet with AR&M, the neighborhood’s collective management company, about the HVAC problem with little to no success for close to three years. They had circulated petitions. Tried shaming them in the local news. They even considered organizing a rent strike, which would have done nothing because everybody who lived in Groundview Gardens received subsidies from the city that made rent practically free. And as much as people were pissed about freezing their asses off in the winter or not being able to breathe during the summer, nobody was tryna fight free rent. So, SOIL decided to annoy the shit out of their landlords instead. On their way into their coolly ventilated corporate office buildings, occupying their lobbies, picketing in front of their luxury condos, and most effectively, managing to damage one, or two, of their solar-powered generators in the hottest month New York City had ever seen. A few arrests and some pissed off rich people later, management finally agreed to hold a town hall to hear from their tenants, which meant SOIL’s next plan of action was to convince as many people as possible to show up. Nefi Ramos saw it as a challenge that they could surely accomplish. Her neighbors were like camels to water in a desert. They were thirsty, and had learned to go without for as long as they needed to, but lead them to a watering hole, and they would drink.

“It’s too fucking hot,” she shouted into her megaphone. She was standing in front of one of the many large screens around Groundview that cycled between ads for things they couldn’t afford and AR&M’s infamous “neighborhoods of tomorrow” promotional video. Most people just used the screens to check train arrival times and the air quality. The next shuttle was two minutes away, and the air was currently “unsafe for vulnerable groups.”

“Are we just supposed to take this shit?” Nefi asked. “We don’t deserve to live like this.”

Around her, the rest of SOIL handed out cold bottles of water, popsicles, and fruit cups from coolers filled with melting ice, along with flyers to people walking towards the train platform. They walked past the demonstration uninterestedly, only stopping long enough to take a bottle of water. Everyone had gotten used to Nefi shouting at them to care about things beyond their control, and learned to tune her and the rest of her angry SOILders out, taking their flyers every now and then only to chuck them into the nearest trash can. This morning, a few people did stop to listen for a second or two, the heat getting the better of them, before they saw the time flicker on the screen behind her, and realized that they’d be late for work.

Sibyl, her camera always strapped to her body, snapped a few shots of her neighbor. Nefi was like a loud older cousin who wasn’t afraid of a little trouble, or frankly anything. She both awed and terrified Sibyl.

“It’s time for these slumlords to sweat,” Nefi went on. “We need to organize. Our voices are stronger together — ”

“What makes you think anyone gives a shit about what happens to us down here?”

Mr. Solomon had been on his way to the bodega to buy his morning loosie, but stopped to sit in his walker, taking a moment to catch his breath.

“That’s exactly what they want us to think, vecino.” Nefi softened her voice in that way she did when she was trying not to shout. “The more we believe that we can’t make them pay attention to us, the longer they get away with treating us like shit.”

“I remember when they first moved people into Groundview.” In the midst of reminiscing, Mr. Solomon started coughing aggressively, prompting someone to hand him a bottle of water which he drank quickly before continuing. “We were protesting and shouting in the streets, but they didn’t care then. They’re not gonna care now.” The history lesson quickly turned into yet another heated debate about neighborhood politics between him and some of the other SOILders trying to convince him to take one of their flyers. Sibyl used the opportunity to catch Nefi’s attention, who waved her over enthusiastically.

“Yo, did you hear?” Nefi handed her a fruit cup. “We finally got a meeting with the overlords! Are you gonna come?”

“Nahhh, Nefi. You know that’s not really my thing…I’m not an activist.” Nefi was always trying to recruit her for some radical ass shit that just never seemed worth the trouble of explaining to Sibyl’s very Jamaican mother.

“Nobody said you had to be. You live in this neighborhood, and have just as much say about what happens in it as the suits who own it.” Nefi sensed Sibyl’s hesitation. “Please Sib! Come so we have more people in the room. You don’t have to say anything. We just want those dicks to see that we have power. People power!”

Nefi was very proud of the fact that she had an uncle, or it might have been a second cousin, who had been a member of the Young Lords and, drawing on their legacy of fighting for the liberation of Puerto Ricans, was always going on about the oppressive nature of renting, and self-determination for poor people, and community empowerment, and, and…

“Aight — I’ll go,” Sibyl assured her, trying to cut her sermon short. Nefi hugged her and thanked her a million times before shoving a stack of flyers into her arms to pass out and post up around the neighborhood.

#

The singular garden in Groundview Gardens was usually ten degrees cooler than anywhere else in the neighborhood. It was created — not by the architects who had designed New York City’s newest development, but instead — by the community out of desperation as an escape from their cramped apartments. During the days, the older folks used it to grow their herbs, medicines, and flowers for their healing practices. The local farmers grew produce that fed the community. After school and on the weekends, all the kids hung out at the community center at the heart of the garden where they learned to dance, make art, and play music.

By the time Sybil got there later that night, Groundview’s collective of artists had already transformed the greenspace into their Saturday night hangout. One of the DJs was spinning records. People were dancing, drinking, smoking, having a good time. Dante, Sage, and Felix had bottles in their hands when Sibyl joined them at their usual spot. Their clothes were covered in colorful patches of spray paint.

“Did you finish it? When do I get to see it?,” she asked them excitedly. She hadn’t seen her friends in about a week, which meant they were either done with their latest mural or were taking a break before they disappeared for another few days. “Soon.” Dante looked tired, but excitement danced in his eyes. “Shoot anything good lately?” He leaned in reaching for her camera, but she quickly pulled back from him.

He laughed at her and took a sip of beer. Dante was her oldest friend out of the trio. There was a quiet protectiveness between the two of them Sibyl hoped they could always maintain.

“It’s been a minute since I last checked.”

“How come?” Dante asked.

Sibyl usually couldn’t wait to hold herself up in the darkroom at the community center to develop her film, but she had been putting off her latest batch. She’d fallen in love with photography while taking classes at the center as a kid. So much so that one day, her mother came home with an old film camera and Sibyl never put it down. That first summer, she ran around the neighborhood asking to take people’s photos. It felt so natural to her, though it had taken a while to gain people’s trust. Take their pictures for what? What was she going to do with them? Skeptics, but curious, they eventually agreed. They’d uncomfortably pose or force a smile, and then immediately ask her to see it because if they didn’t look good, she’d have to delete it. Then she’d explain how film photography worked, and they’d cuss her out for wasting their time.

Weeks later, she’d find them again — at the corner store, or at the People’s Garden, and give them the glossy prints she’d developed. Through her lens she could see they were secretly afraid she’d see the things they’d all spent so much time and concern trying to hide. But those things would all melt away when they’d see themselves — some for the first time — with the same worth and value she saw in them. After that Sibyl didn’t have to ask. They booked her for quinces and graduation parties and engagement photos. People would stop her when they saw her around. “So you not gonna take my picture? Girl, you know I look good today. Quit playing and snap something quick,” and they’d pose with more pride than before, as if to officially celebrate the triumph of living, something they didn’t know they had accomplished until they saw proof.

After seeing so many of her neighbors’ pictures, some of which she took, circulate in online memorials, something lodged itself in the pit of Sibyl’s gut. She couldn’t fully identify what it was, but it left her with little energy to feel or do anything else outside of going to school and work. But she didn’t know how to explain that to her friends without being weird or bringing down the mood, so she just said, “Been busy with school.” She quickly changed the subject before anyone tried to press her on it.

“Are ya gonna go to the town hall?”

“What town hall?” Sage asked.

“The one with management. About the HVACs.” Sibyl handed them flyers from her bag. “I promised Nefi I’d go, but I don’t want to go by myself. Someone come with me?”

“Pass,” Felix snorted.

“I’ll go. Should be fun,” Sage said with a smirk on their face. “I wanna hear what those assholes say their excuse is for not fixing shit.”

“I’ll save ya the trip. Sorry, you’re too poor for us to care,” Felix mocked. “It’s not like they’re all of a sudden gonna have a conscience ya know.”

“You mad negative bro,” Dante said.

“What?” Felix asked animatedly. “You really trying to spend the rest of your life down here? We all need to focus on getting the fuck up outta here instead of asking them to fix some janky ass vents.”

It’s not like anybody was trying to spend any part of their lives in Groundview, but lately it seemed like the rest of their lives wouldn’t take so long. The sound of the shuttle, more muffled than anywhere else, reverberated throughout the garden.

“I’m out the first chance I get,” Dante admitted. His answer wasn’t surprising to any of them, but this was the first time Sibyl heard him say it out loud. Dante was one of the more talented and disciplined artists in the collective. It would only be a matter of time before he blew up and left.

“What happens when ya leave though?” Sage was upset. “You get out, but what about the rest of us? Not everybody can up and leave right? Shouldn’t we try and make shit better for everyone.”

“That’s a trap, Sage. Shit’s not gonna get better,” Felix said harshly. “Does it ever hit ya, like really hit ya that there’s no future for us here? Everybody’s so busy working to get by, we don’t even have time to realize how fucked up everything is.”

“I���m not saying it’s perfect.” Sage shot back. “I just don’t think we have to turn our back on our community. That’s fucked up.”

“Don’t take it so personally, Sage,” Dante cut in. “Nobody’s turning their backs on anyone.”

“Besides, no offense to Nefi n ‘em,” Felix said, “but everybody’s wasting their time if they think those suits are gonna fix anything.”

Sibyl listened quietly. Groundview was all they ever knew. She had never considered leaving it, and yet she also was afraid to admit that she thought Felix might be right.

#

The middle school auditorium only had like fifteen people — half were members of SOIL — in there that Tuesday night, which was more than Nefi had expected. The handful of people who told her they wanted to go to the town hall, but couldn’t, were either working, or would get home too late from work and would have to cook dinner or iron school uniforms for the next day. Everyone else couldn’t be bothered; like Felix, they thought it was a waste of time. That nothing would come from it. Sibyl didn’t show. No one who attended the town hall actually thought anything would come from it either. If AR&M had wanted to do something, they would have done it a long ass time ago. The people who did show up were mostly Nefi’s elderly neighbors who were always ready to spit their anger into a mic because if they weren’t going to get a solution, they would at least get to cuss someone out, and have an audience to witness it.

Nefi worked her way around the room to thank people for coming. These things always felt like family reunions to her. Old friends hugging and catching up because they hadn’t seen each other in a minute, with work and family and life moving everybody in this or that direction, even though they all still lived in the same neighborhood. She finished up her greetings and joined the rest of SOIL, huddled at the front of the room. They went over the order of speakers, before Benjy, the group’s designated peacemaker for the evening, asked everyone to quiet down and get seated so they could start. He reminded everyone to keep it civil. Then one by one, people got up to the mic to direct their anger at the empty faces in tailored suits, sitting at the table in front of them, who could all care less about the people shouting at them. There was a lot of finger snapping, and “that’s right” and “tell-em’s” from the crowd throughout.

Finally about half an hour in, a young woman, with a little girl clutching on to the left side of her body, got up to the mic.

“My name is Mercy Brooks, and this is my daughter Angelique.” Her voice was shaking, in that soft, angry, pissed off kinda way that warranted attention. Nefi hushed the crowd down so that she could speak her peace without interruption. “My daughter’s asthma acts up almost every day. She can’t breathe. Ya should be fucking ashamed of yaselves. Our babies are dying down here. Is that what we deserve because we can’t do better? We just supposed to take that shit. You ever thought about what it’s like to live down here, huh? I’m sure ya don’t cause if you did, you wouldn’t think it was right to keep people living like this. Or do ya not care cause it’s not your kids?”

There was silence from the table, which was worse than feigning any sympathy or remorse. It set the room off into chants, which meant it was over from there. AR&M security shut that shit down quick right on cue, and if you weren’t arrested that night, you were brusquely escorted out. Management promised to set up some vague kind of task force with representatives from the neighborhood, but it led to nothing. A fucking disappointment, that’s what that shit was. And it wasn’t a surprise to Nefi or anyone else, but it hurt all the same. A few weeks later, that same woman who got up and spoke, her daughter Angelique died because they couldn’t get her to the hospital in time after she had an asthma attack. AR&M still hadn’t fixed the vents in their housing complex. And they still didn’t change the filters or fix the ducts in the other housing complexes so that it wouldn’t happen again after that. SOIL kept trying to drum up some kind of anger. Anything to get people to feel something. To do something.

Murals of Destiny, Angelique, and every other person who had died that year quietly popped up around the neighborhood. Vigils and altars with flowers and prayer candles accompanied them. But as much as people were upset or sad, no one knew what else to do except mourn and move on because it was clear to everyone that no one gave a damn about them. And so, what was the point?

##

They called it the Subterranean Housing and Inner-City Tunnels project, or S.H.I.T. for short. A plan to provide affordable housing for everyone who had experienced the worst housing crisis New York City had ever seen. People were evicted left and right. Families were priced out of their homes and neighborhoods. The shelter system, swelled beyond its limits for decades, finally collapsed. The streets and subway were overrun with people in sleeping bags and blankets. So nothing new, but it finally annoyed enough people to warrant action.

Naturally, the city contracted its most blood thirsty developers, AR&M, to help solve the problem, which was kinda like asking an arsonist to put out a fire they had proudly started. To no one’s surprise, they didn’t want to forfeit any of their luxury condos that sat empty while people slept on the streets. Instead, they struck a deal to create the largest scale of public housing of its kind, in exchange for absolute, unregulated freedom. The only problem was there was literally no land left for them to develop because they had already bought it all. And then one day, the chief architect of S.H.I.T. had an epiphany when he felt the uptown 6 train rumbling beneath his feet. There was an entire part of the city he had yet to consider. Where a majority of the people who needed housing were already living. Sprawling housing complexes with multi-unit apartments appeared overnight 150 feet underground, with the pilot site in the South Bronx. A new subway station and miles and miles of foot tunnels connected New York’s newest neighborhood to the world above it.

There were protests, anger, outrage! That the country’s most progressive city could so blatantly, and quickly!, shove all of its poor people out of sight only seemed to bother the poor people because everyone else praised S.H.I.T. as the most innovative solution of the 21st century. New York City had done the impossible, and housed every single person. That was grounds for celebration and federal funding. Plans were quickly announced to roll S.H.I.T. out across every major city in the country. To ease people’s concerns, the mayor at the time, eyeing a presidential run, promised that his own city’s underground neighborhood would just be temporary — transitional housing at best. Transitional to what, no one could answer. Temporary until when? Until they could think of something else. One year became five, became ten, etc., etc.

In time, AR&M and the city eventually added a couple schools, a hospital, a library, and a sad excuse for a park that residents eventually turned into the People’s Garden. Folks opened up bodegas, 99 cent and liquor stores, and made themselves at home. It didn’t take long to accept living where they did as another fact of life because they had no other choice. Over time, the plan to move everyone back aboveground disappeared from the city’s housing briefings. Then, the briefings disappeared altogether. The high rates of asthma and chronic bronchitis that seemed to come from living in Groundview occasionally made the nightly news, but not enough to cause major concern or stop neighborhoods like Groundview from popping up across the country.

There were still those who remembered life before Groundview, and vowed to move out of the neighborhood as soon as the opportunity arrived. They kept the dream close to their hearts. And if it didn’t happen during their lifetimes, they’d make sure it would happen during their children’s. More realized it was a fool’s dream and moved on. Eventually though, everyone adapted to the vibrations of the shuttle inside their kitchens. The white, fluorescent lighting that lit every corner of their world like a harsh, artificial sun. The damp, muggy air that arrested their chests if they tried to breathe too freely. And the humming of the massive ventilation systems that heated and cooled their cramped, windowless apartments — when they decided to work.

#

An Artist’s Treatise on Survival

I don’t know how we do it sometimes. That is, put up with all the shit that life throws at us. Work jobs that exhaust us with little in return. Take care of our families with little to no support. Do so much with so little. And still be able to smile or laugh in the midst of it all. Then, I remember: it’s because we have to. No one else is gonna pay our bills if we don’t. No one else is gonna put food on our tables for us. No one’s gonna bail us out. Naturally, you learn to hustle. To channel your frustrations into working around the way things are because trying to fix things that were built broken takes time you don’t have when you’re just trying to get by.

What gets me even more is how we’ve perfected survival itself as an artform, and created whole new types of living from abject desperation. We wasn’t supposed to, much less find reasons to enjoy life, but we did anyway. Some even take on the added challenge of trying to make life more bearable, more enjoyable, for the rest of us. For example, sometimes when it felt like there wasn’t much to appreciate. That you were resigned to the fate of being alive and not living and didn’t deserve any better. You’d see a mural. On the way to the laundromat. Or the corner store. While you were running errands. Or walking home, bone tired, from the train after another long, shitty day at work. And like all good, beautiful things, it reminded you to breathe. You didn’t always know who created it. Or couldn’t remember if it was there the day before even though you’ve walked that way millions of times. You just knew that it was, in its own way, encouraging you to make it to tomorrow. Bright bursts of color and story interrupting the mundane, tiresome every day you’d come to accept with no protest. After a while, it becomes easier to accept a simple truth about living. That we can still manage to find a reason to laugh, to enjoy life, despite it all, and that we can be the source of our own power. It’s kind of audacious of us to still try and find joy even if it means creating it for ourselves. Maybe that’s why we do it.

#

At first, it started off as harmless tagging, and they kept it up chasing the thrill of not getting caught. Then they tried to outdo each other. It became a sport: who could paint the better mural. Get the most buzz around the neighborhood before they got painted over. But the better they got, and the more the murals looked legit, the longer they stayed up. Until they stopped painting over them altogether because people loved them so much. They didn’t belong to the creators anymore. They belonged to the neighborhood. And before they knew it, they’d created something much bigger than any of them could have imagined.

The tunnels just seemed like the next natural step for the graffiti artists in Groundview. Miles and miles of blank walls? Dante, especially, saw something to keep him busy after his brother died. Besides, painting murals felt like the only thing he could do. He’d stopped going to school. He’d just paint. When he ran out of ideas to paint, he asked Sibyl to see her portraits, and he started replicating them across the neighborhood. He was relentless — portrait after portrait. Sage and Felix started helping him out because they worried he would lose it, spending all that time in the tunnels by himself. He was grasping for something, but he didn’t know what it was. Until he saw it, lying on the ground near a garbage can.

The Groundview Residents’ List of Demands

The People of Groundview Gardens demand financial and social restitution for all residents, especially those who developed chronic health issues from living underground and/or have lost loved ones because of it.

The People demand New York City move all Groundview residents back above ground into rent subsidized apartments.

The People demand New York City disband all underground housing policies so that no one else has to live in Groundview Gardens or any other housing project like it.

Until the first three demands are met, The People demand Arcadian Realty & Management fix the HVAC systems in every single housing complex it owns and regularly maintain them.

Once Groundview Gardens is fully evacuated, The People demand New York City turn the entire neighborhood into a public memorial to commemorate the loss of life, preserving the art and The People’s Garden.

After the town hall, and the supposed task force, proved to be a bust, SOIL had created the demands to deliver to the city. They circulated leaflets with the five bullet points, but no one would take them seriously. Dante himself, admittedly, had checked out, and had ignored SOIL’s literature, up until that point. The demands appeared overnight on the walls of the tunnels in bold white paint for everyone to see. They were the last thing everyone saw coming into Groundview and the first thing they saw from the shuttle on their commutes leaving the neighborhood.

#

Nefi kept waiting for the moment when her neighbors would suddenly realize that they were angry — very angry. They’d decide they were fed up once and for all and refuse to settle for less anymore. They’d riot in the streets. They’d protest in front of AR&M’s offices. They’d refuse to go into work until something changed. Their anger would get everyone’s attention. Her own rage had burned intensely inside her for as long as she knew herself. She learned to channel it through SOIL trying to make Groundview a better place, even though everyone told her it wasn’t worth it; it wasn’t possible; it was a waste of time. But it was either that or literally set some shit on fire. But, it didn’t matter how many rallies, tenant meetings, town halls, or demonstrations SOIL organized. Nefi learned that she couldn’t have a revolution without people. And the people? They were tired and overworked. They didn’t have time to overthrow anything. And, even though no one would admit it, they were also afraid — afraid of change, of what they could lose, of realizing that something greater than what they had come to know was possible. So to save themselves, and Nefi, further disappointment, they rebuffed her again, and again: Nefi you need to chill. Girl you’re doing too much. Don’t waste your time. Nothing’s gonna change. After the town hall, and years and years of holding hope, the fire inside Nefi dulled until she couldn’t recognize herself anymore. She conceded her rage for high-functioning hopelessness. She withdrew from her friends, from her neighbors, from SOIL, only tapping into enough energy to wake up, go to work, and make her way back home. The days bled into each other, so much so that when the night Nefi had been waiting for eventually came later that August, it caught her completely off guard. It caught everyone off guard because it wasn’t the HVACs or the deaths of toddlers, or even the wrath towards AR&M that finally set people off. But it shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone who’s lived in New York City long enough because it was the one thing that could incite the level of large-scale anarchic rage Nefi had been holding out for — and that was the MTA.

#

The night in question, the air was hot, muggy, and heavy with potential. Like any other evening, people were heading home from work, the collective exhaustion weighing down on their bodies, stamped into their faces. They waited together, huddled in a sweaty mass on the sweltering Third Ave-138th St. platform for a train that felt like it would never come. When an empty shuttle finally did arrive in the station, the doors opened to the grating sound of a man’s voice coming through the train’s speaker system:

“Attention passengers. This is your conductor speaking. Due to unplanned construction up ahead, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview Gardens at this time. I repeat, we are disbanding all trains to Groundview. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

This shit had happened plenty of times before. A disruption of service that made it difficult to get home. Everybody was so used to it and had even come to expect it. The inconvenience of being poor and powerless consistently working against them. It too had become a predictable kind of disappointment. Even the audible, collective disapproval was muted and slightly rehearsed, nothing more than a reflex. They would have to find their way home, some two-odd miles on foot, through the tunnels. But that night, Ms. Claudette, who had been on her feet all day at work taking care of her elderly patient and still had to go home and iron her scrubs for the next day, was fucking tired. She had paid her fare. And, she had paid her taxes. She had also paid her dues in this country — twenty-seven years worth of struggle and debasement — for what? This could not be it. Life could not just be disappointment. The least she expected was that the train would get her home like it was supposed to. She decided that she was going to let the conductor have a piece of her mind.

“This is nonsense. Tell me, just tell me, how am I supposed to get home?” Her boisterous St. Lucian accent traveled well beyond her.

Folks who heard her echoed in agreement, hyping her up. “They have the nerve to raise prices for this shitty ass service,” someone said loudly. They all collectively decided to board the empty train. The construction workers in their hard hats and massive boots, the women with their large tote bags and their tiredness neatly folded away into themselves. They were all going to sit on the train, until it started up again. It was going to take them home.

The conductor was tired too. Nothing as deep-seated as his passengers, but something not too far removed. He had no skin in this game though, and his job didn’t pay him enough to care. He was annoyed; they were keeping him from clocking out. And so, after listening to a bunch of people passionately curse him out, he told them to, and I quote:

“Write a letter.”

It happened so fast. I mean, when I say shit popped off before anyone could swallow their spit. Someone knocked over the trash cans on the platform. Someone else, set them on fire, with what to this day no one really knows, but their latent anger seemed to have ignited what they didn’t know was inside them.

The riots lasted for weeks. People boycotted the MTA and didn’t go to work.

The restaurants aboveground shuttered because they were understaffed. Construction on all the new developments stopped because the workers, a lot of whom lived in Groundview, refused to show up. People aboveground had to stay home because their nannies and house cleaners weren’t able to come and relieve them like they had come to rely on. Groundview had forced the city to come to a complete stop. The mayor held a press conference saying she didn’t condone the behavior of the vandals at the train station. SOIL led protests and demonstrations in front of city hall until she had to hold a second press conference to apologize for her statements at the first press conference. She promised she was going to make sure that it would never happen again — not just the riots, but the unnecessary deaths in Groundview, the resentment the residents felt towards the city. They were going to fix the HVACs, and the MTA! They were going to heal the great divide the city had long thrived on once and for all, if, and only if, the workers called off the strike and went back to work. It sounded so sincere, everyone wanted to believe it. Tired of holding all the power, they asked SOIL to represent them at the bargaining table. Deals were made. Hands were shaken. And things went back to a semblance of normal with a few slight adjustments.

#

Sibyl was heading out of her apartment when she saw a piece of yellow paper on her front door.

60 DAYS NOTICE TO INCREASE RENT

Mildred Campbell 207 167th St. (GG), Unit 10E

Beginning September 1, 2041, the monthly rent will go up an additional 5% for all units located in the Robert Moses Houses. Please make the appropriate adjustments within the AR&M digital payment system.

We appreciate your continued tenancy.

Sincerely, Arcadian Realty & Management

Pieces of yellow paper were taped to every single door she passed on her way to the train. It had been a year since the last time the heating or cooling had stopped working. Everyone held their breath celebrating, just in case that was when the heat would shut off or the air would decide to stop working again, but it never did. The number of deaths and hospitalizations went down, and everyone seemed content enough after the strikes and boycott ended, to go back to work. The trains even went back to running as efficiently as possible for the MTA, always teetering on the edge of collapse, but never actually approaching it for fear of recreating another opportunity for mass rebellion.

On her way to the shuttle, Sibyl saw a group of people congregating near one of the murals. She clutched her camera in her hand, ready to raise it to her face, when she heard a voice she didn’t recognize shouting through a megaphone. It belonged to a man she had never seen around the neighborhood before, and he was walking backwards while talking to a group of people Sibyl also didn’t recognize.

“Groundview is the latest up and coming neighborhood in the city,” his voice echoed. “Some of the most promising young artists have gotten their start in this urban — ”

She didn’t stick around to hear more.

After the riots, small groups of tourists descended regularly on Groundview like vultures to see the murals they had seen in viral photographs. They’d rudely block the paths from the train platform, or take up way too much space on the footpaths of the tunnels posing in front of the murals for pictures. Not long after that came the opportunistic hacks who had never stepped foot in Groundview before, running “culture tours’’ around the neighborhood. The residents felt like they were stuck in some sick and twisted museum. Out of annoyance, they banned the tours and non-residents from the People’s Garden, preserving their one last sanctuary in the community.

Sibyl had been in the middle of it all the first night of the riots. She was on the subway platform on her way home from classes and started snapping pictures once she realized what was going on, catching the fervent energy better than anyone could describe to everyone else who wasn’t there. She had no idea her photos would end up everywhere. But they did, and they not only helped draw attention to the plight of her neighborhood. They also drew attention to the wealth of talent germinating underneath the city. Her photos of her friends, their murals, and the other members of her neighborhood, had also attracted a lot of attention that felt good to the young artists who all of a sudden saw opportunities previously unavailable to them right at their doorsteps.

The shuttle arrived on the platform before her. Sibyl boarded the cool air-conditioned cart; the beads of sweat on her skin quickly evaporated. Nefi had warned them to be careful early on. “These things always end up having you exploit your own people for a cheap come up, and it’s never worth it.” Everyone thought she was trippin’. There Nefi was again just looking for another cause to fight now that her crusade against A&RM had seemed to come to an end. Even Sibyl thought she was overreacting at first. People were finally paying attention to Groundview. If she and the rest of the artists could help show the world how important the lives of the people who lived there were, maybe things could change for the better.

The train disappeared into the tunnel towards the 138th St. station. A lot of things had quietly changed over the last year and a half. Many of the families who had lost loved ones, including Dante’s, received settlements from the city and moved out of the neighborhood, leaving a sizable number of the apartments empty. Leading to perhaps the most visible addition to the neighborhood. AR&M had a couple of the younger artists looking for their own big break paint over SOIL’s list of demands and replaced it with a more “aesthetically inviting” message for the new visitors to the neighborhood: Welcome to the Mural District. Sibyl had only heard the tour guides call it that, in an unveiled attempt to rebrand Groundview. It didn’t take too long to find out where they got it from. The name and the welcome sign led to intense debates between the artists in the collective, including her friends, about people selling out and what they owed to each other as artists and their neighbors, which led to a few people splitting off and doing their own thing. The mural made Sibyl sick to her stomach, and she tried her best to avoid seeing it on her commutes. Then one day, someone started covering it up with black graffiti making the message unreadable.

No one knew who it was because they never got caught, but it didn’t matter to AR&M. Like clockwork the next morning, they had cleaners paint a fresh welcome message over it in time for the daily tours at noon. When the welcome message started appearing on the AR&M screens, the screens started getting covered in graffiti too. After a few months, Sibyl expected the guerilla painters to give up and move on, but they didn’t. Fresh graffiti kept appearing over the mural and on the screens, prompting AR&M to deploy their clean up crews, and then the routine would start again. Sibyl looked out the window in anticipation. “OURS.” The word, written over and over again across the mural, quickly came into view and then vanished out of sight.