#except dick had the realization that so much had changed while he'd been away

[hood-ex]

Was anyone going to tell me that when you leave home and start a life somewhere else and then you return back home, you feel like you're trying on a shoe that's too small and doesn't fit anymore? I feel like Dick when he found out Harold was living in the batcave.

Detective Comics #676

[cvnntagious]

˗ˏˋ pornstar!chris films with someone new ‧₊˚

꒰part two ✩꒱ (coming soon)

creeping into chris' condo as quiet as possible with a wrapped gift in hand, a large smile took up most of your face at the thought of him opening it. though, the more you explored the area, the more discouraged you got before eventually giving up with a loud sigh at the realization that he wasn't home. but then, where was he? he always told you when he was going to be out, but today? he didn't even so much as leave you a text.

if not for chris updating you on his whereabouts becoming routine, you truthfully would've thought nothing of his sudden absence, but with a confused look on your face, you found yourself setting his christmas present on the coffee table in front of you to plop down onto his couch. you slipped your phone out of your back pocket, instantly typing away at it.

it was simple and straight to the point, leaving no room for confusion; you'd never been the type to beat around the bush. you weren't upset, really—more like confused, is all. and you waited. sitting idly on his couch as you waited for that little 'delivered' alert to turn into 'read'.

it didn't.

not for a while, at least. you ended up leaving his house only about half an hour after you sent the message, seeing no reason in just sitting there overthinking it. but you still did. going on about your day, trying to distract yourself from that nagging voice in the back of your brain that whispered 'where's chris at? what's he doing?' and 'you're not special. he got bored of you, silly,' at any moment you weren't occupying your mind with something else.

you knew you were probably overreacting; being dramatic in a way chris wouldn't like if he could hear your thoughts. i mean, it's not even like you'd be that upset if he had gotten tired of you. he was only some good dick and a person to keep you company... every single day for the past month. shit, you needed to know. picking up your phone in a swift motion as you now sat on your own couch, having tried to watch a show as means to keep your mind off chris, you checked your notifications in hopes that you'd missed his text.

but something new caught your eye.

a notification from chris' twitter, far different than anything you'd imagined throughout the day. of course you clicked it, a small breath of relief coming from you as you'd immediately told yourself he must've been busy with his executives. oh, he was busy alright.

your eyebrows raised at the sight before you: a short clip of chris plowing into some blonde with big tits, her moaning and whining in such a forced way. he was grabbing and squeezing at them. i mean, shit, he wasn’t even a boobs guy. it was so unlike him, completely disregarding his original intent for his content—keep it authentic. the caption only contained the hub link, telling his fans to watch the full video there.

dread sounds about right. a look of dread spread across your face, as if you'd just witnessed your worst fear. except it wasn't your worst fear. at least you didn't think it was, until now.

without thinking, you found yourself in chris' messages again, seeing the 'delivered' alert still there like a taunt. it was a slap in the face, really. not even the fact that he'd went and filmed with someone else, but the way he'd so clearly purposely failed to give you any type of warning.

once you'd sent the message, seeing the little text below your blue message change to 'read' instantly, it all suddenly felt pointless — all the worrying throughout the day, the dread you felt when you watched the short clip chris posted, the hurt when you saw he ignored your message, and now, even the message you literally just sent to him.

w/c : 645

a/n : i'm gonna try to bust these out the best i can, but y'all might have to bare w me cs i'm proly the worlds slowest writer... this may overlap with the au calendar as well, so to be clear, this isn't my priority. if i have to postpone parts of this to keep up with the prompts, i will. that being said, hope you guys enjoy my first multi-part tumblr fic <3.

-love, your grandma cvnty ☆!

[cleromancy]

HI I WOULD LOVE TO SEE SNIPPETS OF THE EX CHILD STAR AU

thank you anon 🥰 sry it took me a few days to post this lol

cws: references to mental health problems and a previous suicide attempt, and lasting trauma from exploitation. uh, and past drug use.

*

If you had asked Dick twenty-four hours ago about his apartment, he would have said it was fine. Not too modest, not too ostentatious, not so public he has to worry about creeps but not as isolated as the villa. He's so glad they sold the villa. Nicest place he's ever lived, and if he'd stayed there one more day he'd have been peeling off the wallpaper muttering about ex-child stars trapped inside, creeping. Where he lives now is within walking distance from a friendly little corner store where he picks up cereal and almond milk and anything else he doesn't want to wait to get delivered, which is convenient, and a somewhat-longer-but-still-doable hike away from Dick's favorite store in L.A, a tiny little candy shop that only stays afloat out of sheer spite. The owner, a cantankerous old man that Dick loved immediately upon meeting, roasts Dick mercilessly every time Dick comes in, but he also keeps Dick's standing order of the tragically discontinued Triple Xtreme Face Pucker Nuclear Warheads in stock just for him, so Dick wouldn't buy them anywhere else even if he could.

And as long as you have that and a laundry room, you're golden. If Dick had to leave his apartment to wash his socks he'd just lie down and die, or else wear a lot of dirty clothes.

So normally if asked, Dick would conclude that the apartment is, actually, better than fine, maybe even pretty good, and then he would change the subject.

It's just hitting Dick now that he's lived here for seven years now and he doesn't think he's ever actually looked around. They hired somebody to move his stuff into storage while Dick was still in inpatient and somebody else to decorate the apartment so it would be livable right when he got out, before he got around to picking up his stuff (he keeps meaning to do that). Moving in, all Dick cared about was getting a burrito the size of his face and sleeping on sheets that didn't smell faintly of industrial bleach masked poorly by something artificial, vaguely floral, and marketed as *Mountain Breeze.* In the grey haze it hadn't occurred to him to wonder if maybe the decor was itself a little too grey.

"Or whatever color they call this," Dick says to himself, staring down an oversized decorative vase with a few sticks poking out that you'd think would be silk flowers or something, but instead have these fuzzy little puffballs attached for some reason. "Gray-beige? Taupe? Greige? Why do I even have you." He tilts it to one side. It's shockingly heavy. "Why do I have *six of you.*"

Looking down the hallway it's obvious that the interior design team had a vision, and that vision was "innoffensive, featureless neutrality." There are just enough wall hangings to qualify as "minimalist" over "austere," black and white photographs of bland still lifes in featureless frames. Some kind of hanging tapestry except it's solid white with hanging tassels. Grey-toned floor, lighter grey-toned floor runner. The end result sails right past "boring" into "escaped psych ward patient" territory. Which Dick resents. He did his time, thank you very much, and waited until his official discharge like a good boy. That's probably why he didn't notice until now, psych ward home away from psych ward home.

Yeah. Let's blame that. The fact that he spent his first year out of the hospital doing nothing but trying to beat his Tetris high score in his underwear and scouring the internet trying to find the tragically discontinued Triple Xtreme Face Pucker Nuclear Warheads had nothing to do with it.

"He's going to think I'm a serial killer," Dick realizes.

He's most of the way through Tetrising the unwieldy, surpringly heavy vases into the tiny cubicle the guest bathroom calls a shower—and he'd like to know whose idea *that* was when anyone with a lick of sense would have just made it a half-bath—when the buzzer for the lobby goes off.

"Crap," Dick mutters, taking half a step away from the tower, which wobbles ominously. He lunges to steady it. "Crap!"

He casts around for a surface and sets the last two vases on the toilet lid and the sink respectively, the stupid little Q-tip stick things rattling mockingly inside, then dashes out to tell the doorman that no, Roy's not a stalker, yes really, yes Dick wants you to let him up please, yes he is serious, yes he is sure. He has enough time to sprint back to the bathroom and make sure his hair is okay and confirm that at least he doesn't *look* as sweaty and disheveled as he *feels,* but thankfully not enough time to start worrying if he might be due early for another round of fillers or if his hairline might be receding or if the skin under his jaw might be sagging. He looks fine. Everything's fine.

When the doorbell rings, Dick has to pretend he doesn't know who's on the other side to get himself to finally open the door. His breath still catches when he sees him.

Roy, casual as ever, pushing a pair of Ray-Bans he told Dick he shoplifted as a teenager up his forehead. His crow's feet, because he stopped getting fillers at twenty-five, except *his* are laugh lines, not stress wrinkles, less those *Where Are They Now?* specials they used to do on VH1, more Paul Newman aging like fine wine. His crooked smile, and he doesn't whiten his teeth anymore either, teased Dick when he drove him for his root canal that he was destroying his enamel and then held his hand when they put him under. His scuffed bomber jacket, older than either of them, which sparked half a dozen anecdotes about an Uncle Hal when Dick brushed his fingers against a faded patch on the sleeve. His henley with three buttons undone, straining over the curve of his chest. His jeans tight around the thighs, a little threadbare in places after over a decade of wear. The whole of him, broad and easy in the doorway, unapologetically imperfect, smiling.

Dick just wants this to go well so *badly.* "Hi."

"Hi yourself," Roy says, shifting a little. "Can I come in?"

"Please."

Roy closes the door behind him, bending to unlace his boots. Dick's eyes catch for a second on the strain of his thighs against denim, and the nervous inane smalltalk on its way out of Dick's mouth dies on his lips.

Roy kicks the second boot off and straightens up, dusting his palms off on his thighs, which probably shouldn't make Dick's mouth fill with saliva the way it does. He's looking around the entryway, curious. "Nice place."

*Don't mention the vases.* "You think so? I keep meaning to update a little."

"Yeah, man, it's nice," Roy says easily, and he's lying but Dick can barely tell, which is kind of him. "You want to show me around?"

No, Dick does not want to show him around. No, he does not want to discover alongside Roy what other modern minimalist nightmares the interior design team saw fit to install in case Dick got too overstimulated by non-neutral colors and tried to kill himself again.

"I want to show you the media room," Dick says, which at least has the benefit of actually being true.

*

The "whoa" Roy lets out when they enter the media room is gratifying. It's most people's reaction when they see it. It's always gratifying.

"Is that a pinball machine?" Roy asks.

Dick grins. "You wanna play?"

"Hell yeah, just. Later. You have so much cool shit here, show me all of it—"

Maybe the other reason Dick barely knows what the rest of his apartment looks like is because this is where he spends most of his time. Freshly discharged from the hospital, Dick had scarfed down his face-sized burrito, faceplanted on the bed, slept like a log for about two days straight and woken up not entirely sure what year it was or why. He looked around the room, remembered it was his, flicked on the lamp on his bedside table and didn't like it any better in the light. It was the smooth plasticine decor that Dick's belatedly come to realize populated the entire apartment, featureless, meaningless, trying desperately to be mature by being entirely devoid of interest. *My bedroom pays taxes,* Dick remembers thinking. *My bedroom has a 401k.* He grabbed his meds from his bedside table and stuffed them in his sweatpants pocket before wrapping himself in the big gray down comforter and dragging it to what he supposed was the den, flopping on the couch and sleeping for another six hours, eventually waking with the cap of PRAZOSIN - 10MG - GRAYSON, RICHARD J digging into his hip.

Time was sort of soupy a lot of the time back before he got his ADHD diagnosis, because of the brain fog. For the longest time his psychiatrists kept adjusting his Wellbutrin dose pretending they thought that had a chance in hell of working while Dick sat listlessly in their offices, missing meth. It wasn't until later when Jason Todd of all people dragged him to a specialist (because "if I have it, you definitely have it" successfully nettled Dick into going just to prove him wrong, except of course it turned out the bastard was right) and Dick found a new psychiatrist who was halfway competent and put him on Adderall that he really felt at all present again. The psychiatrist he has now, who is from hell and who doesn't let him get away with lying and who is incredibly good at her job, was the one who told him how much meth and ADHD stimulants have in common chemically.

Dick sat very still. Then he pointed to the throw cushion on the couch. "Can I borrow that for just a sec?"

"Take as long as you need."

Dick grabbed the pillow, buried his face in it, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

But for a while, yeah. Time was soup Dick was mostly afloat in. He spent it floating here.

Now that Dick is looking for it, he notices the gray in the floor and the walls, the aggressive featurelessness of even the window frames, but he likes the rest of the room enough not to mind. At one point he'd been irrationally angry at the pile of mail he'd put off opening for over a month, and he'd been going through a minor fixation with auction websites at the time, and there was an old, probably busted Ms Pac Man arcade machine up for sale and for some reason Dick latched onto it. For some reason winning the auction of the stupid Ms Pac Man machine was very briefly the most important thing in the world. And he did win the auction, because nobody else wanted the janky old thing, and to Dick's shock and delight it actually *worked*, and suddenly he had a project.

At first he bought and fixed up old arcade fixtures, classic games and pinball machines mostly but he dabbled in anything; he'd even gotten his hands on an air hockey table once. Then he'd get bored or run out of space, sell a bunch of things or even give them away if he was too sick of looking at them, and before terribly long he drifted away from arcades specifically. That part he credits to a film projector he ran into at a flea market and fell in love with, which prompted him to spend possibly obscene amounts of money on the sound system and improving the acoustics. He fell in love with a lot of objects, those days, maybe because he wasn't talking to *people* much. Not people who knew him well, anyway. He was on first name terms with his favorite antique dealers, one of whom inexplicably set aside an old Gibson electric guitar he found, a gorgeous machine in a charmingly 60s shade of Robin's egg blue, because he said it reminded him of Dick. Either because he somehow knew Dick would love it, or else because he knew Dick was a sucker with way too much money.

It didn't matter. Dick *did* love it, and he *is* a sucker with way too much money, and he *did* go straight home to almost give himself tinnitus playing every three-chord classic he knew at a truly unwise volume.

(Dick even replaced the original couch in this room because he kept falling asleep on it and his physical therapist threatened to quit over the havoc he was wreaking on his back. He's still not thrilled that he doesn't really sleep in bed ever, but the new couch isn't threatening to do permanent damage to his spine. Win/win in Dick's book.)

So. Not a home arcade, not a home theater, not a home studio. Scavenged bits and salvaged pieces, nostalgia probably in excess, anchors in time. Whatever magic they put in the air at antique stores and estate sales and really good museum exhibits, Dick managed to bottle a breath of it and take it home with him. When he finally started letting people into his life again, the unabashed delight often on their faces, walking into this room full of outdated obsolete frivolous things, sharing it with them… it's good. It feels good.

"Does that ancient popcorn machine actually work?" Roy asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning.

Dick matches it. "Yeah, and it's gonna knock your socks off."

*

So Dick gets the popcorn going and shows Roy around and silently laments that there was no way he could get his hands on film reels of The Muppet Show. Roy was almost as much of a geek about some of these machines as Dick was, and Dick had made it his whole personality for a while.

"It's just that there are some antique collectors that really don't mess around," Dick explained to Donna the week before, twisting and untwisting his napkin in his hands. "And I'm a competitive guy but some of the markets are totally cutthroat, and film people and puppet people are both intense. So this was better."

"Yeah, *and* it'd be insane to drop that kind of money on a first date," said Jason through a mouthful of bacon cheeseburger, Mister *we're not brothers we just played them on TV.* Dick had invited Donna to lunch, Jason had loudly said he was too busy to come, Dick said he wasn't invited, and Jason's schedule suddenly cleared up, *viola,* miracles do happen.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Dick told him.

"Die," Jason suggested pleasantly.

'Just played it on TV.' Sure.

"And it's not a date," Dick added belatedly, stomach swooping.

Jason had opened his mouth to probably say something horrible, as is his way, and instead let out a hilarious squeak, turning to Donna next to him in the booth with massive betrayed Bambi eyes.

She ignored him, continuing to pour Sweet-N-Low packets into her half-empty coffee as if she didn't just stomp on his foot under the table. She didn't really like coffee until it got to the consistency of artificially sweetened sludge. When they were young Donna was always on top of what was *in*, considering it part of her full-time job to appear effortlessly sophisticated; she skipped the teen-preteen fashion beat and shot straight to the big leagues by fifteen. They were putting the equivalent of a *sophomore in high school* on best dressed lists alongside grown-ass women. It should never have happened. No one should have *let* it happen. One time even before all that, Dick and Jason stole a box of Krispy Kreme donuts from catering and absconded to her trailer to share and she had a panic attack. Years later she described her youth as being in a room full of invisible mirrors at all times. Those days she wouldn't be caught dead with anything less chic than an espresso from whatever new *it* cafe just opened. And there she was, two decades later, blithely desecrating two-dollar-fifty diner coffee with enough aspartame to kill a cart horse in front of god and everyone. She was probably Dick's favorite person in the entire world, and he went into a little trance for a moment, watching her graceful hands with horrified fascination.

Finally satisfied, she took a sip of her monstrosity and hummed, satisfied with that which she hath wrought. "Wait and see," she suggested. "If it goes well, it can be a date."

"And everyone says *I'm* the crazy one," Jason griped, rubbing the prison stick-n-poke tattoo on one thumb with the other.

"Well, if everyone says it, it must be true," Donna said warmly, knocking her shoulder against Jason's.

[crimeronan]

How does Darius treat Luz after the awful mindscape horror show? I imagine things are certainly awkward between them for a bit with Darius feeling no shortage of guilt that he was perfectly willling to villify a teenage victim of abuse and want to make amends and Luz just... completely agreeing with said vilification but also desperately needing another caring adult. Do Luz get the Dadruis treatment like Hunter eventually and what does their bond look like?

THIS IS A REALLY GOOD AND INTERESTING QUESTION. once again this is a concept that deserves an entire fic to itself. but since my time and energy are limited i'll see what thoughts i have.

okay so for background context:

here's a post from a while back explaining more of the context with darius's relationship to both luz and hunter. AKA, why he gets along with hunter much better much earlier than in the canon, and why he also finds luz Scary As Fuck.

AND HERE'S A POST I HAD COMPLETELY FORGOTTEN ABOUT, about darius thinking that luz has figured out that he's a traitor. and darius being afraid that if luz treats traitors the same way that belos did, then hunter might be in danger, even though hunter's never shown any signs of disloyalty.

so darius doesn't exactly hate luz or think that she's evil as much as.... he's wary of Anyone with the kind of power that she has. and the way she acts just makes him more suspicious and afraid. i don't know how much concern he has for his own wellbeing, but he's Certainly concerned that luz might treat hunter as disposable. and he's certainly concerned for anybody else who knows he's a rebel n does treason shit (raine, eber, the BATS, etc)

mainly that context is to say: i don't think he's been as big a dick to her as he is to hunter in the canon. but he HAS been openly rude and disdainful toward her. and he's probably made the occasional pointed comment that makes her go, "oh no, he's right. i'm Evil"

i think that he'd start changing his relationship with luz through his relationship with hunter. he and hunter know each other better, and hunter likes hanging around him. more than that, hunter Already Trusts darius. luz believes that darius is a good ally because she trusts hunter's judgment, but she's still afraid to show vulnerability in front of any other adult except MAYBE raine.

hunter spends a lot of time around luz both because he's her captain and because they're terribly codependent. darius avoids luz as much as possible, which severely limits the amount of time he can spend with hunter.

so i think post-mindscape, he'd just like. relax a bit??

he'd stop talking shit about luz even in passing, he'd make it clear that he's happy to spend time with hunter even if luz tags along, he'd start assuming luz will be around instead of expecting hunter to schedule his time around her. (inasmuch as either hunter or luz have any free time, what with her being the empress.)

i think he feels bad about misjudging luz, but even more than that, he feels bad about misjudging HUNTER. because his assumption has always been that time away from luz is good for hunter, bc it means that hunter has brief freedom from all of the empire's expectations. but now he's realizing just how much extra stress that puts on hunter's shoulders. and how much he misinterpreted where the problems with the kids were coming from

this approach means that he gets to spend more time around both kids and organically build a rapport with luz. i think she'd be a little uncertain and anxious about his intentions at first - but like i said, she DOES trust hunter implicitly. so if hunter doesn't think that there's any danger or political machinations afoot, luz will try not to be paranoid.

she and darius would get along pretty well once darius stops viewing her with suspicion and starts indulging her bright-eyed curiosity. luz thinks that he is So Cool and wants to learn Everything about him.

i think that if luz WAS going to confess about the murder to anyone besides hunter, it would Probably be raine.

but.

darius is more ruled by his emotions than raine is. and he's better at remaining stealthy and tactical..... UNTIL he's emotionally invested. so i CAN see darius reaching a point where he's, like.

like.

he's been watching luz and hunter try to manage all of this shit by themselves and has been subtly helping where possible, but both kids are Clearly struggling. and i can see him getting frustrated enough to eventually just. drop the bomb that he knows.

i don't know if luz would confess to raine first or if darius would lose patience before then. either way.... they'd eventually get on the same page. in as messy and stupid a way as possible.

[dragongodryss]

Quick drawing of Mica and Roxanne.

Mica is Ryss' and Ignis' adopted son. He looks up to Dhelios despite not having met him at this point in time. He has severe burns scars from the fire that orphaned him, which left him blind in one eye. He's kind of a dick sometimes, and he's very impulsive, but when you're his friend, he'd do pretty much anything for you (except make good decisions).

Roxanne is the daughter of two recurring villains and has as such had to unlearn some pretty awful values. Over the course of a decade (mages have increased lifespans) after running away from home, she confronted those and joined the heroes' side. She becomes a member of the main cast a few years after that, along with her best friend Sol.

Mica is intersex and proud of it. He only figured it out when he hit puberty and his chest started growing. Some of the kids found it weird, but he's the guy who can toss lightning bolts so they didn't really give him too much shit for it. As an adult, many people assume he's trans (in either direction). He doesn't mind as long as they are respectful. If they are dicks to his face: Lightning Bolt.

Roxanne is trans and has been transitioning for a while. She passes pretty well, but she can't always be bothered to shave he sideburns. She's pretty self confident, so she doesn't have an issue with people seeing them. She gets transphobia thrown at her on occasion. Responses vary from: 'I'm sorry your parents raised you wrong' to *disappointed silence* to 'why don't you go fuck yourself, since clearly no one else will'. Then she vents to Sol about it.

Mica has a good relationship with his parents, even though some generational trauma lingers (Ignis and Ryss were both severely neglected as children, and Ignis overcompensated while Ryss did the bare minimum for a few years until they realized they were messing up). If they catch someone talking shit about him behind his back, they get revenge. (Ignis figures out if they are doing anything illegal or immoral (like cheating) and reports it if yes. Ryss breaks into their house in the middle of the night to mildly inconvenience them.) Like well adjusted adults. They can both teleport to it's pretty easy.

Roxanne was her parents' golden child, as she was the only mage among their three children. She had terrible relationship with her younger siblings and is trying to reconnect with them now, but it's harder than expected (especially given that she's on the run from the dystopian overlords). She barely knew them and deeply regret not changing that before running away. When she ran away, she resented her parents for the way they treated her siblings while still failing to do anything to save the mages being experimented on. Like, pick a lane. Now that she understands that the Ilvari* are people like everyone else, as opposed to demons hellbent on destroying Erim, she mostly hates them for the mass murder.

*Humanoids native to the plane of Ilvar. Characterized by pointed ears, among other features. Have a history of trying to invade Erim, only to be fought back by Darim (other, connected plane).

[myonepiece]

rayleigh sauna oneshot

description: rayleigh jacks off in the sauna because i'm not in the mood for actual sex 😅

warnings: nsfw, smut, nsfw, smut

a/n: i'm listening to the hamilton soundtrack while writing this

*rubs hands together evilly

*afab reader (assigned female at birth)

it wasn't uncommon for rayleigh to visit y/n, or take her out for that matter. this time he had plans to bring her to one of those fancy saunas. they happily made their way to the island, chatting along the way and watching y/n fall even more for the older man who's charms knew no bounds.

they had to separate of course, a few flirtatious words were exchanged over the idea of y/n joining rayleigh on the men's side, but in the end the two said a temporary goodbye before the split. while rayleigh respected y/n immensely, he couldn't help but allow his mind to wander to what she could be doing, what could have happened if she had in fact joined him.

rayleigh changed into a simple towel, tied loosely around his waist revealing the v-line that's quite uncommon for a man of his age, sculpted to perfection with a torso that just made y/n want to run her fingers long the defined lines leading lower and lower to the happy trail tempting her to something so delicious.

being, well, silvers rayleigh, rayleigh was able to snag two of the private rooms. same as all of the other, same high wooden fence and clean tiled floor, multiple hot baths, the works- except the private rooms were a bit smaller, and obviously private. rayleigh walked nonchalantly out of the dressing room, smiling softly when he heard the splashes from next door, made by y/n getting into the pool.

walking past the fence to the pool, something caught his eye- a small crack in the fence. well, not small per say, because he was able to make out the form of y/n relaxing in the steamy tub. he swallowed thickly and his eyes narrowed, the gentleman in him told him to go to the hot water waiting for him, to forgot what he saw because y/n didn't know he had seen her- but he is a pirate, and that part was telling him to stay right there where he knows he wants to be, what y/n doesn't know won't hurt her, she likes you too... the scoundrel won.

he gulped, as if realizing what he was about to do and accepting it. the towel hanging around his waist had already shifted, a tent forming around his length. his hand reached down, cupping his member through the cloth while his eyes drank in y/n's form. her breasts had sunk beneath the water, but the tops of them had somehow, erotically so, been large enough to crest the water leaving so little and so much to the imagination- and oh how happy rayleigh was to imagine it.

rayleigh groped his package, massaging it as his breathing grew heavy and he eyed y/n like she was prey. he used his free hand to rip the towel off of him, discarding it somewhere on the ground before going back to tend to himself. his large hand wrapped around his shaft and he let a rope of spit drop down to act as lubricant. he began pumping his cock keeping a moderately slow pace in order to savour the moment.

his eyes flicked back to y/n's form through the crack, more than happy to see she had grabbed the soap and stood up, revealing more of her deliciousness to the man watching through the fence. rayleigh licked his lips and smirked malevolently, moving his hand a bit faster and gritting his teeth to muffle a grunt. he watched her hands delicately swipe the soap along her body, imagining her hands trailing over his muscular body.

it was tantalizing so, how she cleaned her soft breasts in a groping motion- he'd gladly do the same for her. he could picture it: y/n sitting on his lap, shirt thrown across the room and perfect boobs on full display right before his eyes. he grabbed onto one of the fleshy mounds, his lips attaching to the other and sucking sweetly on y/n's skin eliciting heavenly moan that made rayleigh's hip buck.

the vein on his hard cock grew more prominent with each pump. he imagined y/n slowly sinking down onto his large member, moaning wantonly as it split her open, her arousal dripping down onto his crotch. his hands grip her hips roughly, slamming her down onto his cock and then thrusting up into her heat.

his hips rut against his hand that strokes his dick, precum dripping from the dark tip and dropping onto the tiles of the sauna floor- except for the little trickles that smear onto rayleigh's hand making it glisten in sin. the sauna's heat runs down rayleigh's toned body, mixing with the lust induced perspiration, it runs down his his neck, dipping in between the lines of his abs and loosing some in his happy trail of white hair, continuing on down his thighs tensed as they moved forward and back creating more friction for rayleigh's cock.

his breathing is heavy, quick, his eyes have glazed over and his jaw fallen slack. he brings his other hand to his cock, now pumping the appendage with both hands a lewd, firm slapping sound can be heard faintly.

rayleigh see's himself pushing y/n over back onto the bed, towering over her before he slams his cock back into her pussy and falls onto her propping himself up on his forearm above y/n's head and repeatedly thrusting into her.

his jaw clenches trying to stifle the grunts falling from his lips as he can feel the knot building, a heat rising and spreading towards his dick. he observes y/n running her hands over her figure, smearing the soap around as if she knows rayleigh is watching and is putting on a show for him. he thinks. of her tits bouncing beneath him as she grabs onto his biceps for dear life, the bed moving beneath the two as rayleigh's thrusts drive it into the wall.

his thrusts become sloppy, hopelessly desperately thrusting into his hands imagining they're y/n's warm pussy, sucking him in and taking his whole length. his hips begin to falter and he sets a wider stance to get a better angle, he creates a circle with his joined hands, pounding into it chasing his high. a series of grunts escape from his throat, only slightly muffled as he stops focusing on silencing himself and more on how intoxicating y/n's hands would be caressing his body.

"rayleigh? is that you?"

shit.. he spares only a glance through the crack seeing y/n stand up out of the water and look at the fence, before stepping out of the bath and walking over. his eyes return to his cock, deliciously sliding through his hands, his thighs tensed as he's lowered into almost a high squat- he has to finish before y/n finds him. his balls slap against his hands and at this point rayleigh would find it surprising if y/n didn't find the crack and peer through to see him jacking off. oh god... just thinking about it makes rayleigh feel his dick twitch, such an erotic thought, having y/n find him like this.

he's right on the edge, and y/n is a few feet away walking along the fence; rayleigh's jaw clenches and he grits his teeth in a snarl-like expression throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut as warm ropes of cum shoot from his cock landing on the tiles. his mouth opens in a silent grunt-moan and his hips jerk forward twice more before he stills. his chest heaves violently and he opens his eyes partially, looking to the crack in the fence to see you grabbing your towel off one of the benches.

he straightens back up with a red blush dusting his cheeks, then he grabs his towel bringing it to the floor and quickly wiping up the cum.

[fantastic-nonsense]

Do you have any good not fluffy/too fluffy Jason fic recs? He is my special interest and I like when he’s badass

luckily for you I read an exceptionally large number of Jason-focus fics for someone who probably talks about him the least of all the core Batfamily members. Here's a couple that I really like:

All the Roofs of Uncertainty, by Kieron_ODuibhir: For all the blood on his hands, Red Hood was never just a villain. And Nightwing never gives up on family, not for good. Or: The one where Dick bleeds a lot and Jason argues with everybody.

dead man's party, by TheResurrectionist: The “seeing ghosts” thing didn’t really bother him. Jason could do without the constant mother-henning from one in particular, though. [Or: Martha Wayne spends her afterlife making fun of and mothering Jason]

Deluge in the Wasteland, by Silver Spider: Maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe she was hiding from the wrong person. It couldn't hurt just to see him one more time before... Bruce/Talia. Post-'Son of the Demon' AU. [technically a Talia-centric fic, but Jason co-stars quite heavily]

It's a Hard-Knock Life (Except When There's Cookies), by Hinn_Raven: Jason Peter Todd would like it to be known that he did not adopt an orphanage. If anything, the little brats adopted him.

second impressions, by Valkirin: Red Hood doesn't know that Stephanie Brown is the new Robin. Tim Drake doesn't know anything about Red Hood or why he wants to fight Robin. All Tim knows is that a man in a red helmet just broke into his house. Jason needs to figure out what's going on, Tim needs a dad, and Stephanie needs to figure out just how long she's going to last as Robin.

Strays, by Cdelphiki: Three short months ago, Bruce brought Jason home after finding him starving, alone in an alley. Now he was doing quite well in his studies and training, but it broke Bruce's heart how much Jason seemed to expect the other shoe to drop any day. He'd never had a reason to trust the adults in his life before, so of course he was having difficulty coming to trust Bruce and Alfred.

So when Bruce came across a skittish little puppy while out on patrol, he started to wonder if adopting a puppy would help Jason out, help with his anxieties and give him the unconditional love he deserved, in a form he could tolerate. Maybe through teaching a puppy he was safe, he'd come to realize he was safe as well. It was worth a shot, and Bruce would be a gigantic liar if he said he didn't love their new puppy, too.

The 70 Days After Groundhog Day, by Ptelea: There's a time loop that only Jason remembers. It acts as a catalyst for changes within the family. Some arguments, some misunderstandings, some bonding, some healing, and quite a lot of conversations that mostly take place over food. Dick POV, focused on Dick and Jason but with the other Bats around and very present.

The Changeling, by Silver Spider: Jason is awake and aware but half-a-world away from Gotham in enemy hands. He thinks of nothing but escape, but what happens when he meets a certain little boy? Partial AU. Starts at Red Hood: Lost Days #1 then spins in its own direction.

the city carries ruins in its heart, by nex_et_nox: “Do you trust him?” Jim asked. “Yes,” said Batman, unhesitating. He didn’t know if he would ever like Red Hood. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to like working with him. He wanted to arrest the man. But if Batman trusted him, that would have to be enough for Jim.

Jim Gordon's evolving perspective on Red Hood.

Verdant, by Cerusee: Talia puts Jason in the Lazarus pit to restore his mind. Then she takes him home.

Bonus Young Justice-verse fics:

Come Alive, by CaptainOzone: Dick went to Infinity Island on a mission to rescue three. He never expected to return with an additional two. None of them did. AU of 3x06.

Resurgence, by Hinn-Raven: Healing is a slow process. Too bad the universe seems to have forgotten that. Even as the Team and the Justice League try to recover from the death of Wally West, the universe throws another obstacle for them to deal with. Post-Endgame Fix-It. Two-Shot.

Stages of Deterioration, by aradian nights: After Bruce finds Jason Todd, catatonic and traumatized, miraculously alive on the streets of Gotham, Tim, Dick, and Barbara attempt to fix their broken brother. AU.

[broken-stardust]

Maybe Hotch Was Right

Summary: Spencer and Reader don't get along, but things change when Spencer finds him during a personal moment.

Category: Angst/Fluff SpencerxMale!Reader

Content Warnings: homophobia, cursing, kissing, crying

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This was written for @imagining-in-the-margins's August Enemies to Lovers challenge, and I didn't procrastinate till the end of the month! Look at me go!! Anyway, I hope you enjoy my gay writing.

Y/N was the most insufferable person I knew. He was full of himself, he thought he knew better than anybody else, and he always had to be right. It infuriated me. It wasn't that he wasn't smart; he was. Incredibly smart, in fact. It was just that he had to make sure everyone knew it, and he'd rub it into people's faces all the time.

It didn't help that he was cute, too. If he'd been ugly, it would have made it so much easier to hate him. But he had these eyes that just drew me in. And that smile! Oh my god, that smile. If only he wasn't such an asshole.

He was nice enough, I supposed, just an arrogant prick. But everybody else liked him, and that just made my hatred for him that much worse. Why couldn't anyone see what he was doing? He was playing them all like a fiddle, but I wasn't falling for it. I knew that underneath that grin, he was just a self-consumed smartass.

He had been a thorn in my side throughout this entire case, too. Hotch kept pairing us up in hopes that we'd realize that our feud was uncalled for, but Y/N was just as stubborn as I was, if not more. The last straw had been when Hotch assigned us to the same hotel room.

"But Hotch," I whined, praying he'd have mercy on me and let me stay with Derek instead. "I won't be-"

He cut me off with a hand raised to my face.

"This isn't up for discussion, Reid," he warned. "You are sharing a room with Y/L/N, and if I need to, I won't let you out until you make up over whatever this stupid argument is about."

I rolled my eyes. Was he really treating me like a child right now? Still, I knew arguing would get me nowhere.

"Yes, Sir," I said in defeat before heading in the direction of my room.

Y/N was already in there, and I dreaded having to enter. With all the courage I could muster up, I opened the door and stepped inside.

It was dark except for the faint light coming in through the window, and I heard some sort of noise. A sniffle maybe? Was he... crying?

As the door closed behind me, I heard him scramble to hide whatever it was that he was doing. I mentally cursed myself for intruding on such a personal moment, even if I did hate the guy's guts.

"Are you, um, are you okay?" I finally asked after ages of silence.

I heard another sniffle come from his direction.

"Why would you care?" Y/N spat.

I approached slowly.

"Well, you're crying and-"

"Oh so now that I'm crying you suddenly care about me?" I stepped back again. "You don't have to pretend to give a shit just because I'm upset. You hate me, and I hate you. Let's just keep it that way."

I took a deep breath and resolved to sit on my bed, facing away from him. If he was going to be like that, I didn't want to deal with him. I closed my eyes and started going over the Fibonacci Sequence in my head to pass time.

"My parents found out that I'm gay," I heard his sudden, soft voice say through a sniffle.

My heart softened just a little bit at the words. I knew how hard it was to come out, how painful it was to get rejected. Even more so when you were forced out of the closet instead of coming out of your own free will.

"It didn't go well, then," I whispered. It was more to myself than to him, but he heard it anyway.

"What gave you that idea, Einstein?" he said bitterly. I could hear the hurt in his voice.

"I'm sorry. What did they say?"

"Why should I tell you?"

I sighed and got up off of my bed to go over to his and sit next to him. With the little bit of light that was in the room, I could faintly see Y/N's face. His eyes were red and puffy, and his cheeks were stained from tears. I wondered how long he'd been crying.

"I'm trying to help," I told him. "Talk to me."

I could see him contemplate opening up to me. Eventually, he wiped his eyes with shaky hands and looked down while picking at his nails.

"They said that I'm disgusting and that I'm going to Hell," Y/N admitted. My heart broke at the words.

"How'd they find out?" I asked gently.

"I was texting with my sister about a guy I like and she accidentally texted my parents instead of me. They figured it out from there."

A single tear rolled down his cheek. I fought the urge to wipe it from his face.

"I'm so sorry," I murmured. "How can I help you feel better?"

Y/N shrugged. He looked so defeated, I felt bad about the way I'd treated him throughout the case.

"What about this guy?" I asked. "Maybe you want to tell me about him?"

"I'd rather not," Y/N said as he cleared his throat. I noticed him visibly stiffen. After a moment of silence, he spoke again. "I know I act like a dick." I kept my mouth shut. "I have to be the smartest person in the room, and I have to do everything right."

I let out a short laugh as he admitted what we'd both known all along. This must have been his way of apologizing, so I let him continue.

"But that's not really me," Y/N admitted quietly. "I'm so insecure. I feel like I need to prove myself to everyone because, well, my whole life I've been fed the narrative that I should be ashamed of who I am. I guess I try to overcompensate."

I hesitantly reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. This man that I'd hated for so long was baring his soul to me, and I felt like I didn't deserve it.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated for the umpteenth time. "I didn't know. If I did, I wouldn't have been so rude to you." Then, I decided to take a chance. "So about that guy..."

Y/N shifted away from me uncomfortably.

"I kind of like a guy too," I whispered, slightly hoping he wouldn't hear me. "If that makes you feel any better."

In the pale moonlight, I could see his eyes grow wider. He turned to me with a shocked expression, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"But-" he cut himself off before he could say anything stupid. I shot him a sheepish grin. A wave of understanding washed over him, and he smiled slightly. "Can I..."

Instead of giving him a verbal answer, I leaned in and planted a soft kiss on his lips. I started to pull away, but his hands caught my face and pulled me back in. I sighed into the kiss, and Y/N smiled. He tasted like mint and strawberries. I didn't want the moment to end.

But of course, nothing lasts forever. Once we separated, Y/N began to cry again. This time, it was a strong, shaking cry that overtook his whole body. Panic set in as I wondered if I shouldn't have done that. I pulled Y/N close and rocked him back and forth with me while playing with his hair and whispering words of affirmation to him.

"What's wrong?" I asked, afraid of what the answer might be. I desperately didn't want him to think our kiss was a mistake.

"We just... we've been fighting this whole time," he said between sobs. "We both knew. Don't lie, I know you knew it too. And yet, we spent this whole time fighting."

"It's okay," I assured him. "We can't take back the past, but we can change the future."

I planted another soft kiss on his cheek and guided him to lay down in his bed. Once he was situated under the covers, I crawled into the bed next to him. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer.

"I love you," he choked out into my chest.

"I love you, too," I told him and pulled him even closer. "We'll get you through this. I promise."

Y/N nodded and cried until he was all tired out. We held each other tightly as we both drifted off to sleep, unsure of what may lay ahead. As I shut my eyes, I thought to myself, maybe Hotch was right.

[majesticbrownjawn]

The Best Man

Things get complicated when the best man looks like him ⬆️ But probably not complicated in the way you’re thinking.

Oldie from Wattpad. ‼️Chris=Erik‼️ I ain’t feel like going thru and changing his name. Deal with it. I wrote it with Erik in mind though. Enjoy boos❤️

——————————

His hands unashamedly gripped her ass, making her jump in shock.

"We can't do this Chris..." her voice faded out in the most unconvincing way, letting him know she was enjoying the moment as much as he was. When he pressed his lips against hers, she kissed him back, forgetting where she was and focused on his tongue entering her mouth. Ms. Johnson was quickly brought back down to Earth when her phone started vibrating in her hand, reminding her it was almost time for the mother/son dance. Sanai was a stickler for things being on schedule and wanted everything to be perfect for Bryan's big day, which to her meant keeping to the strict time table she mapped out.

She finally broke away from the younger man, staring him down with a frustrated look before disappearing into the large crowd of people to find her pursuer's best friend and the groom--her son.

***

Sanai Johnson was a woman with a plan, well, at least since she had become a mother at the age of 16. She fell in love with her son's father, August, and she thought he felt the same until he disappeared six months into her pregnancy. He was from the other side of the tracks, the "right" side. His parents were wealthy and he had earned a scholarship to a prestigious university a few hours away. When he finally showed up fours years later begging for Sanai to take him back so they could be a family, it was way too little, too late. From the moment he stepped back into their lives, he proved to be a great father to Bryan, and that was all she wanted from him. He on the other hand, had just stopped confessing his love for her just over a year ago before their son's 25th birthday--when he showed up to Bryan's party with a woman who looked just a few years older than the birthday boy himself.

It was funny, after all these years of refusing him, Sanai was actually contemplating giving August another chance and then he shows up with with some young girl. Oh well, she thought. She had bigger fish to fry, like planning the wedding she never got to have. It's not that she couldn't have gotten married in the past or sometime in the future for that matter, she was still in her early 40s, but could easily pass for someone a decade younger. She'd loss count of all the times people mistook her for Bryan's sister. Her buxom figure, glowing skin and beautiful features added to her appeal, but she always fell just shy of being completely confident in her appearance.

Where she lacked confidence in the physical, she made up for it in business and street smarts. While August was doing God knows what those four years in college, she graduated from high school early and started working at a museum. Little did she know she'd fall in love with art history and would later become one of the most sought after and well paid art curators in the country. She got to where she was by working hard and staying focused, which for her didn't leave much room for romance.

The wedding weekend had finally come and the guests had started to arrive at her large estate. She planned a series of events designed to make the large 250 person guest list feel a little smaller. This first event, brunch, was purposely hosted at her home to make everyone feel a little more comfortable mingling and getting to know each other.

"Chris!" Bryan was ecstatic to see his best friend who was more like a big brother to him. He flew across the foyer and embraced Chris, who he hadn't seen in almost three years. The two met when Bryan was in the 7th grade and Chris was in the 10th grade at a basketball camp. Chris was Bryan's counselor and the youngster immediately took to the older boy, following him around and following his lead in almost anything he did, except when Chris moved to China. Ms. Johnson wasn't having that. Both men studied business at the same university and started learning Chinese in high school, continuing through college. After graduating, Chris decided to take a job in Beijing making just under seven figures at a budding tech start-up.

"It's been too long, man." Chris was just as excited to see his friend, but was always more reserved than him, being careful to save his energy for just the right time. He knew this weekend would be full of exciting and possibly emotionally draining moments, so he decided to ease his way in.

"So your mom got it like this now? No wonder she invited the wedding party to stay here. This place is massive." He looked around absolutely impressed with his surroundings.

"I know right? When's the last time you've seen her? Like right after I graduated?"

"Yea--high school, I think. Maybe when you moved into your dorm freshman year."

"Well, she's around here somewhere. I'm sure she'll be happy to see you. Let me show you where you'll be staying."

***

Sanai was the kind of woman who always had things under control, but her son's wedding had her out of sorts. She was so hell-bent on everything being perfect that she was stressing about every little detail. She did a self-check about 30 minutes ago, realizing her worries were affecting the time she was having, so she took a couple mimosas to the head to take the edge off.

After settling in, Chris made his way back downstairs and gave himself a tour of the home. Along the way, there was a woman who he couldn't stop looking at from afar as she weaved in and out of the crowd. The red dress she wore was what caught his eye first. Then as he closed in on her, her familiar smile pulled him in, making him wonder if he and Bryan went to college with her because she seemed to know a lot of people here. He approached her from behind, placing his hand on the small of her back and leaned into her, introducing himself.

"Hi, I'm Chris. Do I know you? You look so familiar." When she turned around and he finally got an up close look at her, he immediately knew who she was. "Ms. Johnson?"

She smiled and answered, "In the flesh." Instead of letting her go, he froze, still holding her close as she now faced him.

"Uh, uh--it's good to see you," he finally spoke up, his arm still holding her tight. "You haven't aged a day. You're so...beautiful," he blurted out. It was like he was seeing her for the time. In a way he was, this was his first time seeing her as a man.

"Thank you, Chris. It's good to see you too," she replied blandly, gently patting him on his chest, trying to release herself from his grip. Despite trying to get away from him, Sanai certainly noticed what a handsome man Chris had become. She was on the taller side for a woman, but he easily towered over her at 6'4". His frame was full, with just the right amount of grown man thickness she liked. The rest of brunch Sanai was slightly distracted by Chris, partly because she was so shocked at how much he'd grown up and also because she thought she caught him watching her. It was probably just her imagining things.

That night after dinner at the house with the bridal party, Sanai was cleaning up the living area when she felt a quiet presence enter the space.

"Can I help, Ms. Johnson?"

"Oh, please call me Sanai, you're grown now, Chris."

"Ok. So tell me Sanai, what's your secret?" She looked at him confused. "I meant what I said earlier. You haven't aged. It's incredible. You look incredible." He didn't try to hide the fact that his eyes couldn't stop taking her body in.

She blushed at his comment but tried her best not to act phased by his repeated mention of her looks.

"Well, you certainly have changed."

"I hope that's a good thing," he smirked. "How are you dealing with Bryan getting married? I assume it can't be easy to let go of your only child. And you're single, right? I'm sure you've thought about how lonely it may get, him not being around as much."

"Bryan has been on his own for a while now. I'll manage."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How will you manage, Ms. Johnson?" His tone seemed a bit suggestive, but she figured maybe it was the wine she drank playing tricks on her.

He was, of course being suggestive in the slightest way. His immediate attraction her earlier today threw him off initially, but that wasn't going to happen again this weekend. He decided everything else he'd say and hopefully do to her his weekend would be very deliberate.

"I mean, I'm sure you have needs, right?" He moved closer to her, so close that she had no choice but to look at him As his tilted his head sideways at her seductively.

"I'm not sure what you mean."

"I think you know exactly what I mean, Sanai." Chris' hand slowly traced up the side of her body, carefully following the curve of her hip upwards, stopping just below her bust. She watched his hand closely, allowing his touch to send a shiver up her spine.

"Your behavior is so inappropriate Chris." She said it so sternly that he momentarily forgot he was a grown ass man now who could pursue her without worrying about getting in 'trouble.'

He lifted his hands in surrender and openly watched her as she nervously cleaned up a few more things before heading upstairs. He noticed the way her breathing picked up when he touched her. The goosebumps on her arms told him she enjoyed his hands on her, despite her calling his actions "inappropriate." Chris laid in the bed that night, thinking about her and trying his best to ignore the nagging feeling of his dick hard-pressed against his shorts. The hornier and unsatisfied he was, he figured, the more persistent he'd be about getting a taste of Ms. Johnson.

***

The following afternoon, the bridal party gathered in the foyer of Sanai's home to learn the tango for the reception. After the instructor paired everyone up, Sanai noticed Chris was missing, but remembered he didn't have a partner because as the best man, it was his job to walk the grandmothers and her down the aisle.

"Looking for me?" She jumped at the sound of his voice.

"No, Chris. Why would I be?" She figured if she acted like she was uninterested in his attention that he'd leave her alone. She had another thing coming though. The more time Chris spent in her presence, the more his desire for her increased. Even if he wasn't able to see straight through her hard-to-get act, it wouldn't have stopped him from doing all he could to get her.

He bent down and bowed, lifting his hand to hers, "May I have this dance?" He grabbed her hand but she quickly yanked it away.

"Come on, don't be like that, Sanai."

"Maybe you should call me Ms. Johnson after all."

"I'll call you whatever you want. Just dance with me. Please." He was a little surprised when she took his hand and stood close to him. He took the lead, already familiar with the sensual dance. His hand rested low on her back and he used it to push her lower half into his. Front to front, Sanai could feel Chris' bulge brushing up against her as they moved across the foyer.

"You know I had a crush on you back in the day right?" He whispered closely to her face.

"Excuse me?" She cackled at his comment but he pulled her closer, feeling like she'd walk away from him at any second.

"Honestly, I wasn't even tryna be Bryan's friend at first when we were kids...I just needed an excuse to be around you," he continued. "You were just so creative and kind. I didn't know a mother could be so damn beautiful." Sanai blushed at his memory of her.

"I used to love to come over so I could see you walk around the house in those baggy t-shirts with no bra. Watching you in them little ass shorts had me on hard every time. I can't tell you how many times I had wet dreams about you, Ms. Johnson."

Sanai could feel Chris' excitement pressing up against her. Wisdom urged her to break away from him, but her body begged her to stay put. It had been so long since she allowed a man to be this close to her. And he just smelled and looked so good.

"Are you serious? Why are you telling me this now?" She shouldn't have asked, but her curiosity and her attraction to him was getting the best of her.

"Because it's the truth...and because I always fantasize about being close to you, just like this." The pair was face to face, their foreheads pressed against the other's. Lucky for them, no one would think anything of it because the tango called for that intimate positioning.

"You always fantasize? Or you used to?" She asked her question while looking him square in the eyes.

"Can I cut in?" Bryan's father looked at Chris suspiciously for a moment before taking Sanai's hand and trying to shake off the notion that his son's best friend was doing what it looked like he was doing—pushing up on Sanai. Their interaction would have looked innocent to the average person, but August recognized game when he saw it. He stayed close to Sanai the rest of the day just in case his suspicions about Chris were correct.

***

Hey, can you come downstairs for a minute please?

The text came in to Sanai's phone after 1 a.m. that night.

Who is this?

Guess 😈

I don't have time for games. Who is this?

It's Chris. I want to apologize.

Sanai made her way downstairs cautiously, as not to wake anyone in the house. When she laid eyes on him, she immediately knew she was in trouble. Chris wore a pair of silk pajama pants that left little for her to imagine about how girthy he was and the way his arms looked in the wife beater he wore was already doing things to her.

"He's Bryan's best friend..." She reminded herself as she approached him.

"Do you always talk to yourself?"

"Don't be cute, Chris."

"I hope I'm cute to you."

"I thought you want to apologize for your behavior?"

"Oh yea, I do." The pair was whispering trying not to wake anyone, especially Bryan. It would be hard to explain why they were down here whispering at this hour. Her home was large enough that no one would have heard them anyway, but that fact eluded them both in the moment. "Is there somewhere we can talk without having to whisper?" he asked.

She looked him over trying to decide if she could trust him being alone with her. He'd been so bold the last few days.

She decided she probably couldn't trust him, but still answered, "Sure, follow me."

***

So there are three, maybe four 🤔completed parts to this miniseries but the series itself isn’t completed. Hopefully posting this here will motivate me to finally finish it (it’s been like two years 🥴) I know y’all are waiting on Delicte part 4. Wrote on it some tonight and plan to have it up in the next week. Thanks for reading🖤

[risingmoonyue]

Batman/P5 Crossover

-Sometime before Akechi but after Futaba or Haru

-Damian is sent to Tokyo to check it out for whatever reason (maybe they had a fight, or he’s going stir crazy, or he’s just the only one they can send at the time and didn't bother with all that "you're not old enough" business)

-Dami is younger than Futaba by a year or three or four

-He is baby

-He is transferred to Shujin as a child prodigy where he also immediately joins the "outcast" community because of his attitude and intelligence

-Talia goes too, manages to cut off all his communications with the Batfam, and is planning to take him home in a month whether he likes it or not

-For whatever reason, Batfam doesn't realize this??? (Like, either she's faking reports or they're too busy (think fight or chaos in Gotham scenario maybe???))

-Anyways, obviously Dami doesn't want this

-Somehow the Phantom Thieves hear about the situation

-Maybe he was assigned to shadow Makoto for a while, and they managed to overhear a phone conversation either to Talia or Dami trying to get in touch with the Batfam and nothing really working

-And eventually they outright see him fighting with his mother with him at some point (either in person or over a phone call) mentioning that she already disowned him, he's happy with his Father's family, and that he will head her family business over his dead body—and oh would you look at that, you already managed that, care to try again Mother?

-The PT's are understandably alarmed

-And learn her name from Damian (from Makoto maybe or someone else he bonded a little with) (MORGANA) (THEY GAVE HIM MONA FOR A DAY AND NOW THEY KNOW EVERYTHING FROM HIS MANY PETS TO HIS LEAST TO MOST FAVORITE SIBLINGS STARTING FROM TIM TO DICK TO HIS FAVORITE FOODS TO EVERYONE IN HIS FAMILY’S NAMES TO HOW STUPID HE FINDS EVERYONE AND WHY THEY'RE STUPID TO HIS FAVORITE MUSIC TO WHY ANIMALS ARE SUPERIOR TO HUMANS AND MONA’S LIKE OMG TMI BUT LOVED IT THERE BECAUSE HE WAS PAMPERED LIKE NO TOMORROW GOT ONLY THE BEST FOOD AND THE BEST BEDS AND TOYS THAT HE GOT TO TAKE WITH HIM BACK TO LEBLANC AND NOW AKIRA AND SOJIRO ARE LIKE DUDE WHY AND MONA’S LIKE IM KEEPING HIM THIS HUMAN IS GOOD SORRY AKIRA YOU’RE DEMOTED)

-The palace is basically a fortress full of assasin ninjas and clones

-Dunno what her keywords are tho

-Or her what her palace actually is

-Help?????????

-Cognitive Bruce, Ra's, Damian, Dami clones, and Jason (maybe rest of batfam??? Idk)

-Long story short, the traps are so assassin-y that they need someone who knows the actual Talia because egads, this is the closest they have all come to actually dying

-And they didn't really want to do it and were just gonna power through

-But Dami manages to find out and get in and of course uses his background to help out whether they like it or not

(-he's slightly off put by Joker's name, but then decides to just solely call Gotham!Joker "The Clown")

-At some point they are captured by the Shadow Talia who is decked out in super fancy traditional Arab clothing and probably every conceivable hidden weapon known to man

-Talia says Damian won't and can't ever change from who he "is meant to be", referring to him as her Alexander and basically brutally addresses all of his insecurities concerning the batfam and people and society in general

-And all this is kinda killing him cause he still loves Talia despite the fact that she killed him and had a violent citywide custody battle with Batman but he also loves the batfam too even if he would absolutely never admit it (except to maybe Grayson)

-Joker does his emotional kick-start thing and/or Dami is like Makoto and just gets so mad he triggers it himself, but either way, lo and behold, Damian is now a persona user, usurping Futaba's place as the baby of the team

-The outfit is kinda inspired by his future adult league outfit with the top and bottom and gold jewelry, but has a raggedy cloak with dull gold edges, a Robin mask and gauntlets, and his main weapons are batarang-sword hybrids

---acknowledging his past and moving on with his present

-Persona: Aladdin, Tsun Zu, Ali Baba, somone else???? Need ideas plz help

-Probably the fastest member of the group

-His small body makes his hits not as strong, but hoo boy can that kid move around

-Hits a lot and dodges most

-Most of his Persona abilities are physical and have high crit and/or are status affects

-Downside is he has not a lot of SP (compared to the rest of the group)

-And he has pretty good HP

-Those good ol' “superior genetics” have to be good for something after all

-Anyways they escape to find the treasure another day

-And Dami is all smug because HA you definitely can't stop me now

-And the PTs are just resigned to keeping an eye on the extremely competent snotty assassin/vigilante child

-They do like him though so it's not too bad (comes with learning all his darkest secrets via his mother and thought processes that tends to accompany watching someone at their lowest get a persona)

(-They do manage to temper him a bit and help him adjust better to actual society too that's nice)

-As such, they also know about Batman and Robin and his whoooole family. Both sides.

-Damian decided not to tell batfam because he does agree with the whole "most adults suck" mentality that the Phantom Thieves have; despite his deep, deep respect for his father and mother and Grayson, they all do kinda suck

-And he’s rather not get pulled out as he surely would if he told them

(-On a side note, he likes Sojiro

-The man gives him coffee, curry, and leaves him mostly to his own devices

-Instant win)

-He is dubbed "Mockingbird" apon return to the metaverse because of his freaky talented vocal skills in mimicking anyone and everyone's voice

-Eventually, they beat Talia

-She doesn't publicly confess to all her sins unlike everyone else

-PTs don't realize it worked until Damian came into school with a genuine smile on his face, and more relaxed than he'd been since he got there

-PTs are confused until Damian's like, this works out because hey, don't want to have several people assassinated and draw the entire freaking league to Tokyo

(-Which was probably why Talia didn't)

-They agree

-But she does break down to tears in Dami's arms and promise to ACTUALLY TALK CIVILLY with Bruce to try and make up for everything and try to fix up the league

-He stays for the rest of p5

-But steers all his reports very much away from the Phantom Thieves

-If anything, he downplays absolutely everything, and makes it seem like it's nothing super big but he's gonna stay a while to keep and eye out because y'alls are busy and I like it here and I haven't gotten expelled so there

-The PTs like to add funny stuff on there just to see if they’ll notice

-Like, Akira likes to have Dami describe his day in excruciating detail. Like, recounting the entirety of his nine or so months to Sae during police interrogation, excruciating

-Mona is pushing for the shiny stuff

-Yusuke just likes to put in bursts of randomness (Dami once mentioned that an acquaintance made another acquaintance T-pose in a church for art lol)

-Ann loves to rant about food

-Haru is always insisting on about feelings

-Ryuji likes to complain about everything and puts in ridiculous requests

-Futaba is just putting in every gen-z thing ever

-Makoto is actually responsible and tries to get him to talk about his progress in school and his social life

-And Akechi is absolutely nowhere near any of this and doesn’t know it exists

-When they have the Tokyo/Japan-wide calling card, Batfam sees it too because let's face it, that's totally the sorta thing that they would keep an eye out for even if he didn't look at the news in the entirety of the time Dami was in Tokyo

-And they send a message to Damian (the first actual communication they've had since before Talia) saying "WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON OVER THERE????"

-And with the entirety of the Phantom Thieves looking over his shoulder, Damian's just like "Chill dudes, everything's fiiiiiiiiiine"

-And they're like "UH WHAT PART OF THIS IS FINE????" because they've dug around a bit and found every news report, and oh hey, this isn't anywhere near as calm as Damian described and he’s being super OOC and what’s going on?!?!?!?!?!

-And Damian, being egged on by the most of the PTs, just sends a winky face

-Just

-😉

-And he's smug, because it's still chaos over there so they can't actually come get him and try to pull him out because he's being super ooc

-Which means he's free to do what he wants/needs in the meantime

-Cue the end of the game

-And Dami is going with them on their summer road trip and cackling because the batfam is scrambling to find him in Tokyo but lol nope he's in a van the Japanese government tried and fail to follow

-And he found all the trackers like, a year ago

-Every

-Single

-One

-They eventually track him down to Akira's house where they're calmly eating dinner (and they've been expecting this for the past week so Mona was keeping watch just so they could pull this off) and talking about how uneventful the school year was

-Cue mass confusion in the batfam

-As the PTs enjoy just confusing them so much

-By talking to Mona

-Talking normal then crazy then normal again

-And just generally being their normal selves lol

-They explain absolutely nothing beyond gushing about how much progress socially and academically he’s made (gotta embarrass the baby of the group somehow) and making sure that if Dami absolutely has to go home that he's able to stay in touch

(-Later, Damian forms his own hero persona outside of Batman and Robin)

(-He names it Mockingbird)

(-Batfam proceeds to have a brain aneurysm while the PTs dab their happy proud tears out of their eyes on their regularly scheduled tea time at the Wayne Manor)

(-Damian sends a private plane every week or two lol)

(Bonus: ARTTTTTTT)

(Psst if you guys have ideas for art, outfits, interactions or scenarios, let me know)

[justagayguysworld-blog]

Not sure what you will think of this one, but my mind inhabits the most unusual of places.

It was the last beer and we'd shared it on the way to town for another twelve-pack. I barely knew Antonio. He'd only been there a couple of weeks, but it was the damnedest thing I'd ever seen. Nobody, and I do mean nobody, could talk to a horse the way he did. I thought it was a fluke the first time. Then he did it again and I knew it couldn't be natural.

We had a contract with the state for wild mustang management. It wasn't the easiest job in the world, but I liked the outdoors and it beat hell out of watching my old man slap his third or fourth wife around. Maybe Sheila was the fifth; I'd stopped counting or giving much of a shit by that point. For my purposes at nineteen, it was a godsend they'd hired me and paid my bus fare to Utah. We rounded them up, checked them for diseases, tagged them, sold off the limit, gave them their shots and then trucked them back to the desert.

I'd been at the ranch for maybe three months when he came up one night seemingly outta nowhere and sat next to me at the fire. I greeted him in what little Spanish I knew. "Save it, dude. I speak English." And that was that.

One of the stallions was raising bloody hell in the pen and stirring up the other horses. I stood up to see if I could go quiet him down. Antonio braced a hand on my knee and said as he was standing, "Can I borrow that? Thanks." He took the beer out of my hand, turned it up and walked over to the corral with it in his hand. Sitting the bottle on the post, he hopped the fence, picked the bottle up and walked straight over to the hellraiser.

Just walked inside like he owned the place. He was fixing to get trampled to death near as I could tell, when he grabbed that bad boy by his mane and said something. The horse shook its head side to side. Antonio jerked harder on a handful of hair, the horse quieted down and lowered its head. Then the crazy fuck turned up that bottle, and I swear to God, I saw a mustang down the rest of my beer.

Tossing the bottle over, he walked back to the fence and hopped it again like nothing had happened. Picking up the empty he came back to the campfire and said, "Sorry about that. Can I get you another?"

Stunned, I asked, "What the fuck was that about?"

"Horses can smell fear. And some of them like beer." He walked away leaving me gape-jawed and went to the bunkhouse for another round. When he came back with our longnecks, he twisted the lid off one with his forefinger and thumb. I'd never seen anyone do that either.

Bottle in hand, I asked, "Where you from?"

"Can't say exactly. I tend to move around a lot. Guess you could call me a restless spirit." Bending down, he placed the same hand on my knee again to sit like an old man trying to find his bearings and steady himself. I hadn't noticed it earlier, but the chill of his touch radiated through my jeans to my kneecap.

The hand was just as icy when he extended it. "Antonio. What's your name, cowboy?"

"Jason. Jason Sparks. But most people just call me Rufus or asshole. Seems I'm the low man on the totem pole around here."

He laughed and said, "Not anymore. I just blew into town. I'll be working the night shift."

"Night shift? I wasn't aware we had one."

"Yeah, I'm something of a specialist. These positions can be hard to fill. Not everybody can handle an alcoholic horse with bad dreams."

I literally fell off the log laughing. Struggling to get up, Antonio grabbed the collar of my jacket and pulled me back to an upright position. Without any real effort on my part, I found my ass firmly planted on the log again. If he was superman, I didn't see where he could be hiding the muscles. We were about the same size and weight from what I could tell. He chuckled and mumbled something about horses not being the only alcoholics in those parts.

"I'll drink to that. Let me get us one more beer and then I guess I'll turn in for the night. Where are you bunking?"

"Next to you if there's room still available at the inn. Larry said to grab any empty bed I could find. And yours kind of looked like a mess when I was stowing my gear. But at least it didn't smell like shit."

Stopping to take a piss I wondered how he knew which bed was mine, but in the quest for brewskis I'd forgotten the question by the time I returned. As if reading the mind I was in the process of losing, he stated very matter-of-factly, "You don't smell like a cowboy or a horse with a drinking problem."

Not knowing exactly how to or if I should reply, I thought a moment and said, "Generally speaking, I don't go around smelling cowboys or their sheets, and I damned sure ain't smelling a horse's breath to see if they've been drinking."

He must've sensed my unease. Clinking his bottle against mine, he offered, "Sorry, I have a really weird nose. It smells the strangest damned things. Guess that's why I'm good with the horses. I smell what they smell."

"Ain't nothing wrong with your nose, Antonio," I blurted out. "You have a real nice nose. Most of these ugly old bastards have had their's broken in so many bar fights, I don't really want to think about it, much less how they smell."

Bumping his shoulder against mine, he clinked his nearly empty bottle to mine and said, "Yeah, I'll take loving over fighting any time I can. Probably why I get along with the horses and avoid divorces.

We had minimal contact after that. Other than rolling over or the occasional fart, I didn't hear much out of him for the next two weeks. Except in my dreams if I'm going to be perfectly damned honest about this. And generally speaking, I didn't have much of a habit dreaming about other men, at least not in that way. But there he was, more than once, pretty damned specifically. If I'd been anyone else, it would've been hard to ignore. Only I'd learned to master any direct concern for my actual feelings, and dick management had never been an issue for me personally.

The crew I was working was out on range management. I'd barely been back to the place long enough to sleep, much less for fireside chitchat. Then Saturday night came, we were going to take a couple days off and there he was. Just like in my damned dreams. I have no reason to lie. It was disconcerting when I saw him sprawled out there next to the fire. Not a care in the world, acting as if he'd grown up right out of the ground on that very spot, he smiled.

Looking me directly in the eye as if he hadn't invaded my dreams, he said casually as a cousin, "Hey Jason Sparks, if you're going to the house, could you grab me another cold one?" It had been a particularly hard week, I was bone-ass tired and his nose still wasn't broken in six different places. Two beers later we were left alone with a raging fire and the feelings I was experiencing that matched that blaze. I really wanted to kick his ass. Antonio had seriously fucked with my head, and he didn't seem to know or at least care.

He got up for the third round. It wasn't my knee he touched that sent icy shivers up my spine this time. It was my thigh. About three inches below the part that separates the men from the boys. Close enough for discomfort, I met his glaze and that fire was dancing in his eyes. His nose still wasn't broken, but the quiet smirk on his face made me seriously think about rearranging it.

Fucker scratched my head as he walked away like I was some kind of damned puppy in love. Brought back another round and said, "These are the last ones, Jason Sparks. Let's polish them off and make a run into town. I'm still thirsty. If you'll drive, I'll buy."

That was the night and I guess the moment that changed or ended my life. Something deep inside me could hear it slowly rumbling. I'd seen it in those dreams. I simply didn't have the power to say no or the least of will to fight him. And we weren't struggling. I guess that was what's so odd about it. Everything in my body and soul knew it was happening, even if my conscious mind was slow in catching up. I wanted him. I'd be the worst kind of liar if I said I didn't. And I knew he knew it.

He took my hand and pulled me up off the ground. I could've just as easily staggered to my feet of my own accord. But he wanted that ice running through my veins clashing with my toasted toes inside those boots. And I felt it. Felt it thoroughly as we climbed in the truck and started the motor. Only once did he touch my body on the way to the store. It was completely casual and anything but innocent as the shivers raced up and down my spine.

He went in and came out. I felt very strange. Almost in an out-of-body floating feeling I drove away into the darkness of the rural night. I still remember. It was as vivid, quiet and unstoppable as a freight train bearing down on the family sedan stalled on the side of the tracks.

"Pull over." I could've kept driving, but the truth was that I'd pulled over two weeks before. "I said pull over, Jason Sparks." He didn't have to ask again. And the truth, as he very well knew, is that I'd been wanting to pull over my whole life. The cab of the truck was full of echoes and whispers as I floated above my body while it and he crawled into the back seat. Voices were everywhere, the engine was running and for the first time in my life I didn't give a damn.

I thought in some delirious way I was about to kiss a boy, but that wasn't it. That wasn't it at all. My feelings, those secreted desires weren't important. We weren't boys. I'd become a man without realizing or acknowledging it, and that brief period of my life was about to end abruptly.

It was brutal. How could I possibly forget when he folded down the lambswool collar of my jacket and sunk his teeth into my flesh? I could've fought him off, but I'd already struggled my whole life to be something different than what I was. Antonio was reconciling my conflicts, meeting my innermost longings and he'd bought the beer.