#he’s a twink- if you look back far enough?

[fryingthoughts]

Hello tumblr hell and high water to any unfortunate soul seeing this. I had a little guy I’m understanding is the current babygirl. Ragdoll or banish him to the pits of hell as you wish

[wakeup01]

Two Twinks, One Wish

“So Charlie, what did you wish for Christmas?”

“Really? Can we just watch the movie?” I say, annoyed.

Daniel had been my boyfriend for about a month now and had recently moved into my flat, just in time for Christmas. Since then things had been a struggle, he would continually whine about my inadequacies - how I didn’t tidy enough, didn’t appreciate him and most of all how I was a terrible top.

See, the problem was, we were both twinks. We had the same skinny body type, with barely any muscle definition. The only real difference being he had the better ass. Admittedly, I had a severe lack of confidence in the bedroom, frequently failing to get in the mood. Daniel on the other hand was very particular about what he liked and what he expected.

“Come on! You must be able to think of something. God knows there’s enough things you can be better at…” Daniel chastised.

Even now he had turned a harmless movie night into another chance to take petty digs. We were on the couch watching some cheesy xmas film, where the protagonist makes wishes that magically come true. Now he was insisting for me to make some stupid wish.

“Why don’t you go first? You seem to have a lot of ideas in mind.” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hmm, I got the perfect one! Charlie, I wish… you were a better top!” He laughs and nudges into my shoulder.

I roll my eyes, of course, I should of guessed this is where things were heading. Ugh. Out of nowhere I feel a chill wash over my whole body and a tightness take hold in my chest. After a moment the feeling subsides.

“Very funny. Have you been thinking that one up all night.” My voice dripping in sarcasm.

I shift in my seat slightly, a dull warmth emanating from my crotch. I must be feeling unwell, I’m definitely not being turned on by his degrading remarks. But the heat doesn’t fade, in fact it only grows in intensity. I get the impulse to grope at my growing bulge, the tightness straining against my jeans. Daniel would never live it down If I did, but it was becoming rather uncomfortable.

“You look a little flustered there… ah. I see. Are you really getting horny from this? Christ, you’re pathetic.” Daniel scolds, reaching his hand down.

Before I can object he unzips my trousers and pulls down the waistband of my briefs. My cock bursts forth and slaps against my chest, pre already leaking from it’s tip. Except it’s not my cock, this monster is almost twice my normal size. And my balls are inflating in front of my very eyes.

“What the hell?” I shout.

“Woah, oh shit, it’s working. It’s a Christmas miracle!” He exclaims in barely contained glee.

“Daniel, what did you do!” My voice cracks.

My dick continues to snake up my torso, going from 5 inches, to 7 then to 8. As it grows, so does my hornyness, overpowering my head as I fall into a drunken stupor. This is the most intense erection I’ve ever felt. My hand rubs up and down the entire length and I attempt to wrap my fingers around it, before discovering its girth is now thicker than my hand.

“Nice cock ‘bro’. Good tops are well equipped downstairs. And now, you are too. Hahaha” I look over and see him smirk at me.

He’s enjoying this far too much for my liking, but I’m in no position to fight back. Why did he make that stupid wish, I better not be stuck with this forever. At this point I don’t think my cock would even fit into any underwear I own. How exactly can I walk around with this thing swinging between my legs.

“You know who makes good tops? Jocks. That cocky attitude and carefree nature, coasting through life without thinking.” Daniel suggests, wistfully.

Jocks are also narcissistic morons. And I’m certainly not going to be one just to be a better ‘top’. I’m suddenly distracted by a chafing from my rear, a pair of straps seem to be cupping the cheeks of my tight butt. Below my balls now sits a stained pouch, the smell of musk rising from it hits my nose and I recoil.

“I think it’s jockstraps only from now on Charlie. And woof, sweaty ones at that.”

All of my senses are being overpowered, it’s like my head is in a vice that keeps on tightening. The film in front of me becomes a blur, my focus shattered by the intense pleasure from my new cock.

“Cock.” I blurt out.

I hear Daniel laughing from out of view.

My head is starved of oxygen as all the blood rushes to my groin, I’ve never been this horny before. I feel the strangest sensation as my brain thickens, filling up with throbbing meat. All the space padded out until I’m holding up a heavy dumbbell on the end of my neck. My thoughts were still there, somewhere, but it took so long to find them. It was quicker and easier to just embrace jockdom, stop worrying so much and just go along with the flow. If I was unsure of what to say then bro, I’d just say ‘bro’! A bro can fill in sentences with ‘bro’ and everyone will know what a bro they are. And bro? Being labeled as a dumb bro means no one expects anything meaningful from me. Brawn over brains is the mantra of my life dude.

“Jock’s also like to wear their bro-hood on their sleeves, and in your case, quite literally.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth I feel a sharp pain, as if a hundred needles are stabbing down my arm. I brace myself before glancing down. And there it was, 🍖 the meat emoji tattooed on my left hand. Huhhuh, awesome bro. Branded a meathead for life.

“Bro?” I ask slowly, my voice now considerably deeper.

“Yeah ‘Chad?’” Daniel emphasises.

The name immediately sticks to me like glue. Chad. I am such a Chad. I have some distant recollection of being someone else, but I can’t be bothered to search my brain for it. There’s a more pressing concern.

“Bruh, I need to empty my balls.” I grunt. The pressure from my engorged member becoming unbearable.

“Then you know what to do. Good muscle tops have their cocks milked every day.”

I grip my cock and begin pumping in earnest, my jaw hanging open. As I masturbate, my hands and arms bulk up with muscle. I see my veins very noticeably pop out. I feel a desperate urge to flex, letting one hand go from my dick. I ball it into a fist and raise it to the side of my head, squeezing my biceps. My arm pulses with meat, sending a vain satisfaction to my pleasure center.

“Good dumb tops spend all their time in the gym or on the field. Sculpting their body into the perfect chiselled shape.” His nasally voice instructs.

Muscle continues to form all over my lithe frame; my shoulders broaden and my chest ripples into a tight 6 pack. My clothes are loudly ripped to shreds. Memories enter my head of spending hours working out, of hanging with the other jocks and forming a vacant facade of a personality. Sweat drips from my hairy armpits, staining the couch under me. The room quickly starts smelling like a gym, my rank feet tearing free from my socks. My face cracks as it squares out into a more defined outline, brow growing heavy above my distant eyes. My body is now taking up most of the couch as Daniel budges over to the side. I quicken my pace, pumping now with both hands. My balls tighten.

“Fuck yeah brah.” I roar, reaching climax.

My cock spurts rope after rope of musky cum directly at my face, I’m left covered in my own seed. Daniel leans over to me and begins to eagerly lick at my face. He savours my taste on his tongue before swallowing. The sign of an expert bottom, huhuhu.

“Mmm. Great Tops know how to take control. And you’re a great top Chad.” Daniel moans in lust.

He’s right.

“Dude, this film is fucking dull. I’m changing to the sports channel bro. There’s a sick game playing today.” My hands take the remote and switch to a noisy football game.

I grab Daniels’s tiny little body and force him onto my lap. I flex again and push his face into my armpit. His tongue drags along my wiry dank hair. He moves his hand between my legs and starts passionately fingering his hungry ass hole, using my cum as lube. I hear him panting heavily like a dog. Man, my boyfriend is such a whiny brat…

“Bro, it’s my turn.” My cocky voice booms.

“What?” I hear his muffled voice cry out.

“Uhh… I wish… I wish you were a Bro like me, Bro.” I smirk.

“Wait, noooo!” He screams.

His body shudders and contorts as I hold his face to my pits with my newfound strength. He packs on pounds of muscle in a matter of seconds. Dan’s moaning turns to grunts. He’s going to make for such a Good. Arrogant. Dumb. Bro.

I watch his dong stretch down his leg, his balls sagging between his thickening thighs. The head of Dan’s veiny cock leaking like a faucet. A pair of juicy pecs push out from his chest and his adam apple swells. I pull away the remains of his clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

Dan’s dainty feet beef up to a size 12, sweat gathering between his toes - smelling like a real man should. I feel his previously fat bubble butt tense with lean muscle on my lap. With a squeak, his thoroughly abused fuck hole tightens shut, never to be stretched open again. He only tops after all, like me.

I release my grip on him and he pulls away, my sweat covering his square jawed face. He stuffs his junk into a jockstrap, looking barely concealed as it throbs with need. His messy hair has receded into a clean as fuck buzzcut. We now look almost identical, except that his meat emoji 🍖 tattoo is engraved on his right hand.

“Bro!” Dan’s voice deepens.

“Let’s go find some sluts to breed, bro.” We both smirk at each other and flex.

[thegnomelord]

Okay, genuine question, why did the devs have to make Makarov into such a fucking twink? Like look at this bastard:

The hair, the smug smirk, the fact he looks like a damn twig compared to the rest of the 141 boys. I know he would probably kill me the second he loses interest in me but like, I want to bend in him half so bad.

And you know he'd be a demanding bratty twink; hips rolling back to meet yours as you pound him into the desk, his legs thrown over your shoulders and knees against his chest, moaning lowly as you bully your cock into him like he's a common whore.

But don't think you're the one in control. He's got a knife pressed against your throat, blood rolling down your skin from the places where he'd nicked you already. It would be so easy for him to slit your throat, to take your life like he's done to countless others. But he doesn't, the knife is only there as a reminder of who holds the leash around your throat.

"That's right болван, harder." He demands, knife pressing harder against your throat. He doesn't beg, men like him don't beg. He demands, harsh and loud, taking the pleasure you can give him. "Don't disappoint me now."

You redouble your efforts, your hips bruising his ass with every hard thrust that has his cock leaking spurts of precum from the way your dick bashes into his prostate. A loud and satisfied moan leaves him, head rolling back and eyes closing as he lets you ravage him. "хорошая собака." A small bit of praise escapes him, the sharp blade of the knife easing off your skin. "Just like that, good." He moans unabashedly, rough fingers tangling into your head and tugging your head down.

He presses your mouth to his exposed neck, suit and jacket undone just enough for his collarbones to peek out beneath the ruffled fabric. "Bite." He orders.

And you do, teeth digging into the pale skin of his neck until you taste blood, feeling the way he groans and clenches around your cock like a vice. Pain and pleasure are one and the same to him, muddling his mind better than the most expensive whiskey. So you don't ease up, fucking him like a breeding bull as you lay bite after bite across his neck, your fingers leaving hand shaped bruises on his thighs.

His moans echo freely through the office and into the halls, more sweet praises falling from his lips "Good dog, just like that, fuck me harder, yes-" as the sharp edge of the blade makes little nicks across your collarbones. The pain makes you throb inside him, every bruise you such into his neck just one more example of how much he owns you; You're his dog, his to train, his to punish when you step out of line , his to reward when you bring back the head of his enemies.

You can tell he's close by the way his body shakes, hole clenching and fluttering around you, walls clinging to every inch of your shaft as you pull out to nail his sweet spot again. You're far beyond words at this point, blindly grabbing his dick in your large hand and loosely jerking him off as you chase your own orgasm.

"Hah- yes, shit!" Makarov groans as he cums first, cum splattering onto your fist and his expensive suit as you fuck him through his orgasm, each harsh punch on your hips against his making another spurt of cum shoot from his tip.

Your cock throbs as you're so close to cumming, the fluttering and clenching of his walls helping you get closer and closer to your sweet release. A knife presses against your throat again. "Enough." He gasps, still demanding even as he tries to catch his breath, tears prickling his eyes.

It hurts you to still your hips, your cock hard and throbbing inside him, release so close yet so far away. His eyes are blurry as he looks at you, body still quivering around you. But that smug smirk on his face returns. His free hand cups your cheek, gentle, despite being stained with unfathomable quantities of blood. "хорошая собака." He purrs, kisses you, biting your lip as he pulls back. "You listen to me well, yes?" He chuckles as he feels you twitch inside him, your panting breaths fanning over his face.

He chuckles, his fingers running down your skin to pick at the barely scabbed over cuts he's made across your neck. "I can feel you, you want to rut into me so bad it makes you look stupid." He smirks, cooing at you like you're a puppy. "You'll have to wait." He shoves you until you're forced to pull back, your cock sliding out of his warm depths, rock hand and aching between your legs. He sits up, hand now firmly on your throat. "Find that rat in our midst before sundown, I'll let you have me." He says, every bit both a promise and a challenge.

And you, you're his dog. He tells you to sit, you sit. If he tells you to bite, you'll go for the throat. "Yes sir." You force out, receiving a hard and demanding kiss before you're dismissed.

[blorbocedes]

BLONDE TWINK BARES IT ALL! GETS A MASSAGE ;)

williams!era nico gets a massage by dr.dot for RTL in a video that looks like a casting couch bad porn intro. 1/2/2009

below i explain the lengths i went to find this 👇 its v long

so our story starts a few months ago when i began frantically dming my oldest nicologist friend @colors-of-feeling if she remembered this video. I had only half remembered recollections at this point, and i really only remembered the video because it looks so much like a casting couch porn intro. I know I screenshot it but I went through my gallery and couldn't find it. i knew I had seen it a very long time ago and care is one of my first mutuals, so anything nico I've seen she's seen. she doesn't rmbr 😓

now im like holy shit did i make it up. still i plead care to turn her archive public so i can go through it. no luck. i went through my own archive, even though i know I didn't reblog it because it had been a youtube link instead of the video. and i regretted it so bad, because i know that low quality few hundred or thousand views videos from 2000s is basically lost footage because youtubes search is basically incomprehensible. I also went through the archives of other blogs that nico posted back in 2021 for any sign that I didn't just project and Imagine it. no luck.

feeling defeated i go to my final hope, the nicologist of all nicologists @distantlaughter... with only half baked and increasingly hysterical descriptors "umm its like a casting couch video! a boat! but the boat is parked 🤔 maybe the masseuse had pigtails" i rambled, normally like a normal person.

ren the absolute darling immediately pops up with a video of shirtless nico get massaged. its not.

and another one. not that either 😓 we underestimated just how much nico posted getting a shirtless massage.

finally. FINALLY. ren dms me like 10 seconds of this video hidden in a nico rosberg compilation fan video that is even in worse quality. but it's this video!!!!!! it EXISTS!!! im not crazy....... but that 3 pixel collage was proof that it was real, but alas not post worthy. There was an RTL logo in the corner so in one final futile search, we searched RTL archives which unfortunately did not go far enough. We were doing literal detective work like from the 10 seconds of the fanvid we concluded it was like, probably an RTL monaco promo video hence the coastline and the boat, and given nico's hair length it must be williams (or 2010 merc). but nothing further than that. still ren is the absolute goat nicologist who figured it out from just my descriptions alone 🙏🙏🙏

with that I ended my search, knowing it was real at least, even if it wasn't the full video.

today i got a storage full notification. so I started frantically deleting random videos I had on my phone from years. and buried in august 9, 2022 almost exactly TWO years ago . was 5 seconds of this video and the when the screen recording closed you could see it was from a video called Dr. Dot.

this time im posting the video, im also going to ask @argentinagp to gif it so this buried, almost lost footage less than 1k youtube video can get a second life again, and so we can all enjoy weird late 2000s whoring drivers out. ❤️

all of this could be avoided if simply 2 years ago I had reblogged and tagged the original link. archival work is often thankless and pointless but wow, sometimes it can feel so rewarding. so enjoy!

which brings me to the most important part. doesn't he totally look like a twink in a bad porno here?

[green-thots]

That Fucking Compression Shirt - Ran Takahashi x Reader

A/N - I’ll be honest this took absolutely forever but my absolute obsession with Ran Takahashi overpowered my writer’s block. Also I’m pissed that Tumblr gets rid of my indents every time I take a story from my docs and I’m too lazy to go back I and add it again.

Warnings - 18+ content, smut, reader is thirsty, lowkey choking, use of “good girl”, brat taming, & edging (if I missed any please tell me)

WC - 2782

I used to hate co-ed practice. The gym would always smell like ass and if it weren’t for the combination of my defense and our libero’s, we never would come close to winning a scrimmage.

But, dating a member of the opposite team makes practice just a bit more fun, especially when he decides to wear that oh-so-slutty compression shirt that he knows drives me crazy.

I’m convinced he only started wearing that to co-ed practice because on our first date, after a few too many drinks, I admitted that I would 100% jump on his dick if he ever wore his practice compression shirt around me ever again.

We’ve been practicing hitting lines for the past fifteen minutes and with the coaches on our ass after the last match, there’s no end in sight. My only saving grace is getting to watch sweaty Ran smack the ball about as hard as I’d like him to smack my ass, but he already knows that.

His shorts are shorter and tighter than usual, allowing me the wonderful view of his quads as he jumps into the air to reach the top of the net. But somehow, my view just gets better. His long sleeves make his biceps look large enough to choke me, which they are, and his abs tight enough to ride. I’ve seen his high school pictures, he definitely grew out of his twink look alike phase.

“I can smell the thirst from here,” Yuji mutters, snapping me out of my trance-like state. He’s standing with his hands on his hips with that self assured smirk on his face.

I turn to him with a glare, “I’m not thirsting over him, he just looks good.”

“Oh, you’re definitely thirsting over him. You’ve been eye-fucking him for practically the entire practice.” Yamauchi chimes in, popping into line behind Yuji and I.

“You two are absolutely insufferable,” I grumble, turning back around to the front of the line.

They both let out a laugh before Yuji spits out, “We’re just simply stating what’s true.” Earning an eye roll from me.

“Alright everybody, we’re switching to digs for a bit,” Coach yells, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention, “y/n, you’re up first.”

Goddamnit, this woman is going to be the death of me. It’s almost like she knows my head is as far away from volleyball right now as physically possible.

I walk into the middle of the court as Ishikawa is getting ready to spike at me.

Ran just so happens to be directly left of me so I bend a little lower than I normally would for a dig just to give him a better view of the ass he’s left his mark on. I smirk at him and his brows furrow, a dangerous glint in his eyes. To an outsider, he looks pissed, but I know that he’s just worked up and I’m more than happy to let him take his anger out on me once we get home.

Ishikawa approaches, swings, and slams the ball down toward the ground. Ishikawa is good, but I’ve been perfecting my digs for years. Just in time, I get my arms under the ball, popping it up into the setters box. The impact stings like a bitch but you get used to it when you’ve been practicing with Olympic level players for almost two years.

I walk back over next to Ran, Yuji taking his place next for digs.

“Stop being a brat,” he mutters in my ear. He side eyes me with a smirk on his lips.

“But it’s just so much fun watching you get all worked up,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at him. He glares at me, adjusting his shorts. Yeah, I knew you couldn’t resist me.

“You won’t be having this much fun when we get home,” he bites out, careful to not let anyone else hear our conversation.

~

After a brutal practice, filled with many more lust filled glares from my lovely boyfriend, I’m shaking in anticipation as I take my gear off and get ready to go home.

Ran walks over to my place on the floor, duffle bag in hand, “Let’s get out of here.”

I nod my head, pulling on my crocs and using his outstretched hand to pull me up off the ground.

“We should all go out for sushi,” Ogawa exclaims, murmurs of agreement sounding off around the gym.

Ran begins to pull me toward the gym doors, “we can’t, we already have plans for the night.” Ogawa pouts in disappointment, he’s always been pretty close with Ran.

As Ran and I walk out the door, Yuji shouts loud enough for the entire gym to hear, “try not to leave any visible marks this time!” He really never has any shame, even at the expense of me, his self-titled ‘best friend.’

Ran muffles a snort with his other hand. I throw up a middle finger behind me as I walk out the door.

Yuji knows Ran heavily enjoys marking, since after our last team beach trip, I had forgotten about the copious amount of hickies on my thighs until Yuji started cackling hysterically.

“I’m gonna kill him for that,” I say as we step out of the elevator into the parking garage.

~

I barely even get a second to kick off my shoes and drop my bag before I’m being slammed up against the wall, Ran’s lips on mine. His kisses are hungry and devouring.

Pulling away from my lips just barely an inch, he mutters, “why do you always make me pop a boner whenever we’re around friends?”

Although it’s most likely a rhetorical question and he’s not really expecting an answer, I tease, “Because I know you’ll punish me as soon as we get home and we both know I enjoy your punishments much more than I hate them.”

He gives me a knowing look then presses his lips back on mine, biting slightly on my lower lip. “You’ve got such a dirty little mouth on you,” he says against my lips.

I smile, playing with the hem of his shirt, starting to ride it up over his stomach. I drag his shirt up slowly. Over the entirety of his abs, up to his chest, and over his shoulders, pulling it over his head and outstretched arms, throwing it somewhere across the room. Usually, he wouldn’t even let me get this far. He would pin my hands to the wall before I could even touch him and stop any seductive plan I had my mind set on.

He moves his hands to fondle my ass through my shorts, his lips traveling down onto the sweet spot where my jaw connects with my neck. I throw my head back and let out a whimper. It’s almost like he knows my body as well as he knows his own.

I run my hands through the roots of his thick waves, tugging slightly when I reach the crown of his head. He lets out a low growl, continuing his assault on my neck that is sure to leave marks but looking up at me in warning.

I know I’m beginning to tug at the ends of the already short leash he’s letting me have, but it’s just so much fun when he gets mad.

“Jump,” he growls, his face still buried in my neck. Not wanting to push my limits, I oblige. I jump and wrap my legs around his waist, his hands still planted firmly on my ass, holding me in place.

He quickly moves us out of the entryway, up the stairs, and into our bedroom without much hassle. He throws me down onto the bed and lurks over me. I think this might just be my favorite version of Ran. His hair fluffy and wild from my hands just moments ago. He’s breathing heavily and his abs are glistening with the still-lingering sweat from practice. And to put the cherry on top, there is a very obvious tent in his pants, as if the gray sweats didn’t already leave more than enough to the imagination. He’s a heavenly sight. I would even go as far to say he’s god-like in my eyes.

He leans down even closer to me and swipes off my shirt and sports bra in one smooth motion. My nipples harden at the sudden rush of cold air from the constant use of the air conditioner.

Softly but so demanding at the same time, Ran puts one large hand around my throat. He doesn’t apply much pressure, but he uses my neck to push me down flat onto the bed, chiming, “You’re so naughty, aren’t ya’ babe?”

I try to nod with what little motion of my head his hand allows. If I wasn’t dripping while staring at him during practice then I sure am now.

He glides the hand around my throat down to fondle my chest, using his other hand to prop himself up over me.

“I know how much you love it when I feel you up,” He purrs, his breath hot over my stomach, “but I don’t think you deserve that.”

“You’re just gonna keep torturing me all night?” I whine, threading my fingers through his hair once again.

“Maybe,” he says, pausing to leave a kiss right above the waistband of my spandex, “I guess that will depend on how good you are for the remainder of the night.”

With the hand he was using on my chest, he pushes my legs apart. He starts to rub my inner thigh, so close enough to where he knows I want him but so far it’s frustrating the hell out of me. I huff in annoyance and he lets out a short, raspy laugh.

“Well I’m very happy my pain brings you amusement,” I snark, pulling his hair enough to make him jolt a bit.

His eyes are glazed when he looks up at me from in between my legs, “Based on the way your pussy is soaking through your shorts, I know you’re enjoying this.”

Okay, maybe he does have a point.

He grasps the waistband of my shorts and panties, letting his fingers brush against my bikini line. I lift my hips up off the bed, giving Ran the chance to tug them off.

“Motherfucker,” he mutters, just barely loud enough for me to hear, “you must be really worked up.” He runs a finger through the slick that has already gathered at my entrance, a devilish smirk on his face. The sadistic side of him enjoys how much he affects me when in reality he is doing so little.

He leans closer and closer until his nose brushes my clit. He licks a painfully slow stripe up my cunt pulling a moan of both pleasure and annoyance from my lips. He hums in response to my noises, his voice vibrating my pussy in the best way. At an almost torturously slow pace, he circles my clit with his tongue.

“Please,” I beg, “just go faster.”

“Only good girls get to feel good,” Ran hums against me, his words barely even register in my head as he slides a long finger inside of me. He takes it slow but finds my g-spot with the tip of his finger almost immediately.

He thrusts his finger into me, slow enough to tease, but fast enough to keep me from complaining. He slips in a second finger and then a third, keeping pace by upping the speed of the circles around my clit.

I arch my hips closer to him, pressing his face harder into my pussy and trying to get his fingers to go as deep as they can.

With all the anticipation from the day and the yearning from not getting the chance to fuck in almost two weeks, I’m already on the edge.

“Oh my- Fuck,” I moan, squeezing my eyes shut, “I think I’m gonna cum.” Immediately, he stops everything. He stands up, pulling his fingers out of me. They’re slick and nearly dripping. He makes a show out of slowly licking them clean, his glazed over eyes staring so deeply that I’m sure at that moment he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Now why’d you have to go and stop? We were just getting to the fun part,” I pout, throwing my arms over my head. God, being a brat really is my favorite.

He’s stepping out of his sweats and boxers, “Didn’t I tell you that you weren’t going to cum unless you prove you can be good?” Ran shoots back with a hint of humor in his voice. His cock is rock hard, resting against his thigh and the tip is beginning to drip with precum. I just know he must be itching to fuck me into next week right here, right now but he’s holding back all for the sake of teaching me a lesson when we both know I’ll be right back to being a brat within a few days.

He strokes his cock slowly, letting the tip drag up and down my pussy. He uses his other hand to squeeze my thigh, surely leaving bruises that will be hard to cover up during tomorrow’s practice.

“I promise I’ll be good, babe, just please fuck me,” I give him my best puppy dog eyes as I beg. We both know I’m full of shit but Ran takes immense pleasure in watching me beg for just an ounce of pleasure from him.

He lets out a laugh that I truly believe rivals the epitome of happiness and finally slips the tip of his cock into my cunt, “Lucky for you I might cum in my pants if I don’t, but I haven’t decided if you deserve to cum yet.” He’s fucking cruel but I love it.

He slides all seven inches to the hilt, filling me up so good. Although we’ve been fucking like rabbits almost daily since we started dating nearly two years ago, I’ll never get tired of the way he makes me feel so whole. He starts thrusting slowly, his cock head nearly bruising my cervix with every thrust. His hands now rest on my hips, his fingertips digging into my skin, leaving red marks that are sure to turn black and blue eventually.

A mix of my own moans and Ran’s echo around the room as he picks up the speed of his thrusts. His head is thrown back and his eyes are pressed shut. In turn, I’m gazing at the beautiful sight of Ran in pure bliss before me, which enhances my own pleasure tenfold.

“Fuck, y/n,” he moans, his eyes now open and looking down at where our bodies are connected, “god you feel so good.” By now, he’s pounding me so hard I might just struggle to walk in the morning. He has the mix of fast and deep that we both enjoy perfected to the point where I’m at the edge again after only a few minutes.

“I’m gonna cum,” I stutter out, feeling so much pleasure that it takes too much brain power to form just one coherent sentence.

He’s gazing into my eyes now, “I’m nearly there, just wait for me.” If it was even possible to go faster, then he’s picking up his pace to that point, fucking me so fast that my body is vibrating at a frequency that I didn’t even know was possible until now.

“Ran, please, I’ve been so good” I beg, tears in my eyes from pleasure so intense it’s borderline painful. He grunts, his jaw clenched as he reaches to rub my clit with one hand.

“Come on now then, sweets,” he says. I can feel his cock pulsating inside of me telling me that he won’t last much longer either.

With one more thrust, the stimulation becomes too much, pushing me over the edge. I cum with a moan so loud the neighbors two floors down are sure to file a noise complaint again.

Within seconds, Ran is cumming, too, spilling so deeply inside me. He slows to a stop, his cock still buried inside my pussy. His breathing is heavy and the way he’s looking at me can only be described as love in its highest form.

“Maybe you should start being a brat more often if it’s going to result in some of the most mind-blowing sex I’ve ever had,” He jokes, pulling out of me to rest on the bed next to me.

“Well then maybe you should start wearing that compression shirt around me more often if you wanna get lucky.”

[gabessquishytum]

Dream has been hearing rumors (those biddies love to gossip about Dream's family) that Orpheus has gotten into an inappropriate relationship. Something, something "sugar baby", something, something f*cking an older man.

Dream doesn't want to interfere in Orpheus's life, but the Endless family, and Dream himself, have money, not as much as in their storied past, but enough that Orpheus doesn't have to whore out his young ass for money.

Dream isn't even judging, he just want his son not to make mistakes similar to the ones that Dream made in his youth. Dream knows how seductive those older men can be....hell Dream is still young himself (not a twink anymore certainly, but Dream had Orpheus young, so he doesn't look like the father of a college student.).

Suffice to say, Dream learns the name of the man supposedly paying for Orpheus's ass and goes to see him, maybe he can warn him off Orpheus. R. Gadling has something like 10 or 15 years on Dream, hopefully Dream can get him to see reason.

💶 💶 💶 💶 💶

Hob would have liked it to be known, if he was interested in talking to those judgmental society b*tches, that he does not need to pay a young man for sex. Thank you very much. He might like to take care of his lovers, but so far he draws the line at 30-year age differences. He is not that much of a creeper.

Orpheus is a fantastic young man, a musical prodigy, and Hob knows some people in the industry. All he did was offer introductions, that Orpheus, with his gift, would have most likely developed on his own, in time. He is not sleeping with a boy young enough to be his son,,,his son Robin introduced them for goodness sake!

When Orpheus's father comes to Hob is high dungeon, judgingly talking about inappropriate relationships and all but screaming at Hob, in his beautiful deep voice, for Hob to stop sleeping with his son -- Hob might have fallen in love on the spot. Blush high on his cheeks, hair a mess, looking like he just woke up from a good f*ck, Hob wanted to bite.

And mess with him a little,,,,,Hob offered (jokingly he thought) to stop sleeping with Orpheus if his father took his place in Hob's bed. He was expecting more yelling, not Morpheus Endless to say yes on the spot.

Oh Dream...... you poor little horny idiot. Trying so hard to be the best dad, but Orpheus is cringing SO hard.

Hob really was joking about exchanging Orpheus for Morpheus, and then Dream goes ahead and looks so sincere and so sexy... but Hob isn't a bad person (not anymore) so he sighs and explains that it was a joke. He's not fucking anyone right now, especially not Dream’s kid. He is in fact in the middle of a very long dry spell, and yes he might be going into too much detail now but at least Morpheus looks like he believes him. He sighs and smoothes down his hair and Hob is almost disappointed to see that anger fade away. Morpheus does at least blush prettily and say "call me Dream", so that's. A nice development.

And then Dream asks if Hob was joking about wanting to sleep with him, and if he thinks that Dream is too old to be a sugarbaby? Because he'd actually be willing to give it a try... And he says it in this teasing, flirty way that goes right to Hob’s dick. He's desperately hoping that his dryspell might finally be over. But he's going to have to pull out all the stops and really woo this delicious man.

Before Dream knows it, he's being whisked off to Hob’s box at the opera for a night of champagne and beautiful music. Hob explains that he doesn't take just anyone up to his box - only pretty boys that he really wants to spoil. Dream nearly melts into a puddle over being called a "boy". And yes, he's still relieved when Hob confirms that he never took Orpheus for a night at the opera.

Apparently Dream’s penchant for older guys really hasn't faded away, because he's getting butterflies whenever Hob puts a hand on his back to guide him, or orders their drinks with polite authority. If Orpheus was fucking Hob, then Dream would absolutely be fighting his own son tooth and nail over this man. Dream is embarrassed by his own horniness but not enough to stop - maybe he's doesn't actually need a sugar daddy, but he sure as hell WANTS this one <3

[gravidwithlore]

Did anybody say preg drive? This here is Kaz, created just for this drive, but more about him below! Help me fill this demonic twink up with lots and lots of demon babies by either donating to my Ko-fi or by reblogging. And every like and reblog helps unlock more milestones for Kazimir!

$5 (even added up across multiple smaller donations) or 10 reblogs= 1 demon baby

1 like or 1 reblog= 1 point on the milestone bar

Likes and reblogs across any post related to this preg drive will count towards the milestone bar/baby count! Now, without further ado, ✨️him✨️

The air of despair and hopelessness lay heavy over the wagon of rebellion prisoners. The King was not kind to those who defied his will, his orders, his right to rule. And everyone in the cart, prisoners and guards alike, knew it. 

Levi did not know why his leaders had told him to get captured on purpose. To let himself be led in chains, dragged to a prison the king had built specially for torturing and extracting information from those who opposed him. He couldn't help but wonder why he was sent to spend the rest of his likely short life beaten and broken, when surely Levi would be more of use on the battlefield?

A rough bump sent half the prisoners in the cart practically flying, breaking him out of his thoughts, their chains rattling as they tried to steady themselves. Amidst the brief moment of chaos, Levi spotted a bit of shadow above him, moving in a strange and unnatural manner. It formed the shape of something that looked human, effortlessly crawling down the canvas siding covering the wagon like a lizard, then gaining shape and substance as it approached the center of the floor. 

“Kaz?” Levi whispered in disbelief.

A sharp toothed smile of pure delight and recognition answered him, as the shadow became a demon in the shape of a human. Clothed in the same dingy prisoners uniform as everyone else, chains around their wrists looped themselves into one of the many iron hooks lining the floor and walls. Kazimir, the succubus, his eyes pure red and glowing lightly for a moment, winked at him as he kneeled on the floor innocently, but oh so suggestively. 

“Quiet in there! You good for nothing’s stop your rattlin’!” One of the guards' lanterns shone into the back of the cart, and Kaz’s eyes became more human as he looked, wide-eyed and deer-like, over his shoulder at the guard. Assured the prisoners were scared into submission enough, the guard moved away, back into their rank and file. 

“You didn't think you’d get to shut this place down all by yourself, now did you handsome?” Kaz smirked and whispered so quietly only Levi could hear. Despite everything, Levi couldn't help but smirk back at the demon. Maybe things didn't look so hopeless after all.

____________________

Smack! 

The guards palm swatted his ass so hard, Kaz was sure the whole prison could hear it, as they leered at him while the prisoners were disembarking from the cart. Damn, it felt good, but it wouldn't help the mission to ‘play his cards’ so to speak, so soon. So he bit down on his lip and tried his best to turn his surprised moan into a muffled shout of surprised pain. It was important to set a perfect balance, pathetic enough to ensure the guards wanted to fuck him, but not pathetic enough that they'd rather beat the shit out of him instead. 

They carted Levi off to isolation, or maybe interrogation, immediately, not yet willing to let a high-ranking member of the rebellion mingle with the rest of the common rabble. Kaz was a little sad to see the human go. As far as humans went, Levi was one of the more bearable ones to be around. He might even go as far as to say he enjoyed working with him, when the opportunity presented itself at least. Oh well, they would see each other again. They were both here for the same goal, after all. 

It barely took a day before one of the guards roughly bent them over and took them from behind. Kaz pretended to struggle. At first. But he was only a succubus after all, and a succubus who'd just stopped taking his suppressants and birth control at that. The guard came into him twice before pulling up his pants and leaving the broom closet he'd pulled them into. Kaz stayed there and basked in the warm glowing feeling in his core, fingering the guards cum back into his eager cunt. Devils below, he'd missed this.

There we go, the first 2 demon babies on the house! Want to fill Kaz up even more? Reblog, like, and if you have $ to spare, consider donating to my Ko-fi! Every $5 (or 10 reblogs) adds a baby to that fertile fertile womb of his, and that's across donations, so if you only have $1 to spare, that's okay! You're still doing your part to help this slutty demon rebel complete his mission to take down the tyrant king!

[cryingat300kph]

Pretty Thing

Pairing: Sebastian Vettel x Boytoy!Mechanic!Reader

(Bad) Summary: When Ferrari gets a new pretty boy for a mechanic a certain 4x world champion takes notice.

Rating: M Warning(s): Mentions of sex, but no actual sex. Cursing. Use of Y/N. Allusion to homophobia in sports. F slur (but in a self-descriptive and reclaimed way) -Not Proofread-

Length: 1.4K Words

A/N: This is Seb in his chaotic flirt Ferrari era, like 1st/2nd year at Ferrari vibes. Also the ending is kinda cut off because I lost steam, but wanted to put something out. Let me know if ya’ll want this continued, I have ideas ;) <3

“Lewis look, that’s who I was talking about.” Seb says poking Lewis’s arm gesturing towards the bar. “Him?!” Lewis asks turning back to Seb. “Yeah.” Seb suppresses the urge to add Isn’t he pretty? “Damn I'm surprised they would hire a mechanic so-“ “so gay?” Sebastian supplies. “Heh-Yeah.” “Well he usually doesn’t look like that.” Seb says again gesturing towards the man.

The “that” Seb is referring to is the absolute twink uniform you are wearing. You might as well be wearing a flashing sign reading “I like dick! ;)” And Sebastian thinks you look completely and utterly delectable; more than usual.

He’d had his eyes on you since you joined the team at the top of the year. At first he noticed you because were young for someone not on the PR team, and far too handsome to not be in a more front-facing role. He was glad he was known to make sure to get to know all new members of the Ferrari family, because it meant he could satisfy this curiosity; finding out you had climbed the ladder at the factory quickly and had always wanted nothing more than to be in the garage track-side.

His interest in you only grew as he got to know you better. He knew obviously that as a mechanic you weren’t just a pretty face, but he soon found out you weren’t just either of those things. But someone who was extremely funny, kind and just as much of a nerd about racing as he was.

And so, a friendship slightly-beyond coworkers started to form. Now, at halfway through the season you two could be called proper friends, but your friendship is still very tied to work. Either way, you feel comfortable around Seb, comfortable enough to speak freely of your interests and life outside of racing. However, one thing he doesn’t know about you was that you don’t mind sharing a bed with a man.

Its hard being queer in formula one. It’s 2015 and huge strides have been made, but motorsports lags behind. Especially as someone who is involved in a more “masculine” job at Ferrari you keeps your more flamboyant tendencies under wraps. European ideas of masculinity help a lot, but it’s still a bit lonely, stressful and draining, to be closeted.

Hence why you’re here.

It had been a stressful race weekend, but Seb ultimately got podium and everyone was rightfully really happy and the team planned to go for drinks with the winning Mercedes team.

Seb had protested a bit when you said you thought you’d sit this one out. “I would, trust me, but I’ve had this headache all day and I doubt a hangover will make it any better.” You lied. He had seemed to come back to himself, like his earlier protest was a slip. Laughing it off. “You’re right, go, rest. We need your brain intact!”

You had chuckled at that saying bye to him and driving back to the hotel to get changed before heading out for your real plans. You felt bad lying to Seb but after this weekend a guy needed some attention damn it! But most importantly you wanted to dress how you want and exist how you want for once even just for a couple of hours.

---

Without you at the party Sebastian is more melancholy than usual. He's cursing himself for crushing like a teenager, but without you there he’s lost interest. “Dude is this about the guy you told me about.” Lewis asks seeing Seb is obviously down about something. “what? no- it” “Where is he? Go talk to him!" “He’s not here, had a headache so he stayed back.” “Well you don’t seem to be having fun so go after him, just ask to hang out.” “But the team, i should-.” “Kimi is enough of a party for the team, he’d probably enjoy the company.” Lewis nudges him. “You know why I can’t Lewis.” Seb says seriously. “Yeah.” Lewis agrees and they’re silent for a bit before he speaks up again, mischief in his voice. “But maybe we could find some other entertainment for the night. To quell the ache?” “What are you suggesting?” Seb asks suspicious. “There’s a bar a couple blocks from here. Heard its a discreet spot, good for cruising.” He says like he’s stating the weather and not suggesting the two biggest F1 drivers at the moment go cruising for gay sex.“What if someone sees us.” “we’re in America, no one knows who we are.” And Seb is just tipsy enough, and yearning to fuck a stranger and imagine it’s you, so he agrees.

“Let’s do it!”

---

And so, Sebastian now finds himself at a loss for words, staring at you. At you, sipping a cocktail, half sitting on a bar stool, your back slightly arched. Honestly the picture is so inviting. Lewis is just looking at him with a smirk.

Sebastian sees that a couple men obviously have their eyes on you too. He watches as the bartender hands you a drink gesturing to one of the said men. You look over and the man starts to get up. Seb feels his fists tighten, but he relaxes when you hand the drink back to the bartender looking at the man apologetically. He’s glad the man gets the idea and sits back down, Seb doesn’t want to think what he would have done if the man had persisted.

Wait, so maybe you’re just out for a nice night alone, he doesn’t want to disturb that. But dressed like that? He’s having a hard time resisting.

“Lewis what do I do?” He asks. “The flirt is asking me?“ Lewis scoffs, but when Seb just looks at him annoyed, he Chuckles; he’s never seen the confident man so nervous before. “Just, go get him tiger.”

He knows it’s now or never, so Sebastian goes to the opposite end of the bar and tells the bartender to get you a drink.

-- The bartender hands you another drink. It’s top shelf which catches your eye. A couple men have bought you shots and stuff throughout the night but so far when the bartender pointed to who they all weren’t your type. Or they quickly stopped being your type the moment they opened their mouths.

When you ask who, this time, the bartender cocks his head to the end of the bar. You look over and it’s Sebastian! Your eyes go wide, unsure of what to do. What is he doing here?! Here, where you are looking like a complete faggot and nothing like you do at work. But he’s your friend right, he would’ve found out eventually and he just bought you a drink?

You tamp down the flicker of hope that tries to spark. So you just smile and raise the drink to him raising your eyebrows. It’s friendly coworker shit right? He’s just being nice. Your brain is forced to stop working overtime when he approaches you and starts speaking.

“I could barely recognize you y/n!” He says smiling and friendly, but with a hint of something? And he is blatantly looking you up and down. Tongue between his teeth. Oh. You can’t help lighting up despite being nervous. “Well let’s just say the Ferrari uniform is not my personal style.” You joke. “This definitely suits you much better.” He blatantly flirts, which catches you bit off guard, but you try not to show it, excitement now replacing your nerves. “You think the boss will let me wear a crop top to work?” “Maybe I could ask him nicely.” Sebastian says and then leans closer.

“Having something so pretty in my garage can only bring me good luck right?” “Oh, I don’t think you need luck, Seb.” You laugh because now you are definitely blushing.

“Every driver needs luck.” He says low.

The way he's looking at you. It’s almost too much. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted. In the span of a few minutes you’ve basically come out to a coworker turned friend, but also discovered that apparently Sebastian Vettel, Ferrari driver, four time world champion also likes men. And now said Ferrari driver and friend is flirting with you.

You can't wait to see where the night goes.

[wordy-little-witch]

Okay but One Piece being in the pirate era and the lack of a frankly inordinate amount of sea shanties hurts me. Like you know DAMN well Roger was a partier, Buggy and Shanks undoubtedly know an incredible amount of shanties, from their first crews, from the new crews, from exploring and seeing and experiencing the world so thoroughly from such a young age.

Shanks would be the type to belt them, top of his lungs, but always adhere to the Codes, though he does think on it for a moment. People think he'd be a pirate head to toe, through and through, and he is! Truly, he is. He just doesn't really live by the Code and die by the Code the way some of the older generation does.

Buggy, despite popular belief, is the one to cling to those Codes with all he has. It's subtle, in the way he hums certain songs to himself but never sings the full lyrics without Meaning. He will sing and dance and party with his crew, they will make merry but they will do so properly. He's avant garde and nouveau expressionism but he's also old fashioned.

When he finds out Shanks taught this scrawny rubber twink everything the kid knows about piracy through sporadic meetings over a year, nearing a decade ago, he is absolutely livid. The swordsman is stupid but has a decent head on his shoulders for behavior. The redhead, from what he sees, knows more than most. He decides to put class in session.

He's surprised to be beaten so thoroughly and then furthermore to be removed succinctly. He's not gonna let it slide, obviously, but he'll play along. Sure. Could be fun. He was getting bored anyway.

Shit just so happens to hit the fan with this decision and all that follow. Shanks, knowing the truth of things, is simply VERY amused and Buggy is debating fratricide.

He's been playing this role for so long, it feels unnatural to drop it. It feels wrong. It makes him panic, makes him Itch.

It only comes to a head years later as he's humming to himself late in the evening on a certain day in September, having spent a good chunk of the day on his own, away from company and to the surprise of very few. Crocodile and Mihawk are among those who do not know why, but they alone are the ones to look for him.

Finding Buggy, singing softly to an animal as he gently brushes out their fur, surrounded by calm animals who seem to nearly build a wall with their bodies between himself and the world, was not anticipated to either men. Nor was hearing Buggy's voice, usually so shrill and rasped, flow gently over a melody with a grief filled expression. Ritchie, among the ones closest, gently head butted the clown with soulful eyes. Mihawk and Crocodile simply watch, seeing Buggy groom and pamper the creatures within the stables this far from town as he sings a specific sequence of songs.

Mihawk realizes first just what they're witnessing, and he grips the logia user's arm, guiding them both back. Crocodile, startled, goes to ask, and Hawkeyes simply shakes his head sharply. It is only once they are far enough that Mihawk breaths a stunned, "He's performing Rites."

"What?"

"Rites," the swordsman reiterates, sending the other a suspicious look. "The Rites of the Code."

The mafioso takes a drag from his cigar, gesturing for the other to go on.

Mihawk sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I forget," he remarks dryly, "how uneducated in ours ways you are."

"Excuse me-?!"

"Rites," the other interrupts, "are a form of mourning. Frequency varies, and the honoring actions can be altered as well. The constant component are the shanties sung in remembrance and the flags flown. For some, a single instance can be sufficient..." Golden eyes drift to the side, unfocused, as he continues. "For others, there is a need to continue doing so. Often, it is a crew mourning a commanding officer. Unlike Marines, Pirates all share an unspoken connection. Though paths may vary and goals may differ, we all care Her in our veins."

Violet eyes love to the expanse of blue, the horizon bleeding across the world. He knew. He may lack some of the nuance of the Code from his priorities laying further inland, but he knew this. How could he not when his own blood sang salted sprays? He knew this much at the very least.

"So the clown is in mourning."

"Yes."

".... why?"

"...... ....... it is September."

"And?"

"The 28th."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"You were there, too, 25 years ago. Loguetown."

Silence falls.

The wind rustles branches overhead. It carries the faintest wisps of a voice. The two men pointedly ignore it and the choked quality it had.

".... I see."

"..... yes. That is my theory, at any rate."

"............. Hawkeye."

"What?"

"He was on the King's crew."

"Yes, this has been established."

"Why?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Why him? Why the clown? He's not even 40 yet, so that day... he'd have been, what, 15, at the most? He'd have been on the crew for years by that point. He was there before the man was crowned, after all."

"Shanks was, as well. I believe the earliest mention was when he mentioned an incident from their childhood. He'd said they were... oh, what was it? Seven? Thereabouts. To be on a crew so young..."

"To be there so long, Hawkeye. The brat would have been with them since childhood. That crew was infamous for the things they did - the clown does not fit the pattern."

"He does not boast anything nearing the decorum expected of a fledgling of a King..."

"He knows the Codes, something never mentioned to us nor taught explicitly to his crew that we know of. He served under the King and kept it hidden from the world government for decades. He escaped the Grandline and settled as an East Blue nuisance for years. He was imprisoned in Impel Down with no sea stone."

Golden eyes widen. "You believe he has been hiding more than simply his heritage."

"What makes more sense? This, or what we have thought so far."

"How would we confirm it?"

"Just ask me, maybe?"

Neither man will admit to being startled when a new voice chimes in, soft and hoarse, drowsy. Buggy leans into Ritchie's side as the lion purrs loudly, the clown rubbing his eye.

He continues. "Tomorrow, though. It's late, I'm not feeling well, and Ritch and I have a date with my blanket nest."

"The lion?" / "Blanket nest?"

Buggy giggles softly. "Weighted blankets are expensive. Weighted Ritchies only cost snacks and chin scritches," he remarks softly. "As for the blankets, nests are the way to go. Good night."

Two dark haired men are left by a drowsy clown and lion in the woods on the edge of town with much to thing on and a list to compile for the next day.

The first question? How Mihawk had not sensed him whatsoever on approach.

[xdacted]

You and Me (always forever)

Paring: Reader X Max Verstappen

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of child abuse

Word Count: 2,060

Status: Complete

____________________

Max was so dead. 

He was going to be in so much trouble if his father caught him. But that threat has never stopped him before, it certainly won’t start tonight. 

He knew better than this, better than sneaking out before a race, but he had seen her. She was on the makeshift paddock earlier, standing with her helmet tucked right beneath her arm. The practice for that day had gone well, he’d lost out to p1 by merely hundredths of a second, but of course, that was never good enough. 

Jos had torn into him. Berating him in their garage, swearing and pushing at his shoulders. Max didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to scream, he just wanted to hide. He hated when his dad screamed at him, especially when he did it infront of everyone. When he did it infront of her. 

She found him after his father stormed off, Jos demanding that he clean up the mess on his own. There was a worried look in her eye, face red with anger. It was cute and it made Max burst into laughter. 

“He shouldn’t speak to you like that,” She said, crossing her arms in front of her and glaring at the direction in which his father left, “It’s wrong.”

“He’s my dad,” Max tried explaining to her that it was just the way things were. His dad didn’t hate him, Jos was trying to make him better, stronger. He was the son of a Formula one driver, Max couldn’t embarrass him. 

“Exactly,” She stepped closer to him, throwing her hands in the air, “You’re his son!”

With a roll of his eyes, Max turned away to begin disassembling his kart. If he didn’t get started now, he’d be here until sundown. She was silent for a long while, standing at the opening of their garage, just watching him collect the tools and roll the tires away, until she let out a loud groan. 

“You don’t have to help,” Max reminded her, but it never made a difference. 

She began to wipe down the tool box, smoothing out the paint of his kart. He’d nearly lost himself on turn five and it caused a rock to crack at the side of his kart, the thought made his face burn. He hated making mistakes, he hated it when he wasn’t able to perform the way he wanted - the way he should. 

His father demanded perfection, but it was more than that. Max knew he could achieve it. He knew that he was special and he hated when he let childish mistakes hold him back from that. He was only 9, but that didn’t mean a thing. He needed to be ready. He needed - 

“Will you meet me under the track?”

He nearly dropped the rags in his hands, “Tonight?”

“No!” She mocked, “Tomorrow. Yes, tonight.”

They’d been meeting there since they were six. It was a little ditch right underneath a part of the track. The grass was smooth and at this time, it was filled with dandelions. It was their place, their space away from everyone else. It was just for them. 

“Yeah,” He muttered, “Yeah, okay.”

“Good,” She turned to him, tossing him a wrench, “See you then.”

It’s how he was there now, standing with his hands shoved into his pockets, looking around. He always waited for his father to fall asleep before slipping out of the motorhome, Jos never woke up - far too a heavy sleeper - but it still made his stomach curl with anxiety. 

Max shivered in the night wind, the calm roll of the air blowing past him. The blades of grass danced in the moonlight, with the dandelions nearly glowing as bright as the stars. It was beautiful here. Just him and the sky. 

Dark and mysterious, an infantate void of emptiness. Sometimes he wondered what it was like to be a star, be so high above that no one could ever hurt you. Safe from screaming and shoving, twinking so brightly that everyone looked at you. Everyone loved you. Being so warm, right beside the moon and the sun. 

It must be a beautiful life. 

“Max!” Her voice pulls him back to himself. He blinks a few times, eyes suddenly stinging. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been like that, staring into the distance, but she marches up to him. 

“You’re shivering!”

Before he can utter another word, she’s throwing a blanket around him, it’s a wool one - one that her mother made her for Christmas. She’s quick to set her backpack down, pulling the fabric around his shoulders, fussing around his collar. 

“I always tell you to bring a blanket and you never do!”

“Because you always do…”

His words don’t leave him with their normal snark, emotions still thick in his throat. For a moment, she pauses. Her bright eyes meeting him, Max can’t take it. They pierce right through him, she can see all of him. There’s nothing he can hide from her. 

He hates it. 

When he tears his gaze away, she catches him. Her warm hands are at either of his cheeks, directing him right back to her. It’s odd. Even with the intensity of her eyes, Max never feels judged. There’s nothing that he fears she might see, he just hates that he can’t hide how weak he is. He hates that all his insecurity is right for her to see. 

But Max is sure she’s seen it more than once, plenty of times, and yet, here she is. She hasn’t run. 

“Of course, I do,” She huffs after a long while, breaking their staring contest first, “You always forget.”

He can see, even in the darkness, that her cheeks are red, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. It makes his stomach flip. She settles beside him, pulling her pack closer to her. She digs within it for a moment, pulling out a pack of gummy worms - their favorite. 

It was definitely contraband form her older brother, neither of them were allowed candy on race weekends. She unwrapped it like it’s a delicate piece of china, the wrapper crushing under her administration. Max has lost count of the amount of gummies they’ve shared here, the number far above what he can remember. 

She scoots closer to him, and he wordlessly opens up the blanket for her. There’s another, sitting right in her bag, but she never uses it. She fixes the blanket on their shoulders, moving closer until they’re huddled into a pile of limbs. 

Max thinks that they might be getting too old for this. He can feel their knees knocking together, over the summer he’d grown taller, and now the fabric was hanging lopsided on his shoulder. The thought frightens him. 

To think that one day they’re going to be too old to do this, sit here with the stars at their special place. 

He fears that one day it won’t be special anymore, that one day it’ll just be a patch of grass. Max hadn’t ever really given much thought as to what his life would look like after that. Even when he imagines himself as a Formula One World Champion, he thinks of celebrating here, dancing among the dandelions with her. 

Would it all come crashing down?

Would she still be there?

Would it -?

She smacks him in the face with a worm, pushing the bag into his hands, “Where are you?”

“OW!” He grumbles, snatching it from her, “I’m right here!”

“You drifted away again,” She said, moving closer to him. 

Max turned away, digging his fingers into the bag. He grabbed at the gummies, popping them into his mouth. It was his favorite flavor, he hadn’t been allowed to have candy in such a long time. 

She said he drifted away a lot. Saying that she could always tell when he wandered into the depths of his mind, it made Max squirm. They had known each other so long and had grown together - their roots forever intertwined. He often forgot that just as easily as she could look into his mind, he could see hers. 

When he looked over at her again, she was picking at the skin of her fingers, her cheek caught between her teeth. There she was, getting angry in his place. She felt his emotions for him, especially when it came to his father. 

For Max, his feelings were far too heavy to bear. He could never truly understand just how much pain he was in, never allowing himself to dwell in it. That was a weakness. But for her, she reveled in the emotions he couldn’t bring himself to feel. 

Max reached over, interlacing their fingers. He could feel the searing glare she sent his way, but she left her hand in his. He traced stars into her skin. 

“I don’t like how he treats you,” She pushes herself closer to him, cheek pressed against his shoulder, “ ‘s not right.”

Max rolls his eyes. He doesn’t bother trying to explain it this time, she never listens. It was just the way things were. It was life. 

She doesn’t let the silence linger for too long, sighing loudly.

“I would never yell at you…” She mumbles. 

“You yelled at me when you got here.”

She lifts her head from his shoulder, craning her neck to look at him, “You didn’t have a blanket! I always tell you to bring a blanket! You could freeze to death!”

Though her voice is loud, echoing in the night air, it doesn’t scare him. It doesn’t feel like she’s yelling at him. Max can’t help it, he bursts into laughter. Tears spring to his eyes as he doubles over, clutching his stomach. 

She snatches her hand back, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout, “It’s not funny…”

It was hilarious. 

Max’s stomach curls, he can hardly breathe. He catches himself on his knees, trying to study his heart. There’s a part of his brain that knows he’s being too loud, that if his father were to hear him - he’d be dead. But he can’t help it. 

He laughs.

Eventually, she begins to laugh too. 

Small chuckles that morph into a howling laughter, the smile on her face bright. Max thinks he’s staring into the sun. It feels like they never stop, rolling around on the grass, the blanket falling from their shoulders. 

Truly, Max isn’t even sure why they’re laughing anymore, but he never wants to stop. 

Their cackles die into silence, only the sound of their gasping breaths left as evidence of their fit. They’ve fallen onto their backs, staring up at the sky. 

With the race track lights off, there’s nothing to see but the slivers of stars. The dandelions curl around their bodies, tickling the backs of their necks. 

If growing up means never having this again, Max decides that he never wants to. 

“Maybe one day I’ll save you.”

Max snickers, sparing her a look, “You can’t save me!”

“Why not?!”

“You’re a girl!” He feels the laughter building back in his stomach. 

With an over dramatic gasp, she shoves him. He moves further onto the grass, barking laughter into the blades. He can’t believe it. His stomach still sore from the fit only moments ago. 

“I’m serious.”

Max knows she is. When it comes to him she always is. He takes a peek at her. The curve of her nose and lips outlined by the moon, she’s so beautiful. Max thought that he might love her. Just staring at her, no one to breathe a word about this but the stars. And he was more than sure that they would keep his secret. 

He loves her, but loving things makes it complicated. 

He wasn’t ready for that. 

“It doesn’t matter to me,” He whispers, clutching her hand in his, “Not if we’re together.”

She doesn’t say anything, but Max can feel her heart beating. Her pulse is steady and strong. She’s a constant. Max knows that if he can just be in her orbit - just like a moon orbiting a planet - he’ll be fine. If he could just be near her, he would never need an understanding father. He’d have her. 

That’s all he would need. 

She squeezes his hand, “Just you and me.”

“Always forever.”

____________________

A/N:This work has been cross posed on Wattpad and AO3. All are under the name XDACTED. Thank you for reading and feel free to requests fics about any of the drivers <3

[occamstfs]

No Need to Apply

Here is my 1K special! Though admittedly it is nothing much out of the ordinary- Thanks to everyone who submitted prompts but especially the anonymous suggestion that spurred this transformation of a desperate twink into a cocky slob! -Occam

Brock really needed a lucky break. He had been staying with his ex since they ended it, but now that he’s sleeping with someone it’s clear that Brock needs to get his own place. Unfortunately the market is not being quite so accommodating to his urgent needs. Given that he is now to be living alone it’s evident he also needs the place on the cheap. He had been denied all reasonable accommodations that he could afford and was beginning to contemplate moving back in with his parents when he suddenly received an email from an apparent realtor he’d never met.

It was an invitation to an open house at some ritzy downtown apartment that he was sure was out of his price range. Rather than just tossing it to his spam folder though, he finds himself looking at the handful of images with a voracity, whether it’s simple curiosity or a fantasy to have such clearly luxurious housing Brock reads through the whole listing. Reaching the end of the invitation and looking at the specs he finds the rent impossibly labeled as just under half his monthly paycheck.

Nearly spitting up coffee all over himself in shock, Brock’s eyes flutter to find exactly when and where this open house was. Surely the demand for this place would box him out but god wouldn’t it be nice to just check it out and dream. He sends an RSVP and far too quickly the realtor, Lucas, thanks him for his prompt response, wishes him well, and signs off saying see you soon. Brock went about the rest of his day as normal, if not a little cheerier than he’s been for some time as he keeps finding his mind drift to that almost-too-perfect apartment’s view over the city.

Fortunately off from work the next day, Brock took the bus to the open house, stopping by his favorite cafe that just so happens to be nearby. He grabs a drink and finds himself preoccupied with thoughts of what a convenience, what a windfall, this break would be. He heads inside and takes the elevator up to the suite and hesitates before entering at the door. Odd that there is no one else here, he double checks the room and floor and puts his ear to the door to see if perhaps other visitors are inside already.

In his untrained attempt to eavesdrop he puts his weight squarely against the door, pushing it open and stumbling in, nearly spilling his coffee over the pristine floors as he crosses the threshold into the apartment. Light streams in through the blinds, only magnifying the manicured state of the spotless room around him. The floor is clean enough to see his reflection, mouth agape, staring at how impossibly clean the apartment is. The only record at all that the place had ever been lived in is the furniture that had clearly been procured by someone of great means, though one lacking any critical eye or desire for design. He sees framed posters of some real red flag movies near a large TV and some sports trophies lined on a shelf. Brock can’t help but wonder what could cause someone to leave such personal artifacts behind and feels a chill in the air. 

He wanders away from the entrance to stand at the large windows, his phone ringing as he takes in the view of his town. Answering without checking the ID he hears a man’s voice he doesn’t recognize. Though he knows this must be the mystery realtor on the line, “How do you like the place Brock?” he begins to reply before being cut off by Lucas, “Have you seen the view yet, it’s quite something else.” 

Brock feels something flicker through his mind as he gazes at the city blocks around him, below him. His eyes briefly catch on his reflection in the glass, though not long enough to see his eyelids droop slightly as he is able to reply, a tad slower than he usually likes to project, “uhh, yeah I know right, how could I not apply to live here? It’s almost too good to be true right?” There is another chill in the air and his body shivers before tensing up, shocking him back to reality and awareness to something strange afoot, “Excuse me actually, I’m so sorry, how did you get my phone number?”

Lucas clicks his tongue and speaks with an almost sickly sweet tone, “Now Brock come now, what can I do to get you to move in today?” Shaking his head in shock Brock is immediately, regardless of the clear sinister air to this man, he really cannot afford to pass up this chance. He clams up as he clambors to express interest, “No I uh! Of course I want the place, just send the lease over so I can read through it.” There is a real weight to Lucas’ words as Brock hears them, the cloying tone impressing itself on his mind, “Wonderful! That is all I needed to hear!”

It is suddenly dark in the apartment, but wasn’t he looking out the window? He can’t tell if his eyes are open or closed but he cannot see. Brock tries to move his head around to see, to feel anything, he strains his mind reaching for any muscle to flex, any tendon to pull, limbs to controt. He loses track of time and reality as he sits in the darkness, trying to grasp anything beyond his own consciousness, unable to affect anything. He feels his right hand move in a familiar way then he feels a warmth, almost a burning, completely engulfs it. He can almost see the shine of a smile, stark perfectly lined teeth that seem eerily inhuman and suddenly there is once more light. He gasps, coughs, and spits up over himself. Immediately grateful that he can feel anything at all. After feeling his body, and seeing the world almost entirely like it was before he lost consciousness, besides a copy of some contract with his name signed at the bottom.

He takes deep breaths feeling his lungs stretch and he starts to read whatever he has gotten himself into in that stupor. He reads the first few lines before he loses where he was on the page. Going again he finds his eyes suddenly dry, doing an uncharacteristically heavy blink that he can’t quite recall ever doing before and as he wonders this he again forgets his work on the contract. He slams his hand on the thigh in a rare show of aggression and gives it one last go. Brock makes even less progress this time as he is almost immediately overcome by a headache. As soon as he looks away from the sheet though, it disappears. 

Brock groans as he feels himself starting to lose control of his senses before he hears his stomach grumble, and he finds a purpose he can immediately resolve. He starts to the fridge, clearly something has happened, an episode or something, he can figure it out later, he just needs food in his stomach now. He doesn’t stop to realize that there should be no food in the fridge since no one’s been living there. Though he finds there is no need as in the fridge, under a note labeled: “To Help Moving In -Lucas,” Brock sees at least a week of prepped meals. The thought that this is bizarre beyond imagination, as well as the concern at his missing time, is immediately pushed from his mind as his stomach rumbles once more, his mouth watering as he sees his soon-to-be dinner.

Brock swiftly heats it up and begins to scarf it down, throwing something on the paying no mind or care to the thought that he’s using the account of whomever the previous tenant was. He quickly scans through seeing a handful of shows and movies that he wasn’t quite interested in before stumbling on a reality show he was watching with his Ex. He grimaces and almost loses his appetite as he thinks about his boyfriend for the first time in what feels like forever. He sets his meal down on the coffee table and crashes down onto the couch. He continues to stew in ire at his ex, palming his crotch as his feelings become more passionate. He rolls his eyes in irritation at himself and that jerk, he’s not going to masturbate to that asshole. 

He reclines in the couch and hears the sound of paper shifting in the cushions, pulling it out he finds a crusted magazine lodged in the couch. What can he do besides shout “what the fuck” and toss it across the room. How could they have possibly missed that in their cleaning? Brock’s eyes shift across the room suspiciously, though he notices nothing amiss as the room is illuminated by only the television. He looks at his hand that grabbed the porn and blushes, wanting to joke about the absurdity to calm himself down. Though his body makes its priorities known once more as his cock pulses and he looks past to see the magazine once more. He did want to masturbate to anyone besides his ex right? 

He shuffles to pick it up, the discomfort and anxiety from handling something covered in a total strangers cum only heightens his pleasure as he sits back down. He grimaces as he sees this is a real hetero-bullshit magazine, he quickly flips through to find something he can work with. His cock keeps demanding his attention as he flips through, almost impatiently pulsing as if to suggest he doesn’t need the magazine at all, just give it your attention. Though soon enough he finds an ad for some protein powder made to emasculate the reader into buying, that almost immediately helps him lose control. 

Soon after he once more fades from consciousness, his cum joining the plethora of other stains in the magazine as he tosses it behind the couch. He finds himself in a darkness that this time feels almost familiar and pleasurable. He once more feels his hand, this time though it is wet and warm. He feels it scratching in briefs that are too tight, through pubes that are too thick. He hears snoring breaking through the silence of his sleep, but that can’t be right? He would know if he snores, surely that fucker of a boyfriend would have complained. He feels his head grow warm as if he’s got a fever, though he knows it is a rage. He feels his hand feel even tighter in his briefs as his cock begins to grow in them. He continues to think of every slight his ex made, every shortcoming he was made needlessly aware of, and of how much better things are going to be now.

The heat shifts from his mind through his whole body and as light begins to break through the windows. That is not what wakes him up though, rather it is the heavy scent coming from his now sweat stained clothes. He rolls off the couch onto his face, quickly removing his hand from his briefs to catch himself, landing the stinking hand too close to his face to not smell just how loud his underwear smells. He feels his clothes sit weird on his body as he starts to rise, while his shirt just feels like it’s hanging weird, surely from the sweat, it is impossible to not see how strained his underwear is. He groans as he feels them pull strangely before he just discards them and makes his way to the bathroom. 

His eyes immediately latch onto his now exposed crotch, he does a double take as he notices that it seems distinctly larger. He also would have sworn that he shaved his pubes far more recently than it seems. He scratches through them, blushing as he sees dried cum flake off curls that are longer and thicker than he ever remembers them begin. Rather than hoping in the shower like any reasonable person would do he instead tosses on some boxers, not questioning why clothing that isn’t his would just be lying out, or why he would ever put them on. Instead choosing to focus on how right wearing them feels. He pulls them tight and turns wanting to see just how his ass and bulge fill them out, though is waylaid as his shirt blocks the view. 

He sneers as he takes off the sweat-stained shirt and tosses it to the floor, stretching high as his reeking body feels the air on his skin. He smiles in shock as he sees the body he has now exposed, he sees hair spreading across his stomach and torso and sweat dripping off of pits that were sure to stain every shirt he is to wear from now on. Beyond that he feels a body that is indisputably powerful, where there wasn’t even fat on his body before there was now muscle accompanied with weight in all the right places. His eyes then trail down to see the weightiest part of him by far as it bulges even lower in his boxers.

He feels an urge to move, to flex, to stretch, fill him as he hungrily takes in every new change in his body. His eyes trace their way past muscles contorting to land on his face, seeing a jaw that could certainly do with a shave. He sees his eager grin begin to turn into a cocky sneer as he begins to stretch once more, trying to will his torso even longer, trying to force his body even taller. His voice grows even deeper to his barely-aware ears as he closes his eyes to stretch, not seeing his throat force itself thicker and longer. There is once again a flicker in his mind as Brock is in darkness once more. Where there was once discomfort and fear there is now only hunger and an eagerness to grow even more.

He feels an itch burn across his body. He feels his hands dig deep into his pits scratching as hair grows thick enough to hold an odor that would never dissipate. He smells as even in this dreamstate he raises his hands to his nose to give them a post-scratch whiff. He feels the same itch cry out from his chest and pubes, from his lower back and his ass. He feels himself move his jaw as it squares up, a rumble in his throat as he feels his groans grow even deeper. He feels his mind thicken and slow as his muscles flex in his sleep. His arms do rep after unconscious rep as he feels biceps that should not be rub against a chest that has never been there before.

Finally he wakes one last time, his hand as it apparently always is, shoved in his pants, once more barely fitting despite wearing the spacier boxers. Brock blearily looks to see lines of takeout containers covering his coffee table. He scratches his beard using the hand from his crotch and he deeply inhales, two birds one stone after all. He sets out to get started with his day, tossing over in his head if he should masterbate again or not, a stain from a wet dream clearly showing through his boxers. Instead he throws Drake on his speakers and starts getting an early workout in, seeing to every part of his body getting a pump as he feels the hunger in his crotch grow only more urgent. 

Going about this workout Brock feels totally at home in this apartment. After all he’s lived here for? Uh? His mind empties as he looks around and sees weeks of piled up detritus and filth. He sees dirty clothes and cum stains on his couch. Looking past them there are his American Psycho and Fight Club posters, discarded underwear hanging off the latter, as well as the trophies he distinctly remembers winning back in college wrestling. He smirks and flexes tilting his head to sniff his pit. Beyond feeling at home in his apartment he also feels unequivocally at home in this, in his body, duh. He jumps to his feet with ease, his stomach rumbling as he once more goes to meet a basal need.

Throwing some of his favorite protein powder in a blender with some milk and eggs he hears his phone go off. There are a string of messages from some bitch asking him to come back and for the life in him Brock can’t remember who that little fucker is? Hearing his shake finish blending he stares at the profile picture of whoever this twink is as he starts to down it, wiping his lips on his sweaty arm as needed. The twink he doesn’t know calls him Brock and his eye twitches, ugh. Why is this dude calling him by his, uh? Is that his middle name? Or no he was Brock right?

He finishes the shake, tossing the blender onto the pile of dishes in the sink and his mind finds itself deeply conflicted. As ever though, his body is more than happy to assuage him, the phone vibrates once more and his cock begins to bring him clarity, demanding his attention once more. Brock’s a little bitch name. He smirks as he looks around at his sty of an apartment, not remembering how neat it once was. Peeking from under a particularly dirty dish there’s a contract that he remembers that he meant to have a look at. 

Bringing it to his face however he simply can’t find the motivation to even start. Why worry about this when he can masturbate, or fuck maybe he can get that whiny bitch to come over? His eyes trail to the end of the paper and see his signature, written clear as day “Adam.” He guffaws at this, god how stupid can you be, he basically forgot his own name after that twink called him uh, whatever that bitch name was. He feels his crotch grow tight again, that is kinda hot though? He moans to himself, pawing at his crotch and texts whoever this man is his address and to come ready to fuck. Adam feels no real attachment to whoever it is, nor should he, a hole is a hole after all. Saying that thought he can’t help but feel this hole is due to be taught a lesson.

If you enjoyed this I also recommend @fredwkong's The Voice in Your Head which explores a similar idea in quite a unique and captivating way!

[murder-cookie-dust393]

Hello! I am a fellow affogato (simp ahem) FAN-fan yes-fan

and I would like to request a yandere!affogato(with hypnotic abilities ofc) with a warrior reader who slowly falls for him and well

what happened next is up to you

(also Pookie bear may I be 🪻anon?)

Advisor in Distress

I'm just gonna be making apologies to my requesters from December so prepare yourself for a bunch of repetitive comments- Also, I think I did add you to my anon list, but I'll check just in case.

Disclaimer: I did not edit this, at all.

Tw: basically drugging but in small amounts, hypnosis

You knew who Affogato was. Everybody knew who he was. The grand royal advisor for his majesty. From your knowledge, he could be quite the snarky one. He would come to your comrades to comment that they haven't trained properly or guarded the citadel's walls.

You hated it when he insulted your friends and higher-ups. You knew they were doing their job as best as they could and were doing anything but slacking off. But it seemed Affogato wanted to do everything but be appreciative of them.

That was until a few weeks ago.

He started to hang around where the warriors were more frequently. Often going up to you and praising how hard you were working or how strong you were. It was weird and quite creepy. You were the only one getting this barrage of praises, so you felt like your comrades weren't getting enough.

So most days you ignored him or just answered with a nod.

But today he had more to give. All the warriors within your group had gotten incense sticks from Affogato as a present. Yours looked slightly more purple, but you didn't pay much mind to it. When you lit the sticks in honour of your dead comrades, there was a certain smell.

The scent had a heavy espresso smell along with a hint of cream. It was a pleasant one to be around. As you kneeled before the incense pot, you felt a sudden dizziness come over you. You steady yourself with a hand to the ground, but some thoughts start rushing through your mind.

The royal advisor did look extremely pretty last Tuesday. Was it his eyes? Or was it his elegant walk? You aren't sure. You brush it off and go back to your post.

——————————————————

The night is evident by the darkened sky and the glowing stars. The citadel is asleep, except for a few guards ensuring the safety of the kingdom. Through the shadows and dim spaces, a cookie in black robes swiftly passes by the silent halls.

They slide the door open to one of the many rooms for the warriors. The cookie steps inside without a sound, shutting the door with careful movement. They take off their hood, revealing none other than Affogato himself.

He kneels by the sleeping mat, watching the warrior sleep; the warrior being MC Cookie, his dear beloved. He smiles a wicked and loving grin. "Oh, how long will it take for you to fall in love with me? I need someone to protect me once I'm ruler, you know~" He whispers to them, expecting no response.

He leans closer, so close to touching their blanket-covered body now. "I've waited far too long. Everything will be in my grasp: the kingdom, the people, and you. My sweet knight." The advisor pressed a light kiss onto their cheek before leaving the room. No trace was left except for a small incense burning on top of a dresser; hidden from plain view.

——————————————————

(Jealous twink needs his protector- honestly goals)

(This was pretty fun to write! Honestly, requests aren't that bad once you start writing them. It's the effort to start them that's hard).

- Celina

[chubbycelebs]

My Chocolate Factory Experience (pt 4 -final part)

The doors open back to the world. We hear shouting and cheering and cameras flashing. We take a step forward and the crowd gasps. “What happened in there?” “My goodness they are huge!” “Is that Declan? Bloody hell he was so skinny. Look at that belly!” “Wow Jamie has packed it on. I’m surprised he can still fit into his clothes.” The audience reactions made us both laugh. 

3 months later…

*ding dong* The doorbell rings to my apartment. “Just leave it by the door!” I shout out. I hear the rustling of paper bags as the delivery man puts down by the front door. I don’t like to be seen much since leaving the factory. It’s propelled me and Jamie into fame and that’s not what either of us want. Inescapable fame. At the start after a week or two of us leaving, I would be walking around town and I’d have paparazzi following me everywhere. Snapping photos making the front page of the next morning magazine: “Declan fattened beyond belief” “That’s what you get when you gobble down sweets!” “New clothes, same waistline”. It was relentless. Didn’t help that I hadn’t heard from Jamie at all. I thought after I’d become some lazy fatty for him he’d stay with me but turns out he didn’t want any of it. I was walking around to try and lose some weight, possibly go back to my skinny twink body but that’s gone to shit. Due to all the paparazzi and the name calling and the shaming and the ignorance of it all I decided I’d just stay in my apartment. I was cursed with now having a diet of fast food that was delivered to my doorstep 3 to 6 times a day. Obviously this didn’t help my body. As I walked to the front door I caught a glimpse on the mirror by the stairs of my body. I was stood in my underwear as this was the only item of clothing that fit me now and even then dig deep and hard into my hips. My face looked like it had melted as my jawline was now one with my fat neck. My arms were thicker and jiggled if I moved them too fast. My chubby fingers which were only good for shoving food into my fat face now. My chest was soft and slightly dropping now, my nipples growing wider and more sensitive as my chest was becoming huge moobs. My belly was really rounding out now. It stuck out far and even started to sag round the top band of my underwear. My belly button was deep and my love handles were wide and wobbled at every move. My ass and thighs filled my underwear to the point they were pretty much see through, not that there was much to see now. My fat pad had grown and my huge dick was getting smaller by the day. my thickened legs held up my fat body as I plopped around my apartment. I slapped my belly and shook it as I turned round to get my food. “Fuck me” I thought. “What have I done to my self”. Obviously once the food was in my fat piggy hands, I spent the next few minutes stuffing my face full of it all. I got enough food to feed a family of 5 and yet my belly still yearned for more. That was something I had noticed leaving the factory: never being full since. I had spent so trying to make my self full again and nothing is filling me up like it used to. It was like the food at Wonka’s had transformed me into an ever eating machine, constantly wanting to stuff my face. As I finished my meal I gave my greasy belly a good shake and let out a deep belch that made my double chin shake.

As I was laying on my sofa, sausage fingers down my underwear trying to please my self, I noticed a pink folded under my tv that I hadn’t seen in ages. It was my photo book of all the people I used to stuff before I went to Wonkas. My heart skipped a beat with excitement as I reached for it. I had completely forgotten I had this little project. I opened it up. There were photos of so many fat men that I had stuffed right here in this apartment. I would get them to pose showing off their expanded bodies. My dick pushed tight against my restraining underwear. I could feel the pressure mounting. I flicked through them and noticed a few where I would get in the photo, both of us naked and showing the contrast between my twink body and their hog like bodies. I saw how tight my skin was over my abs, my neat pecks and toned arms and legs. I looked at how my belly rolled over onto the top of my thighs and my chest now sat atop my bulging belly like a tier cake. I really had become one of my hogs. I had a mix of guilt, sadness, embarrassment but also intense proudness, so turned on and satisfied that this is what I had turned into.

*ding dong* The doorbell? It was 12am and I hadn’t ordered any food. Or I don’t think I did. It was probably some journalists who wanted to talk to me about how I’ve let my self go and what happened how did I get to be so fucking huge. I decided to ignore it. *ding dong ding dong* there was a sense of urgency now. Not only was the door bell going but they were banging on the door to be let in. Usually journalists are much more polite, like to act sweet before they poke fun at you. This was someone different. I started standing up when I heard a huge rip in my underwear. “Oh shit. My last pair” I said reaching round to feel the damage. I had split them right down my arse and round to the bottom of my balls which were now starting to fall out of my underwear and on show. I started looking around frantically looking for something that would cover my body. All there were was old clothes that were split and covered in food. That’s when I notice the huge paper bag my food came in. I sighed as I realised what I had to do. I ripped a hole in the bottom of the bag and stepped into it. I wriggled it up until it got to my ass. I had to be careful here. I didn’t wanna rip it. I sucked in and clenched my ass as slipped the huge greasy paper bag over my fat body. It barely fit my body. I knew I couldn’t breathe out or the bag wound burst. The knocking and door bell ringing was getting more inpatient. “Alright I’m coming I’m coming shit” I said waddling to the door, trying not to rip it. I unlocked the door and was met with a familiar face. “Jamie” I said with a sigh. I let go of my breath. My belly fell forwards and the bag split right down the middle. My huge fat naked body was now on full display to Jamie. “Fuck I’m so sorry come in come in quick” I said rushing to cover my nob with my hands. I was fucked now. Nothing to cover me. But as Jamie came into the light, I noticed that all he was wearing was a huge sheet of black material and it was a large sheet as well. Now in the light I could see the two was bigger than when he left the factory 3 months ago. 

We made our way to the living room where we both sat down on the sofa. I felt I had to be the one to break the ice as I was the one sat naked across from him. “To get it out the way, yes I have put on some extra weight. I don’t like leaving the house and I’m always hungry so yes that’s why I’ve got tits now and sat naked across from you. How bout you then huh?” I ask not hiding the fact I was pissed off that we hadn’t spoke for 3 months and then he arrives at my apartment with no notice. I can see him fiddling with his fingers before taking off the large piece of black material. I thought I was fat. Jamie was huge. That chubby boy I met over 3 months ago was no more, I was in the presence of a hog. Jamie’s chest sat comfortably atop his huge gut which stuck out far and wide. It dropped over where his waist band would be. His ass was huge and covered in cellulite that carried on down his huge legs. “Well this is me Dec. I’m huge. And I can’t stop eating.”

“Oh my god” I say my mouth agape as I’m left to look at Jamie’s huge naked body on full display. My dick almost goes instantly hard and it was on show for him to see. I can see that even Jamie was getting turned on at this encounter, even though his dick was buried under all his fat. He truly did enjoy me fat. All those nights of me stressing about my expanding body was all for nothing because he still liked me fat. I felt a weight lift off my shoulders and a smile cracked across my face. 

“I didn’t get in contact because I was scared. I was scared that whatever happened in the factory was just gonna stay in the factory. I didn’t realise that you actually like me big. But as I kept eating and growing uncontrollably because of food in the factory well I knew I had to come see you. I must say though I thought you would’ve lost some of the weight so it’s nice to see you all soft and jiggly.” Jamie moves forward towards me. I feel my heart pounding as our bellies touch, the hairs on our guts stroking each others. 

“You’re such a fucking stupid pig Jamie” I say as I wrap my arms around him and make out with him. We spent the whole night eating, rubbing, jiggling, teasing, moaning, groaning and fucking. By the time the sun started to rise we both were covered in sweat, making out jiggly rolls glisten in the sunrise. We both laid on the floor panting and rubbing our very very full guts. Yet we still could eat more. “I’m still hungry Jamie” I say between gasps for air. 

“Me too. I’ve never been full since leaving the factory. Oh what I would do to go back there.” Jamie starts to rub his belly in circles. We sit in silence for a bit before an idea comes to mind. 

“Jamie. Why don’t we go tonight when it gets dark. Wonka said we could go back whenever we wanted and if it’s dark we don’t have to worry about people seeing us.” 

Jamie rolls over and looks at me, his belly spilling forward on the floor in front of him. “I’m down.”

We thought it be best to at least have clothes to wear as we wandered the streets to the factory. We ordered some to be delivered to our house in the biggest size we could get. Once they arrived we tried them on. My clothes fit me fine maybe even a bit big in places. The round shape of my belly could still be seen and my ass still made it clear it was there but other than that I was concealed. Jamie’s clothes were filled up a bit more. His shirt covered his huge belly but didn’t hide it. He was very clearly fat still. 

Nightfall came and we left the flat. We walked through the town and to the factory at the edge of the village. We got to the front gates. We didn’t really know what to do at this point. Didn’t know how to get in at this hour but then the creaking of the gates started sounding. They both opened and lead us through to the front door. The same happened here and the front door opened for us. Here was the familiar corridor we walked down before just now without any lights on. There was no one to be seen. Not any of 

Wonka’s workers or even the man him self. We decided just to let ourselves in. We walked down the corridor that 5 of us walked down before. I thought back to the others. How they were so fat and out of shape before and now they were even bigger. It felt like I had now taken their place. I felt my body jiggling with every step and thought back to how their bodies never stood still. I had really become one of those greedy fatties. My heart started to race as we got to the end of the corridor. If I had become one of them then what could happen to me on this room now. Would I blow up to be 1000 pounds of lard. Would I expand into a juicy horny blueberry begging to be touched and squeezed. What awaits me past these doors. 

Again as we reached the end of the corridor, the doors opened. The sweet filled meadow was dark, hard to see what was inside. Me and Jamie squeezed through the door, it being a much tighter fit than I remembered. We looked around the room. We could see the trees, some bushes and rocks, hear the sound of the chocolate river that filled the room with its scent. I felt my belly shake as it rumbled with hunger and heard the same happen to Jamie. As we moved forward into the room, a large mound started to appear right ahead of us. A huge mountain it seemed like. As we moved forward and the mound came into light it was clear what it was. It was all food. It was a huge mound of just sugary food. Cakes, waffles, cookies, chocolate, rolls, pastry’s, cream and more. It was huge. Me and Jamie looked at each other. We both grinned and ran towards the huge mound. 

This is what heaven must be like. I rolled in the thick cream as I took bite after bite of the soft moist cake I rest my body on. Oh everywhere I look there was food I could fill my belly with. Finally an endless supply of food that could satisfy my hunger. I kept chewing and swallowing and stuffing my face full of the food. I laid to rest for a second on a particular soft cookie and look over at Jamie. I see the joy in his face as he stuffs his face full of food. What I also see is his brand new clothes not fitting his expanding body. Right before my eyes I saw his belly swell forward and his shirt be unable to fit anymore. His ass pushed forward and the seams were stretched thin. Whatever food we were eating it was making us fatter and quicker. I looked down at my own body and it was true. My body filled my clothes to the point they were right on me now. I grabbed a handful of cream filled cookie and shoved it in my mouth and watched my stomach as I swallowed. I saw my belly push further out slightly and felt a breeze on my lower belly as the shirt rode up displaying my gut. “Oh fuck” I thought to my self. I looked around and saw how much food we had left to eat. I felt the hunger pang in my stomach. “Holy shit we are gonna be massive” I thought as my dick got hard at the thought. I dive back in head first and carry on filling my body with creamy fat. 

“DEC DEC HELP!” I heard shouting from across the mound of food. About half an hour had passed now. I poke my head out of a donut I was stuffing and look around for Jamie. After this long of stuffing my clothes had been reduced to scraps. I was now about 450 pounds of pure lard. My belly hung down onto my huge fat thighs. My chest was soft and my nipples huge and sensitive. I had grown to a size I never thought would be possible. I waddled over to where the shouting was. I turn a corner and see Jamie. 

“Jesus fucking christ” I say in shock. There lay Jamie. Now around 650 pounds. He was a huge mound of fat now. His limps waved in the air as he tried to move around but his belly was so huge and round filled with food that he couldn’t move at all. 

“Declan help. I’m so huge I can’t move please feed me. I need you.” I heard the pleading and  pain in his voice. He needed to be fed. My fat boy needed feeding. I waddled over and started feeding this hog with all the food I could. I of course kept on stuffing my face too. Couldn’t let Jamie have all the fun. We spent hours feeding each other every food there was. The mound got smaller and smaller until the last few crumbs were left as the sun started to rise. 

The main door to the room creaked open. “Right then workers. We’ve got a lot of food to get through today so best be… holy fucking shit…” Wonka had walked through the door with a few of his workers and saw what me and Jamie had become. Jamie was definitely 1500 pounds of pure fat. His body was round it was so filled with fat. He was truly the biggest guy anyone had ever seen. And my self well I was surely 1000 pounds if not more at this point. I too was propped up by my rounded fat figure. I’m sure it was a sight to see two huge fatties sat naked covered in food inside his factory. “No fucking way. That can’t be. Can it? Jamie?” Jamie grunted in response. “And no way that’s Declan” Wonka said walking towards us. I gave him a little wave with what mobility I had left in my body. “Holy fucking SHIT GUYS. You guys were the skinniest ones here a few months ago and now look at you lard arses. SHIT you greedy fuckers.” Wonkas mocking made me so horny and I can only imagine what Jamie is feeling too. “Well to be honest you saved the job of these workers. Bought them in today to eat all the food as I was getting rid of it but turns out you pigs did it for us. Saved these workers from a similar fate to what you now have.” The muscle clad workers looked slightly disappointed that their roles of eating and getting fat like me and Jamie were no more. “Oh don’t worry boys there’ll be more food.” Wonka said noticing their sad expressions. “Right well there’s only really one place for you two. You can be our big fat taste testers. You’d like that wouldn’t you. Stuffing your face with food all day long. Sounds good doesn’t it piggies.” Just then I felt hands on my soft body as I was rolled away. 

The trip to the taste testing facility was long and I was dizzy from the spinning. I let my eyes shut as the workers rolled my huge body down long corridors followed by Jamie. I could hear on multiple occasions the workers panicking because Jamie kept getting stuck he was so fat. This made me giggle to my self knowing that I would follow his same fat eventually. 

We finally made it to the huge vast room that was the taste testing room. I opened my eyes. The room was filled with huge fat people. All these huge orbs of lard were scattered across the room with a funnel attached to their mouths with food pumping inside of them. It was insane to see the scale of this room. How many people had Wonka causes to become so unhumanly fat. “So here we are my boys. The feeding room! Because you boys have spoiled your appetite and now will be hungry for the rest of your lives it’s best just to hook you up and feed you for life. Of course side effects do include getting fatter by the second but I have a hunch you boys won’t mind that.” My cheeks plush as I realise I will spend the rest of my life becoming one of the fattest people in the world. “So first Jamie let’s get you hooked up.” I see Jamie get moved into position and a funnel gets strapped into his mouth. A worker gives him a firm slap on the arse and the food starts pumping into his body. I can even hear a moan of satisfaction as he is filled with sweet food. “Right then Declan you next. I must say I never expected you to make your way down here.” I started to get moved into position. “You were so skinny before and loved feeding up fatty over there.” The funnel was out into my mouth. “But I guess you enjoyed being fed by that fatty too much and now look where you are. I hope it was worth it lard arse.” Wonka presses a button and the food started pouring into my mouth. 

I sat and thought about all the fat boys I’d fattened up. All were so desperate to be huge and fat. Some I grew to 250 pounds others I pushed to 500. I thought how jealous they would be to see me now. How after all that fattening they could never be as big as me. I had gone from a feeder to a huge fucking feedee and I loved it. Forever fattening up for eternity. 

Well this is the end of this story series. I have spent so long doing this story. Every part I put loads of effort in to make sure there was loads of details and nothing was missed so I really hope you all enjoyed it and can see the hard work I put into it. I know it’s taken a while to do but I do hope it’s been worth it. Let me know any story ideas anyone wants to see. Might just do short stories for a while now. Thank you guys for the support!

[bwabys-scenarios]

Anything for his mission

Camboy!Kurapika x Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

warnings: consensually filming sex, handjob, mentions of pregnancy/breeding

A/N: Feel free to send camboy!Kurapika requests! Also, I posted this in my discord months ago. If you want to see more stuff like this, you should join! Here’s the link

taglist: @desiray562

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

Kurapika discovers that side of the internet one night when he’s researching a paper trail of some person different social media accounts.

He’s absolutely mortified at first. Immediately he’s shutting his laptop and glancing at a picture of you he keeps on his nightstand.

Kurapika hesitantly opens the laptop back up, sighing to himself. ‘I’ll just check out the information on that account then delete my search history.’

He doesn’t even know why he’s embarrassed and ashamed, it’s not like you and him are together. Why would you care if he’s visiting some adult website? He’s nearly 20 for gods sake!

He searches through the account, not finding anything to interesting… except that the person has a type.

Skinny blonde boys.

Kurapika blinks. The person he’d been researching had multiple pairs of the scarlet eyes, and so far he hadn’t been able to find any weaknesses in the persons defenses.

Maybe Kurapika would have to get creative…

You blink when Kurapika comes home with a box, not letting you look inside of. You become curious when he locks his door, leaving a “do not disturb” sign on the handle.

This curiosity peaks when you’re searching up some porn to get off to tonight. Despite your embarrassment, you look up people that look similar to your long term crush, Kurapika. He was just so pretty to you, after all, and you couldn’t get off if the person didn’t look like him :((

As you search one night, you come across an account with an awfully familiar username.

“Pika”

You stare at the name for a second, nearly laughing at yourself. “There’s no way, Kurapika would never-“

You click on the profile, and sure enough, from the lips down is YOUR Pika, sat shyly on his bed, jerking off.

He looked stiff, robotic almost. He couldn’t be enjoying himself, and you could see it in the uncomfortable grimace he was making.

The comments were telling him pretty much the same thing.

“Aww, come on pretty boy, give us a smile.”

“You look uncomfortable af”

You sigh, pulling your hands from your panties. Your poor, poor Pika. He had to be doing this for a reason, and it obviously wasn’t for his own pleasure.

You tiptoe to his room, thanking god that he had left his door unlocked. His back was turned from the door, and using In you were able to sneak up behind him.

“Pika, baby, let me help.”

He gasped when he felt your lips on his neck, the blondes face turning a dark shade of red. “(N-Name)!”

“I saw you were live. You know, if you asked I would have helped you out.”

He gasped when your hand wrapped around his length, thumb brushing against his tip. “Poor, poor Pika. Not used to jerking off, huh? Lemme help you feel good.”

The comments come pouring in, but neither of you cared. “Shh, just focus on how my hand feels, okay?”

He whimpered, and you kissed him, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth.

It didn’t take long for him to cum, painting his chest. You kissed his cheek, giggling at his spent expression.

You glanced at the comments, giggling.

“Oh god that was hot!”

“DOMINATE HIM!”

“I love blonde twinks”

“pretty cumshot 😩”

Kurapika cleared his throat, catching his breath. “Th-thank you all for coming.”

He ended the live stream, glancing back at you shyly. “I can explain.”

“You don’t have to, Pika. It’s none of my business what you do with your body.”

You kiss him again, this time the blonde realizes that you’re only wearing a pair on panties and a tanktop. His hands dip down to your waist. “I know, but I want to tell you.”

You sigh. “Sure, go ahead.”

As he shyly pulls down your panties, he continues. “Someone I’m trailing has… an interest in people that look like me.”

“Skinny, pale, blonde boys?”

Kurapika sighed at your words, pulling you into his lap. “Yes. And… I thought perhaps I could get closer to them through this… website.”

You hum, glancing back at his computer as you hover over his cock. “Why not livestream us having sex? That would get us a lot of views, possibly draw in the persons attention.”

He frowns. “I would prefer to keep love making with you intimate and in the bedroom…”

You cooed, kissing all over his face. “Aww, you’re such a cutie Pika. It’s just a suggestion, if you really don’t want to I understand.”

He held onto your hips, his cock twitching below you. “… if you think it’s a good idea, I won’t deny you.”

You laugh. “Alright. I’ll start the stream, okay?”

He nodded, barely holding himself back from pulling you onto his cock. The two of you had some sort of friends with benefits relationship that he wanted to take a step further, but was much too scared that you didn’t feel the same way he did.

“Hi everyone! As you can see, I’m about to get pounded by the lovely Pika!”

Kurapika turned red at your words, pulling you closer. “(Name)…”

He blinks, seeing the viewer count steadily rise. Kurapika does get a little pissed off at the comments, most of them talking about how much they wanted to fuck YOU.

“Ready, Pika?”

He growled, not giving you a second to think as he pushed your hips down. “Eep!”

Kurapika moved your hips up and down, moaning into your mouth. The chat was going WILD.

“YO don’t break her pussy bro 😭”

“twinks gone wild”

You gasp when you feel him pin you down onto the bed, glancing to the monitor to make sure you were still in view. Thankfully, Kurapika made sure neither of your faces would be visible, only your bodies.

“Love you… love you so so much…” he said as he pounded into your, occasionally dipping down to lock his lips with yours. You look up at him, face heating up.

“I-I love you too, Pika!”

Your words seem to affect him, making him go at an animalistic pace. Before long you can feel his cum filling you up, something he’d never done before. Kurapika had always pulled out, it was almost like he was telling you just how much he loved you by claiming your womb as his.

This continues for a while, Kurapika moving you into different positions, cooing soft praises into your ear and whispering ‘I love yous’.

Eventually the two of you collapse on the bed Kurapika reaching over to end the stream.

“Did… did you mean what you said earlier?”

He nods, pulling you into his chest. “Yes, every word.”

“Including the part where you were going to fuck me until I was pregnant?”

He stayed quiet, staring down at you with those pretty red eyes.

“Well… the thought of your stomach swelling with my seed, of you having my child…”

He kissed the top of your head. “It’s all I can think about.”

The two of you cuddle and fall asleep, forgetting about the whole reason you even started the stream earlier. Now, you were both ready to start a relationship, maybe even a family.

The next day, Kurapika is elated to see the person he’s tracking has followed his account.

“that livestream with the girl last night was hot! keep it up!”

‘It seems I’ll have to keep this up for a little while longer…’

If he kept streaming, maybe he could get closer to this person and get some valuable information…

He looks over to you, smiling as you make breakfast while he scrolls on his laptop.

“Angel, would you like to do another stream with me tonight?”

You turn, giving him a smile. “If it means I get to spend time with you, then yes!”

And he blushes, standing up to hug you from behind. “I love you…”

“I love you too!”

[penelope-kat]

So I'm a little dissatisfied with the ending of F&C (btw totally fine to disagree, this is just my opinion. Also it's just a show ok let's all be mature here).

Let me be clear: I don't hate the ending; I think the rest of the show is amazing, AND while I LOVE the message of Simon and Betty moving on from each other and being able to be ok without each other, it felt really disingenuous for the show to say that Betty was more obsessed with Simon when they're clearly both complete freaks for each other?

Simon's whole thing in the original show whenever he was lucid was about how much he missed Betty, how fixated he was on her, and how he'd do anything to get her back, or at least be able to talk to her one more time. Marceline is always talking about how Simon was constantly obsessed with finding Betty again when she was little, and Ice King's whole character and obsession with kidnapping princesses stemmed from Simon desperately wanting to find Betty again.

All relationships have flaws, but I feel like this wasn't the right flaw to give their relationship. Simon and Betty's relationship was flawed because they were super obsessed with each other, not because Betty was more obsessed with Simon than Simon was with her. I guarantee that Simon would have done all the same shit Betty did if the roles were reversed and Betty had put on the ice crown instead, like I have not a single doubt in my mind.

It also makes Simon look a lot less emotionally intelligent and empathetic, which is like yeah, people don't always see how they hurt their loved ones, but you're really telling me he NEVER ONCE did anything Betty wanted to do? Never?? And Betty is a strong-willed woman, we always see that. She's unhinged. I love her. I feel like Simon would have picked up on her wants, too, especially since they were implied to have been together for a long time given, you know, they've co-written books and explored the world together and all. Simon ADORED Betty, and he's always been shown to be very empathetic and insightful, even at his worst during F&C! I highly doubt after all that time with Betty he would have never even considered doing her stuff. Do you really think Mr Semen Peggtricock over here, the final-boss of pathetic submissive twinks, took the reins on every aspect of anything they did together? I know that man gets his bussy destroyed three nights a week by Betty's 12 inch strap and whimpers under her weight m'kay there's no WAY he never ever once listened to what she wanted to do.

I do appreciate that the show doesn't make Simon or Betty out to be monsters or bad people or anything, and I do think in the context of Simon and Betty's stories, them going different ways makes the most narrative and thematic sense since their obsession with each other did end up severely negatively-impacting both their lives. Also, it was heavily implied that Betty reincarnated after blowing Simon sending Simon back to Ooo, so she won't be fused with Golb for all eternity in infinite loneliness. Uh that also makes me feel way better about the ending too lol.

But the specific point of "Simon didn't appreciate Betty enough".. it just doesn't sit right. That man spent collective decades mourning the loss of Betty, his princess, and all he really wanted was to be with her. He understood how brilliant she was, he loved her for it. Yes, he almost gave up her sacrifice that made him Simon again, but can you really blame him for that? He was super depressed and genuinely believed it would be the best thing to do in order to protect the little gay people in his head. He wasn't doing it to punish Betty, he'd never do that. Tbf I haven't seen many people claim he did it to punish Betty, I can just see that being a reachable conclusion for someone watching who already wasn't too keen on how their relationship had been portrayed thus far.

Betty was right: they did make their choices. And that means her choices too, choices that she literally took ownership of in the same breath, so it's weird for the show to imply only she would have gone to the lengths she did in their relationship.

Honestly the topic of overcoming obsession makes perfect sense to explore for BOTH of them. Betty having had time to think about it for 12 years as a chaos god, and Simon still being hung up because he blames himself for everything that happened. They were both equally obsessed with each other, and that mutual obsession destroyed both their lives. Now they need to be able to move on and, in Simon's case, keep living, even though Betty isn't around anymore, because his life as Simon Petrikov MATTERS.

Also before anyone brings up Temple of Mars that episode SLAPS it's GREAT and yes it is about Betty's obsession with Simon, but I always found it to be more of a "wow things became so screwed up. It's a shame Betty didn't go on her trip but the happiness she had with Simon was clearly worth it to her, it's just crazy how something like her missing a trip to be with him evolved into her time traveling into the future and losing her mind trying to save him". It wasn't really an episode about how bad Simon was for her in the beginning, it was like "holy shit girlie we need to get you on mood stabilizers ASAP cuz this shit is CRAZY".

Yeah I dunno how to wrap this up. Didn't mean to make anyone upset: I'm still shaky about how I feel on all of this and just wanted to get my thoughts out there. Opinions are valid! Even if you don't agree, I hope you can see where I'm coming from :)

Have a good night!

[britcision]

Guys I dunno how to tell you this this is my favourite fucking chapter so far and before this one the last one was

I know it looks like we’re getting distracted and side tracked off on tangents but I’m having the time of my fucking life and more than half of my favourite bits weren’t in the plan

(We’re still on track and makin’ our way but oh boy the funniest things are all accidents)

AO3 link is as ever still on the first couple of chapters!

First:

Previous:

———————

That’s Not A Twink That’s An Anime Girl

They did eventually have to let Dick out of his snow drifts.

As a former circus acrobat, Dick had the best excuse of all of them to use his vigilante training in public; he’d wormed out of Jason’s grasp, flipped over Duke and made a run for it.

Unfortunately for him, gravity was actually literally optional for Danny, and Danny didn’t even have a superhero identity to protect in Gotham.

He could turn a lot more easily on the slick ice and snow to give chase, a little flight added when friction failed him. On his own, Danny would have probably had to actually fly to take Dick down.

Of course, odds of eight-to-one would weigh on any man. Not a single member of the group wasn’t thoroughly soaked by the hour’s end, sweat under clothes and snow clinging over them.

The journey up to Wayne Manor ended up being done in chunks as the sun began to sink and the cold set in for their more human friends.

Jason, Danny, Duke, and Tim had to go back to the mall to retrieve motorbikes.

(Technically Danny didn’t actually need to, but what he did need was an excuse to get Jason alone for a minute, and he’d put up with snickering from Sam and Tuck to do it.)

Steph, Cass, Damian, Sam, and Tucker called for a cab rather than pack themselves into Dick’s now snow filled car, and their numbers were excuse enough for Danny to slip away.

Which is when Tucker realised he could have probably hitched a ride on Tim’s bike, and spent the whole journey hugging Tim Drake-Wayne.

Buuuuut it’d also mean riding a motorcycle through slushy snow. The dilemma on his face made Danny grin all the way back to the mall, despite the damp now clinging to his clothes.

Sure, the car might reach the manor first and they’d get warm and dry, but that just meant Tucker’d miss out on more Tim Time.

The snowball fight had clearly done Tim good too, he was much more energised as they walked back to the mall, complaining to Danny and the others about Amity Park’s underhanded tactics.

Danny sure as fuck wasn’t going to apologise, but he did have a much more important question: how the fuck did Jason do that landshark-disappearing-into-snow bullshit?

Which… well, was also a chance to fuck with Tim and Duke.

“Seriously Jay, I can go intangible but that snow trick was bullshit,” Danny complained with a wicked glee in his heart, reflected in Jason’s grin.

Tim nearly tripped over his own feet. Duke caught him, his own eyes wide.

“You can what?!” Tim asked in a slightly strangled voice, and Danny gave him his most innocent smile.

“Oh, has Dick not told you? Yeah, it’s one of my things, from the generic end of the list,” he explained casually, turning his arm intangible and phasing it through Jason.

Who made a face.

“Okay but why does it feel like that left a residue?” The larger man complained, scrubbing at his shirt.

Which. Danny paused, frowning down at his hand. Stuck it through his own chest experimentally.

“Y’know, I didn’t know it did that… not like I go through myself often, but I can definitely feel it,” he agreed, sticking his tongue out as he wiggled his hand around, then drew it back.

Duke and Tim looked fascinated and nauseated respectively. Danny gave them both a cheerful shrug and kept walking.

“It’s probably my pit water,” he theorised, and Jason groaned loudly.

“Danny, did you just fucking mix our forbidden smoothies?” He complained loudly, and Duke damn near choked himself on a strangled laugh.

Danny fully had to stop and turn to stare at Jason, delighted awe on his face.

“Oh, I’m calling it that forever. That’s my new favourite thing. Skulker is going to shit his entire liver when he hears “forbidden smoothie”,” he decided gleefully.

Jason smirked and bumped shoulders as he passed, forcing the others to keep moving to keep up. Duke almost jogged to lean around Jason and give Danny a curious look.

“Who’s Skulker?” He asked innocently and Danny grinned at him.

“Oh, one of my rogues. He likes to talk a big game but he’s pretty easy to deal with. All bark, no bite,” Danny explained cheerfully.

Honestly he was a little surprised Skulker hadn’t shown up in Gotham to bother him yet. He must have been having a hard time finding a portal, because it’s not like he’d stop.

Tim and Duke did seem a little reassured by his casual dismissal, but still concerned. Jason cut them off before they could ask anything that might be useful.

Yeah, Jason was kinda Danny’s favourite.

“So how the fuck do I get your smoothie out of my jug?” He asked with an overly disgusted face. Danny fought not to laugh.

“You are so asking the wrong person dude, I didn’t know it happened until just now,” he pointed out and Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m taking at least six showers when we get to the manor,” Jason grumbled melodramatically, and Danny laughed aloud.

Then paused.

“Wait, how many bathrooms are there? Can we all shower?” He asked Tim and Duke.

Neither of whom looked ready to admit they didn’t know what was going on. Fuck Jason knew his family well.

Duke shrugged, the mall finally coming into sight, and diverted towards the underground parking.

“Well, there’s enough for one each. And Alfred could do laundry for you so you can change right after if you take a long one,” he offered, glancing down at his own now damp clothes.

Best part of a snowball fight: changing back into something warm and dry.

Danny snickered, plucking at Jason’s oversized sweater.

“The way you assume I’m wearing a single thing that I actually own is adorable,” he told the younger man sincerely, grinning as his cheeks heated.

Sure, it was more subtle on dark skin than Danny’s light tan, but he’d been friends with Tucker since he could walk. He knew exactly what to look for.

Was not quite ready for it to be combined with a sly grin right back.

“What, nothing of yours?” He asked suggestively and Tim laughed, quickly catching on.

“Did Jason give you everything?” He asked teasingly, both younger Wayne wards now grinning at their older brother.

Jason’s little pink blush was definitely still Danny’s favourite. He grinned right back, refusing to follow them to a place that didn’t exist.

“Some of it’s probably yours,” he told Tim blithely, tugging at his sweatpants. Which, as predicted, immediately changed Tim’s expression to annoyance.

“Why is everyone wearing my pants today?” Tim grumbled, and Danny’s grin widened.

“They looked a little tight on Tucker if you wanted to help him take them off,” Danny teased and Tim levelled a dry stare at him.

“I do have a boyfriend,” he pointed out coolly, like that was gonna stop turnabout from being fair play.

“Ask him to come help then,” Jason cut in, ruffling Tim’s hair, “you know Connor’s always welcome for dinner.”

For a long moment Tim’s expression froze, clearly actually considering the suggestion. Then he shook his head, sighing and calling the elevator.

“Probably not today. What floor do you guys need?” He asked as the doors slid open, stepping inside.

Quiet day at the mall. Probably the fucking cold, combined with hangovers from the new year.

And as much as Danny was thirsting to ask about that, he also very much needed Jason alone before they got on the road. Hopefully they weren’t on the same level.

“Two,” Jason said, and Tim nodded, hit two and then four. Looked to Duke. Who grinned.

“Three. Sorry Tim, you’re taking the scenic route.”

And for once the universe worked in Danny’s favour. Something fucked would probably happen soon to compensate.

He and Jason left the elevator together, waited til the doors slid back shut, and then headed off towards the bike. Danny didn’t make him ask.

“She’s definitely liminal. Not like, bad? Honestly she wouldn’t even register back in Amity Park. Damian’s is a bit worse, but he’s younger, it happens. Ecto energy likes kids,” he explained when Jason made an inquisitive noise.

He definitely wasn’t bitter or anything. He’d been just young enough to take it in like a magnet.

His parents probably wouldn’t have survived the same accident.

“It’s kinda the only thing horror movies get right. Ectoplasm can form from emotional energy, and little kids, they feel everything that much more. Tapers off when you get older, so Damian’s still a magnet. Cass is stable.”

He kinda wished he had better news, but honestly? After a dunk in the kind of rancid ectoplasm Jason described, Danny was taking it as a win that neither of the others were haunted.

Jason nodded gruffly, pausing beside his bike to pull his helmet back on. Not that it’d stop Danny from reading his mood; his aura pulsed stress-stress-stress-worry like a beacon.

Danny stepped closer, resting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, stilling the movement.

“They’ll both almost definitely become ghosts if they die again,” he explained softly, voice low enough to pass unheard in the echoing space, “but they’ll be fine. Think of it like insurance; you’re never going to lose them.”

Jason snorted, the sound distorting strangely through the helmet, but didn’t pull away.

“Is that what you tell yourself about Sam and Tucker?” He asked, trying to sound derisive but there was a tinge of hope there now.

Danny gave him a gentle wave of sorry-sorry-comfort back.

“Yeah.”

**

Back in the elevator, Tim looked at Duke expectantly. Who sighed.

“I am not a fuckin’ pokedex, Tim,” he reminded the older boy with a roll of his eyes. Which his brother totally ignored, still waiting.

Tim could fucking stare like nobody’s business.

The elevator chimed again and Duke stepped out, not the least surprised when Tim followed.

“I dunno. I thought I almost caught something in the park, but it was just a blur. Tucker and Sam both have more of an aura than Danny, but Danny’s clearly something. I just dunno if it’s a meta gene,” he explained reluctantly, and Tim nodded, already adding the information to his wrist computer.

Which he wasn’t supposed to wear out of costume.

Duke wasn’t gonna tell; he’d be a damn hypocrite if he did, he wore his Signal boots with the bike half the time. They were just much more responsive than normal boots.

“What makes you say that?” Tim asked, still typing away. It’d save Duke from having to add it all to his report, so it kinda counted as a favour.

Duke shrugged, still trying to narrow down the feeling.

“Honestly? Most people with the same meta gene fuck up a little the first time they show off around me. It’s the x-metals; I boost them, whatever they’re doing goes too hard.” Tim’d been the one to help him work that out, but it would all go in the report.

Tim nodded, gesturing for him to continue and Duke sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Danny… didn’t. Unless that’s the residue they were both talking about, and if the fucking Lazarus Pits can cause intangibility we have got to warn Bruce. But that’s not the only thing,” he added quickly, before Tim could speak.

The older boy quieted obediently, but Duke could see he had his thinking face on. Putting pieces together, all those wheels turning as one.

That was practically a fuckin’ meta ability, and it wasn’t like Tim got a boost from him either. Maybe Duke needed to do some more experimenting.

“Most metas, even the nonhuman ones, have at least some aura. Some of them can hide it, but I can get a feel for their powers from it. Danny… I dunno. I can almost feel something, but I can’t see it.”

That was the thing that unsettled Duke the most, honestly. Almost all of his powers were purely light based; seeing what other people couldn’t. Even his shadow manipulation still worked around light.

It was fucking weird for there to be anything he couldn’t see, and he could go way beyond the visible spectrum. Whatever Danny emitted, it went beyond even that.

For a guy who could even see a little into the future, it was weird.

And since Danny had showed off flight, super strength, and intangibility already? And called them the generic end of the list?

Duke was definitely leaning on the “extreme control of his aura” side of the equation.

Tim looked concerned too, which was kind of validating. It kinda sucked being the expert on things no one else could understand, because Duke always worried he was overreacting, but if Tim tagged it too? Well that was validation.

“The only bit of good news is that we can probably rule out the pits as the source of his abilities,” Tim muttered as he scanned back through his notes so far.

“They coulda been trauma activated by his death in the same way as a meta gene,” Duke pointed out thoughtfully, leaning back against the wall.

It wasn’t like they were racing home, and until someone else came down the elevator? No rush. Tim had another floor to descend anyway.

Tim himself shrugged, adding another couple of notes to his file.

“It’s definitely possible, but even if it was a million-to-one chance, I can’t imagine Ra’s keeping quiet about something this useful, or letting someone like Danny run around if he had any idea he existed,” Tim explained, making a face.

And… yeah, no point trying to argue with Tim about Ra’s al Ghul. Duke pulled a face too and sighed.

“Well, he still seems pretty sure we’ll know all about it if we can get into Amity Park. Or when Jason decides to fucking tell us,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

Tim glanced up at him, smirking.

“You noticed too?” He asked innocently, and Duke snorted. Reading Jason’s micro-expressions might not be a survival skill exactly, but it was still a bat family hobby.

“He definitely fucking knows!” He complained, the switch from Professional Hero to Baby Brother getting easier and easier as time passed.

He still had his own parents, he didn’t need Bruce to adopt him, but he’d been an only child for most of his life. Having a new army of big brothers and sisters? Kinda ruled.

And he knew most of the others felt the same. They’d all be alone in their own ways, and the stubborn independent streaks were still there, but…

It was good to know someone had your back. That no matter what happened, how the adults in your life fucked you over, you could always go to Dick’s in Bludhaven.

Could always call Jason to bitch about whatever you needed off your chest, and yeah, there was always the worry that he really meant it when he said he’d “take care” of your problem? But he also listened when they said no.

Hell, it’d been Jason’s couch that Duke had crashed out on about a year ago, back when Jason was still damn near on the Big Bat’s no fly list.

He’d been on his way to school for the start of his winter semester when an absolutely blinding migraine took him to his knees. For whatever reason, Jason had been close.

Duke hadn’t even been able to glance at his phone to call for help; even opening his eyes a crack felt like he was being blinded. He’d barely recognised Jason’s voice asking if he was alright.

Hell, back then he hadn’t known if Jason recognised him out of costume. They’d always had a more friendly relationship than Jay did with the other bats, but this had been just after Jason finally texted Dick back.

Back when Red Hood would take a casual shot at any mask crossing into his turf. Not to hit, but a definite reminder of the border.

And Jason had lifted him bodily and carried him into Crime Alley. Put him on his couch to sleep it off in pitch darkness, and made him some of the best home made soup Duke had ever had.

Duke got why the older teens were still a little wary. He’d seen the Pit Rage live and in person, and it was fucking terrifying. It just wasn’t all Jason was.

And yeah, the family also had a whole army of fellow teens who’d know exactly what you were talking about, between Steph, Tim, Cass, and Duke himself. Even Damian, as much as he pretended not to care.

Kate and Babs were always willing to spread their wings out and give them all a place to shelter. And hell, if adult supervision was needed, they even had Harley, Ivy, or Selina.

Duke may not want to be a Wayne, but he’d take everything the bat family offered with both hands.

Tim sure as hell had not adjusted from being the baby to being third oldest though. He gave a huge heaving groan to match Duke’s own, flopping back against the wall.

“I know, right! And he knows we don’t know shit. He’s just enjoying watching us scramble cuz he knows we can’t just tell Danny we don’t know,” he grumbled, scrubbing both hands through his hair.

Duke hesitated.

“We… probably could just tell Danny,” he said slowly, brows furrowing. “It’s not like he doesn’t want us to know.”

Tim gave him a sidelong look.

“Yeah, after we admit we didn’t even manage to google him. Y’know, the kid who clocked Dick’s identity from his ass,” he added dryly.

Duke hesitated again, brows furrowing.

He knew that shouldn’t matter. Knew the smart move really was to ask for help sometimes. Knew damn well that it was Tim’s stubborn streak that kept him in the cave all night, while Tuck, Steph, and Cass watched movies upstairs.

Finally he let his head drop, sighing.

“The longer we wait the dumber we look if we have to ask later,” he warned Tim but his heart wasn’t in it.

It didn’t matter that Jason was probably the only member of the family with all the pieces; whoever caved and asked for help first? Yeah, social suicide.

Tim shook his head, pushing off the wall and scowling out into the rest of the garage.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll talk to Tucker about the Amity Park problem tonight and we’ll know by morning.”

Which… Duke hid a smile.

Asking Danny? Definitely cheating, worthy of scorn and derision.

Asking Tucker? Apparently completely different. Although technically he wouldn’t be asking Tucker for the same information.

Just admitting the exact same fault.

Pulling his keys from his pocket, Duke turned and wiggled them at Tim as he headed for his bike.

“Hey, if you hurry you could try to beat Danny and Jason to the manor. Get to Tucker first,” he added, grinning as Tim hit the call for the elevator.

The shorter boy rolled his eyes, waving a hand in Duke’s general direction.

“I’ll get to him once everyone’s warmed up. He wanted a look at my set up last night anyway,” he said almost off handedly.

Duke’s grin spread.

“Oh hey, that’s perfect! Just take him to your bedroom after you’ve both just been wet and naked and show each other your most private parts!” He called loudly, wondering if any of the supers were listening.

They’d find out soon.

Tim choked, blushing cherry red and spun to yell something after Duke just as the elevator doors opened. Duke waved cheerily back, turning away to head for his motorcycle.

“See you at the manor Timmy!”

**

Reconvening at Wayne Manor was… well, chaotic. Even more so than the gala the night before, though that might have been because this time, none of them had a firm plan.

Jason and Danny arrived first, greeting Alfred on the way in. The butler was not hugely impressed by the “foresight” which had led to a snowball fight when Danny was wearing an oversized sweater, sweatpants, and little else.

Any protestations that Danny was fine and was normally this cold anyway quavered under an archly raised brow and Danny privately swore never to let Clockwork meet Alfred.

They would get along far too well.

And that’s how Danny ended up actually using one of the spare bathrooms while Jason, who had worn a proper coat and thus escaped Alfred’s wrath, grabbed him a change of clothes.

The fact that this once again included one of Jason’s shirts, when Tim, Dick, Duke, and Steph all existed and also had spare clothes here, felt a little targeted.

It hung from Danny’s shoulders like a kid in his dad’s clothes, but Jason was probably also the only one with a shirt that said “Soup Powered Fuck Machine”, and the bit was fucking worth it.

Danny tied off most of the excess fabric into something just a bit longer than a crop top and settled in to drink hot chocolate with Jason and Duke and wait for the others to come back down.

(Which, by the way? Best hot chocolate he’d ever tasted. He was stealing the recipe 1000%, it was so rich and creamy and thick and had grated curls of chocolate on top of the whipped cream.)

Any lingering questions Duke might have been hiding about the shirt? Answered themselves when Tucker walked into the room, saw Danny, and laughed so hard he wound up in the fetal position.

Yeah, Jason was never getting this shirt back.

This was Danny’s shirt now. He was gonna wear it for his next fight with his rogues.

Sam actually did have her own clothes, so she’d accepted the offer of laundry while she showered (though she was a little annoyed the laundry room was so far from any of the bathrooms that she couldn’t do it herself), so she’d rejoined them in a mix of Steph and Cass’s clothes while she waited.

She had also been unable to keep a straight face upon seeing Danny’s new country girl fashion statement, rolling her eyes and punching his shoulder as she dropped to sit next to him.

“We call the thermos Soup Time,” she explained when Cass cocked her head curiously… which probably actually confused the rest of the bats a little more.

“The thermos you threw at Killer Croc?” Dick asked, still towelling his hair dry.

Sam raised a very slow eyebrow at him, her smile toning down to a smug smirk.

“Yeah, sure, I definitely threw it at Croc,” she agreed dryly and Dick cackled, throwing his towel down on Tucker’s still curled body.

Without even seeming to open the door Alfred appeared with another tray of hot chocolates, handing them out to those who hadn’t yet gotten one and taking back empty mugs.

He even had a second hot chocolate for Danny, who was going to marry the man. Even if he was old enough to be his grandpa.

Maybe Tucker did have a point about trying to get into the Wayne family for the perks… which Danny was never going to stop teasing him about, now that he and Tim were getting on so well. Boy could make his own ins, he didn’t need Danny.

Even Tucker roused himself for a mug though, crawling out from under Dick’s towel, glancing at Danny, and bursting out laughing again. Still, this time he could keep himself steady enough to stand, take the mug, and join Tim on another couch.

Alfred gave a quick glance around the room, probably counting heads, and cleared his throat.

The assorted vigilantes quieted immediately, and Danny’s respect for the old man grew just a little. It was already pretty fucking high. Not much more room to rise.

And somehow that perfectly serene, composed face managed to convey a deep sense of satisfaction.

“I am afraid we are presently waiting only on Master Bruce to begin dinner. If you would all proceed to the dining room?” It was phrased as a polite request.

The Wayne brood leapt to like it was an order. Danny pressed his lips shut on a laugh as he followed, catching Sam’s eye to see her grinning.

Up in front, Dick hurried to walk alongside Alfred.

“Oh, is Brucie not home? Or do you want me to go dig him up?” He asked brightly, and Alfred gave him a tight smile, pushing open the door to the fucking plainest most normal dining room Danny’d ever seen in a mansion.

Sure, the table was huge, but rather than being ornate, heavy, or flashy, it looked to be hard wearing oak. Clean, well polished, and not even that polish could hide the dents.

The chairs too were comfortable, nice, and a lot more tasteful than the Manson’s or Vlad’s. Well padded, well used, but not… fancy. Even the walls were simple, the elaborately framed portraits and art pieces on the wall replaced with…

What looked like kid’s drawings. Framed, cherished, and it clicked.

No chance in hell that this was the manor’s formal dining room.

The table was huge, but not that big with the number of people in the room. More than half of it was filled with just the kids, and sure there was space for the Amity Parkers, but not a larger group.

This was the family dining room. And that was fucking adorable.

Steph’d definitely walk him through every picture on the walls to help him find Jason’s. Today was going to be great.

He almost completely missed Alfred’s reply to Dick.

“I’m afraid not, master Dick. He was expected back nearly two hours ago, and yet…”

Even deep within the manor no one could have missed the sound of the front door slamming open, and anyone who did would have been alerted by the bellowing yell that followed.

“OOOOOOOH BRUCIE! I TOLD YA WHAT’D HAPPEN IF WE HAD TO HAVE THE BOUNDARY TALK AGAIN!” An extremely loud, very chipper given… well, everything voice filled the room.

The Gothamites’ heads all snapped around with expressions ranging from delight to exasperation.

“How the fuck did she get here so fast,” Duke hissed, leaning in towards Tim, but not far enough that Danny couldn’t hear, “weren’t she and Ivy in Brazil?”

Tim, definitely the exasperated one, gave a helpless shrug. Whatever he replied with was lost under Dick, bellowing back with clear glee in his voice.

“FAMILY DINING ROOM, HARLS! FIRST HALL ON YOUR LEFT!”

So, they were all going to meet Harley Quinn today. That’d be fun. Danny had always wondered what she was like in person, and apparently she was a close enough friend of the Waynes to be welcomed in.

Sam and Tucker’s faces would be fun.

Alfred’s was a perfect mask of patience that even Clockwork would envy, and he had already pulled a new place setting from a chest of drawers.

It didn’t take Harley long to find them, striding down the hall wearing some fucking unseasonal shorts, a baggy long sleeved sweater, and her trademarked blonde pigtails with the pink and blue tips.

And a bedazzled baseball bat slung casually over her shoulder, just in case anyone missed the mark.

She greeted Dick with a kiss on the cheek, then chased down as many of the others that hadn’t immediately fled to the other side of the table. Barring Damian, none of them seemed to mind.

Jason had made an attempt to flee, but no. No, that wasn’t happening, and Danny “accidentally” got in his way. Boxed him in between chair and table, grinning all the while until Harley made her way to them.

“And there he is! My poor suffering boy!” Harley cooed, cupping both of Jason’s cheeks in her hands and yanking his head down with a lot more force than a woman her size should have been capable of, pressing a large smooch on each cheek.

For all the glares he shot Danny, he managed an almost sheepish smile for the woman herself.

“I’m fine, Harley. Really. You didn’t need to come,” he protested with absolutely none of his heart in it, a pink flush rising to complement the sparkly pink lipgloss smooch marks.

“Nonsense, baby boy, if Brucie needs his head pulled from his ass I’m always here,” Harley told him firmly, patting his cheeks and rounding on Danny.

It was kinda less funny now that she was bearing down on him, all of her airhead dramatics belied by the piercing, analytical stare she pinned him with.

“Huh, did Brucie pick up a new one while we were gone? It’s been like a week, we’ll talk about his adoption issues too,” Harley declared firmly, snagging Danny by his collar and yanking him in for a cheek smooch too.

And yeah, holy shit, she really was a lot stronger than she looked. Like, almost ghostly levels of super strength.

Batman’s “no metas in Gotham” rule was looking flimsier and flimsier, cuz while she’d been a rogue in the past, this? This was not a rogue’s welcome, and Danny actually did like most of his rogues.

Just not “kisses on the cheek”, although the grabbing and pulling was familiar.

Still, better not let Vlad know. Wouldn’t do for him to feel too welcome in Gotham.

Harley released him a moment later to give him a dazzling smile.

“Hi, you’re a little older than most of Brucie’s new kids but that’s fine, I’m your Aunt Harley now and if you ever need any help with anything, especially getting Brucie’s ass in line, you just call me, okay doll?” She told him firmly.

Jason was fucking grinning at him over her head, and it just plain wasn’t fair that he was a whole head taller than them. Danny flipped him off behind her back, and gave the woman herself a sheepish smile.

“Actually, I’m not one of Bruce’s, I’m just-“

“Jason’s-boyfriend,” Steph stage coughed behind him.

Harley’s eyes widened, Danny had a go at kicking blindly behind him and hurried to correct her.

“Just Jason’s friend,” he stressed the word and suddenly those almost frighteningly piercing eyes were roaming across his face again.

It was like if Jazz had been dunked in a vat of glitter but could still see right through him. Then Harley grinned again and patted his cheek.

“Sure thing, sugar. Still, if you stick around long enough Brucie’ll make a go of it, so be careful,” she warned him cheerfully, then lunged for Steph, got her in a headlock, and smooched pink lipgloss into freshly washed hair.

Danny couldn’t help chuckling softly as Harley scanned the room, clocked a bemused Tucker and wide eyed Sam, and her eyes narrowed for a moment.

Then she nodded, apparently deciding they probably also weren’t new niece and nephew, and skipped back over to Alfred.

“So! Not that this ain’t great, but ya clearly got some company over so if ya could just point me towards the B-man I’ll borrow him right quick?” She offered with a broad grin, not actually grabbing Alfred.

Up went the respect-o-meter again. Restraining Harley Quinn was hard for seasoned heroes, her restraining herself? None of the birds could claim that apparently.

Alfred gave her the same polite smile, setting her a place at the table.

“I’m afraid Master Bruce has not yet returned from his lunch appointment, Miss Quinzel. He should be returning shortly if you would care to join us for dinner?” It almost didn’t seem like a question, given what he was doing.

Harley waved a hand easily, making a face that was almost apologetic.

“Oh, nah, I’ll just go get ‘im for ya and send ‘im back over. Maybe with some new bruises,” she added almost as an after thought, then shrugged and grinned. “So! Where’d ya last see ‘im?”

It seemed like their missing Brucie problem was about to be solved, and the rest of the Gothamites were now taking their seats around the table.

Tucker, who’d cautiously followed Tim’s retreat around the table after Harley’s chaotic entrance, was now sat between Tim and Damian, and probably regretting his life choices.

Sam, whose parents hadn’t actually specifically forbidden her from speaking to Harley, seemed to be trying to make up her mind about something. Probably going to talk to Harley directly.

Steph and Jason had considerately left two spots in between them as they sat, and Danny let himself drop into the chair next to Jason as Alfred answered.

Well. Nearly into the chair.

“Master Bruce’s lunch appointment was approximately four hours ago in a private room at Chez Vous with one of our gala’s guests, a Vlad Masters.”

Yeah. Danny missed the chair, thunking all the way to the floor with a startled squawk.

“He fucking WHAT?!” He exclaimed, yanking himself back up, staring around the table at the equally startled Waynes.

Like they hadn’t spent the first part of the gala telling these people specifically that Vlad was a fucking mind controlling sociopath who was targeting their dad. What the hell.

Alfred raised an eyebrow very slowly at him, concern now creeping into his expression.

“He went to met Mr Masters in a private room for a late lunch, Mister Fenton. I am not aware of any other plans, but-”

And Danny was probably committing a cardinal fucking sin by interrupting him but he couldn’t hold in the groan, sinking down into the actual chair this time and thunking his head off the table.

Across the table, Tucker snickered at him.

“Let me guess. You forgot Vlad was still in town?” He asked, and Danny let out another utterly heartfelt groan.

“I forgot Vlad was still in town,” he whined as Jason stifled an entirely inappropriate bout of laughter.

There was one more important piece of business though, and Steph jumped straight to it.

“Wasn’t someone supposed to warn Bruce about Masters last night, so this couldn’t happen?” She asked in a low voice, leaning into the middle of the table.

Tim made a face, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I said I would, but… I got distracted…”

By beating his brains out against Amity Park’s ghostly firewalls apparently, and Danny did feel kinda bad for completely forgetting to mention that. In his defence, he hadn’t technically known that the Batcomputer was not ghost virus proof.

Should have guessed. Hadn’t known.

Tucker, who still had no idea about the vigilante thing, was quick to reassure Tim.

“You had a medical emergency, of course you were distracted,” he said quickly, patting the younger man carefully on the shoulder and glaring at the other assembled Wayne brood, “and any of them coulda mentioned it too!”

Dick raised a hand with a half smile that was mostly apology.

“Actually… Bruce went straight to Tim’s side after the gala. Think he stayed all night, but I never actually saw him. We coulda texted though,” he added sheepishly as the rest of the family made general noises of agreement.

Except Duke, who shrugged.

“I only learned about Masters when I met you guys this morning,” he pointed out, and Danny kinda doubted that but Duke had missed the original Masters debrief so he had the best excuse.

Alfred stepped closer to the table, and for the first time his presence actually registered as something other than the polite, nigh-unnoticeable model of efficiency.

Which probably meant he’d picked up on Danny’s super subtle hints that the situation was not fucking good. Good for him.

“And precisely what information was supposed to be shared with Master Bruce?” He asked, still politely, still calmly, but there’s a hint of warning that had most of the table stiffening up.

Tucker answered, giving Alfred an apologetic smile.

“Vlad Masters is a super creep and probably using his mind control powers to try and make Mr Wayne sign over everything he owns,” he explained easily, like it was nothing.

Harley’s eyes had widened, but she didn’t seem overly worried, just shouldered her bat again.

“So it’s also gonna be a rescue mission, huh? Vladdie a local boy or are they still gonna be in the same place?” She asked, the rest of the table tensing as one.

Because yeah. Next step was extract Bruce, and kick Vlad’s ass, and probably maybe try and get any contracts Bruce had signed in four hours? Which could now be anywhere.

Sighing heavily, Danny hauled himself to his feet. Feeling like a fucking idiot aside, he probably should have already left. He was pretty sure he knew where Chez Vous was?

“No, you guys stay put, I’ll go get him,” he said as cheerily as he could, cracking his neck.

Harley’s brows drew down in a frown and she prodded him with the bat.

“No offence kid, but ya look like a stiff breeze will flip ya over. You’re not going alone,” she told him firmly, and yeah, Danny could also feel Jason damn near vibrating from beside him.

Concern-worry-protect-coming too.

Putting a hand on the big guy’s shoulder before he could rise, Danny pushed just enough to keep him in his seat. Felt the moment of shock course through the much bigger man, and his grin became just a little more genuine.

“Sorry but if any of you come along, you’ll only make it harder for me to get Bruce back safely. Vlad’ll just take you guys over and make you fight me. I really wouldn’t worry too much though, he’s never actually beaten me,” he added with a reassuring smile.

Sam snorted a laugh, dropping into the empty seat beside Steph and crossing one leg over the other. Reassuring the Gothamites with her own complete lack of moving.

“Yeah, Danny’s been cleaning his clock since he was fourteen and it’s something like 700-5. You’d think he’d give up eventually,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Cuz yeah, Vlad might have gotten the upper hand through sneaky traps a bunch of times, but in a straight fight? Danny usually won, even before he had the power of the Infinite Realms at his back.

It wasn’t that all eyes turned to Harley. It was more that suddenly a bunch of them weren’t looking at her so pointedly they might as well have.

She regarded Danny and Sam a moment longer, then shrugged and dropped into the chair at the head of the table.

“Guess I’m stayin’ for dinner, or at least til Brucie’s back. And hey, it can be hard for folks ta come to terms with things like that. ‘Specially if they’re adults takin’ offence ta gettin’ their butt kicked by kids,” she added, a bright gleam in her eye.

Sam snickered, leaning back in her chair.

“Voice of experience?” She asked innocently and Harley tipped her a wink.

“Hell nah, you ever seen a Robin fight? ‘Sides, most of the folks who’ll shit a brick at bein’ beat by a kid get just as huffy at gettin’ beat by me,” Harley explained with a broad grin, flexing her own muscles.

It was just a little hilarious to see the differing reactions from the young vigilantes around the table.

Damian was still noticeably grumpy, though he almost felt more worried to Danny’s expert empathic eye. But then, his dad was in the lion’s den.

Dick and Tim looked like they were sharing an inside joke, and Danny had to figure they were the other Robins that went against Harley the most.

Steph, Cass, and Duke all looked decidedly self satisfied. Jason…

Jason was ignoring the rest of the table, still frowning up at Danny but not fighting his grip anymore.

“I should still come with you,” he argued like the rest of the conversation hadn’t happened, his voice low and urgent. And… yeah. Protection Obsession, 1000%.

And his Fright Knight now, fuck you very much Clockwork, but he was also not even fully formed. No way Danny was taking him to fight Vlad as his first ghost.

He gave Jason’s shoulder a quick squeeze, lowering his voice under the rest of the conversation.

“You’ll know if I need you, Jay, but Vlad used to be able to control me too. He’s not a great first run,” he explained softly.

Jason very clearly didn’t like it, brows drawing in even further, and Danny made his grin a little brighter by contrast. Brushed confidence-easy fight-be back soon across his aura.

“Besides, he’s more a sneaky fuck than an actual fighter. Not worth both of us heading out,” he tried, rolling his shoulders.

Jason raised an eyebrow, entirely unimpressed.

“By that logic it should be me going instead of you,” he pointed out, and Danny pouted. Fuck him for technical accuracy.

“Look, next time, okay?” He whispered, leaning in til his mouth was next to Jason’s ear. Tim was now watching them rather than Sam and Harley’s banter.

Perceptive little shit. But he wouldn’t catch shit if Danny covered his mouth to talk. For now, he had to persuade a cranky protective halfa not to go kick Vlad’s ass.

How the turntables and so on.

“Once you’ve got your powers in you can take him every time, alright?” He whispered, then leaned back and grinned at Jason. At least he wasn’t glaring anymore.

“I’ve got this. I’ll be fine,” he said as reassuringly as he could. And then. Pausing. “Uh… but I’ll probably… y’know. Do the thing to find him.”

Vlad couldn’t hide from Danny’s expanded aura, not without leaving this dimension. But that’d mean Jason also got another dose.

The understanding dawned across the big guy’s face, fell into a complicated expression. Finally he nodded stiffly.

“Fine. But leave it up so I know how it’s going?” He grumbled back, lips barely moving. Probably as a countermeasure for Nosy Little Brother.

Danny grinned and ruffled Jason’s hair, stepping away.

“Sure thing bud. I’ll be back with Bruce as soon as I can,” he said more loudly, more to the whole room, and let his aura flare out into the city until it touched Vlad’s.

Yeah, that beat trying to navigate the city from above for the second time ever.

A sudden absolutely awful impulse hit him, and his grin stretched just a little beyond what was humanly possible.

Why the fuck not? The reveal was gonna drop soon enough, Tuck and Sam already knew how much he wanted to show.

And most of the table were watching him.

Danny rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, and had a brief moment of nostalgia. Because if he was being theatrical…

“I’m going ghost,” he called as loud as he could, letting the glowing rings of his transformation wash over him, changing him to Phantom in front of a table of gawking bats.

Then he jumped into the air and flew out of the manor through the wall, Sam and Tucker’s laughter ringing in his ears.

Now he just had to hope he could reach Bruce before Vlad did anything he couldn’t easily fix.

**

Tim was the first to speak. Other than the raucous laughter of the Amity Parkers the dining room had been dead silent since Danny’s… well, it was a transformation.

Reaching out blindly with his other hand, Tim caught Duke’s arm.

“You saw that, right?” He asked, his voice a little hoarse.

Duke nodded slowly, still staring at the wall Danny had just disappeared through.

“Not that I know what the fuck it was… but yeah…”

Because… yeah. They’d known Danny was some kind of meta at this point. Guy really wasn’t trying to hide it. But that was…

“What, you ain’t seen that before?” Harley asked from the head of the table, her voice filled with a sudden glee.

Across the table Jason snickered, and Tim’s attention zeroed back in on him.

He’d known. He’d stiffened up before Danny had transformed, still hadn’t fully relaxed and Tim could guess why. Whatever he’d told Danny to “leave up”.

It didn’t look like he was in pain, more like he’d braced himself for something that hadn’t fully happened yet. But since apparently all secrets were just on the table now…

Tim turned to Tucker.

“What the fuck was that?” He asked, and Tucker sighed happily, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

“An overdramatic little fuck?” Sam offered from the other side of the table, also still grinning. Tucker wheezed loudly, slumping back in his chair.

Tim shifted his attention to Sam instead, giving up on Tucker for now. To be fair, he was kinda surprised Jason wasn’t also laughing at them.

It must have made a comical scene.

“Obviously. But that… going ghost? What did he mean?” He pressed, leaning in across the table but not lowering his voice.

Sam and Tucker exchanged thoughtful looks, Tucker’s laughter fading to giggles as they clearly weighed their answers. Then Sam leaned in too, folding her arms on the table and leaning over them.

“How much were you actually able to look up about Amity Park?” She asked, and the rest of the table leaned in to listen.

Even Harley, thoroughly devoid of context, kept quiet for a change. She could smell a good story when she heard one.

And as much as it pained him to admit…

“Nothing at all,” Tim confessed with a brief shake of his head, eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t even find the weather account you showed us.”

Beside him Tucker took another deep, fortifying breath and steadied himself in his seat.

“Yeah… warned you about that. Any tech not actually from Amity needs a baseline level of ecto before it can get through the firewalls,” he explained, and as glad as Tim was to have him back in the conversation…

“But that isn’t how firewalls work,” he protested, knowing full well the other boy knew, “Facebook doesn’t have a separate server or separate firewalls for some small town in Illinois versus the larger world, and even if it has something to do with the IP…”

Tucker raised both hands quickly and Tim subsided, a little relieved to have been cut off. The frustration from last night was building again, and he really didn’t want to deal with that right now.

“Okay, you’re definitely right almost all of the time, but Amity Park’s is… different,” Tucker explained quickly, glancing around the table and almost immediately focusing his full attention back on Tim.

Dismissing the others as below the level needed to understand the conversation, or assuming they’d keep up on their own? They all could, none of the bats were slouches on cyber security, and the distinction didn’t matter to Tim.

Yet.

They were also probably all a little below Tucker’s own technical proficiency, from everything Tim had seen (and Steph and Cass’s admitted failure to break his server encryption).

(Oracle still hadn’t broken the same server.)

Tim nodded anyway, not willing to talk and slow the explanation any further.

They could have been doing this more than twelve damn hours ago.

“Firewall isn’t exactly the right term for it either, but about five years ago… well, we decided the rest of the world couldn’t know about a lot of things that happen in Amity Park. It wouldn’t be safe,” Tucker added, watching Tim’s face carefully.

He looked almost guilty. Like he could guess how much frustration this had caused Tim. Hell, if Danny knew their identities then Tucker, his guy in the chair almost certainly did too.

And since they weren’t pretending to all be civilians anymore…

“The GIW were already censoring the hell out of us,” Tucker continued, rolling his eyes, “it was actually really annoying. They actually did the IP thing, but you could VPN around that. But we didn’t want the rest of the world, other governments to come to the same bullshit conclusions about ghosts and keep causing trouble.”

“Ghosts like Danny,” Duke cut in, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

Tucker glanced past Tim for a moment and nodded.

“Pretty much, but Danny’s a special case. Most ghosts can’t actually do the magical girl transformation,” he added with a snicker, and Sam rolled her eyes, tapping the table for attention.

“What Tucker’s dancing around telling you is that what we call the Amity Park firewall is basically alive. It has nothing to do with IP addresses or any regular tech shit because it runs on ectoplasm.”

“It’s not actually alive,” Tucker cut back in with an exasperated huff, “it’s just something I came up with with some help from Technus. He’s the spirit of technology so he can possess computers, not people, and together we made a safety net.”

“All of Amity Park is saturated in natural ectoplasm,” Sam explained, ignoring Tucker’s pointed glare, “so now whenever someone’s trying to connect online to anything based in an Amity Park server, our ecto looks for your ecto in whatever device you have. No ecto, no data.”

“It’s not that simple,” Tucker whined, like this wasn’t already a level of complexity that made Tim’s head spin.

But it was the spinning that triggered an almost ignored memory.

“Ecto… that’s what Danny nearly said last night, when he was talking about the Lazarus Pits,” he said with a sudden sharp frown, attention jumping between the Amity Parkers and onto Jason.

Who shrugged. Like this wasn’t news. How the fuck had he even met Danny in the first place?

“Show of hands, who here’s surprised that the pit waters actually come from the land of the dead?” Jason asked dryly, gaze sweeping along the table.

Tim’s attention flashed directly to Damian and then Cass, the two of them sat on a full diagonal from each other. They were the closest thing the family had to experts.

Neither looked surprised, although Damian’s eyes were narrowed. New information then, and likely something he’d be looking more into. Cass just looked thoughtful.

Harley’s hand was up though, and the table gradually turned to its gravity. She shrugged.

“Had a bet with Ives that it was super tainted kool-aid. Not that we know much about it,” she added with a shrug, and Jason snickered.

“You’re half right anyway,” he told her and the raised hand was replaced by a pair of fists pumping into the air, but silently for once.

Even Harley wasn’t gonna interrupt a lore dump.

Jason returned his attention to Tim.

“Apparently the pits are made of contaminated ectoplasm. Super tainted,” he nodded to Harley, “because the regular stuff? Doesn’t bubble, doesn’t burn, and doesn’t kill people who touch it.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed for a moment, looking Jason over, hunting any trace of a lie. He’d made himself an expert on Jason’s features, on what every micro-expression might possibly mean.

Jason was a damn good liar, but Tim knew every tell that meant he spoke the truth.

Still, he glanced from Jason to Cass, sat on Jason’s other side. The Asian girl raised an eyebrow at him, then nodded.

Human lie detector confirmed. Good to know. Even if she was rolling her eyes at him for checking.

Duke leaned in further, half his body now hovering above the table as he grinned at Jason.

“So does that mean you’ve got ectoplasm in you, if you still have the pit rage?” He asked, which didn’t really seem like something to smile about.

Although not exactly worse than the idea of Jason just still having the pit in his veins. At least Jason didn’t seem to be really bothered by it.

He just shrugged.

“I guess so?” He offered suspiciously, his face still carefully neutral as he watched Duke. Whose grin broadened.

“So does that mean if you look up stuff on Amity Park you’ll get through?” He asked innocently. Jason rolled his eyes.

“I’m not a phone, Duke,” he said dryly, and Tucker snickered.

“It’s actually kinda funny you say that, cuz Danny’s been sucked into video games before,” Tucker said innocently, giving Jason a sidelong look.

Which… raised a couple of questions, since Jason didn’t seem embarrassed by it. Tim’s eyes narrowed for a moment.

“Is that something that could happen to Jason?” He asked cautiously, and for some reason Tucker actually laughed.

“Oh, it’s something that could happen to anyone,” he said sounding very smug, and Tim tore his attention off Jason to stare at Tucker, wondering what the hell he was thinking.

Tucker just grinned back and Tim’s best guess… well, it couldn’t have been a bad experience. It had definitely afforded him the full attention of everyone at the table.

Harley stuck a hand in the air again.

“Okay, I know I ain’t one o’ the kids, but I’m gonna need to know a whole lot more about that,” she declared, and Tucker laughed, shaking his head.

“Another time? I gotta get back to get ready for school early tomorrow at the latest but if you wanted to hang out again…” he trailed off hopefully, his attention slipping from Harley back to Tim.

Tim was not going to blush. This was a chance to gather more intel in future. And just hang out with a friend! There was nothing more to it than that.

He chuckled softly and nodded, settling back into his seat.

“Yeah, I think it’s safe to say we’ll see each other again,” he agreed, and definitely didn’t enjoy the way Tucker beamed at him.

Given their reactions, he probably did some kind of tech support while Danny… Danny was probably the ghost who’d protected Amity Park.

Had they always known who Jason and his family were? Tim knew he should reserve judgement until he could find an unbiased source and work out what had actually happened in Amity Park, but…

Well, it wasn’t like the Amity Parkers were hostile. There was always the chance it could be a long con, but Tim didn’t think so. They’d given too much away.

For now, it seemed safest to assume that they were fellow vigilantes, and were at least as aware of their identities as Danny. Tucker might even have been the one to work it out.

And if Tucker could solve their technical problems and give them open access to Amity Park, Tim could take that and confirm his theories.

If they had something to hide, Tim should be able to work out at least where to look based on what Tucker gave him.

“We’ve gotta wait for Danny to get back for him to infuse your tech, buuuut I can get you started on the data download if you can hook me into your set up,” Tucker said with an almost seductive smile.

Or maybe Tim thought it was seductive because it came with an offer of increased tech. And sure, he wasn’t hooking a stranger straight up to the Batcomputer, but…

Well, that’s what the fully isolated laptops were for. And Tim could bring one of those up from the cave, but… well, the Amity Parkers showed trust first. And they really had less reason to.

They’d been abandoned by the Justice League, and apparently personally picking up that slack. The least Tim wanted to do was promise them that it hadn’t been malicious; they really hadn’t known.

And to promise that he personally was going to find out how this had happened, and make sure it wouldn’t happen again. Last night wasn’t going to be in vain.

He’d ask the others about it, but as things stood right now, Tim would really like to see Tucker get a proper look at the Bat Cave.

**

Vlad was a little surprised to find he’d been having an absolutely charming afternoon with one Brucie Wayne.

He hadn’t expected to actually like the man, but one on one he had a kind of self effacing charm that Vlad rather appreciated. Far more tolerable than most of the arrogant rich bastards he had to deal with.

He had been so very interested in the running of Amity Park too, in the challenges of being a mayor and a business owner, and so few people really appreciated the struggle.

Of course, Vlad wasn’t going to out any of Daniel’s little secrets. It wouldn’t do to upset the boy more while he was trying to mend fences.

Even if he had left Vlad to the mercy of some hapless buffoons and the criminals they were chasing the night before.

So he kept it light, to issues like road maintenance, funding local fixtures like the library and the schools, things he thought Brucie had a chance of understanding.

Brucie had also noticed that their boys were becoming… close.

Well, it would be almost impossible for him not to have. And it was only natural that Brucie wanted to know more about the boy getting close to his son.

It was almost a little strange how easy it was to speak well of Daniel. For so long Vlad had been fixated on his inadequacies, on all the things he could fix if Daniel would just accept his help.

On wanting to mould Daniel into someone like himself. He hadn’t really considered that Daniel… might not want to be like him.

Vlad was rich, successful, on top of the world by every modern marker, but he was also alone. He had no one and nothing that he would call his own, that he could leave his fortune to.

Of course, as a half ghost it wasn’t like he was actually going to die, but not having a successor was part of what tugged at his core.

And Daniel… Daniel was much better at bringing people close than Vlad. He had dear friends, and easily found himself with new ones. Daniel was likeable, and Vlad had to admit that he himself… wasn’t.

People cozied up and tried to bribe Vlad, but perhaps it was the very things he’d seen as weaknesses in Daniel that made them actually like the boy.

So he focused on those instead, the qualities that had always baffled and confused him. The loyalty, the trust, everything he’d once tried to use to tear Daniel down.

And utterly failed at every turn. After so many years, yes, Vlad had detected the pattern. It was just so hard to keep from falling into it.

So when he felt Daniel’s aura wash out and across him, wary but amused on top of the aggression, he startled just a little. Made sure to obviously check his phone, and gasped when he saw the time.

It was obvious what must have happened.

“Oh my, Brucie, did you have another appointment today?” He asked in only mildly faked surprise, concealing his amusement expertly. “Dear Daniel has just contacted me, it seems you’ve been missed.”

Daniel likely thought Vlad was up to the kind of nefarious schemes that he… well, had come to Gotham to commit, in all honesty. But obviously those plans had changed with his little badger’s personal interest.

Perhaps he should have told Daniel that? Ah well, the boy would learn soon enough. He settled back in his seat, letting his aura broadcast his intent.

Calm-welcome-nothing to hide.

Felt Daniel’s disbelief, but that was fine. It was the truth.

Brucie visibly startled as well, taking his own phone out to check the time. Probably wondering why his own brood weren’t contacting him if he’d been missed so much.

“Oh… yes, I’m terribly sorry, I think Danny must have been invited to our family dinner, which I’m late to,” Brucie added with that lovely self effacing smile, shrugging. “I must have put my phone on vibrate. I’ll just tell them to start without me.”

Or his children didn’t expect him to check it, apparently with reason.

Vlad clapped his hands together and rubbed them a few times.

“Well, no matter. I do believe Danny is on his way to retrieve you, so we’d best wait where we are. I will pick up the bill, of course.”

They’d had the private room in the restaurant for around four hours now, which wouldn’t come cheap, but Vlad could be generous. Especially if Daniel expected him not to be.

Brucie made the usual noises of gratitude and appreciation, and mild confusion. Well, that would be answered by whether or not Daniel bothered to transform back before bursting in.

Either way, it wouldn’t be Vlad’s choice to reveal his little secret.

“I have my car with me, but if Danny’s on his way here…” Brucie trailed off, glancing to the window with a perplexed frown on that handsome face.

Whoever dealt with the man’s wrinkles for the cameras would be very upset, but Vlad got the feeling Brucie could afford the best. He had such an expressive face, and yet nothing was ever out of place.

Almost as good as ectoplasm for keeping one young.

He was probably wondering why Daniel was coming instead of one of his own children, and while Vlad could come up with an excuse about needing to see the boy anyway… well, he was bursting in on a very pleasant afternoon.

Vlad wanted to mend fences, not solve all the boy’s self inflicted problems.

Still, he gave Brucie a smile, touching the pad that would summon them a server again.

“Oh, you and Daniel can take the car I’m sure. He’ll just be here to make sure I’m behaving myself,” he added with a wry chuckle, settling back in his seat.

Something very much like alertness flicked across Brucie’s face, and Vlad could feel a flicker of suspicion for the first time from the other man.

Well, Vlad had baited him.

He certainly wasn’t as empathetic as Daniel, but he liked to keep an eye on his company, and this was the first trace of something more that he’d gotten from the man.

He waved a hand cheerfully, chuckling. The man likely had links to his city’s precious Bat and all his opinions on those more than just human. Best allay those concerns even if he was leaving.

“I have been known to talk peoples’ ears off if I get onto a subject like football, and four hours is surely long enough for him to suspect I’ve roped you into watching a game. Though if you did want to attend…” he let himself trail off, watched the man’s shoulders settle as he laughed.

“Oh, I’m not much of a sports fan myself, but I try to keep up with the Gotham teams when I can.”

The female teams at least, according to the tabloids, but Vlad wouldn’t judge. Much.

Brucie gave him that charming smile again, settling as well as the server came in and once again refilled their drinks.

“I didn’t realise Amity Park had their own teams in a league, though,” Brucie added with that softly furrowed brow. Like thought was such a strain for the man.

Vlad gave the server a quick smile and inclined his head.

“I will take the bill now, I believe we’re ready to go. And we don’t have our own teams in any of the major leagues,” he explained indulgently to Brucie, lips quirking up at the very thought.

Imagine trying to play a home game in Amity Park. It was hard enough getting the school teams out to their rivals.

And it gave him a chance to talk about his secondary Obsession.

“No, I have ownership of the Green Bay Packers, back home in Wisconsin. I really must warn you to stop there if you don’t want their full stats for the last four seasons or worse,” Vlad teased with a soft chuckle, taking a sip of his water.

Both of Brucie’s eyebrows rose and the man smiled back, settling into his seat.

“Well, Danny will be here soon to cut you off anyway,” he commented, that charming smile looking far too comfortable on him.

And he did have a point. Giving him a nod of acknowledgement, Vlad relaxed and let the gentle sea of Obsession take him, enthusiasm ramping up with every word he spoke.

It was nice to have permission for a change.

**

Despite his cheerful words, Danny couldn’t help but tense as he flew across the city. He’d make it within minutes, way faster than anyone trying to actually use Gotham’s streets, but…

Vlad had had Bruce for hours already. Danny was gonna hope that whatever he was doing, it was just more of his shady businessman bullshit.

He really, really, really didn’t want to fight overshadowed Batman.

Of course, remembering the looks on the flying furry brigade’s faces gave him a definite boost in mood. He didn’t actually wanna show up at Vlad’s giggling, buuut that was a problem for future Danny.

Present Danny was busy specifically not worrying so that he didn’t worry Jason into coming after him. Maybe telling the guy about Vlad’s lightning juice hadn’t been a great idea?

Of course, the good thing about the expanded aura was that he could still feel Jason’s like they were right next to each other.

And who’d have thought Jason was also a fucking mother hen? Poor guy was still tense, although at least Danny could still feel just a little amusement.

Yeah, Jason was getting to enjoy the full fruits of Danny’s theatrics. It wasn’t fair, but it made the whole thing better. Gave him something to keep his mind off Danny.

As if on cue, a strong spike of incredulous-funny-what the fuck came from his favourite non-clone halfa.

Danny was nearly at the restaurant now, and paused just above to send a questioning pulse back. Felt Jason startle, and could almost see him roll his eyes.

Later-come back-done?

The fuck were they talking about? Maybe the bats were right to always have their own little comms in. Danny sent a reassuring wave back.

Soon-anticipation-just arrived-curious.

And yes, Danny did expect the caution-stay safe-coming after you that he got back, but he wasn’t sure Jason would get the full effect of him actually rolling his eyes.

One last check for Vlad’s aura and Danny turned invisible, phasing through the roof and walls to have a look around.

Vlad was alone in a private room, with nothing but some glasses of water and a mostly empty bottle of wine. Alright, food was probably over a while ago, but the water might be a good sign.

Vlad wasn’t known to take care of the people he overshadowed.

Danny did a quick search of the rest of the building, stopping just shy of accidentally sticking his head through a bathroom wall when he felt a familiar presence.

Yup, Bruce was in the bathroom. Probably not overshadowed, which might just mean that Vlad was finished with him.

Not taking the risk, Danny made his way stealthily back to the private room, popping into visibility behind Vlad’s seat.

At least his aura being everywhere made it hard for Vlad to get a fix.

“What, did I not pay you enough attention last night, Vladdie?” He complained, draping an arm across the back of the man’s chair and noting the way he stiffened.

Also, these chairs? Much more pretentious. All carved and ornamental and bleh. Nowhere near as good as the ones at Wayne Manor.

Vlad didn’t actually turn to face him, reaching out and picking up his water glass instead. Filling his hands, so it’d be harder for him to take a shot at Danny?

Or just Vlad being Vlad and dismissing him.

Vlad took a long, slow sip before replying.

“While I would have preferred more of a chance to speak with you, Daniel, my presence here is solely to your benefit I assure you,” he said cool as a cucumber.

Danny narrowed his eyes, giving another poke of his aura. It didn’t feel like a lie.

“How so? Gonna rob Brucie blind and give it to the poor? I guess green also works for Robin Hood,” Danny mused, fingers drumming on the back of the chair.

Vlad actually looked at him then, a sharp sidelong glance before the man relaxed again, chuckling softly.

“Nothing of the sort. But if you and young Jason are going to be closely… connected, I will be seeing much more of Brucie, and I thought perhaps I could help lighten the… impression you left.”

Wait.

Was Vlad blushing?

Danny peered forward for a better look, utterly at a loss for what connection Vlad might be talking about. Cuz yeah, he and Jason were friends, but…

Oh.

Oh!

Vlad bought the closet scene.

Somehow that outcome had never even occurred to Danny and he felt himself flush, cheeks going green. Fuck, the goal had been to cause a scene, but Vlad actually thought…

Wait.

“So you’ve been here trying to convince Bruce I’m not an evil harlot corrupting his boy?” Danny asked, barely concealed glee rising with every word.

Because if this was funny, if this was fucking hilarious, he didn’t have to be embarrassed by it. Vlad didn’t need to know shit about his actual sex life, but if he’d actually called Bruce to try and polish up Danny’s new slutty reputation…

Vlad cleared his throat pointedly, still not looking directly at him.

“And luckily for you, he is somewhat willing to believe you have some good traits,” he said archly, and that fucking floored Danny.

“YOU think I have good traits?” He asked incredulously, cutting off whatever Vlad was about to say.

The man even took it pretty well, just one of those loud sighs like Danny was a particularly tiresome child, not a full grown adult man.

“I understand where you might have got the impression I don’t, Daniel, but if I thought you had none would I have pursued you so harshly?” He asked, finally turning in his chair to face Danny frankly.

Which meant he got both barrels of the sceptical face Danny was making.

“Dude, you say that like Obsessions are fucking logical,” Danny said dryly, and Vlad actually chuckled.

Not even condescendingly.

Like Danny made a point.

“Quite. Unfortunately for myself, the effects of my Obsession went into how I planned to achieve it, not in the goal itself. You have always been a remarkable young man, Daniel.”

And that was at least familiar ground.

Danny rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, and I’d be even more if I let you lure me off to your creepy castle in Wisconsin to become mini-Vlad. Brucie can’t ship me to Wisconsin,” he pointed out, just about resisting the urge to poke Vlad in the chest.

The old guy was being weirdly noncombative, but it had been a while since they saw each other. Actual years, which Danny couldn’t imagine would have been good for the other halfa.

Much as it sucked being someone else’s Obsession and he’d loved being free of the Fruitloop… he wouldn’t wish the ache of an unfulfilled Obsession on anyone.

Fuck did that mean Vlad had actually moved on? Was that something he could do? Please let it be something he could do.

The older halfa chuckled again and took another sip of his water.

“No, I’m well aware that he can’t. But our time apart gave me little to do but consider what I know of you. You have grown to a fine young man, Daniel, perhaps with all that I have ever lacked.”

He looked up again, their eyes meeting, and Danny very nearly recoiled. Almost stepped back and away from the other halfa’s aura so that he couldn’t feel Vlad’s pride seeping into his skin like grease.

“Okay, this is getting fucking weird. Do I have to kick your ass to get whatever contracts you made Bruce sign back?” He asked sharply, trying to get the conversation back to somewhere he understood it.

Vlad hesitated a moment, then settled back again, clearly reading Danny’s discomfort in his aura if not on his face because the pride settled away.

Back in Wayne Manor, Danny felt Jason keying up, the slow growing happiness cutting straight back to danger-warning-protect-need help?.

Danny forced himself to calm too, closing his eyes for a moment to focus on the feel of Jason, not Vlad.

He just.

He didn’t know what to do with Vlad being proud of him. That had only ever meant he’d fucked up somewhere horrible before.

Calm-safe-I’m safe-not hurt.

“Still in contact with young Jason?” Vlad asked, letting the subject change even if he didn’t answer Danny’s question.

Danny cracked an eye open to peer at him.

“Yeah, he wasn’t a fan of me coming to see you on my own. Not to pick up his dad,” he added before Vlad could get the wrong idea.

Actually. It was still kinda funnier if Vlad kept the wrong idea.

From what Danny could read of him, no worries about that. Vlad was amused, but not comfortable.

Yeah, well, he could join the club. Danny gave his shoulder a gentle poke.

“Anyway. What did you really want Bruce for?”

Vlad glanced at his watch, then at the door.

“Well he’ll be back any second to tell you himself, Daniel. I wasn’t sure if you’d shared this little secret yet so I didn’t mention any of our shared nature, but he was the one to invite me out.”

Which also felt like the truth. Both parts. Danny hesitated for a moment, not quite sure if he was ready for this particular secret to be out to the Batman.

It’d be out the second the man got home if no one had texted him yet, but that was a long car ride away unless Danny flew back, and he didn’t want to leave Bruce unsupervised again.

Just because Vlad was being weird didn’t mean he wasn’t being Vlad.

Still, he’d know if Bruce was overshadowed right away, and if he wasn’t he could ask the man himself what Vlad had been up to.

And Vlad was in human form. Not like he could transform any faster than Danny if shit was about to go down.

The decision pretty much took itself out of his hands when the door began to open and Danny jumped back out of grabbing reach (just in case) and changed back.

Which was when he remembered what he was wearing.

**

Lunch with Vlad Masters had been… informative, and Bruce was a little surprised just how much time had passed.

Masters might be an unscrupulous businessman but he was clearly devoted to the things he cared for; Daniel Fenton, Amity Park, and the Green Bay Packers.

He just couldn’t quite reconcile how those three pieces fit into the picture at hand. To hear Vlad tell it, nothing untoward had happened in Amity Park in his whole time as mayor. And yet… the calls were real.

Even if Masters hadn’t hit the button personally, someone in his office must have.

Was there a chance that Danny had some sort of mind control abilities? That he’d removed the memories of those in Amity Park who’d opposed him?

It would explain why Masters would so fervently champion a boy he’d had almost nothing to do with. Oh, Danny Fenton had been born to two of Masters’ college friends, but they hadn’t seen each other for years before Danny’s birth.

As far as Bruce could tell the two had never even met before Danny was at least fourteen; Vlad had lived in an actual castle in Wisconsin and been a regular on the gala circuit for his area.

Friend of the family or not, it was suspicious that the only adults he’d spoken to so far had such diametrically opposed views on Danny.

Vlad was obviously hiding something. About Amity Park, Bruce was completely certain. The man’s accounts simply did not add up with the evidence. About Danny…

Bruce had his suspicions, but there was very little clear evidence about the man himself. Danny was technically an unknown quantity. And the center of far too many mysteries for Bruce’s peace of mind.

Bruce slipped away to the bathroom to let his thoughts settle not too long into Vlad’s lecture on the history of the Packers.

If Danny was coming from the manor they had a while yet before he’d be there, so he could let Vlad ramble on for a while once he returned.

His cheeks hurt from keeping up Brucie’s smile, but that was nothing new. The gala last night was still weighing on him, but it made it easier to put the act back on.

If Danny was coming here, and would accompany Bruce back to the manor, they would have a while to talk in the traffic. Finally a chance to speak to the man himself and let Bruce get an unbiased read.

Something had happened before Vlad claimed to have received a message from Danny. Something that made him start, and while it could have been the man’s phone, Bruce doubted it.

Even silent vibrations actually made some sound, and Vlad had barely glanced at the device. Not long enough to read any kind of complicated message; he hadn’t even unlocked it.

Vlad must have thought he was hiding it, but he’d been amused by whatever happened. Amused, and known immediately it was Danny. That Danny was coming.

Whatever else he might be, Vlad was certainly not a particularly skilled liar. Not to Batman.

Washing his hands, Bruce wondered if he might not be able to get Vlad back onto the subject of how Danny would be coming.

On his own, or at least Vlad hadn’t mentioned anyone else. And using Bruce’s car to get back? There were hardly bus routes between the manor and the city.

Unless Danny had some kind of meta abilities. Damian’s report had included his suspicions, and Duke and Dick had both seen him fly away.

That would put him here sooner than expected, but Bruce was certain he’d have noticed a flying meta in his city. Unless Danny only flew for certain situations.

Bruce paused at the door to their private room for half a second, letting his Brucie mask settle comfortably into place. Letting the smile spread. And pushed the door open.

Something bright flashed inside and Bruce tensed, anticipating a trap. One he would have no choice but to fall into, as he was now. But as the door cleared, he saw…

Vlad at the table, just as Bruce had left him. And Danny Fenton settling like he’d just moved sharply, wide blue eyes and messy hair above a shirt that was far too large for him tied off at his waist, and.

And.

Impractical for the weather. The trousers were closer to the right size, but arms and feet were bare, along with a slice of midriff.

Completely dry. It was still snowing, and the streets were covered in snow and slush. There was a slim chance he’d left a coat somewhere, but even his hair was dry.

Windswept and dishevelled hair, suggesting flight. His boys were right, and Bruce made a note to check in with Oracle later. See if he had been detected in the air.

Startled by his presence. Likely not because he didn’t expect Bruce to be there, not if he’d come expressly to pick him up. More that he’d been distracted by whatever had him moving so sharply.

Staring at him.

And then there was nothing else to observe, except…

Wearing one of Jason’s shirts. One that Dick had given him as a joke. It hung off him, exacerbating their size difference.

Danny was small. Closer to Cass’s size, and this close up Bruce could see the lean muscle, but there wasn’t much of it.

In pure hand to hand Bruce could probably take him, but whatever abilities let him tank a fight with Killer Croc left the actual outcome an unknown.

Blinking hard to distract himself from just how and why Danny had managed to show up in Jason’s clothes, he pulled on his big happy Brucie smile for the room.

And suddenly Vlad was incensed.

Bruce would swear the man had been smiling when he opened the door, but at some point while Bruce gave Danny a quick once over his mood had turned to rage.

He smothered it down quickly, but his jaw was still tight when he spoke through gritted teeth.

“Daniel, I believe this is the first time you have met Brucie,” Vlad said, his tone so frosty Bruce nearly shivered.

Not controlled by Danny then. At least, not controlled in a way that made him deferential. Not unless this was a slip in Danny’s control.

The boy looked startled still, looking down at himself like he’d forgotten what he was wearing and giving Bruce a sheepish smile.

Honestly he could have been wearing the world’s finest suit and not allayed any of Bruce’s suspicions, but it wasn’t Brucie’s job to let that show.

Instead he cranked the smile up a couple more notches, stepping forward and holding out a hand to shake.

“Yes, Danny, my kids simply won’t stop talking about you! I was sorry I couldn’t say hello last night,” he added, wanting to see how Danny would react to a little dig.

Nothing he couldn’t deny as being purely sincere.

Danny made a face and then pulled a smile on over it, stepping forward quickly to shake Bruce’s hand.

Some people only needed touch to take control of another. Bruce felt nothing of the sort, but Danny’s hand was oddly cool. Not unaffected by his clothing then.

“Yeah… sorry about that. About… well, all of it,” Danny said with a sheepish smile and one shoulder shrug that nearly had the shirt’s overlarge neckline fall off his other shoulder.

He scrabbled to right it, and Bruce firmly stifled the impulse to relax.

It was familiar, something any of his kids might have done. It could easily be an act to lure him into a false calm.

Brucie laughed and clapped him on the other shoulder, keeping half an eye on Vlad, who was still stewing at the table.

“Oh, I certainly got up to much worse in my day. You’re only young once, right?” He offered jovially, tipping Danny a playboy wink.

The boy blushed to the roots of his hair.

Interesting.

As much as Bruce wanted to pull at Vlad a little more, try and work out his sudden change of mood, he would much rather begin his observations of Danny Fenton directly.

“Still, we should get going or we’ll miss all of dinner,” he said with a cheerful smile, nodding to Vlad. “Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Vlad! Maybe we’ll catch a football game before the season ends.”

The man’s disposition brightened like he’d flicked a switch, though he still shot Danny an almost smug dirty look.

“Oh, that would be charming, Brucie. I’ll get you tickets for the Packers’ next game, we’ll have a splendid time.”

Danny snickered beside him, shoving his hands in his pockets and grinning back. Not afraid of Vlad either, for all that the other man was older, richer, and more influential.

“Yeah, Vladdie here knows aaaall about packers,” he said with a sly smirk, looking down on Vlad from his standing position.

Vlad responded with a look that Bruce had previously only seen on Clark’s face, around when Dick started teaching Kon sex jokes. And in the mirror.

Steph called it the “your puberty was my death sentence” look and insisted every one of the mentors used it. Bruce personally wasn’t convinced Oliver Queen knew what shame meant.

He’d abandoned his son. Bruce would never forgive that until Roy asked him to.

Perhaps he did have more in common with Vlad than he’d thought though. Watching the children get old enough for innuendo sucked.

Luckily Brucie could pretend not to get it.

“I know, he was telling me all about their recent games before you arrived,” he said cheerfully, oblivious as anything. And watched how both responded to innocence.

Vlad still looked pained, possibly by the pair of them now. Danny… Danny was smirking, clearly not convinced.

That was concerning. The boy knew who Nightwing and Signal were, there was a chance he knew Bruce’s identity too and this at least pointed in the same direction.

Still, no need to confirm anything for him. With another cheery wave to Vlad he held the door open for Danny.

“So, shall we? Would you like to take my car or do you have your own way back?” He asked, subtly prodding to see what Danny might say. And perhaps a hint how he’d gotten there.

Danny hesitated for a moment, glancing at Vlad. Like there was something between them, something to do with him.

Yes, Bruce would have to meet with Vlad Masters again in future. After he’d gotten to speak to Danny.

“I’ll come back with you,” Danny said with a shrug, nodding towards the door and then moving through it at Bruce’s wave.

He kept half an eye on the boy as they headed down to the restaurant’s garage and the sleek black car Bruce had driven over.

It’d be at least twenty minutes to drive back to the manor at this hour, maybe longer. Time enough for a short interrogation.

“I already messaged the others and told them to get started without us, I hope you don’t mind,” he said in his best charming Brucie voice, beeping the car to unlock it.

Danny shrugged, moving around to the passenger door, apparently entirely unbothered by bare feet on freezing concrete. Bruce almost wished he had some spare shoes for him.

“Yeah, it’s cool. I figured. So, any idea how long it’ll be to get back?” He asked, slipping into the car and sitting cross legged on the front seat.

Bruce followed suit, turning on the car and then the heat right away. Doing what he could.

“Probably not more than twenty minutes. Your seat is heated too by the way, here. You made it down very quickly, were you in the area?” Bruce asked, watching Danny from the corner of his eye as he strapped in.

Would Danny just tell him?

He’d not been hiding from the boys. If he really didn’t think this had to be a secret, he could just tell Bruce.

Danny shrugged again, opened his mouth, and Bruce’s phone rang, cutting him off.

His phone should be on silent. Bruce gave Danny an apologetic smile, pulling it out and planning to push the caller to voice mail. Wondering if he might have turned the ringer back on without meaning to. Or if Oracle had pushed through.

There was no one else he needed to talk to more than Danny right now.

Of course the universe would mock him for that thought.

The caller ID blinked accusingly up at him from the lock screen.

John fucking Constantine.

Bruce hesitated for a moment. Torn. The mystery or the responsibility?

Any other member of the Justice League would be ranked as a more reliable source of information than a possible suspect, but after the night Bruce had had? After what he’d learned?

The problems in Amity Park may have begun or ended with Danny Fenton, but the problems in the Justice League traced neatly back to John Constantine.

When it came down to it, Bruce knew he had a responsibility.

He gave Danny another, more apologetic smile.

“So sorry… do you mind if I take this quickly?” He asked, holding the phone carefully so Danny couldn’t see the screen.

The boy’s face cracked into a grin and he shrugged a third time, getting comfy in the expensive leather seat.

“Hey, if you keep one eye on the road you’ll be the safest driver I’ve ever ridden with. You don’t wanna be too late though, you’ve got another extra guest for dinner and she seemed real impatient,” he said with a slight smile, turning on his heated seat.

About to get out of the car, Bruce paused again.

“Oh? Who was that?” He asked half rhetorically, already listing the women in his life who could possibly make this situation worse.

Top of the list…

“Harley Quinn.”

Of course.

What did she want now?

Bruce forced himself not to think about it, swinging up and out of the car and holding the phone to his ear.

One disaster at a time. No matter how many the universe was piling in his lap after nearly a month of nothing. He’d known it was too good to be true.

At least the garage was empty, and the car soundproofed. Danny wouldn’t hear a thing.

“Constantine. How did you get this number?”

**

In a secluded corner of the House of Mystery everyone’s favourite magical scapegoat stubbed out a cigarette and reclined back in his seat.

“Oh, is this not fun when people do it to you? And here’s me thinkin’ barging into other peoples’ business was how you lot showed affection,” he said dryly, fingers tapping off the glowing purple ward scrawled on the phone case.

Phone numbers were for plebs.

He could fuckin’ hear Bats grinding his teeth through the phone. And yeah, maybe winding him up further wasn’t the best idea, but fuck it.

If John had good ideas, he’d never have given the fucking Justice League his contact info. Case in point.

Winding up the big Bat was the price they all had to pay for royally pissing him off all fuckin’ night and all fuckin’ day.

Kept an impressive handle on the growl though. Must have been somewhere semi-private.

“Constantine. You’ve been out of touch for more than eighteen hours and there is a serious-”

John cut him off, waving his cigarette around as if he could shush the man from here.

“Oh no no, big boy, you’re not fuckin’ blaming that on me. You’re the one fucking up all my communicators, and you’re going to fuckin’ stop. Now.”

And yeah, maybe he did enjoy the very tiniest inhale of surprise he could hear. Or was that Batsy counting to ten?

“What do you mean.” The trademarked growl was definitely creeping in, private place or not. Well, good. John being too annoying to kill was what kept him alive.

Better spell it out for the fucker though.

“I’m a fuckin’ magician, Batlad. On a couple of Hell’s most fuckin’ wanted lists. I can’t be fuckin’ found by people fuckin’ wishing me fuckin’ harm, and let me tell you how goddamn delighted I am to learn that that now includes you!”

All he’d wanted to do today was drop off some results for the junior spandex brigade about some of the glyphs and wards they’d found at a dig.

Just trying to stop them from blowing their fucking hands off. A humanitarian mission. John fuckin’ hated kids. Handless kids only slightly worse.

And he couldn’t contact a single member of the fuckin’ Justice League because some asshole was trying to use them to hunt him down.

Zatanna had needed to come to the House personally to circumvent the wards she’d helped him build.

(Good to know how well they worked though. Assuming they were working and he’d done something to piss off the big Bat enough that he was out for blood.

There was technically a chance they’d been calibrated wrong and Batsy wanted to bring him ham. Less likely than harm, in John’s humble opinion.)

Still, the only way to unfuck his communications was to find and defuse whatever had pissed the skulky bitch off, and while Zatanna had agreed to drop off his work for the kids, he needed to know what else they’d found.

He so was not going to fucking Alaska in January.

And with that as his alternative, John forced his most chipper smile onto his lips. Apparently people could sense that through phones. Who fuckin’ knew.

“So. You’ve fuckin’ got me. What the hell do you want?”

—————

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