#he's running himself into the ground and all i can do is watch

[slurmpinheimer]

from @cyber-harpie !! spit that shit homie!! I thought this deserved to be seen because it brings up a lot interesting points—and I do agree with this, though it got me thinking again. I would like to add a few things to my initial statement because analysis and talking about Kim is fun;

(WARNING: MAJOR KIM-RELATED YAPPAGE BELOW)

I’ve watched several play throughs where (especially at the beginning of the game/if they have low psyche) people aren’t sure of Kim, or even go so far as to call him annoying, a buzzkill, or an asshole. At first I found myself getting really defensive about this. Obviously not to the point that I made any hate comments or anything, that would be silly— But just in my head, automatically dismissing it because I love him and didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t imagine anyone disliking him, instead of thinking deeper and considering *why* people might come to these conclusions.

I believe the bits we get from Esprit and Empathy support my initial point that Harry is the perfect narrative device to meet Kim through. If I remember correctly, Kim was written specifically to find Harry funny, and Harry’s skills let us see that. and that’s IF you succeed the checks, or if you’re dedicated enough to save scum to see other possibilities/go through Fayde to see what other options might have held.

Like, before I learned about the end of the Homosexual Underground thought line, I certainly had my suspicions. I definitely thought Kim was at least queer-coded and headcanoned him as gay, but that thought trail is behind a legendary Composure check that I spent like 10 full minutes save-scumming. I had low motorics on my first run, and I only tried so hard because I had been spoiled and knew that it gave a thought called “Homosexual Underground” and needed to see where that led with my own eyes.

That’s just one example too—There’s several times that Kim Lore is behind hard checks (Ace’s High/Low, that tidbit about him smoking weed lol) or things he just refuses to elaborate on without specific circumstances. Plus there’s all the stuff that you can learn when you play a different quest line. I’ve had several people tell me that going through a fascist ends up with Kim actually being pretty open about things you don’t learn about in other questlines. I don’t even know all the details of that yet because I’ve been so busy doing the other quests and achievements that I haven’t finished a fascist run yet.

My thought process with all this is that without seeing Kim through the lens Harry, who works with him almost constantly for a week straight in a situation where deep and meaningful conversation is not just encouraged but *needed* to build a repertoire and ultimately solve the case—Not to mention the patience and care Kim treats Harry’s situation with—I can see how someone would look at Kim from the outside and find him to be… (anguish at typing out this word) …mid.

So yeah. On the surface level; Kim is a cop. He can be condescending and uptight, sometimes leading into lecturing people (something he himself admits). He plays his cards close to his chest, with both his moralist beliefs and even more so his sympathies for the rebellion—Which can make him look a bit like a fence sitter. He can be emotionally unavailable towards himself and others, making him hard to read and sometimes appear cold.

But past that, he is a beautifully crafted, deep character, and the perfect foil to the chaos that is Harry. He is the man that reaches out to shake your hand even though you ghosted him two days prior. He will pat you and give you a handkerchief when you throw up. He can be the man that sticks up for you time and time again, not just because he needs to in order to solve the case, but because if you really try, he believes you’re a good detective at heart. Past suicidal rants and nervous breakdowns, he encourages you to keep going.

He has been beaten down, ground and polished to a smooth finish by mutiple facets of oppression—from his glasses, to his race, his sexuality, all fundamental parts of himself that he cannot change. From years of working in a high-pressure, volatile work environment with low pay and little benefits other than the small satisfaction of completing a case, only to dive headfirst into the next one.

He pushed aside his lofty dreams of the skies to be down with the rest of us in the dirt and mud, trudging, struggling through life until we all inevitably burn away the fuel reserves and are nothing but smoke, a memory in the mind of fire.

Beyond that carefully constructed exterior, past his wall of professionalism (and habit of using his notebook as a shield) hides a goofy nerd, a lover of crosswords and cars, of silly radio stations, and a deep appreciation for beautifully bearded muscular men. He is an expert user of sarcasm and master of cryptic jokes, some even philosophical or political in nature. At his core, he wants to make things better for the people around him. He wants to believe he can make a difference, no matter how long it takes or how small the change is. Even if working for the RCM destroys him before he can see it come to fruition.

He is wonderful. He is amazing. He’s probably my favorite character all of fiction, and I don’t think there will ever be a day in my life that I stop loving him. That’s pookie you’re talking about. I’ll always have space in my heart for him.

He will live on as long as we do, as real as The Man From Hjemdall is to Roy because Disco Elysium *made* him real, handcrafting him, giving him life between margins and pixels. And that is worth everything.

Kim Kitsuragi is a fascinating character because there's not that much fun or interesting or compelling about him. And yet somehow over the course of playing Disco Elysium the game rewires your fucking brain around him. He's the middest man you've ever seen in both appearance and personality but at some point he says something kind to you or something critical of you and you feel like you just got hit by a truck and you need his approval like you need oxygen and like how tf did this happen. what are you

[yassbishimvintage]

Studio

Warnings: None. But a lot of fluffy fluff.

A/N: This will be my first series. I got a little carried away.

Word Count: 11.7k

Song Inspo: Studio ~ Schoolboy Q

Banner by: @cafekitsune

It was a warm day. Amari’s favorite client was back again. When he comes in he wraps her in a strong, warm hug.

“Thank you for squeezing me in, Mari,” Brendan says with a soft smile, settling into the chair in front of her. The small salon space feels more like a sanctuary than a workplace—intimate and warm, much like the woman standing behind him.

Amari rolls her eyes playfully, running her hands through his curls to assess the texture. “You say that like I don’t always make time for you,” she teases, her voice light but carrying an undertone that only he can pick up on.

Brendan leans back slightly, tilting his head just enough to catch her eyes in the mirror. “That’s 'cause you spoil me. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Amari chuckles, shaking her head as she grabs her spray bottle, misting his hair lightly. The cool water trickles down his scalp, and Brendan closes his eyes, letting himself relax under her touch.

“You’d survive,” she says, her tone softening. “You’d just look a mess while doing it.”

Her hands move deftly, sectioning off his hair and working with precision. Brendan sits quietly for a moment, his usual quips and charm giving way to the comfort of the moment. There’s something about sitting between her legs, the quiet intimacy of the space, that makes him feel more at ease than he has in weeks.

“You good?” she asks, noticing his uncharacteristic silence.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, opening his eyes to look at her reflection. “Just…this. It’s nice. Feels like home, you know?”

Amari pauses for a beat, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders. She’s used to Brendan’s smooth-talking, the way he can charm his way through almost anything, but moments like this—when he’s just Brendan, not Mid-Sized Sedan—catch her off guard.

“Well, you know where to find me,” she says softly, her fingers returning to his hair. “Just don’t let that head of yours get too big. Fame or no fame, you’re still just Brendan to me.”

He grins at that, his dimples deepening as he tilts his head back to look up at her. “And you’re still the only one who can handle me, Mari.”

She shakes her head, fighting back a smile as she continues her work. For all his smooth words and playful antics, there’s a sincerity in his tone that she can’t ignore. And though she’d never say it out loud, moments like these—just the two of them, quiet and close—feel like home to her, too.

Brendan tilts his head back, looking up at Amari with a soft, almost boyish smile. His eyes catch hers in the mirror for a moment before shifting up to meet her gaze directly. “What?” he asks with a playful smirk, his voice low and teasing.

Amari pauses, her hands stilling in his hair as she tries to suppress a grin. “Nothing,” she says, but her voice gives her away. There’s a warmth in her tone, a quiet fondness she’s stopped trying to hide around him.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me,” he says, his smirk growing wider. “You’re lookin’ at me like you got something to say.”

She shakes her head, letting out a quiet laugh. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his eyes still locked on hers. “But you like me anyway.”

Amari huffs, pretending to roll her eyes, but the way she leans closer gives her away. The tension in the air shifts, subtle but undeniable, as Brendan's smile softens. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say another word, just watches her with a quiet patience that feels more intimate than anything he’s said so far.

And then, before she can second-guess herself, Amari leans down and presses her lips to his.

It’s not planned or calculated—just a gentle, impulsive kiss, the kind born out of familiarity and unspoken connection. Brendan responds immediately, his hand instinctively reaching up to rest lightly on her leg, grounding himself in the moment.

When she finally pulls back, her cheeks are flushed, and there’s a spark of nervousness in her eyes. “I—”

But Brendan doesn’t let her finish. “You know,” he interrupts with a grin, “if I knew sittin’ in this chair would get me kissed, I would’ve booked a weekly appointment.”

Amari laughs, swatting his shoulder lightly, her embarrassment fading as quickly as it came. “You’re such a fool,” she mutters, but her smile doesn’t falter.

“Maybe,” he says, his voice quieter now, his hand still resting on her leg. “But you’re the only one I’m a fool for.”

She looks at him, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his tone, and for a moment, the world outside the small salon fades away. It’s just them—Brendan and Amari, the way it’s always been, but with a little more honesty between them now.

Amari smirks, her fingers combing through Brendan’s curls as she preps his next section of hair. “Since you don’t pay me the traditional way anyway,” she quips, her tone playful but edged with a teasing accusation.

Brendan raises an eyebrow, his grin spreading wide. “Oh, so that’s how you’re feelin’ today, huh?”

She shrugs, her smile unbothered. “Just sayin’. Bartering services isn’t exactly standard salon practice.”

He chuckles, leaning back a little to look up at her. “First of all, my presence alone is priceless,” he teases, his dimples on full display. “But if you’re open to negotiations…”

Amari tilts her head, feigning curiosity. “And what exactly do you have in mind?”

Without missing a beat, Brendan grins mischievously. “I think sex is a great payment,” he says, his voice smooth, as if it’s the most logical suggestion in the world.

Amari freezes for a second, her lips parting in mock shock before she bursts into laughter. “Boy, you are too much,” she says, swatting his shoulder with the back of her hand.

“I’m serious,” he says, though his grin makes it clear he’s loving the reaction he’s getting out of her. “Think about it—completely mutual exchange of services. Everybody wins.”

Amari leans closer, narrowing her eyes at him. “Oh, is that how you see it? So me busting my ass to make sure you’re camera-ready equals…” She trails off, giving him a pointed look.

Brendan doesn’t miss a beat. “Equals me bustin’ something else for you,” he says with a wink, leaning back in the chair like he just delivered the punchline of the century.

Amari stares at him for a moment, her mouth twitching as she fights to keep a straight face. “You are so stupid,” she says, finally breaking into laughter, the sound filling the small salon.

Brendan joins her, his laugh low and genuine. “You walked into that one, Mari,” he says, his voice softening as he watches her, the playful banter giving way to something warmer.

Amari shakes her head, still smiling as she resumes working on his hair. “You better be glad I like you,” she mutters.

“Oh, I know you do,” Brendan replies, his voice quieter now. “And just so you know...the offer stands.”

Amari doesn’t respond immediately, but the sly grin tugging at her lips says everything she doesn’t. Whatever this is between them—playful, complicated, and completely unconventional—it’s theirs.

“B,” Amari says firmly, her hands pausing in his hair as she looks down at him, her expression soft but serious. “We talked about this…”

Brendan’s grin falters just a bit, though the teasing spark in his eyes remains. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, leaning back against the chair with a dramatic sigh. “No mixing business with pleasure, right?”

She arches an eyebrow, her hands resuming their work, gently detangling his curls. “Exactly. And what you’re suggesting? That’s a straight-up recipe for disaster.”

He tilts his head slightly, watching her in the mirror. “But what if it wasn’t?”

Amari lets out a small laugh, shaking her head. “What does that even mean?”

Brendan shrugs, his tone casual but his gaze more serious now. “Just sayin’, Mari. You and me? We already get each other. Maybe it wouldn’t be a disaster. Maybe it’d be...something else.”

She exhales deeply, her fingers still moving but slower now. “B,” she starts, her voice softer this time. “You know I care about you. And yeah, we have fun, but crossing that line? It’s not as simple as you make it sound.”

He nods, his expression thoughtful. “I get it. I do,” he says, his voice quieter. “But I also know what this feels like. And it’s not just fun, Mari. At least not for me.”

Amari’s hands stop completely, and she meets his eyes in the mirror. For a moment, the air between them shifts, the usual lightness replaced by something heavier, more vulnerable.

“Brendan…” she starts, but he cuts her off, turning in the chair slightly to face her directly.

“I’m not tryna push you into anything,” he says, his tone earnest. “I just...I don’t want you to think this is a joke to me. You’re more than that, Mari.”

Her heart skips a beat at the sincerity in his voice, but she forces herself to keep her composure. “I know that,” she says softly. “And that’s exactly why we have to be careful.”

Brendan studies her for a moment, then nods, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Alright. I hear you.”

Amari breathes a quiet sigh of relief, her hands moving back to his hair. “Good,” she says, her tone lightening as she tries to steer the conversation back to safer ground. “Now let me finish before you start talking crazy again.”

Brendan chuckles, leaning back in the chair. “No promises,” he says, but there’s a warmth in his voice that tells her he means what he said.

For now, the line between them remains intact, but the unspoken understanding lingers in the space between her hands and his hair—fragile but undeniable.

As Amari finishes the last section of Brendan’s hair, she steps back and gives his curls a quick fluff, admiring her work. “There,” she says with a satisfied smile. “You’re all set. Looking camera-ready as always.”

Brendan spins slightly in the chair, glancing at himself in the mirror. “You’re a magician, Mari,” he says, grinning as he runs a hand through his hair. “How do you always make me look this good?”

“Natural talent,” she replies, smirking as she starts cleaning up her tools. “Plus, it’s not like I’m working with bad material.”

He leans back in the chair, watching her with a lazy smile. “You know what would make this even better?”

Amari doesn’t look up, but the amused quirk of her brow gives her away. “What’s that, B?”

“Dinner,” he says casually, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “You, me, some good food…my treat this time. Let me say thanks properly.”

Amari pauses, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Dinner, huh?” she asks, her tone teasing. “And here I thought I’d already been paid in charm and bad jokes.”

Brendan chuckles, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “Consider it a bonus,” he says, his grin widening. “Besides, I’m starving, and you’ve been working all day. You deserve a break.”

Amari crosses her arms, giving him a skeptical look. “This isn’t one of your smooth attempts to turn dinner into something else, is it?”

He holds up his hands in mock innocence. “Scout’s honor. Just dinner. Unless…” He smirks, and she throws a towel at him, laughing.

“Alright, alright,” she says, shaking her head. “You win. But if this turns into you trying to pitch another ‘payment plan,’ I’m walking out.”

“Deal,” Brendan says, grabbing his jacket. “Now come on, Mari. Let’s go. I know a spot that’ll change your life.”

She rolls her eyes but grabs her bag, letting him lead the way. Despite her teasing, there’s a small smile on her lips she can’t quite hide. With Brendan, nothing’s ever simple, but somehow, it’s always worth it.

Brendan leads Amari down a quiet street, the glow of neon signs lighting their way. He’s relaxed, his hands stuffed casually into his jacket pockets, while Amari walks beside him, the crisp evening air brushing against her skin.

“I know you’re used to all that fancy restaurant stuff,” Brendan says, glancing over at her with a grin. “But trust me, this place? It’s unbeatable.”

She raises an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her smile. “You mean to tell me the guy who just finished a collab with one of the biggest designers prefers a hole-in-the-wall spot?”

“Absolutely,” he replies without hesitation. “You can’t trust a place that spends more time on the presentation than the food. Here? It’s all about the flavor, Mari.”

They stop in front of a small, unassuming building with a flickering sign that reads Mama Dee’s Kitchen. The windows are fogged up, and the smell of spices wafts out as someone opens the door.

Amari hesitates, looking at the worn exterior. “This is it?”

Brendan nods, his grin widening. “This is it. Best food in the city. You’ll see.”

Inside, the place is cozy and packed, with mismatched chairs and tables crammed together. The walls are covered in photos of customers, scribbled notes of thanks, and old newspaper clippings. A jukebox in the corner plays a soulful tune, adding to the warm, lived-in vibe.

As they sit down, a woman with a big smile and even bigger energy walks over, throwing a towel over her shoulder. “Well, if it isn’t Brendan,” she says, hands on her hips. “Thought you were too big-time to visit us little folks anymore.”

Brendan laughs, standing up to give her a quick hug. “Mama Dee, you know I could never forget about you. Got someone special I wanted to bring by.”

Amari blushes slightly as Mama Dee looks her over, her sharp eyes twinkling with curiosity. “Well, aren’t you a pretty thing,” she says, smiling warmly. “You keep him in line, alright? He needs it.”

“I’ll do my best,” Amari replies, smiling back as Brendan chuckles.

After taking their orders—Brendan insisting Amari tries the jerk chicken and mac and cheese—the two settle in. He leans back in his chair, watching her as she takes in the bustling atmosphere.

“So?” he asks, his voice soft but curious. “What do you think?”

Amari looks around, a small, genuine smile spreading across her lips. “I think it’s perfect,” she admits. “Way better than some pretentious rooftop spot.”

“Told you,” Brendan says, his grin triumphant.

When the food arrives, Amari is blown away. The flavors are rich and comforting, the kind of meal that feels like a hug. Brendan watches her reaction, satisfaction written all over his face.

“You weren’t kidding,” she says between bites, her tone amazed. “This might be the best food I’ve ever had.”

“I know my stuff,” he replies, winking. “Stick with me, Mari. I’ll take care of you.”

As the night goes on, the conversation flows easily, the lines between friendship and something more blurring even further. By the time they leave, Amari is convinced—this hole-in-the-wall is Brendan’s favorite for more than just the food. It’s a reflection of who he really is: unpretentious, full of heart, and unexpectedly soulful.

As they step out of Mama Dee’s Kitchen into the crisp night air, Amari hugs her jacket closer around herself. Brendan walks beside her, his hands tucked into his pockets, a satisfied smile lingering on his face from the meal.

She glances over at him, her brow furrowed slightly. “You’re about to go back to the studio tonight, aren’t you?” she asks, her tone half curious, half resigned.

Brendan chuckles, the sound low and warm. “What makes you say that?”

Amari rolls her eyes playfully. “Because I know you. You’ll eat a meal like that, and instead of relaxing, you’ll get all inspired and head straight back to work.”

He grins, shaking his head. “You act like that’s a bad thing.”

“It’s not,” she admits, slowing her pace slightly. “But do you ever just…stop? Take a night for yourself? For someone else?”

Brendan looks over at her, his expression softening. “I do,” he says after a moment. “You’re looking at it.”

Amari blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

“This,” he says, gesturing between them. “Dinner with you, taking a break to spend time with someone I actually like? That’s me stopping, Mari. That’s me taking a night.”

Her cheeks warm, and she looks away to hide the small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re such a smooth talker,” she mutters, though her tone lacks any real bite.

“It’s not talk,” Brendan says, his voice quieter now. “I mean it. But yeah, I’ll probably head back to the studio after I drop you off. There’s this hook I’ve been trying to perfect, and it’s driving me crazy.”

Amari sighs, shaking her head. “Of course you will. You’re impossible, B.”

He chuckles again, nudging her shoulder lightly. “And you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

She doesn’t respond immediately, instead focusing on the sound of their footsteps against the pavement. But as they reach her car, she turns to him, her expression softer.

“Just promise me you’ll get some sleep eventually, okay?” she says.

Brendan smirks, leaning casually against her car. “Only if you promise to keep being my favorite hairstylist-slash-dinner date.”

Amari laughs, shaking her head as she unlocks her door. “Deal.”

As she gets in, Brendan leans down, resting his arms on the window frame. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight, Mari,” he says, his voice sincere.

“Thanks for the food,” she replies, smiling. “And for the company.”

He taps the roof of her car lightly as he straightens up. “Anytime.”

As she drives off, Brendan watches her taillights disappear down the street before turning in the opposite direction. The studio’s calling, but for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t feel like the only place he wants to be.

-

Later that night, Amari is sprawled on her couch, wrapped in a soft throw blanket. The dim glow of her apartment’s ambient lighting casts a cozy hue over the room. She’s already undressed and in her favorite oversized t-shirt, a playlist of Brendan’s songs playing softly in the background.

As his smooth verses fill the space, she absentmindedly sips on a glass of wine, letting herself unwind after a long day. Her head bobs slightly to the beat, a small smile tugging at her lips as she listens to his voice.

Then, a soft knock breaks through the music. She freezes for a moment, her brows furrowing. It’s late—too late for unannounced visitors.

Setting her glass down, she stands and pads toward the door, her bare feet silent against the hardwood. “Who is it?” she calls out cautiously, leaning closer but not opening it just yet.

“It’s me,” comes Brendan’s familiar voice, muffled but unmistakable.

Amari sighs, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile as she unlocks the door. When she opens it, Brendan stands on the other side, hands in his pockets and an apologetic look on his face. He’s dressed in the same outfit from dinner, though his jacket is slung over one shoulder now, his curls slightly disheveled.

“B,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “What are you doing here? I thought you were heading to the studio.”

“I was,” he says, his tone low. “But I couldn’t focus. Kept thinking about you.”

Her heart skips a beat, but she quickly masks it with a raised brow. “Oh, really? And what exactly were you thinking?”

“That you’re probably here, cozy, listening to my music,” he says with a sly grin. “And I thought, ‘Why not give her the live version?’”

Amari rolls her eyes, but she can’t help the laugh that escapes her. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he admits, stepping closer, his expression softening. “But I mean it. I just...wanted to see you again.”

She lets out a slow breath, her guard dropping slightly as she steps back to let him in. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood,” she teases, closing the door behind him.

Brendan surveys her apartment, the sound of his song still playing in the background. His smile widens when he hears it. “I knew it,” he says, turning to her. “You’ve got good taste, Mari.”

She shakes her head, walking past him to grab her glass of wine. “You’re impossible,” she says, though there’s no real heat in her words. “You want a drink?”

“Nah,” he says, his gaze following her. “I’m good. I didn’t come here to drink.”

His tone is softer now, and when she turns to look at him, his expression is unreadable but intense. He takes a step closer, closing the distance between them.

“B…” she starts, but the way he’s looking at her makes her words falter.

“Tell me to leave, Mari,” he says quietly, his voice steady but his eyes searching hers. “If you want me to, I’ll go. No questions, no hard feelings.”

She stares at him for a moment, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Finally, she exhales, setting her glass down on the counter.

“You’re already here,” she says softly. “Might as well stay.”

His lips curve into a slow smile, and he steps even closer, his hand brushing against hers. For now, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of them in the quiet warmth of her apartment, his voice still crooning softly from the speakers.

Brendan walks over to her couch, sinking into it with a contented sigh. “This is nice,” he says, looking around her apartment. “Cozy, just like you.”

Amari, still standing by the counter, suddenly becomes acutely aware of what she’s wearing—or rather, what she isn’t wearing. Brendan’s eyes are on her, warm and curious, but not overtly prying. Still, the thought that her oversized t-shirt is the only thing between her and complete exposure makes her pulse quicken.

“I, uh... I’ll be right back,” she mutters, turning quickly toward her bedroom.

Brendan watches her retreat, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. “Take your time,” he calls after her, leaning back against the couch cushions.

Amari practically dives into her dresser, pulling out a pair of shorts. She quickly slips them on, glancing at herself in the mirror. “Get it together, Mari,” she mutters to her reflection, her cheeks flushed.

When she comes back out, Brendan has made himself at home. One arm is draped over the back of the couch, and he’s scrolling through her playlist on the speakers. He glances up when he hears her footsteps, his gaze flicking down briefly before meeting her eyes.

“Feel better now?” he teases, a knowing smirk on his face.

She narrows her eyes at him but can’t help the smile tugging at her lips. “Don’t start, B,” she warns, sitting down at the other end of the couch.

“I’m just saying,” he replies, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t mind the outfit, but if this makes you more comfortable…”

“Shut up,” she says, laughing despite herself.

They sit in companionable silence for a moment, the soft hum of music filling the space. Brendan glances over at her, his expression thoughtful.

“Thanks for letting me crash,” he says, his tone quieter now. “I know it’s late.”

Amari shrugs, leaning back into the couch. “It’s fine. You’re not exactly a stranger.”

“No,” he agrees, his eyes lingering on her for a moment. “I’m not.”

There’s something in his gaze that makes her stomach flip, but she brushes it off, reaching for her wine glass. “So, what was on your mind at the studio?” she asks, changing the subject.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Honestly? You,” he says simply.

Amari blinks, caught off guard. “Me?”

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at her. “Can’t focus when I know you’re here, all cozy, listening to my stuff. It’s distracting.”

She scoffs, though her cheeks warm. “You’ve got a whole career to worry about, B. Don’t let me get in the way of that.”

He leans back again, his smile softening. “You’re not in the way, Mari. If anything, you’re the reason I keep going back.”

Her breath catches for a moment, but she quickly hides it behind her glass, taking a sip. Brendan just watches her, his eyes filled with something she’s not quite ready to name.

“I… uh…” Amari stammers, her usual confidence faltering under Brendan’s steady gaze. She sets her wine glass down on the table, her hands suddenly fidgeting with the edge of her shirt.

Brendan’s lips twitch into a small smile, but he doesn’t press her. Instead, he leans back into the couch, draping one arm over the backrest and letting his other hand rest on his thigh. “Didn’t mean to make you nervous,” he says softly, his tone teasing but gentle.

“I’m not nervous,” she says quickly, though the slight crack in her voice betrays her.

“Right,” he replies, his smile widening. “Because you’re always this jumpy, huh?”

She glares at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here I am,” he says, gesturing around her apartment. “Somehow still your favorite headache.”

Amari huffs a laugh, shaking her head. “You give yourself way too much credit, B.”

“Maybe,” he says, his voice dropping slightly as his eyes lock onto hers. “But I think I’m right about this one.”

The air between them shifts, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, something unspoken. Amari feels her pulse quicken, her chest tightening as she searches for something—anything—to say.

“B,” she starts, her voice quieter now, “I don’t know what you’re doing, but…”

“I’m just being honest,” he cuts in, his tone serious. “You said not to let you get in the way, but you don’t get it, Mari. You’re not in the way—you’re the reason I’m still in it.”

Her breath catches, and she looks away, her hands twisting in her lap. “That’s… a lot,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I know,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “But it’s the truth. And I’m not gonna pretend it’s not.”

For a moment, neither of them speaks. The only sound is the soft hum of music in the background, one of Brendan’s slower tracks setting the mood without either of them realizing it.

Amari finally looks back at him, her eyes searching his face. “Why now?” she asks, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

“Because I’m tired of pretending like I don’t feel this way every time I’m around you,” he says simply. “And if I’m being real, I think you feel it too.”

She exhales slowly, her walls cracking just enough for him to see the conflict in her eyes. “You’re not making this easy,” she murmurs.

“I’m not trying to,” he says, his gaze unwavering. “I’m just asking you to let me in.”

Amari swallows hard, the weight of his words settling over her. She doesn’t know what to say—doesn’t know if she even needs to say anything. Brendan waits, patient and steady, giving her the space to decide.

Amari takes a deep breath, her heart racing as she looks down at him, his gaze intense yet calm, waiting for her. Something shifts in her, something undeniable, and without fully thinking, she slowly stands up. Her legs move deliberately as she straddles Brendan, her knees pressing against the couch on either side of him.

Brendan’s breath hitches at the change in position, his hands resting on her hips, his thumbs brushing the fabric of her shorts as he looks up at her, eyes dark with unspoken understanding.

“You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

Amari meets his gaze, her own breathing shaky but steady. “I don’t know,” she admits, her voice a whisper, “but I want to find out.”

He exhales slowly, his hands sliding around her waist to hold her steady, pulling her closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, the sincerity in his voice making her pulse quicken.

For a moment, they simply stay there, inches apart, the air between them thick with anticipation. Amari can feel the weight of her own hesitation, but it’s overshadowed by the pull of his presence. She lets herself fall into it, the world outside their small bubble fading as she leans down toward him.

Their lips meet in a soft, slow kiss, and the tension between them finally snaps. It’s a kiss full of unspoken words and raw connection, as if they’ve both been waiting for this moment, even if they didn’t realize it.

As the kiss deepens, Amari moves her hands to the back of his neck, threading her fingers through his hair. She can feel the warmth of his body beneath her, the steady rhythm of his breath matching hers.

Brendan responds in kind, his hands roaming slowly over her back, tracing her skin, savoring the feel of her against him. He pulls her closer, and she can feel the heat between them grow.

But even as the moment unfolds, Amari remains uncertain, the questions still swirling in her mind. She pulls back slightly, her chest heaving as she looks down at him.

“B, I…” She doesn’t know what to say.

Brendan’s hand gently cups her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin with an almost reverent touch. “Mari,” he says softly, his voice steady, “you don’t have to say anything.”

And for a moment, the world seems to hold its breath. The silence between them isn’t awkward—it’s filled with understanding, trust, and something more. She doesn’t need to have all the answers right now. They’re here, in this moment, together. And that’s enough.

Brendan’s fingers trace the edge of Amari’s shirt, his touch light and tentative at first, as though giving her the chance to pull away if she wants. But Amari doesn’t move. Instead, she watches him, the anticipation making her pulse quicken. She feels the brush of his fingers against her skin, soft but deliberate, as he slowly tugs at the hem of her shirt, lifting it just enough to reveal the smoothness of her stomach.

Amari bites her lip, her chest rising and falling with each breath, her body betraying the calm she’s trying to maintain. The weight of his touch, the heat from his hands, makes her heart race, and she can’t help but shiver under his gaze.

“Are you sure about this?” he murmurs again, his voice hushed, just above a whisper, his eyes locking onto hers as his fingers linger at the fabric.

She meets his gaze, her hands resting on his shoulders for support, and there’s a softness in her eyes, something she hasn’t allowed herself to show in a while. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” she says, her voice steady despite the butterflies stirring in her stomach.

Brendan gives a small, approving smile, his thumb brushing along the hem of her shirt once more, but this time with more intent. “Then let’s make sure we take our time,” he says softly, his fingers sliding underneath the fabric, gently lifting it as though giving her the chance to stop him.

Amari’s breath catches as his hand slides beneath her shirt, his warm palm against her skin, sending a ripple of heat through her. She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she leans down slightly, pressing her lips to his in a quiet, reassuring kiss, before drawing back to meet his eyes once more.

“Take your time, B,” she says quietly, her voice low and steady, matching the unspoken promise between them.

Once her shirt was discarded his eyes grew wide at the bareness of her.

Brendan’s breath catches in his throat when Amari’s shirt finally slips away, revealing the smoothness of her skin. His eyes widen, a mix of awe and admiration flickering across his features as he takes in the sight of her. There’s a brief moment of silence between them, filled only by the sound of their steady breaths.

Amari can feel the heat of his gaze on her, but instead of feeling exposed, she feels empowered, confident in a way she hasn’t in a while. She allows herself to meet his eyes, her chest rising and falling slowly as she watches his reaction. The intensity in his gaze is palpable, and for a moment, she allows herself to savor it.

“Damn, Mari,” he says, his voice rougher now, his hands hovering just above her skin as if unsure of how to proceed. He swallows hard, clearly trying to regain his composure. “You’re... stunning.”

Amari smiles softly, her heart fluttering at his words, but there’s also a part of her that knows this moment is more than just about physical attraction. It’s about trust. And she feels it, deep in her bones.

“Don’t just look,” she teases, her voice playful despite the vulnerability she feels. “Touch.”

At her urging, Brendan’s hands finally move, slow and careful, as he places one hand on her lower back and the other on her waist, his touch tentative but firm, as though seeking permission with each movement. She shivers at his warmth, her skin coming alive under his fingertips.

He leans in, his lips finding her shoulder, planting a soft kiss there, before trailing kisses along the curve of her neck. “You make it so damn hard to think,” he murmurs against her skin, his voice filled with the same unspoken longing.

Amari’s hands slide up to his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart, and she lets herself sink into the moment, into the heat between them. The world outside her apartment feels like it’s fading away, leaving just the two of them, caught in a silent dance of desire and connection.

Brendan’s lips brush over the sensitive spot on Amari’s neck, and she can’t help the soft gasp that escapes her lips. Her body tenses at the sensation, a shiver running down her spine as her pulse quickens. “Fuck…” she breathes out, her voice a mix of surprise and pleasure.

He smiles against her skin, feeling the subtle tremor of her body under his touch. His hands move, pulling her closer as his lips continue to worship her neck, trailing kisses and light bites, pushing her closer to the edge of the moment.

Amari’s head tilts back instinctively, giving him more access, and she feels herself melting into the sensation, unable to hold back any longer. Her fingers thread into his hair, tugging him slightly as she whispers his name.

“B…” The word comes out almost like a plea, a quiet invitation for more.

Brendan’s breath hitches as he feels her grip on him tighten. He pauses for a second, looking up at her, his face inches from hers, the heat between them undeniable. “You good?” he asks, his voice low, but full of concern, needing her to be comfortable.

Her breath comes in short gasps, but her eyes never leave his, a look of quiet intensity in them. “Yeah,” she breathes, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions. “Just… don’t stop.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. With a quiet chuckle, he leans in again, his hands moving to her hips as he pulls her closer, guiding her to where they both know the moment will lead.

Amari pulls back slightly, her breath shallow as she meets Brendan's eyes. Her heart races, but it’s not from the desire anymore. The weight of their earlier conversation in the shop—about boundaries, about where they stand—starts to flood her thoughts. She can feel the uncertainty creeping in, clouding the intensity of the moment.

“B…” she says again, this time her voice soft but firm, a quiet hesitation in her tone.

Brendan freezes, sensing the shift in her energy. His hand lingers on her waist, his gaze searching hers for understanding. He can feel the tension in the air, the way her body language has changed, and he immediately pulls back slightly, giving her the space she needs.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice gentle, no longer carrying the earlier playfulness. Instead, it’s full of care and concern, knowing something has shifted for her.

Amari runs a hand through her hair, her mind racing. She tries to focus, to make sense of the confusion swirling inside her. “We talked about this before, you know? What this is, or isn’t…” She trails off, unsure of how to voice everything she’s feeling.

Brendan nods slowly, his eyes softening with understanding. “Yeah, I remember. I’m not trying to push you, Mari,” he says, his tone steady and reassuring. “I get it. You’ve got your own thing going on, and I don’t want to mess that up.”

She sighs, her shoulders dropping as she meets his gaze. “It’s not that… It’s just… I need to be sure. Sure about where we stand, what this is. I don’t want us getting tangled up in something neither of us really wants.”

Brendan reaches for her hand, his touch light but grounding. “I’m not here to confuse you or make things harder, Mari. If we need to slow down or take a step back, I’m all in. I just…” His voice falters for a moment, but he recovers, his sincerity clear. “I care about you. More than I let on sometimes. And I don’t want to mess that up.”

Her chest tightens at his words, the vulnerability in his voice tugging at something deep inside her. She looks at him for a long moment, taking in his earnestness. For the first time tonight, she feels like they’re both on the same page, even if they’re not entirely sure where that page leads.

“I care about you too,” she says quietly, her voice steady. “But I need to know this is more than just… than just what we’ve been doing, you know?”

Brendan nods, his thumb gently brushing her hand. “I get it. No rush. We take this however it needs to go.”

Amari exhales a shaky breath, relief washing over her. She smiles softly, grateful for his patience, for not pushing her further than she’s ready to go. They’re still in this, whatever "this" might be, but it’s okay. They’ll figure it out together.

Amari stands up and quickly grabs her shirt, trying to cover herself as she slips it back on, but her mind is still spinning from the tension that’s just simmered beneath the surface. As she pulls the fabric over her head, she mutters under her breath, “Shit! Now I’m turned on.”

Brendan watches her, his lips curving into a grin as he sees the conflicted look on her face. He leans back on the couch, his eyes never leaving her, a mix of amusement and desire in his gaze. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” he teases, his voice smooth and playful.

Amari looks at him, an eyebrow arched in mock disbelief. “You’re not helping,” she says, but there’s a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. She’s still caught between wanting to hold back and the undeniable pull of their chemistry.

“Maybe I’m not supposed to,” he responds, his tone low, as his gaze slowly slides over her. “But hey, I’m happy to be the one to turn you on.”

Amari lets out a soft laugh, the tension easing a little, though she can still feel the heat building between them. “You know what? Maybe I should go.” Her words are half-serious, though she’s not sure whether she wants to leave or not. The mixed signals are throwing her off.

Brendan chuckles, the playfulness in his eyes not fading. “You can try to leave, but you’re not fooling anyone.” His voice drops to a lower pitch, more teasing. “You’re still here for a reason.”

She shakes her head, her smile widening as she walks over to him, knowing full well that she’s not going anywhere. “You’re unbelievable,” she mutters, before sitting back down next to him.

His grin deepens. “And yet, you can’t get enough.”

Amari sighs, but there’s a hint of amusement in her voice as she turns her head to face him. “You’ve got a way of making things complicated, don’t you?”

“Maybe. But I think you like it,” he says, his voice steady, eyes holding a glimmer of something deeper, something real. “We don’t have to rush, Mari. But I’m not going anywhere, either.”

Her eyes meet his, a quiet understanding passing between them. There’s no rush, no pressure. For now, they just exist in the moment, whatever it may turn into.

Brendan stands up, his movements slow, as though not wanting to leave just yet. He looks down at Amari, a soft smile playing at the corner of his lips. "Till next time," he says, his voice low but filled with warmth.

Before she can say anything, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there for a second longer than expected, as if the touch itself carries a promise—one that both of them are trying to make sense of.

Amari feels the tenderness of his kiss, and despite the earlier tension, she’s filled with a sense of calm. Her heart flutters for a moment, the intimacy of the gesture striking her in a way that she didn't anticipate. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a quiet assurance.

“Take care, B,” she says softly, standing up to see him to the door.

He gives her one last smile, nodding as he reaches for the doorknob. “You too, Mari. I’ll be in touch.”

With a final glance, Brendan steps out, leaving Amari standing in the doorway, a quiet sense of longing in her chest. But this time, it’s different. She’s not sure what comes next, but for the first time in a while, she feels like it might be okay to just let it unfold.

A few days later, after finishing a shoot, Brendan finds himself thinking about Amari more than he expected. He’s been caught up in work, but now that the shoot is over and the adrenaline has faded, he can’t shake the feeling that he wants to see her again. There’s something about the way they connect, the way things are between them, that keeps drawing him in.

He sends her a text: "Hey, you busy? Want to come by the penthouse tonight?"

Amari, who’s winding down from her own day, reads the message with a soft smile. She had been wondering when he would reach out again. Their last encounter had been full of mixed emotions, but she’s curious about where things could go from here.

She types back, "Yeah, I can swing by. What’s the occasion?"

Brendan’s reply is almost immediate: "No occasion. Just wanted to see you."

Her heart flutters at the simplicity of his words. She feels a rush of warmth, and despite all the complexities between them, there’s something comforting about his honesty.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon,” she types before putting her phone down. She takes a moment to freshen up, changing into something casual yet comfortable, and makes her way to his penthouse.

When she arrives, the city lights shine in the distance, casting a soft glow through the massive windows of Brendan’s high-rise. The door opens before she can even knock, and there he is, standing with a relaxed smile on his face.

"Hey," he says, stepping aside to let her in. "I’m glad you came."

She smiles back, a little more at ease this time. "You didn’t give me much of a choice," she teases, stepping inside.

He chuckles and closes the door behind her, then leads her to the living room, where the atmosphere is cozy, dimly lit by soft lighting and a few candles scattered around. It’s clear he’s made an effort to set the mood, though it’s not overly romantic—more laid-back and inviting.

“I just finished the shoot, so I’m kinda wiped,” Brendan admits, running a hand through his hair. “But I wanted to hang out for a bit. You cool with that?”

Amari nods, taking a seat on the couch. “Yeah, I’m good with that. You’re always on the go. It’s nice to see you actually relax for once.”

Brendan grins, sitting beside her. "That’s the goal," he says, kicking off his shoes and stretching out his legs. "I’m just trying to enjoy the little things."

As they sit together, the conversation flows easily, a mix of lighthearted teasing and deeper, more genuine moments. There’s no rush, no pressure, just the two of them sharing space and time together, enjoying each other’s company.

Brendan sits back on the couch, stretching out with ease, his shirt discarded after the shoot. His tattoos, scattered across his arms and chest, tell a story of their own, each one a piece of his past, his experiences. The ink blends seamlessly with his muscular build, broad shoulders and strong arms, giving him a presence that Amari can’t help but notice.

As he leans back, his posture relaxed but confident, Amari catches herself admiring him. The tattoos, the strength in his frame, the way his body seems effortless in its masculinity—it all pulls her in. She can’t help but smile to herself, feeling a familiar heat rise inside her, a quiet turn-on that she tries to push aside, but it’s there, undeniable.

“You good?” Brendan asks, noticing the smile on her lips. His voice has a teasing undertone now, aware of the effect he’s having on her but not letting on that he’s noticed.

Amari clears her throat, trying to stay composed, but there’s something about the combination of his casual ease and his striking physique that has her feeling a bit breathless. “Yeah, just… admiring your work,” she says with a playful grin, motioning to his tattoos.

Brendan chuckles, glancing down at his arms, then back to her with a raised eyebrow. “You like them?”

“I like them,” she confirms with a soft smile, her gaze lingering on his arms for a moment longer than necessary. "A lot."

He shifts, leaning in slightly, the muscles in his chest tightening as he crosses his arms over his torso, his gaze never leaving hers. "Well, if you're into that kind of thing, maybe you should get a closer look," he teases, his tone low, just enough to make her heart race again.

Amari feels a sudden wave of boldness sweep over her, but she plays it cool, her lips curling into a teasing smile. "Maybe later," she says, leaning back into the couch, though she can’t quite hide the subtle glimmer in her eyes.

Brendan watches her, the playful energy between them intensifying. "You sure? I promise, there's more where that came from."

Her smile widens, and she leans toward him slightly. “We’ll see about that.”

The tension between them simmers, the easy banter turning into something more, something deeper, but still lighthearted. They’re both aware of the pull they have on each other, but for now,they remain in the moment, no rush, no pressure. Just two people enjoying each other’s presence.

Brendan grabs the remote and casually flips on the TV, the soft glow of the screen illuminating the room. He shifts slightly on the couch, getting comfortable, and without saying much, Amari naturally leans into him, her head resting against his chest as she snuggles close. The warmth of his skin and the steady rhythm of his breathing make her feel at ease, the tension of the evening melting away.

She can feel the strong, steady beat of his heart beneath her, and it brings a sense of calm she didn’t expect. His arm instinctively wraps around her, pulling her a little closer as they both sink into the quiet of the room. There’s no need for words right now; the comfort of each other’s presence speaks volumes.

Amari shifts slightly, finding a better position against him, and with a small sigh of contentment, she lets the world outside fall away. The show on the TV fades into the background as she focuses on the warmth between them.

“Comfy?” Brendan asks, his voice low, the familiar teasing undertone replaced by something a little softer, a little more sincere.

“Yeah,” Amari murmurs, her voice soft as she looks up at him. "I think I could get used to this."

He smiles, his thumb gently rubbing small circles on her arm. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The moment feels easy and unhurried, like it could stretch on indefinitely. The connection between them is quiet but undeniably strong, and as the TV plays on in the background, they both find themselves content in the simple closeness they share.

Brendan’s voice is gentle as he asks, his fingers still tracing small circles on her arm. "Tell me about your day?"

Amari leans into him a little more, letting herself relax further into his warmth. She takes a slow breath, her thoughts drifting back to the events of her day. It wasn’t anything extraordinary, but in the quiet of the moment, it feels nice to share it with him.

“Nothing too exciting,” she starts, her voice soft and comfortable. “Had a few clients come in, just the usual. Spent some time brainstorming new styles for a shoot next week. You know, just the usual hustle.”

She looks up at him, finding his gaze steady on her, his interest genuine. "And you? How was the shoot?"

Brendan smiles, his eyes lighting up slightly as he recalls the day’s events. "It went well. Long day, but it always feels good when you’re able to finish strong, you know? The crew was solid, and the photographer had some really great ideas. But honestly, I think the best part was coming home."

He tilts his head, his expression softening. “Coming home to this.”

Amari feels a warmth spread through her at his words, and a small smile tugs at her lips. “I’m glad you’re here, too,” she says quietly, her voice full of sincerity.

Brendan chuckles lightly, the mood lightening once again. "I could tell. You’ve got that smile that says you were thinking about me." His teasing tone is back, but there’s no mistaking the affection in his voice.

Amari rolls her eyes but can’t suppress the smile that grows wider. "You’re full of yourself, you know that?"

But even as she says it, she finds herself more comfortable in his presence, the day’s stress already forgotten in the easy, shared space between them. She settles deeper into him, feeling a sense of peace that she hasn’t realized she was craving.

The conversation flows between them easily, with small moments of laughter, teasing, and more serious talk about life, work, and everything in between. And as the evening continues, Amari finds herself grateful for these simple, quiet moments—the kind that remind her that, sometimes, it’s the little things that matter most.

“B….you know we’re not together right.” She says. Brendan pauses for a moment, his hand still resting on her arm as he looks down at her. Her words hang in the air between them, and the playful lightness of the moment shifts into something more serious.

“I know,” he says quietly, his voice soft but steady. His gaze meets hers, and there's a depth in his eyes that wasn’t there before. "I know we’re not together, Amari. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy this… whatever this is."

Amari takes in a slow breath, the weight of the conversation settling in her chest. She hadn’t meant to bring it up like this, but the clarity of her thoughts is something she needs to express. She shifts slightly, pulling back a bit so she can look at him properly.

“I don’t want to make things messy, B,” she says, her voice steady but carrying the vulnerability that she’s been holding onto. “I care about you, but we’ve got our own lives and things to figure out. I don’t want us to get lost in something that isn’t going anywhere.”

Brendan doesn’t look offended or distant. Instead, he listens, nodding slowly, as if he’s been expecting this conversation to come at some point. He’s quiet for a long moment before he responds, his words measured but honest.

"I get it, Mari," he says, his voice low. "I respect that. I never want to make things complicated or push you into something you don’t want. I guess I just… like spending time with you." He chuckles softly, the tension easing in his own way. "I guess I was hoping it could be more, but I’m not trying to rush anything."

Amari’s heart feels a little lighter hearing that. His honesty and understanding calm some of the nerves she didn’t realize she had. She appreciates that he’s not trying to force anything or make her feel guilty for speaking her mind.

“I appreciate that, B,” she says, her eyes softening. “And I do enjoy our time together. I just don’t want us to end up in a situation where one of us gets hurt because we were too caught up in something we didn’t really want.”

Brendan nods again, this time with a more serious look in his eyes. "Yeah, I hear you. We’re on the same page."

There’s a quiet moment between them, the air a little less heavy, but still full of unspoken understanding. Amari leans back into him, but this time, it’s a bit different—more grounded, more aware of where they both stand.

“I’m glad we talked about it,” she murmurs, her voice quieter now. “It feels good to clear the air.”

“Me too,” Brendan replies softly, his arm wrapping around her again, but with a new sense of ease and respect. "And whatever this is, I’m good with it."

Amari inhales deeply, her thoughts momentarily drifting from the serious conversation to the undeniable presence of Brendan beside her. His shirtless frame, the tattoos inked across his chest and arms, the warmth radiating from his skin, all of it pulls her in once more. There’s a magnetic force in the way he sits—relaxed, confident, yet somehow still so approachable.

Her gaze lingers a moment longer, drawn to the way his muscles move beneath his skin, the subtle strength he exudes even in stillness. The connection between them shifts again, this time with an undeniable tension that neither of them can deny.

Brendan notices her change in posture, the slight shift in her body, and he watches her carefully, sensing the change in the atmosphere. A playful glint enters his eyes, but this time, it’s tempered by something deeper, something more introspective. He knows what she’s feeling, and he feels it too, but there’s a new understanding in the way he waits for her to decide how she wants to navigate it.

“Amari…” he says her name softly, almost as if testing the waters, his voice steady yet laced with curiosity. "You sure about this? About us?"

His question is gentle, but the underlying tension in his words makes it clear that he’s not pushing, just making sure they’re still on the same page despite the pull between them. He’s giving her the space to either step back or lean in, respecting whatever choice she makes.

Amari swallows, her heart racing a little faster, and her eyes flick up to meet his. The words she’s been holding back seem to fall away as the warmth between them intensifies, her restraint dissolving with every beat of her heart. It’s as if everything they’ve said, every conversation they’ve had, no longer matters in this moment. What’s left is simply the undeniable chemistry, the raw connection that’s always been there beneath the surface.

Without saying a word, she leans forward, her lips meeting his in a slow, deliberate kiss. It’s a kiss that says everything, that answers his question without a need for more words. She’s not backing away, not this time. And when she pulls back, her eyes are filled with a new, unspoken understanding.

“Yeah,” she says quietly, her voice full of desire, no longer guarded. “I’m sure.”

Brendan moves with a sense of purpose, his hands gently but firmly pulling Amari onto his lap. The movement is natural, like they’ve both been waiting for this, and as she settles against him, her body aligns with his effortlessly. She can feel the heat of his skin beneath her, the tension between them palpable.

For a moment, they both remain still, taking in the closeness. The feel of her body pressed against his, the rhythm of their breaths syncing, it all heightens the quiet intimacy of the moment. Amari’s heart beats faster, her pulse quickening as she realizes just how much she wants to be here, in this space, with him.

Brendan’s hands rest on her hips, fingers lightly tracing the curve of her waist as he looks up at her with a mixture of desire and tenderness. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes now, something deeper than just attraction—it’s the recognition of a connection that neither of them can ignore.

He leans in closer, his lips brushing against her neck as he whispers, "Are you sure about this, Mari?" His voice is low, husky, filled with both curiosity and something more.

Amari meets his gaze, her eyes filled with a fire that matches his. She doesn’t need to say anything this time. The way she presses herself closer to him, the way her hands find the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss, speaks louder than words ever could.

The kiss deepens as they both surrender to the moment, letting the world outside fall away. There’s no more hesitation, no more second-guessing. Just the feeling of their bodies moving together, a perfect harmony of desire and connection.

The morning light filters through the blinds, casting a soft glow across the room. Amari stirs awake, the warmth of the bed wrapping around her like a comforting cocoon. She glances over at Brendan's side of the bed, empty, before hearing the sound of running water from the bathroom. A few moments later, the door opens, and Brendan emerges, brushing his teeth casually, his expression relaxed.

Amari takes in the sight of him—shirtless, his tattoos on full display, his hair still damp from the shower. There’s a peacefulness in the way he moves, and for a second, she allows herself to simply enjoy the moment, watching him with a quiet smile.

He notices her gaze and raises an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He spits into the sink, wiping his mouth before turning to her. “Morning,” he says, his voice still husky from sleep.

“Morning,” she replies, her voice soft, though there's a certain warmth in her tone. She shifts slightly in the bed, pulling the shirt she borrowed tighter around her, suddenly feeling more self-conscious than she did the night before.

Brendan steps toward the bed, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her forehead. “How’d you sleep?” he asks, the casual affection in his voice making her heart flutter.

“Better than I expected,” she responds, her smile growing a little. "You?"

“Same,” he says, sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking at her with a mix of contentment and curiosity. “How’s everything feeling? No regrets?”

Amari chuckles softly, shaking her head. "No regrets," she says, meeting his eyes with a sense of clarity. "It’s just... I wasn’t really expecting to wake up here, but I’m not upset about it."

Brendan’s eyes soften, and he reaches over to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m glad you’re not," he says quietly, his voice serious but not overbearing. "We’re good, right?"

She nods, her gaze steady on him. “Yeah. We’re good.”

A comfortable silence falls between them, and for a moment, it feels like the world outside the room doesn’t matter. It’s just the two of them, sharing this quiet moment, free of the complexities that often come with situations like this. Amari feels a sense of peace, but also a flicker of curiosity about what comes next.

“So,” she says after a beat, her smile playful as she glances up at him. “What now?”

Brendan grins, brushing his hand through his damp hair. “How about breakfast?” he suggests, standing up from the bed. “I think you deserve something other than my bed to wake up to.”

Amari chuckles, feeling the ease between them. “Sounds good to me.”

“Did we have sex last night?” She asks. He smirks. “No. But we did make out.” He says.

Brendan’s smirk widens slightly as he sits back on the edge of the bed, eyeing Amari with a playful glint in his eyes. He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest, looking both relaxed and teasing. “No, we didn’t,” he replies with a teasing tone, “but we definitely made out.”

Amari raises an eyebrow, a mixture of amusement and curiosity crossing her face. She tries to remember the details of the night before, but the haze of sleep and the overwhelming intimacy of it all makes it hard to pinpoint.

“Honestly?” she asks, sounding slightly surprised but not disappointed. “I don’t even remember how we ended up here. I guess we really just... kept things low-key, huh?”

Brendan chuckles, shifting his position to face her more directly. “I think we both just enjoyed being around each other last night,” he says thoughtfully, “and decided not to rush anything. And honestly, it was nice not to have to jump into anything.”

Amari laughs lightly, finally feeling a sense of ease. “Well, I’m glad that we weren’t in some weird, blurry ‘morning after’ situation, then,” she says with a smirk, clearly relieved.

“No weirdness,” Brendan assures her with a wink, leaning forward a little. “Just us, being real and honest.”

There’s a moment of understanding between them, a quiet acknowledgment that whatever their dynamic is, it’s not something either of them needs to rush into or label immediately. It’s comfortable, and there’s no pressure to make it anything more than it is right now.

“Alright,” Amari says, finally sitting up and stretching. “So, no wild stories to tell about last night, huh?”

“Not unless you count making out like teenagers,” he says, grinning. “But if you’re asking for wild... that’s definitely a ‘maybe’ for later.”

Amari laughs, the tension easing further between them. “Good to know. So, breakfast?”

“Definitely,” Brendan says with a smile, extending a hand to help her up. “Let’s see if I can cook something edible, or if we’re stuck ordering takeout.”

“But first.” He says as he kisses her again. Amari smiles, her eyes meeting his with a mix of amusement and something deeper, more drawn to the unspoken connection they’re sharing. She doesn’t say anything at first, letting the moment unfold naturally. Then, without hesitation, Brendan leans in and presses his lips to hers again—a soft kiss at first, slow and deliberate.

The kiss deepens as the world outside seems to fade away, and all that matters is the two of them in this quiet, intimate space. It's a reminder that, even without words, they’re both fully present with each other in this moment. The gentle pressure of his lips on hers stirs something inside her, a warmth that radiates from her chest.

She pulls back after a few moments, a faint blush coloring her cheeks as she looks at him, her breath slightly heavier. "You’re really trying to distract me from breakfast, aren’t you?"

Brendan chuckles, brushing a strand of hair out of her face, his touch lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice playful. “But I just couldn’t help myself.”

Amari shakes her head, though the smile on her lips betrays the playful banter between them. “Alright, alright,” she says, finally standing up and stretching once more. “Breakfast it is. But next time, I’m calling the shots on distractions.”

Brendan laughs, following her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that,” he says, walking toward the kitchen. The moment of tenderness has passed, but there’s an ease and a comfort in the space between them now—no expectations, just a shared understanding of the time they’ve spent together.

Later that day she is waiting for another appointment when Brendan comes in. 

Amari sits in the waiting area, flipping through a magazine, trying to pass the time before her next appointment. She’s only half-focused on the pages, her thoughts drifting back to the morning and the quiet moments she shared with Brendan. Her mind replays the kiss they’d shared before breakfast, and she can’t help but smile to herself. It was an easy, comfortable morning, but now, she’s not sure where things are going.

As she looks up, the door to the office opens, and in walks none other than Brendan. He’s dressed casually, a black hoodie over a t-shirt, his usual cool demeanor intact. When he spots her, a smile spreads across his face, and he heads toward her, clearly recognizing the surprise in her expression.

"Didn’t expect to see you here again so soon," Amari says, her voice a mix of amusement and mild surprise.

Brendan grins, leaning against the doorway. “Well, you know I can’t stay away for too long,” he teases. “Besides, I had a bit of time, so I thought I’d drop by. You look like you're waiting for something important."

She chuckles lightly, a hint of playfulness in her eyes. "I’m just killing time. Got another appointment. Nothing too exciting."

“Good thing I showed up then,” he says, stepping into the room. "I’m much more exciting than whatever you’ve got going on."

Amari raises an eyebrow but doesn’t argue. "I’d say you’re right. But I’m trying to keep things professional here."

Brendan smirks, clearly unfazed by her comment. “You’re always so serious. I think you just like to keep me on my toes."

"Maybe," she replies, leaning back in her chair. "But you know how it is. Can't make things too easy for you."

He moves closer, standing just a little too close for comfort. "Easy?" he repeats, his voice dropping a bit lower. "I’m not sure you’ve ever made anything easy for me, Mari."

Amari feels a spark of tension between them, but she tries to keep her composure. "I never said I would."

Brendan chuckles, clearly enjoying the playful back and forth. “Well, you’ve definitely got me hooked," he says with a wink, before taking a seat beside her.

For a moment, they sit in comfortable silence, the space between them charged with unspoken understanding. Amari wonders if this is where their dynamic is headed—casual but undeniably intense. Before she can fully process her thoughts, the receptionist calls her name, and she stands up, ready to head into her appointment.

“Guess that’s me,” she says, glancing over her shoulder at him. “Don’t go getting any ideas while I’m gone.”

Brendan laughs softly. “No promises. Catch you later, Mari.”

As she walks away, Amari can’t shake the feeling that things between them are only just beginning to get more complicated.

Amari pauses in the doorway, her hand on the handle when Brendan’s voice catches her attention. She turns to see him holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. He doesn’t say much, just a small smile on his face, as if he’s done something simple yet significant.

“Here,” he says, his voice casual, but there’s a certain sincerity behind his eyes.

She walks back towards him, a little confused but intrigued, and accepts the box. “What’s this?” she asks, her fingers brushing against the smooth surface of the gift.

“Open it,” Brendan replies, his gaze flicking toward the door as if he’s already halfway out.

Amari carefully unwraps the box, her curiosity piqued. Inside, she finds a key—sleek and polished, with the Mercedes logo shining in the light. Her heart skips a beat. She looks up at Brendan, speechless for a moment, before her gaze shifts outside the window. Her breath catches when she sees the G-Wagon parked outside, its dark, luxurious exterior gleaming in the sunlight.

“No... you didn’t,” she breathes, looking back at him in disbelief.

Brendan’s smirk widens as he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I did,” he says simply, his voice steady but with an underlying playfulness. “It’s yours, if you want it.”

Amari stands frozen for a moment, processing what he’s said. She walks over to the window, eyes still locked on the impressive G-Wagon. She can hardly believe it—he had to have put a lot of thought into this, a gesture that felt like more than just a gift. The weight of the gesture doesn’t escape her.

Turning back to him, her voice soft, she finally says, “Why?”

Brendan shrugs, his eyes softening a bit as he watches her. “Just thought you deserved it,” he says with a casual shrug. “It’s been a crazy few weeks. Consider it... a little thank you.”

“But—” she begins, unsure of how to respond. “This is... way more than I was expecting. You sure about this?”

Brendan steps closer to her, his expression now serious, the playful edge gone from his voice. “I’m sure. You’re not someone who just gets by on anything. You deserve something nice. And I don’t do things halfway, Mari.”

Amari’s heart races, a mix of gratitude and confusion swirling within her. She looks back at the key in her hand, the weight of it finally settling. “This is a big deal, B,” she says, her voice small but steady. “I’m not sure I know how to accept something like this.”

Brendan reaches out, gently taking her hand with the key in it. “It’s not about the car, Mari. It’s about showing you that I’m serious about being here. I want you to know I’ve got your back.”

She meets his eyes, searching for any sign of a hidden agenda, but all she sees is sincerity.

"Well..." she says after a beat, her voice still thick with emotions she hadn’t quite expected to feel. "I guess I’ll take it... but I’m not forgetting this."

Brendan smiles, the tension between them easing. "I wouldn’t want you to."

With a final look at the G-Wagon, Amari nods slowly. "Thank you, B," she says softly. "This... means more than you probably know."

Without another word, Brendan slips out the door, leaving her standing there, the weight of the key in her hand symbolizing not just the car, but the unspoken complexity of their connection.

Tags 🏷️

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @avoidthings @nayesworld @haechvn @writingsbytee @grlsbstshot @ovohanna24 @skvrpion @megamindsecretlair @notpradagurl7 @kimuzostar @kenshisluvrgirl @planetblaque @pocketsizedpanther @bimbosnbutterflies2026 @chewingmy3xtragum @easybrezzy @blowmymbackout

[baji-sideblog]

A drink with a god

Cw dubious consent, noncon (reader is drunk), no gender mentioned

༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻

The night was peaceful as always, Dio took in a deep breath. He typically traveled at night when visiting the mortal world less busy then. Easier to travel around too since no one would notice him. Walking into a local bar he sat in the corner by himself to drink in peace.

The CandleBoat was a very small bar that Dio often went to. He enjoyed it a lot it was rustic and charming run by an older man and his family. Unlike other bars he’s visited throughout his life the family who ran this one never bothered him. Most other folks would tried to smooze up to the god thinking he was a rich patron that they could get more money from. It annoyed him he comes to bars to be alone to drink not to be hassled by more people. So the CandleBoat was a diamond in the rough since they just let him be.

“A nice break from the little idiots. Good old beer my friend how I missed you.”

Ten drinks in and Dio was still very much sober and very aware of you walking in fast hurrying away from a man following you. Dio wasn’t one to get involved in mortal’s lives, but he’d make an acceptance tonight. Walking over he stood by your side staring down at the man. It was obvious you didn’t know who the creep was following you.

“Sweetheart you kept me waiting. I was worried about you I was just about to go looking for you.”

He noticed how nervous and overwhelmed you looked, and a hint of relief in yours eyes that he was helping you out. Dio gently wrapped his arm around you pulling you close. Looking at the creep following you it was obvious he wasn’t sure what to do now that Dio came over.

“Let’s go sit down, okay?”

Leading you to his booth he had you sit on the inside and he sat down on the outside on guard. He lowers his voice talking just loud enough for only you to hear him.

“You okay?”

“I guess…just scared.”

“Of course. You can stay as long as you need by my side. Rest assured that man won’t bother you anymore.”

The god gave you a gentle smile subtly waving his hand in the direction of the creep casting a curse on the man. Oblivi would have fun with punishing his soul soon. His yellow and pink eyes look deep into yours, he had to admit you were a gorgeous mortal inside and out. He could feel his heart racing from being nearby you how odd, this was definitely new for him. The god thought to himself.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a mortal that’s peaked my interest like this one before.”

Dio turned away from you to watch as the creep left the bar, he started counting in his head. After 45 seconds he could hear the thud of the man’s body falling to the ground dead in the alleyway. With another subtle wave of his hand Dio made the body rot so fast it was like it was never there, all while he was still in his seat. No mortal would have any clue what happened which was for the best.

“He’s gone, you’re safe now. Here you can have a sip of my beer if you want, you look like you need something to take the edge off. Warning you it’s strong and hits fast since this one is brewed with giants in mind.”

His hand gently pushed the cup to you there was only a quarter left, before looking away to raise his right hand to order a water for you. He kept his left arm around you even though the man was gone Dio didn’t want to let go. Looking back Dio was a bit taken aback to see you had almost finished the beer that he had left.

“Haha looks like I was right about you needing it. Never seen someone chug a beer that fast before.”

He smiles at you gently, before noticing how red your face was getting. You were swaying a bit your eyes drooping. He sighs shaking his head and gets up gently taking your hand and leads you out of the booth. Paying his bill he takes you out the bar and walks you home. He kept his arm around you to support you. Dio was glad he could just know where you live with his abilities since he wasn’t sure how well you would talk in your state.

Once he got to your apartment he opened it up and laid you down on your bed. Before he could pull away you grabbed onto his arm.

“Please stay..”

“You’re drunk, you don’t want me too.”

“I do, I really do. I neeed you please.”

Hearing your needy voice made the man want to fold right there. He never heard someone ask for him so intimately, so tempting it was. His heart ached. Dio goes to take your hand off of his arm when you sat up and kiss him. The god froze he wasn’t use to this, but he doesn’t pull away.

“I can’t, they’re a mortal. But this feels so right. Is this what Obelix always drones on about..love? If it is then what’s the harm in indulging I can just fix anything need be.”

He kissed you back joining you onto the bed quick to undress himself. Your hands messily take off your own clothes leaving yourself nude to him. Dio let his second pair of arms appear grabbing at your hips rubbing them. As his first pair holds your cheeks as you two made out. He groans through the kiss feeling your hands touch his cock it harden under your touch. You could feel it was rather thick and had pronounced veins. Pulling away he leaves kisses from your lips down to your neck before biting into your flesh leaving a mark. Once he knew it wouldn’t fade any time soon he pulled away Dio and licked the area.

“So delicious, spread your legs now.”

Once your legs were spread Dio grabs your thighs and pulls them up and over his shoulders. Your back was on the bed one pair of hands on your hips the others your thighs. His long thick tongue teased at your sensitive hole before forcing his way in. The man took his time to eat you out making sure to get you nice and prepared. Your moans echoed through your bedroom and only grew louder when his tongue hits that special spot. He chuckles the vibrations made you squeal. Using his tongue he curls it up in you to make your toes curl.

Pulling away for just a moment he spat at your hole to make sure it was wet before going back for seconds. Dio had never tasted something as divine as you before. He could feel your legs quivering as you got closer to your release. And just before you do he pulls out his tongue from you licking his lips.

“No, not yet baby. You’re going to cum when I tell you to. So be good and hold it for daddy.”

Pulling your legs off of him and setting them down, he grabs onto shoulders and hips flipping you onto your belly. He forced you onto your knees positioning himself behind you. Dio felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine seeing you like this for him. His cock twitches and aches from excitement. Slowly he entered inside of you doing shallow thrust. His hand finds its way to the middle of your back putting enough force on you to keep you down.

His thrust get faster the sounds of wet slaps and yours moan turned the god on more. He could feel your body cling onto his cock with each hard thrust. With the speed he was going at it made you feel like your insides were being rearranged. Dio could get use to this having you by his side constantly.

“Good baby, good baby. Fuck I’m never letting you go. You’re mine now. Forever.”

The god’s chest lays against your back his hand reaches under you touching your chest. Lost in the pleasure, possessiveness clouded Dio’s mind. He didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to lose such a prefect person, he just wanted to have you forever. Casting a spell he linked your soul to his as soulmates. Pulling up from your back Dio presses your chest against the wall to help get leverage to let him hey deeper in you.

“I can feel your body quivering, you’re going to cum baby? Well then cum. Cum while daddy fucks his cum deep into your slutty body.”

Pleasure took over your body as you climax hard your body shaking and tried. Dio growls as he cums in you, he wraps his arms around you lying down while keeping his cock inside.

“Look at you, good job. You did so good taking all of me. I never felt like this before. Damn I didn’t ever realize how pent up I was till now.”

You could feel his cock twitching as it continues pumping you full of his cum even after a couple of minutes have passed. He kisses your lips lovingly watching you as you drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight…my love. I’ll be here once you wake forever.”

༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻ ༺𓆩❦𓆪༻

[echantedtoon]

Can you please write Dad Top 3 moons reaction to their babies being scared of ridiculous things? 😭 I need more dad upper moons.

KOKUSHIBO:

-It started with him agreeing to watch the twins so you could finally get a full night's sleep for once. They're more active at night than day(I wonder who they got that from). So there he was, sat down upon his knees and meditating while subconsciously keeping an eye on the two chunky babies aimlessly toddling around.

-Until one of his twins happens to curiously look at his sword- And a screech right out of some horror story erupts from their chest as they stared at their own distorted reflection within the blade. Of course one baby screeching bloody murder is enough to jolt him wide alert.

-"What is..wrong?" He's quick to instantly turn to the small child crying their eyes out and holding up their hands to be picked up, to which he does but he's very confused about what made them cry as there's nothing there to warrant them being this scared. He's pretty smart so eventually he figures out it has something to do with his sword.

-his first reaction would be to try and show his baby that it's just a sword/their reflection in the moonlight but that only causes them to scream more before hiding in his shoulder. Of course one twin crying would make the other cry, so know he's holding two screaming crying babies in his arms gently rocking them and trying to get them to hush before they wake you. He definitely makes a mental note to get a sheath for his katana now.

DOUMA:

-You ever seen one of those videos on YouTube with a baby afraid of their own shadow? That's Douma's child. The baby just never noticed the shadow before because of how often Douma holds them and they're mainly awake at night when there's not much light.

-But as they start walking more they'll develop the habit of following Daddy around to which Doumas absolutely ecstatic about and isn't his spawn the cutest thing ever! Well one day he just happens to pass by a room with a fireplace and as his mini me is toddling after him they just happen to look down.

-Douma almost trips over himself hearing his little scream behind him and whirled around to them just standing there bawling their eyes out. "Oh, dear me. What's gotten into my little lotus bud?" The baby's answer was to just continue crying calling for him and holding out his hands. "Do you want Daddy to pick you up? Oh. Is someone tired from all that nasty walking?"

-He tries to pick him up but is confused when the baby screams seeing Douma's bigger shadow. The baby now running back towards the unlit part of the room where there was no shadows. It takes Douma a good ten minutes trying to approach them as they scream at the ground to figure out that his spawn was afraid of shadows. But he thinks it's the most hilarious thing EVER. 

-Which is why when you hear your baby crying in the nursery you're shocked to see Douma holding up your baby to the wall with a lantern in the other hand. "What on earth are you doing?!" "Exposure therapy!" He's kicked out of your shared bedroom again for at least a month.

AKAZA:

-Perhaps I should've thought this through first." That's what Akaza first says while surveying the damage his fists had done to the nursery's floors and walls. To be fair those small spiders and beetles had it coming for scaring his precious little baby now curled up happy against his chest.

-He had just been helping with cleaning up the house and watching the baby so you could rest(10/10 husband and dad right there-) when he had heard his precious little bean screaming bloody murder from the nursery. 

He'd nearly kicked the door off it's hinges getting ready to fight off and intruding demon or perhaps a slayer that had discovered them but instead all he saw was his baby clutching onto a plushie and screaming at a harmless little beetle that had wondered into their play space. Well adrenaline already pumping through his veins and the thought of 'how dare this puny insect make my baby cry' was a bad combination because it left him putting quite a few holes in the wall and floors chasing after the pesky bug.

-"Your Mom's gonna kill me." The baby only laughs at his pale face hearing footsteps from you coming to see what all the racket was but then freezing seeing the fist sized holes in the wall and floors. "AKAZA!! WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING?!" "I-I can explain!"

[kitab00m101]

Holy- HOW IS THIS SO TRAUMATIZING (OP I LOVE YOU FOR THIS)

Adding onto some of them with headcanons of my own (TW selfharm-death-mental illness-blood❗️)-

Scott's skin bubbling and shifting constantly since he hasn't learned to control it yet. Grabbing at his own neck, almost strangling himself as he tries to press the gills shut. He can't think clearly, because he's never getting enough oxygen, even if he ever were to see water, he's damaged his gills so severely that he'll never properly breathe again, like so many people take for granted.

Not many people know this, but Jimmy is covered in bruises. When invisible, he trips over himself, bumps into things, as well as other people bumping into him. He's got a handful of bruises here and there because of that, but that's not why every inch of his arms and legs are black and blue. The panic he felt the first time he turned never really went away. Sometimes he'll wake up invisible, and for moments will forget about his ability. Sometimes, when he's in a really bad state, he'll hurt himself. He'll grab his arms tightly for hours on end, just reassure that they are actually there. His friends just assume that the bad people are rougher with Jimmy because he's usually more "rambunctious".

Imagine Martyn being put in isolation, with sound proof barriers when he gets his ability because the facility doesn't want him hearing things he shouldn't. He goes mad in. There are chips in his ears from him clawing at them. He's missing tufts of his hair. He used to scream so much when he first got his power, to the point where now his voice is permanently broken and wheezy. He used to hope that if he was loud enough, desperate enough, his cries could overpower All. That. Noise.

Imagine Ren subconsciously shifting to have certain features from Martyn, creeping out all their other friends, but they never tell him that. They know that he's been broken ever since they took Martyn away from him. As the months go on, Ren starts to forget his own features- but it doesn't matter. All he has to do is remember Martyn. His hair, his eyes, his smile. Ren doesn't have a smile of his own anymore, because the last time he smiled was at Martyn. He smiled back.

Scar finding out his power, and jokingly shadow boxing, saying how he's gonna take down any guard who messes with him or his friends- Then someone comes up behind him, and mid-punch he turns around, his fist making contact with Mumbo's shoulder. Scar freezes, but it's too late. Mumbo flies meters away, thrown to the ground. His arm is barely even connected to his body, there's blood pouring out of his mouth. Scar rushes to his friend's side, and goes pale at the sight of the man's flattened ribcage.

Later on, Cleo shoving the mindless corpses of Skizz and Mumbo around, acting like she could bully them into being normal again. Through the hallways, you can sometimes hear her crying- "Look at me- look at me Skizz!" "NO, No, no, no- Mumbo, I can fix you- I promise, just please lift up your head" "you're gonna be okay- you can still be with us, you don't have to go..."

The first time BigB summons a creaking, he's being escorted by a guard through a hall. He hears the footsteps coming up to them, and meets the creature’s eyes. The guard opens fire, only causing bullets to ricochet off its bark, while BigB stands there, never pulling his eyes from the creaking monster. He blinks for a millisecond, turning to run, and that's when he heard the guard's final breath. BigB watched as the branch through the man's chest lowered him to the ground. The creaking just kept looking at BigB, and it took him ages too long to realize that it would hurt everyone around but him.

Imagine Gem looking over her shoulder, and seeing Mumbo and Skizz for the first time in... too long. Shutting her eyes and contuining to walk. Calling herself crazy as tears start to form, until she feels a hand on her shoulder. She looks back and sees her own body, crumbled to the ground. When she uses her powers, her eyes seem to disappear, almost like Grian's black, void like eyes. She spends hours of her day crying into Skizz's arms while Mumbo tries his very hardest to give her words of comfort.

Tango's heart is always beating too fast, to the point where it'll start to hurt. The running helps relieve the pain, but it doesn't go away. When trapped in his cell, the camera's frame rate can't keep up with him. The screens in the security camera room just show four orange figures that change every could seconds, all of them with expressions of rage or desperation.

Lizzie attempting to make her escape, but as she runs down the halls, the screams of panicked from her friends disorient her. The guards eventually find her banging on the steel door of Joel's cell, screaming that she's sorry.

Imagine seeing Pearl with raw finger tips, sometimes with her entire palm covered in her own blood, and having no clue as to why until you walk into her cell, and see the claw marks in the concrete ceiling. Engravings from every time she'd had a breakdown and tried so hard to get to the open sky.

Etho always keeping his hands behind his back or in his pockets so the very thought of using his ability never crosses his mind.

Imagine Grian trying out each of his friends powers, and having to go through each and every single one of these torturous moments.

I JUST HAD A REALLY COOL IDEA FOR AN AU BASED ON THE NEW WILD LIFE EPISODE. HEAVY(?) ANGST UP AHEAD AND ALSO SPOILERS TO SESSION 7 SO BE WARNED!

LIFE SERIES MEMBERS BUT THEY GOT THEIR POWERS FROM LAB EXPERIMENTATION!!!!!

Okay I'm switching to lowercase so I'm not just screaming at you guys haha

[EDIT] Guess who’s fully elaborating on this AU with Subject files and a fic? :3

Project X Master Post

===============================

Imagine Martyn curled up in the corner of his cell, covering his ears bc he doesn't know how to block things out and everything is so loud.

Imagine Scott transforming from an aquatic creature back to his regular form, but he still has gills, and he panics when he can't breathe.

Imagine Jimmy turning in invisible for the first time and not knowing how to turn back, and he thinks he's stuck that way forever.

Imagine Ren transforming the first few times, but there's always something off about him. He looks eerie, like something from uncanny valley.

Imagine Scar not knowing his own strength and jokingly punching Mumbo, only to send him flying into the wall and causing his death.

Imagine Cleo trying so hard to get Mumbo and Skizz to act the way that they used to when she summons them, but it's never truly them. Something is always wrong.

Imagine BigB being terrified when he summons the creaking for the first time, not realizing they're on his side and thinking they'll attack him.

Imagine Gem astral projecting as an escapism, talking to Mumbo and Skizz and "leaving" the facility, but she can't truly leave.

Imagine Impulse and Tango nearly getting to escape with their powers, their friends cheering them on from inside their cells, and just when they're in the clear, Impulse gets tranquilized and falls unconscious. Tango can't bare to leave his buddy behind. They both get collars that block their abilities and heavy monitoring after that stunt.

Lizzie feels bad about her power. She's tried to escape as well, but when she realized the blindness affected her friends, it freaked her out so much that security was able to catch up to her and take her back to her cell.

Imagine Bdubs sleeping diligently through every night and dealing with nightmares of the hell they've all been put through so his friends don't.

Imagine Pearl wishing she could fly out in the open air, desperate for that kind of freedom that she knows she will never have.

Imagine Etho trying to bring down his mace to pretend to hit Bdubs, and when he move to the side to dodge, it actually puts him in the way of Etho's strike. The absolute terror that fills Etho is so bad that he never jokes like that again, even if it barely hurt him.

Imagine Joel looking around and analyzing the rooms, thinking of how he could scale the walls with his ability to escape through an air vent, but he can never bring himself to do it because he refuses to leave Lizzie.

Imagine Grian being physically and emotionally strained trying to learn everyone's powers and how to properly use them, wishing he just had one of his own instead.

Imagine Skizz and Mumbo both dying (Skizz due to the intense tests and Mumbo due to the effects the testing had on Scar) before they had a chance to gain powers of their own. Don't imagine those powers being just what the group needs to escape.

===============================

I think I might write each of these as a one shot. That would certainly be a LOT of fun :) lmk what you guys think please!

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic Preview

A sneak peek of the next chapter of Come Away, O Human Child

“Where did all the water go?”

“All right, you can just drop Chris off at Abuela’s after you two get back from the pier today…she’s gonna keep him overnight,” Eddie says as he enters the kitchen, still threading his belt through the loops on his pants.

Buck salutes him half-heartedly with his coffee mug, still mostly asleep and slumped over on the kitchen table. He makes a vaguely content noise when Eddie runs his hand through his hair on the way to the coffeepot, reaching up to snag his partner’s wrist and reeling him in for a brief, toothpaste-flavored kiss before letting him go. He watches Eddie fill his travel mug and add cream and sugar to his liking, enjoying the way the early-morning sunlight creeping in through the window over the sink paints his partner’s skin in warm, golden light.

“You sure you still feel like taking him out? You could just go see a movie or something—or even just hang out and play video games all day. He won’t be disappointed,” Eddie says, rifling through the pantry and pulling out a couple of protein bars. Bobby will no doubt have an actual breakfast going at the firehouse. Just last week, Buck probably would have woken Chris up a little early and following Eddie in to eat at the 118 before setting out with Chris on their planned adventure.

He doesn’t want to right now, though. He doesn’t want to even see Bobby, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to hide his upset from the rest of the team.

“Yeah, ‘course,” he mumbles finally, when Eddie turns back to him with a raised eyebrow and he realizes he hasn’t actually answered the question. He sits up, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Eddie presses his lips together, glancing at his watch before sitting down at the table across from him. He slides his hand onto the tabletop, turning it over so his palm is open in invitation, and Buck takes it in an instant. “You’ve been really quiet since the party. And I mean…I know I said I’d give you time to get your head around whatever it is. But…I dunno, I just don’t want you to think I haven’t noticed.”

Buck’s hand tightens around Eddie’s, almost involuntarily. The words, combined with the genuine concern and care he can read in his partner’s dark eyes, settling like a warm, solid weight in his chest. “I’m all right,” he says softly, and for the moment it’s almost true.

Eddie watches him a moment longer, his gaze sharp and assessing, before finally nodding. “All right. But I still mean it—we’re sitting down while Chris is at Abuela’s and we’re hashing everything out. We’ve got this, okay?”

Buck both desperately wants and desperately wants to avoid that conversation. He is ashamed to admit it, but he’s afraid to tell Eddie what he learned about what Bobby has been doing behind the scenes to delay his recertification. Afraid to tell him about the conversation he had with Eddie’s mother right before the shield ceremony. Try as he might, he cannot drown out the part of him insisting that Eddie will agree with them. Maybe not at first…but after he has time to sit back and really think about it? After he takes a good, hard look at their arguments and reasons?

Unwanted thing. Unloved thing.

He shakes his head, trying to banish the queasy feeling in his gut that never quite vanishes lately. Deep down, he knows it’s not really fair to assume what Eddie’s thoughts will be—isn’t that partially how he got into the whole mess of not being able to speak about his curse with people who don’t already know about it? He knows he’s not doing right by Eddie, not doing right by this new thing that has sprouted between them and quickly become the most important of all the roots grounding Buck in LA…but he can’t bring himself to stop, either.

Unwanted.

“I know we do,” he says instead, swallowing back all his fears, all his doubts, swallowing them down and forcing them aside for just a little longer. Just a little more time, he thinks…a little more time to soak up this up, to wrap himself in the beautiful, impossible dream of this life, this family, this man for just a little longer.

Wait…that…that makes no sense. Eddie’s not…he hasn’t given any indication that he’s not just as in this as Buck is. He isn’t acting like it’s all temporary. He’s pulled Buck right into the center of his family, with him and Chris. He’s carved out space in his home, his life, offered it all up to Buck. Eddie’s mother is wrong. Eddie’s not going to just toss him aside for someone else—he would never do that to Buck. Why is he—

His head aches.

Poor unwanted thing…

“Where did all the water go?”

*

The water rushes around him, battering, pulling, clawing at his body. Debris slams into him—wood, garbage, carnival toys, branches, food, the collected detritus of the boardwalk that is now underwater and he can barely cling to the string of lights stretching over him. His ocean boon burns on his chest, the magic Sara and Rafael gifted him with feeling like acid dripping through him as he turns his head and vomits up water he’d swallowed. The boon makes it hard for him to drown in seawater—will help him stay afloat, will force his body to expel water, can increase his lung capacity.

But it is not gentle about it.

“Christopher!” he screams. “Chris!” He searches the churning, frothing water, his eyes darting over the debris bobbing along like toys in some giant’s bathtub. Cars and bikes and shopping bags and canvas tents that had housed boardwalk games, God how will he find Chris in all this? “Chris!” he screams again, his throat burning, panic choking him. All he can hear is the roar of water, the ocean tearing into the land, racing through the streets and upending everything. He can’t find him. Then, faintly, so faintly he almost misses it:

“Buck!”

He gasps, pulling himself up as far out of the water as he can. “Chris? Chris!” He scans his surroundings, his heart pounding, fear and adrenaline crashing through him. Finally, finally he catches a glimpse of the yellow shirt Christopher was wearing, a small, dark head bobbing above the torrent. Chris clings to a streetlamp, a few dozen yards away. “Christopher! I see you! I’m coming!”

There is no room for hesitation, for planning. He closes his eyes, centers himself, and lets go of the cable, plunging back down into the rushing water. The boon pulses on his chest and he lets the magic take him, his perfect faith in the gift his friends had given him carrying him as he cuts through the wild water like an arrow, aiming as best he can for Chris. The current is strong, impossible to fight, and even the ocean boon can’t give him the power he’d need to completely control his trajectory. He ducks under the water and comes up again, straining towards the lamppost Chris is barely hanging onto. He’s a strong swimmer even without the ocean boon, always has been, but the water rushing around him is a force of nature, utter chaos. He’s not going to be able to hit the post head on, the current tugging him to the side, pushing him away, away, away.

“Grab my hand!” he bellows desperately, turning over on his back and trying to tread water, slow himself enough to give Chris time to orient himself; get ready. “Reach out and grab my hand!”

Chris tries. For a split-second Buck thinks he’s going to make it and he strains forward, kicking against the water, reaching for Chris as hard as he can.

“No! No, no!” Not far enough. The tips of his fingers barely brush Christopher’s, the water carrying him away before he can latch onto the boy’s hand. For a moment, he thinks Chris is going to let go of the pole to try and dive after him and new horror rushes through him. “No, Chris! Stay right there!”

“I can’t hold on!” Christopher screams, terror cracking his small voice.

“Just hold on, Christopher!” he begs, searching for something, anything he can grab and brace himself on. Chris is going to lose his grip. It’s going to happen and Buck will have one chance to save him. One chance to reach him. If he loses Christopher now, he’ll die. He’ll drown in the frothing, rabid waves or he’ll be crushed by some flooded debris, but he will die. Buck has one chance.

He catches a drift of debris out of the corner of his eye—piled up vehicles, maybe some kind of food cart, with what looks like a surfboard sticking out further into the water—and twists his body, pulling towards it until he fetches up hard against the board. Christopher howls his name as he pulls himself from the water, turns, braces himself ready to leap.

He has one chance.

Christopher’s grip slips from the streetlamp.

"Where did all the water go?"

[melosliving]

kelvin harrison jr x pregnant!reader

warning : overly cuuute husband kelvin (I need him)

husband!kelvin who knew he wanted you to be the mother of his kids after y’all kissed for the first time.

husband!kelvin who couldn’t help but smile every time he would see you running towards every kid you would see at a family function.

husband!kelvin who chokes with either his drink or his spit when asked about a baby with you.

"Damn you be in my business ?"

"Well.."

"Don’t do that." he would laugh.

husband!kelvin who overtime develops the cute habit of caressing your belly when cuddling with you before sleeping.

husband!kelvin who annoyingly starts to sing random lullabies, which leads to you being pissed off because the songs are now stuck in your head.

husband!kelvin who quietly snaps pictures of you each time you find yourself with a baby in your arms, gushing about how beautiful you look.

bestie!aaron who tells kelvin he has a baby fever, which makes him wonder if you actually wanted to have kids with him.

"bro, look how cute she looks !" he said, showing aaron a picture of you holding your cousin’s son.

"you would make cute babies, that’s for sure."

"huh ?" he asked, dumbfounded. "you think she wants to have kids with me ?" he seriously asked aaron.

"brother, I don’t think she would’ve accepted to get married to you if she didn’t want your babies." aaron simply answers.

"You right ! hum.. baby ?" kelvin said, now searching for you.

husband!kelvin who when he finally finds you in the kitchen, feeding one of your brother’s kid, definitely knows he wants to have kids with you. Now.

"you would make the best mother, you know that baby ?" he says, coming behind you while circling his arms around you.

pregnant!reader who is a mess after actually finding out she was indeed pregnant and immediately calls Kelvin’s mom.

husband!kelvin who laughed in your sister’s face when she congratulated him, not knowing he didn’t know you were pregnant.

husband!kelvin who cries in your arms when you told him you were pregnant. He never let you go after that.

husband!kelvin who decided to buy a camera and record every little thing you would do. From the first sonogram, to the first clothes you bought for the baby, etc.. at every end of the day he would film himself saying good night to the baby.

"okay, so today we’re finding out if you’re a boy or a girl ! What are you thinking mama ?" He says, turning the camera so you would be seen on the screen.

Sitting pretty in the passenger seat, you put your sunglasses on, smiling. "I think it is a girl," you say, caressing your 4 month belly. "I do too actually !" Kelvin nodded.

husband!kelvin who can help but feel bad for you every time you would throw up and crave weird things such as ice with pickles (wtfff) but would nonetheless give you anything you desire.

husband!kelvin who can’t help but worship the ground you walk on everyday. His eyes would glisten each time he would see you wear whatever that made your pretty bump visible.

"smile for the camera mama !" he would say.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would jump out of the bed when you told him that your water broke, freaking out already.

soon-to-be-father!kelvin who holds your hand through it all, looking at you with concern as he watched your face contorting in pain. he would do anything to ease your pain : ice chips ? He got you. Hand ? Take it. Need him close ? he would do anything to be in your skin.

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who is so proud of you for going through all of this and handling it like the champ you are !

"You’re doing so good baby, I’m so proud of you." He would whispered in your ear, still holding your hand. He would then kiss your forehead as you pushed. "c’mon you got it, the baby is almost here mama."

Soon-to-be-father!kelvin who would be nosy as hell, trying to see the baby coming out of you in live, almost pushing the doctor and nurses just so he could see.

girl dad!kelvin who waited a whole 9 months to be able to sing to you "your pum pum bring life ! your tight pum pum bring life !" While holding y’all daughter.

"You’ve got so much hair my love ! Yeah, you’re so pretty.."

@ melosliving 2025

[i-heart-yellowstone]

Callin’ Somebody Mama

Tags [ @kmc1989 @tallrock35 @pear-1206

The cold Montana wind blew my hair all around except in my face while I rode beside my boyfriend Lee on horseback. Eyeing the herd of cattle running across the field yet I noticed a mama caff slowly walking behind the rest of the group. Tugging the reins of my horse I pointed towards the mama caff knowing something wasn’t right with her. “Lee, do you see that? I think she’s hurt. Let’s go.” Kicking my horse in its side my horse Chloe ran towards the injured cattle where I dismounted my horse a few steps away from the animal.

Lee followed after me, dismounting his horse carrying a rope in his hands just in case the mama cattle decided to run off when we tried to help her. “Looks like a breach. Can we get her up?”

“No. We’ll pull it while she’s down.” I dropped down onto my knees wrapping my arms around the mama’s stomach holding her down onto the ground with all the strength I could so she didn’t kick me or run off.

Lee bent down behind the mama’s back legs looking between them to see the baby trying to get out. “You got her, Y/n?”

“Yeah. You got the legs.” I nodded, feeling the mama beginning to squirm.

Lee grunted pulling the baby calf out by its legs pushing the mama and baby apart for a minute after I had fallen down onto my back to avoid getting kicked by the calf’s mama who had jumped up. “Woo - that could’ve gone a lot worse. Here, are you alright there?”

“Sure. I just decided to take a nap on the ground like this after delivering a calf.” Crossing my arms over the back of my head I stuck my tongue out at him teasingly.

He extended his hand down to me, pulling me upright to stand with him. “Forget that I asked.” He found a large rock off to the side of the area where we had just delivered the calf as me and Lee took a seat down to rest for a moment.

Lee and I had been together since middle school. He had nervously asked me out to our junior prom. My mother had gotten pregnant with me at the age of 13 so when he asked me out she was slightly worried I’d get pregnant just like she had. Thankfully Lee was raised right and we had taken things simple and slow by just spending time together working his family’s ranch.

I didn’t think I’d like being a rancher growing up. According to Lee you’d never get a day off from the work of raising the food that you would later eat. But somehow I began to fall in love with it and I knew it had to do with how much joy it brought the oldest Dutton son. He puts his heart and soul into this life and the land and that’s beautiful to watch.

Shifting my gaze across the field I ran a hand through my messy braid watching the mama and her baby calf begin walking around together. “Lee, don’t punch me for asking this but what do you see when you look at that calf?”

“I see a life I gotta feed and defend until it grows up and feeds me.”

I pretended to play dumb tilting my head to the side with curiosity. “So that calf is your baby now. Congratulations, you're a mother.”

“Please don’t start calling me mama, Y/n.” He shook his head in embarrassment.

I couldn’t resist and he knew he had just set himself up to be teased. “Mama Lee, it has a nice ring to it.”

“Seriously, don't start telling my siblings to call me that would you.” He begged me, looking in my direction fiddling with the tan cowboy hat sitting on his head.

Scooting over to him I whispered in his ear with a grin on my face. “Mama Lee.”

“Y/n, please stop.”

“Mana Lee, what are you going to name your baby huh?” I questioned him before he sharply turned his head around getting in my face when he blurted out his next response.

“I'd rather be calling you mama then my girlfriend anymore.”

Blinking my eyes a couple of times I became confused at what he had just said to me. “Wha-what. How could I become a mother if I'm not your girlfriend anymore?”

“By becoming my wife and having my children.” Lee responded by getting up from the ground and lowering himself down onto one knee right in front of my eyes. He dug inside his tan jacket pocket taking out a small black box, opening it to reveal a small ring.

Bringing my hands to my mouth I felt tears welling in my eyes at what was happening right before me. “Lee, you can't seriously be -”

“Proposing, oh yeah I am.” He takes one of my hands in his, holding onto the ring with the other. “Y/n, I never knew you'd be the woman that I fell in love with. I always thought we'd just stay friends until our junior prom rolled around and all I could think about was asking you to be my date. Now you're sitting here as my girlfriend and even that doesn't seem to be enough. I want - I want to call you mine forever. I want to call you my wife. I want to have kids with you - honestly there's no one else I want to spend the rest of my life with on this ranch. So will you marry me?”

Throwing my arms around his neck I tackled him down onto the ground where he clutched the ring in his hand so he didn’t lose it. “I love you, Lee Dutton.”

“I love you too - but uh - does that mean you're saying yes.” He chuckled sitting upright keeping me sitting in his lap, showing me the ring again.

Giggling in response I held out my left hand letting him slide the ring on my finger. “Yes, yes, yes I'll marry you.” The ring had a simple light blue jewel in the middle of it and was somewhat familiar to me for some reason when I sent my now fiancé a look of curiosity.

“It's my mothers ring. I asked my father if I could pass it down to you. I hope you like it.”

Leaning forward I slowly kissed the oldest Dutton with a grin on my lips. “I love it just as much as I love you.” He smiles, kissing me and I hold back a laugh at the tickling off the beard on his chin.

“What’s that look for, Mrs. Dutton?” Lee asked me pulling away from the gentle kiss, keeping his arms wrapped around my waist holding me close to his chest.

A smirk grew across my face when the words left my mouth. “What do you say to start working on me becoming a mama eh cowboy?”

“You’re a clever girl, Mrs. Dutton.” Lee scooped me up into his arms hearing me giggle with such joy, carrying me bridal style over to our horses and we rode back to the Foreman's cabin as fast as we ever had in our lives.

[passionatelyxlust]

Focusing on Isabel's plan and stealing away Azriel temporarily dulled his emotions a little because any other distractions like the knowledge Lust made the difficult decision running with only his Prince at his side would have caused the slightest hesitation. Lust didn't have the time to think about how much he missed Gluttony, but the aching pit remained pulsing like a beacon that called out for his brother. "Of course I can hear you." The demon mumbled, confusion spreading along his facial features and in his vocal tone. Why would he not hear Gluttony? Does a dream world include the law prohibiting the one visiting another's dream from interacting with the person themselves if they weren't as experienced as a witch like Azriel? Whatever the reason for his surprise, Lust knew it involved what he witnessed in the mansion's chaotic arrangement. The demon gave his brother one final squeeze, even considering cracking another weak joke that Gluttony's hug was nearly squeezing the air out of his lungs, but his first joke didn't quite land the way he thought it would have in the past. Lust watched Azriel disappear, feeling his comforting presence through their bond before returning his attention on Gluttony. "Might be better that way not crossing paths with him. The guy's a dick sometimes and I say so with love." He and Azriel would receive the scoop on Kai's current residence soon enough when they returned home once the war has died down. For now, the silent pause breaking between the brothers gave Lust the moment absorbing the state of his sibling. Even in dream form, Gluttony appeared completely drained of the spark that made him who he was. The man Lust knew as well as himself. He could feel the sadness, the frustration, and the fatal-blowing anger emitted from him shared across the connection they carried. Three little words from Gluttony's mouth all but confirmed what Lust already knew. "I feared as much. It's always the King." Lust glanced between them, reaching out his hands to gently grip the other's closed fists, almost shocked he was now the person keeping his best friend calm. "He's not just making this personal, Gluts, he is slashing wounds and pressing down hard with his fucking finger." He could imagine who else the King has gone after, their punishments, but the severity of his brothers' damage paled in comparison to Gluttony. His voice and his souls, presumably including Josephine's, stolen and in the hands of a madman. "He did what?" Lust ground out with bubbling fury underneath his inflection. He mourned with his sibling, for him, and if anything can cause the demon wanting their King dead...it was this. The fucker can come after his more tempestuous of Princes, threaten to steal Azriel's life, but he does not shatter his brother and believe he can escape without consequences. "Gluttony, I'm coming home to you. I don't care if it places my life in danger, Az and I are returning. You needed me before and I shouldn't have abandoned you, what he did is my doing." His hands stretched forward and clutched Gluttony's shoulders, "I can't leave you to face this alone, Gluts. We're doing this together as we've always done."

Watching the two interact, he couldn't help but draw a parallel between him and his brother. Azriel always regarded him and Kai on the same level when protecting their sister, and they were. However, Kai protected him the most– and it often left Kai taking the penalties for both of them while Az tended to get off scot-free. He wasn't naive to think that the repressed anger wasn't just because of the coven's choices but because he took more onto his shoulders than he should have. A shuddered breath left Gluttony's lips, eyes widening, his voice quiet as he whispered, "you can hear me." Gluttony was so used to speaking in his mind, in his dreams, that he wondered if he was going insane or if he would be punished in his dreams, too, and forever be unheard. The Prince made no hesitation in wrapping his arms around Lust tightly like he would slip through his fingers and leave him on his own to crumble under the pressure. He knew how much he missed his brother, missed him with every fiber of his being, but seeing Lust again drove home the open chasm in his chest that couldn't be filled other than with the presence of his brother. His safety net and his other half. When Lust explained how he was there, Gluttony's brown eyes flicked to Azriel, mouthing a small 'thank you'. In response, the witch nodded, his gaze moving from between the two brothers huddling together before phasing out. Lust would feel Az never left, but they didn't need an outsider spectating. Gluttony's gaze moved back to Lust, a frown deepening on his face at the prospect of telling him what had happened that not even Lust's joke could make him tilt his lips upwards. He didn't know who he was anymore. Anytime the Prince looked in the mirror, the person looking back became more and more of a stranger. "I forgot he was there; we don't cross paths," Gluttony responded after a time before lapsing into silence, a silence that he was so accustomed to in his waking life that it seemed to carry over to his dreams now. It was better that he and Kai didn't cross paths, and while he was fine with the witch before, Gluttony wouldn't be able to handle him now; the Prince was finding out that there wasn't much he could handle anymore. He didn't know how to put into words what happened without breaking down when he realized... it'd be the first time he said it aloud what he'd endured at the hands of their King. Every other time he'd talked about it, he'd written it out... able to dissociate from the words like he was reading about someone else in a story, yet saying it out loud drove home that it was him. Broken, useless. "The King happened," he finally bit out, eyes dropping to his hands as they closed shakily into fists, "I guess he decided to clean house and I was first, figures since I snapped at him. I'm not the only one either; he's going through all of us." Gluttony's lips trembled as his eyes lifted once more to look into Lust's bright ones, shaking his head sadly. "He took everything from me, Lust. Took all of my damn souls," his voice cracked, causing Gluttony to press the heels of his palms into his eyes, but he couldn't stop the slow leaking of tears escaping through the cracks. "He took my voice. I scream and scream, and nothing comes out."

[osohchoso]

Blood and Chains

Chapter Six- Bleeding Hearts

Choso x F!reader

Previous | Chapter Index | Chapter 7 coming soon!

Content: Multiple POV, trust issues, stalking, blood and violence, cursed techniques

You followed him in silence, the only sounds to be heard were the light drizzle of rain pitter-pattering on the sidewalk and the occasional car passing by. Each step you took with careful confidence, doing the best to minimize the sound of boots scuffing on the concrete. Slinking around in the shadows as you followed your boyfriend through the city streets. Losing track of how long has passed and just how far you have wandered from your apartment. 

When Choso reached an alley, he stopped and looked around, maybe he had a feeling someone was tailing him, but you were out of sight. He hesitated, staring off in your direction for a second that felt like it lasted a year, before finally disappearing around the corner. Should I turn back? You question yourself over and over, frozen in place as you watch the darkness of the alley swallow him whole. But it's too late, your curiosity and fears have already pushed you this far. Might as well see this through to the end, or the anxieties in your mind will never forgive you. Staying a constant nagging fear, living in the back of your head. The only way to extinguish the dark storm plaguing your thoughts is to follow through with your personal mission. So you push on, entering the alleyway Choso walked down. The alley was even darker than the city streets. Not a single light to illuminate the path, no longer able to see the outline of his pigtails as you made your way through what you hoped was the correct way. 

As you walk, you bump into something hard, hitting your hip on a sharp corner. Shit. His clunky shoes stopped in their tracks, he heard the clamoring of the large item you ran into. Pressing your palm to the side, feeling cold metal and something sticky and rotten smelling stuck to it. A dumpster, you ran straight into a dumpster. Standing in fear beside it, you could almost feel his piercing gaze scanning you, even in the dark. Heart beating wildly against your ribcage, holding your breath. This is bad, this is so bad. Closing your eyes tightly, you hope and pray to whatever higher being is out there, that he can't see you in the darkness.

His thick shoes take one step closer to you, but by some wicked twist of fate, you are saved. The lid of the dumpster shakes, and a raspy meow of a street cat echoes off the alley's brick walls. The click-clack of its untrimmed claws on the pavement grows quieter as it walks further away from you, toward the direction of Choso. He lets out a low chuckle, his clothing crinkling as he lowers himself to the ground.

“You scared me little one,” he whispers. The cat's loud purr fills the air. Even during your distrustful stalking, you can't help but smile. Finding it cute how your secretive boyfriend stopped to pet a stray cat on his late-night stroll. “Was it you following me all along?” He asks the cat. The cat responds with a loud meow, rubbing its head harder into Choso’s petting hand. 

“Go home,” his voice brings you back to reality. A shiver runs down your spine that you try to suppress. You're not sure if he's talking to you or the cat at this point. Surely, he has no idea that you're there hiding beside the dumpster? Muscles tense, not daring to move an inch. You half expected him to say something more, to call your name out and question you. It isn't until you hear his footsteps pick up again, that you realize you're in the clear. The clunk of his shoes grows quieter as he makes his way through the alleyway. You wait until you can barely hear him before you make another move.

The cat turns and makes his way toward you, purring as it rubs around your ankles. Bending slightly, you scratch him under his chin. Feeling the greasy fur and flea bites, typical of an alley cat.

“Thanks,” you whisper, “I promise to come bring you treats, you saved my skin.” You tell the cat, who lets out a content meow in response like he understood every word you just said before he jumps back up on top of the dumpster. 

This is so stupid. Hesitating before you follow him once again. Hearing Choso's words replay, go home. And you almost listened, almost turned your body toward the way you came and let your feet carry you back to the safety of your home. 

But you didn’t.

You push forward through the alley and spot Choso on the other side. Walking on a beaten-up sidewalk that leads to a neighborhood. This time you are even more careful, creating a bigger distance between him as you follow. However, it seems he is more relaxed now, not constantly checking over his shoulder to see if he's being followed. Walking quicker than before. You wonder if he knows he's on the bad side of town, if that's why he's picking up pace. You were always careful to avoid this street, not wanting to get caught up in the violence you've seen on the news. 

As you continue, you follow Choso through the neighborhood. Many of the houses look abandoned and worn down. Which confuses you, why is he here? What could be so important about this place that he had to abruptly leave you? You continue to follow, a few of the homes you pass do have lights on, signs of life inside. Though even the lived-in houses look just as bad as the abandoned ones. 

He finally stops, pausing in the front yard of a large house, lights on inside but the tattered curtains are drawn. Whose house is this? You crouch down behind an overgrown bush at the edge of the yard as you watch him stand there. Blood roaring in your ears as you jump to conclusions. He’s cheating, he's just like the other men. Hot tears prick your eyes as you wait to see the woman he left your home for. 

“Hey!” Choso’s head turns to the sound of the voice and you follow his line of sight. Instead of seeing a pretty woman, you see the cheerful pink-haired boy.

Yuji.

And now you have even more questions than before.

Yuji approaches his older brother, too far away for you to hear their conversation. You know Choso well enough by now that you can read his body language, his shoulders slightly slumped, his weight shifting back and forth between his feet. He's irritated. If it's directed at his brother or something else, you have no clue. You can hear the loud sigh leave Choso’s lips from your hiding place. The two boys then turn and enter the home, leaving the door wide open. As you watch them disappear into the house, guilt immediately floods you. Guilt for not trusting him, for thinking he would cheat. Still not sure what he's up to with Yuji, but you are now certain it's nothing concerning you. Maybe he really was on a last-minute call for his work.

You should have turned and left the second you saw them turn their backs, but you still had more questions. And maybe, if you stayed and observed just a bit longer, maybe there would be answers.

So you stayed, watching from the bush as you heard them run around inside the house. Incoherent shouting. The curtains hanging in the windows blowing as they run past. A splatter of blood decorates the downstairs window like a Jackson Pollock painting. Maybe your theory about Choso being an assassin wasn't so far off after all. Though it's hard to believe, golden retriever boy Yuji is also caught up in this line of work. Another thick splotch of blood hits the glass, causing you to flinch. I shouldn't be here. The danger of the situation really starts to sink in. 

Rising to your feet quickly, you give the house one last look. Not wanting to stick around and see the faces of the victims inside. Or to see the look on Choso’s face when he realizes you followed him all the way here. 

Too late for that.

Choso stands in the doorway, his eyes on you. Shouting your name as he begins to run out of the house in your direction. His voice loud enough to shake the earth you stand on, but not out of anger. Out of fear. From the corner of your eye you see a hunch-backed humanoid figure rushing toward you on long legs. It's moving at incredible speed, Yuji running behind it as he reaches forward. His fingers trying to grasp purchase on its wrinkly pale skin. Yet the creature remains faster as it barrels toward you. Yuji’s eyes wide with terror while the three eyes of the creature twinkle with blood lust. 

Everything happens in slow motion, your blood roaring in your ears as you stand still. A deer caught in headlights. Unable to do anything but watch. Watch as the terrifying monster runs at you, its arms shaped like curved blades. Watch as Yuji tries and fails to reach for it again and again. Watch as Choso cries out your name, sounding as fearful as you feel. You look down at your feet, trying to send a signal to move. Knees daring to buckle beneath you when all you want to do is run away.

A sharp press to your back, a pain like you've never felt. Still looking down, you can't seem to tear your eyes away as you watch a deep hole open up in your abdomen. The blade cut straight through to the other side, accompanied by unbearable pain. The once pale green skin of the creature now a deep crimson from your blood. Red drops pool on the flattened grass below your feet. The sounds of the world cut out, muffled and numb. Like your ears are underwater. You lift your gaze up and find Choso, his face paler than ever before and his face tattoo almost looks distorted and sharper, crossing over his eyes as he glares at the creature with unmatched anger. The last thing you see is him standing across the yard, his palms pressed together as his mouth moves. Your heavy eyelids flutter shut as the head of the creature explodes, painting your hair in warm blood. The blade arm exits your body and you feel Yuji catch you before you collapse to the ground. 

“Choso…I’m sorry” you manage to weakly get out before completely losing consciousness. 

˚　　　　✦　　　.　Choso's POV　 . ✦　　 . ★⋆.

~A few minutes before~

Choso looks down at the purple skin of the transfigured human as it stills on the ground, blood leaking from the fatal wound he gave it. The call was right. Mahito had been here. This poor family had enjoyed their last dinner together before the curse waltzed in and transformed them all. Choso sighs as he checks the time. He was thankful for Yuji meeting him here. The faster the brothers took care of the two curses, the faster he could get back to his girlfriend. He really wanted to send Yuji on his own and stay home with her, but the risk that Mahito could still be around scared him far too much to ditch him. Yuji runs down the stairs toward him, his shoes hitting each step loudly.

“Finished yours off?” Choso asks. Yuji nods, though there is a touch of sadness. No matter how many times he does it, having to end the transfigured humans always seems to break a piece of him.

“Yup. Was kinda a small one, so it wasn't much trouble.” He claims. Yuji bends down to pick up a family portrait that fell from the wall, his thumb smearing the blood across the glass to reveal the picture underneath. It shows three of them. Mother, father and a young girl. 

“Choso…” Yuji trails off, eyes wide. Choso takes a step closer as Yuji turns to him. “I think there is a third-” Yuji can't even finish his sentence before a tall pale green figure runs out the back door. Yuji instantly drops the frame, glass shattering as it hits the floor, and chases after it. Choso lets out an exaggerated sigh as he walks toward the front door. He’s confident Yuji will finish it off, but just in case, he wants to prepare for backup. Just one more and he can return home to you. 

You, who should be back safely at home, snuggled into your blankets as you await his return. You, whose beautiful eyes stare at him across the yard as you stand from behind a bush. Choso blinks. Once. Twice. Hoping you would disappear like a figment of his imagination. Three times, and you're still here. He can’t imagine why or even how you knew where he was. Did you follow him? Do you not trust him? He should be angry, but he's not. Not when he knows the weight of the situation you're now involved in. He’s absolutely terrified. 

From his peripherals, he sees Yuji chasing after the transfigured human, running straight toward you. His worst nightmare, this is why Choso swore off relationships. He didn’t want you hurt because of him and his dangerous lifestyle. He shouts your name, as loud as possible. Hoping that will activate your fight or flight, hoping you pick the latter and you can run faster than you did the day he found you in Shibuya. Yet you don't move, still as a statue.

He cries your name over and over, desperate for you to move as he quickens his pace toward you. Vocal cords straining as he tries to reach your thoughts hidden away in the unmoving husk of your body. Yuji is gaining on it but this transfigured human has longer legs, moving at a slightly faster speed. It's going to be close, unable to tell if Yuji will reach it first or if it will reach you first. Choso is rushing forward, but the wet sound of the blade stabbing through the left side of your stomach makes him pause. Time froze as he stared at you, the gaping wound and the creature's sharp arm stuck through it. This is worse than a nightmare, this is a living hell. 

No…no no no no no! This can't be happening, this isn't real! His breath is caught in his throat. Narrowing his eyes at your attacker, he sees red. He hasn't felt this angry in a long time. Clapping his palms together, fingers pointed at the head of the transfigured human, gathering all his strength. 

“Piercing Blood!” He releases the condensed beam of blood, shooting straight through the middle eye of the creature. It’s head explodes on impact, coating the back of your hair in thick, sticky blood. Yuji pulls the transfigured human away and catches you in his hands, gently lowering your body to the already red-stained grass. Choso hurries forward, falling to his knees before you.

“Choso…I’m sorry” He barely hears the words leave your dry cracked lips. 

“This can't be happening…this isn't happening” he mutters to himself, picking up one of your hands and holding it in his. “Yuji, tell me this isn't real,” he lifts his gaze to his brothers, tears already streaming down his cheek. Yuji frowns, dropping his gaze to the serious wound. 

“It is, Choso.” He can't lie to his brother, not when you're bleeding out right here in front of both of them. “I’ll call Shoko, she should be able to save her.” Yuji says, gently adjusting you so your head lays on Choso’s lap. Then standing, pulling his phone out of his back pocket and dialing Shoko, pacing in the yard a few feet from Choso.

Choso is holding your hand tightly, trying to get you to wake up and say something, anything. He doesn't understand why you are here, why you were apologizing. But he doesn't care. He just wants you back, alive and safe. Seeing your smile, hearing your laugh. He needs you back.

“Wake up, little flower.” He whispers, bending to place a soft kiss on your brow. “Please…please…wake up, stay with me. I ca-can’t lose you,” his voice cracking as he pleads for you. Tears rain on your cheeks as he watches your lifeless expression. 

Your hand grows cold in his blazing hot palm, fading further and further. No, no. Not again. Please not again. Choso looks over at Yuji who is still talking to Shoko. 

“We are losing her!” Choso cries out.

“Shoko is on her way” Yuji does his best to stay calm, not wanting to heighten Choso’s anxieties further. 

“There is no time, she is losing too much blood!” He’s yelling back at him, there is no calming him as he eyes the deep wound in your stomach. Blood oozing out. “She…she’s not going to make it.” Choso swallows hard.

“She will, Shoko is hurrying. She will be here soon I promise,” Yuji assures him, even though he isn't certain. He truly doesn't know if you are going to be fine. But Choso panicking more isn't helping anyone. “Hmm? Yeah, I'm still here.” Yuji continues pacing as he talks to Shoko, giving directions to their location. Choso looks down at you, watching each shallow and labored breath, seeing the last signs of life drain from your face.

There has to be something I can do. He tries to think of an idea, he knows you won't last another five minutes unless he can do something. He racks his brain trying to formulate a plan, willing to try anything if it means he won't have to watch you exhale your last breath in his arms.

Then, he forms an idea. Maybe a stupid one. Maybe one that won't work. Honestly, it might get you killed or worse. The risks are high, with maybe a 1% chance your body will respond positively. Choso doesn't care, he would take any risk if it meant he doesn't lose you today.

He glances over at Yuji, his back turned to the both of you. He doesn't bother asking his brother for his opinion on this plan because he already knows what Yuji would say. No.

But you need blood, now.

Choso grips one of your hands tightly with his, holding the other hand up, palm to the starry sky. Gathering his blood into a small sphere in the center of his palm. Taking a shaky breath before he begins.

He's never attempted using his blood manipulation for a blood transfusion before, and certainly never even considered doing this on a regular human. His blood is considered poisonous, and if this doesn't work he may be the reason you end up dying. Desperate for any chance at life, even a slim chance that the toxin won't instantly kill you, he takes the risk. If he can give you just enough until help arrives, just enough to replace what is necessary, you may survive. Afterward, Shoko can probably just give you something to counteract the negative effects. He doesn't think too much about the consequences of his cursed blood and won't allow him to think about what it might do to you.

He places his palm with the sphere of blood to the hole in your stomach. Letting his blood mix with your own. Flowing freely through your body, traveling to every limb and organ. Filling you with life, his life. He would give his whole life for you if he could, if he knew it would keep you breathing. Wouldn't even hesitate to sacrifice himself for you. He closes his eyes as he takes control, his blood pushing alongside yours. Mixing inside you like a cauldron creating a potion of endless love. His other hand, the one clutching yours like a lifeline, starts to feel a hint of warmth radiating from you again. A sign you have been granted at least a few more minutes of life, hopefully, that's enough until a real doctor can stabilize you. 

“Choso?” Yuji’s shocked voice cuts into his thoughts, causing him to flash open his eyes. Twisting his head to look over at his brother, whose eyes are wide with horror. Mouth agape as he witnesses the act.

“What have you done?” Yuji asks him.

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Taglist: @lavenderdaydream97 @angel04-01

[spacebaby1]

Falling asleep with Rindou and he wakes up before you! He admires you for a bit and then proceed to get up to go to the gym but in the process of gettinf ready he accidentally wakes you up and you’re super grumpy about it. He has to kiss you and hug you back to sleep before he can go to the gym now, no leaving behind a sleepy angry gf

This is so cute! Ah! I love Rindou. Enjoy

The birds sang sweetly, heralding a new day, but inside the room, all was still. Rindou lay beside you, the warmth of yours radiating between the two of you. He could hardly believe how serene and peaceful you appeared, your hair cascading over the pillow like a gentle wave snuggling into your boyfriend for dear life.

As the sun climbed higher, Rindou opened his eyes to the sight of you, cheeks flush and lips slightly parted, lost in dreams. A smile crept onto his face, one of those adoring smiles. “Morning my baby, you look sweet like this,” he murmured softly, careful not to disturb the precious moment. “All sleepy and cute, not running around like you usually do.” he chuckled to himself moving the hair strand from your face.

He propped himself up on one elbow, taking an unhurried moment to admire you. Your brows furrowed slightly, Rindou couldn’t resist the urge to playfully tease you as you slept. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were an angel, just resting before your celestial duties,” he whispered, words barely louder than a breath. It was a different situation when you were awake; Rindou dispite his work, he's such a quiet guy and you are the sunshine in his life. You like running around the house doing the most random things and being loud; he might roll his eyes sometimes but he knows that he can't live without your loud self.

With each teasing comment, the corners of his lips twitched, and he watched as your eyelids fluttered. For now, he contented himself with watching, feeling grateful for the intimacy of this moment.

But as time passed and Rindou’s thoughts turned to his own responsibilities, he knew he had to get up, to abandon the comfort of the bed’s embrace. After all, there was a gym session waiting for him, a routine that kept him grounded amidst the flurry of life. He carefully maneuvered out of bed, determined not to disturb you.

However, in the process of getting ready, the sharp sound of the closet door creaking open shattered. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't being as quiet as he thought and the fall of his gym bag made a loud thud. You stirred, the sleep melting away only to be replaced by grogginess and irritation of being awake earlier than you should. “Rindou…” you mumbled, your voice thick with sleep, and he turned around just in time to see the frown etching across your face. “What are you doing?” you asked half asleep as you sat on the bed, your hair everywhere.

He opened his mouth to explain but quickly caught your narrowed eyes your signature grumpy look that sent a chuckle bubbling up his throat. “I’m just getting ready for the gym, babe. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

A groan came from you, burying your head deeper into the covers as if trying to escape the morning altogether. “Why are you always so loud?” you grumbled, your voice muffled by the blankets; he knew you would not remember this later when you were fully awake.

Rindou found the situation both entertaining and slightly infuriating; how could someone look so adorable while being grumpy? He approached the bed, where you lay half-hidden under the mess of sheets now. “You really want me to go without at least a goodbye kiss?” he teased, leaning down closer, his lips hovering just above your forehead as you groaned. You peeked out from your cocoon, and for a moment, the last of sleep left your eyes, replaced by genuine annoyance. “You should have been quieter then,” you grumbled, with eyes closed.

With a smirk, Rindou placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, tender and lingering. “I can’t leave my sleepy girlfriend like this,” he said, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re too cute to let go of.”

A sigh escaped your lips, but there was hardly any bite to it. The warmth of his body wrapped around you melted some of your grumpiness away. “You’re lucky i love you,” you muttered, nuzzling closer into his hold. “Lucky indeed,” he replied, pressing a kiss to your temple now as he held you snug against him. “Please go back to sleep; I’ll be quick. Just a few minutes, I promise.”

With a small huff, you buried your face against his shoulder, your mind battling between the allure of drifting off again and the annoying sound of weights clanging in the background. “Fine, but if you wake me up again, I might just throw a pillow at your head next time. Then you can go and meet the purple teddy and he will not give you coffee.”

"What are you babbling on about?" Rindou chuckled softly, placing another kiss on your hair, the kind of affection that coiled warmth around your heart. “Now close those beautiful eyes.” you nodded as you settled back into his embrace, Rindou savored the fleeting calm before heading to the gym, knowing that he would hurry through his workout only to return to this space the sleepy, warm refuge of shared moments that made every crazy day worth it. He kissed you once more, "I love you, my teddy bear. Sleep well."

[tonycries]

Dirty Lil’ Secrets!

Synopsis. They all have their habits in bed - some so filthy you can’t help but keep them your dirty little secret.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, size differences, bréeding, mating press, oral (female receiving), vibrators, manhandling, marking, jealousy (Choso’s side), praise, degradation, exhibitionism, fíngering, semi-public, cúmplay, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.8k

A/N. This came to me while watching Pink Panther, I think I should watch Pink Panther more often.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Take it or he makes you

Now, Toji knows he’s got a big dick - huge, even. And to him it doesn’t make a difference - either you take his fat cock like the good lil’ slut you are, or he shoves it in your snug cunt and watches you gasp so deliciously around him, eyes watering, swollen lips dropping into a pretty little oh! 

“Ah- hngh daddy s’too big. I don’t think-”

“You will, pretty girl.” he chuckles darkly, leaning down till his breath is hot against your ear. “Because I’ll make it fit.”

Okay, maybe he lied - maybe it really does make a difference. Because right now, with you already so cockdrunk as he bullied his furiously leaking tip into your sloppy hole - Toji doesn’t think he’s ever been harder.

“Are- are you at least hngh- halfway in, daddy?” he hears you whimper. Cock twitching so animalistically inside you at the way your voice cracks so adorably at the end, tinged with desperation. 

Toji can’t help but huff out a laugh, brows furrowed, greedy gaze stuck on the obscene way your pretty lips struggle to take him in. Pussy spread open so shamefully for him, quivering and leaking so sinfully onto the sheets below. 

“Nope.” he hums, popping the p, reaching down to lick a long, languid stripe up the delicate tear streaming down your cheek.

God, he has to fight down some feral, animalistic part of him that wants to just plunge his throbbing cock into you till his heavy balls smack your ass. But no - not yet. What’s the fun if he can’t see you struggle a bit more?

Instead pushing in shallow, determined little thrusts to fit inside your tight pussy. Each one has his prominent veins pulsing angrily against your walls, hitting that one spot just right. A maddening bump! bump! bump! you were losing your mind to. 

Stretching you to your limits. You could almost feel his achingly hard tip hitting your cervix already.

Full. So full - and he wasn’t even halfway in. 

Feral grunts leave him at the way you moan breathlessly at each motion, scrambling to grab onto the headboard, the sheets, him - just anything to ground you to your sanity as you’re split apart on his achingly hard cock.

Ah, how he loved this little song and dance. A few tears, a few whines - his lil’ slut pretending like you couldn’t take it all - as if your walls aren’t sucking him in so obscenely, hips bucking up mindlessly for more. He loves your cute lil’ mewls when you can’t decide between wanting to run away or milk the soul out of him. 

“Now now,” Toji tuts, looping two muscled arms around your waist so you can’t escape. Tight, grip almost bruising. 

You let out a delirious squeal as he pulls you down down down - onto his thick cock. Plush walls taking him in greedily inch by fucking inch. Hungry for more.

He knew his pretty girl could do it - you always do. 

“Don’t think you can run away from me, doll.” he groans over your pathetic little yelps of “Ah! Too- too big, daddy! Gonna break-”

“Then break f’me.”

And with that, Toji’s had enough of playing nice - ramming in the rest of his length in one, harsh thrust. Not stopping till he’s buried in your dripping cunt all the way to the hilt. 

A low hiss leaves him as his abs rub your skin, twitching balls finally smacking against your ass. Finally taking all of him.

Finally bottoming out. Ah, this is what he’s wanted for s’long - teasing himself just as much as you.

“Oh! Oh my- ah, fuck. Want it- need it s’bad. Please- ngh-” you mewl, hips bucking wildly. Too cock-drunk on the way the tufts hair at his toned pelvis scratch against your throbbing clit to even form proper sentences. God, you think you could almost cum just from the feeling of being so overwhelmingly full of him.

“Feel me in you, pretty girl?” he rumbles, low and dangerous. “Feel me right…” he trails a long finger in between the valley of your breasts. Featherlight touch dancing down, down, down to your navel, pressing hard onto your stomach, “...there.” 

You gasp at the pressure, breath catching in your throat at the dangerous smirk curling his lips as he begins to pull out inch by inch - agonizingly slow. Getting ready to fucking ruin you.  Because boy does it stroke his ego to see you absolutely wrecked by his huge cock, struggling to just take him - but this is where the real fun starts.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The family man

Nanami’s a very steady man - he always has been.

A steady job, a steady schedule, a steady relationship with you. So, really, it makes sense that he wants a kid, or two - or four with the ways he’s got you folded in half beneath him. Legs thrown over his sculpted shoulders, thighs burning at the stretch as he bends down down down-

A mating press. Nanami Kento had you in a fucking mating press.

And it was very dangerously quickly becoming his favorite thing.

You weren’t sure what to expect with that off-hand comment about wanting kids, but it surely wasn’t for your loving husband to fucking rip your skirt off and bend you over the nearest flat surface, throbbing cock now buried in your dripping pussy.

That was a few days ago.

And now every night without fail, you have Nanami’s seed dripping down your legs, still-achingly hard erection buried in your poor cunt - you doubt you’ll make it out alive this time.

“K-Kento- Hah- hngh, I feel s’full- so-”

“Shhh, darling. One more. Jus’ one more, all you gotta do is take every drop.” he hums, lips ghosting over your racing pulse. Brows furrowed, sweat trickling down his temple, cock ramming into you at such a filthy pace. 

Warm - so warm with his seed. It jolted some carnal part of him - all the way down to his achingly hard cock - to know that he was the one doing this to you. That was his cum filling your pretty pussy. And everyone else would know.

God, you can do nothing but sit there and take it as Nanami edges you closer and closer to your nth orgasm tonight. Thumb drawing rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit that match the merciless pace of his hips. 

Over and over. A quick, maddening tempo he was losing his mind to.

Desperate, so desperate to get you off. 

“Gonna fill you up.” he whispers, voice raw and dripping with need, mind hazy. “Gonna be so round and pretty with my kid, right, darling?” 

You nod eagerly, as he increases his pace impossibly. Your skin stinging where his balls smack your ass, fucked-out little ah! ah! ah! leaving your kiss-bitten lips each time his hips hit yours. 

Drool drips delicately down the corner of your mouth at how animalistically he was fucking you. None of that familiar tenderness - only the pure, filthy desire to breed your pretty lil’ cunt full. All his. 

“You can dress ‘em up, and I’ll take ‘em to school.” he rambles, as half-delirious as you at this point. Drunk off of you and your cunt and you. “And when we’re all alone…” he trails off dangerously. Ripping his gaze from the creamy, white ring forming around his base to look in your eyes, “I’ll fuck another one into you.”

“Ah! Yes yes yes, please. Cum in me baby, fill me up.” 

You see white as you cum - or maybe that was Nanami painting your plushy walls with his seed, you can’t even tell at this point, too exhausted and cock-drunk. All you can feel is Nanami twitching inside you before he’s shooting thick hot spurts of his cum. Again. And again. 

“Oh- Kento, t’much. There’s so much.” you moan softly, words slurring together. Sloppy hole quivering at the feeling of being so deliciously overfilled as Nanami’s cum trickles out of you, forming a wet, sinful pool on the sheets below. 

“Feel it inside you, darling?” he doesn’t stop thrusting - rough, mindless movements from some deep-rooted, primal little part of him. Stuffing you deeper and deeper with his cum. Fully intent on filling you up until he was shooting blanks - or until he physically couldn’t. Whichever comes last.

Fucked-out little yelps leave you with wreckless abandon, mixing with the creaking of the bed at Nanami starts up yet another unforgiving pace, “Yes- Ah! I feel it, Kento. Feel it s’deep inside me.” “Mhm?” he purrs, teeth grazing your earlobe. Darkened eyes glinting with something predatory as they greedily lock onto the way his cum gushes out of you. Seeping into your skin, smearing on his abs - and his rock-hard cock. “Then, better be ready for one more, darling.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - The sweet-talker

If someone saw the ever-graceful Geto Suguru right now, they wouldn’t believe their eyes - and definitely not their ears. Such beautiful words coming out of such a beautiful mouth, but his actions were anything but. 

And it doesn’t even matter the place, he’ll come up right beside you and whisper a few seemingly harmless words. “I really love that skirt on you, angel. Is this the one I bought?” he’d say to you at the convenience store, smiling sweetly at the old woman in front of him that sighs about “young love.”

Little did anyone know that right at that moment, the innocent hand in his pocket fiddles with that little plastic remote. The one he bought specifically to make you lose your sanity.

Intensity setting 2.

“B-baby?” you whimper, breath hitching as you feel the bullet vibrator shoved inside your dripping cunt start to turn up a notch - tiny, methodical vibrations against your snug walls. 

“Yes, my angel?” 

You could almost smack the innocent grin off his devastatingly handsome face. Geto Suguru could win an Oscar for how good he was at acting like he didn’t have a firm grip on your vibrator control. Thumb running harsh, quick little circles on the intensity.

“Nothing.” you grit your teeth, nails digging into his sculpted arm as you hold onto him for support. The little bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt maddening against your cunt. Praying that no one else here could see your dazed eyes and the way your thighs were quivering desperately. God, could this queue get any longer?

You almost miss the wrinkled hand waving in front of your face, the good-natured voice in front of you asking, “You alright, dearie? You look a bit under the weather.” 

Intensity setting 3.

“I-I’m-” you choke, looking up at Geto for support. In perhaps a miraculous act of kindness, he peers down gently at the old lady. “Don’t worry, grandma. My love here has just been a bit sick today. M’taking her to the doctor after this, y’know. Isn’t that right, angel?”

Intensity setting 4.

Oh, not an act of kindness. Definitely not. 

Panties completely soaked now, pussy clenching desperately around the vibrator. You shoot a quick glare at Geto, who was urging you deceivingly lovingly to answer. God, you could almost hear the laughter inside his mind as you take a steadying breath, stuttering out a barely audible, “Y-yeah. Sick today.”

You couldn’t care less if the sigh of relief you let out is audible to everyone else in the store as the elderly woman turns away with a nod. Mind focused only on Geto and Intensity setting 4 and Geto-

“Aww, what’s wrong, angel? Why do you look like you’re about to cry?” you hear that familiar faux concern from above you. “Which asshole do I need to beat up?”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 

Gritting your teeth in order to not snap or just outright demand that Geto makes you cum right here, right now. Instead, managing out an unsteady little, “Turn it down.”

“What was that, angel?”

“Turn it down, I swear to-”

You’re cut off by hot breath against your ear, Geto’s voice hoarse with desire as he mutters, “Then cum. Right here.”

And as if to prove his point, he deftly runs his fingers along the intensity control once more, rubbing maddening little circles along it. Edging your climax and your sanity like the sadistic bastard he was. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt 

And you could tell by the faint smirk curling his lips that he was taunting you - torturing you to just break or break him. Whichever comes first.

Thighs trembling, knees weak, you shiver as you finally reach the counter, Geto’s thumb now firmly set on Intensity setting 4 as he speaks casually with the cashier. How dare he talk about the weather when you were reaching a breaking point here? 

Tears prick at your eyes - both at the pure overstimulation and the frustration of not being able to fucking cum. No matter how much you wanted to. 

“Angel, you don’t look too well. Want to sit down?”

You clench your jaw, trying to maintain some level of composure as Geto pays for your items. Every second feels like an eternity, every nerve ending screaming for release. 

You muster a weak nod even as you can feel your thighs quivering, blood roaring in your ears - you refuse to let him win. At least this time.

“C’mon now, let’s get you home and rested.” By the time Geto steers you to the exit, you’re practically begging for relief. His arm hot around your waist, your vision blurring at the edges. You’ve only made one step outside when-

Intensity setting 5.

You cum with a strangled yelp. Nails digging into Geto’s forearm hard - part in surprise and part revenge for all of that. His strong arm being the only thing grounding you - and the only thing keeping you from collapsing to the fucking ground.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and for a brief moment, all you can do is breathe, your eyes fluttering closed as your body shudders at the shockwaves of electricity. God, you almost think you see the pearly gates of heaven at the sheer intensity of your pleasure.

When you crack open your eyes again, you find Geto staring at you. Ah, an angel.

“Well, you should be thankful I went easy on you this time.”

Nevermind, it’s the devil incarnate.  Geto leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “Hope you’re not feeling too ‘under the weather’, angel. Because I’ve got a plan in mind and we’re going to be doing something much more fun than going to the doctor."

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marked up and all his

Choso knew you were hot - it only bothered him that everyone else did too. 

Which is probably why you’ll often find him all but dragging you into the nearest bathroom at whatever party. Barely even locking the door before he’s got you pressed against the cold counter, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds. 

“Choso, baby~” you whine softly from where his furiously flushed head was kissing your dripping cunt, barely audible over the loud thumping of the music from the other side of the door. “More, deeper.”

And, well, whatever his sweetheart wants - she will get. Because he immediately presses in, plunging inch by fucking inch into your sloppy heaven. Veins dragging so maddeningly across your walls as he bullies his throbbing cock into your snug cunt. 

“This what you want? To be split apart on my cock, sweetheart?” He groans into the crook of your neck, your sweet moans going straight to his aching cock. Tongue flattening along the skin, licking long, languid stripes up your neck, he nibbles lightly - all part of his plan.

“Hah- Hngh, yes baby. Jus’ like that.” Enveloping himself in your warmth, thrusting in small, mindless little motions of his hips. Not even wanting to get himself off - just wanting, needing to feel your pretty pussy around his cock. To prove to himself that you were his.

But it wasn’t enough.

Mouth still relentlessly marking and biting your skin, Choso guides your legs to wrap around his toned waist - a signal to pull, to use him to your heart’s content.

“Fuck, Choso- Fucking me s’good.” Your legs tighten around him, pulling him impossibly closer. It’s all Choso ever wants. 

One hand deftly snakes it’s way down to your throbbing clit, rolling his thumb along the sensitive bud in just the way he knows will make you squeal and buck your hips onto his cock for more more more-

And the other - ah, yes, he can’t forget why he’s here - neat fingernails digging deep into your skin. Leaving pretty crescents in their wake - just below where your tight lil’ party dress hiked up. To show all those losers on the dance floor who you belong to.

Dragging. Marking. 

His mouth leaves their place from your neck to whisper against your lips, darkened eyes boring into yours, “You’re mine, y’know that?” 

You can do nothing but nod breathlessly into the heady air, hips bucking wildly underneath him as he increases his pace. Keening deliriously at the bruising grip on your hips and the even harder one on your poor cunt.

“Mine. All mine.” he grits out, twitching balls smacking your ass, rock-hard cock dipping in and out in and out in and-

“Those losers can’t fuck you the way I do, sweetheart.”

And then you’re cumming. Jolts of electricity running down your spine - and your nails raking down Choso’s. Red-hot patterns in their wake - and that’s exactly what sends him over the edge. “Ah- Shit shit shit, yes mark me till m’bloody yes-”

And maybe you do, because his throbbing cock twitches deeply in your pussy. Thrusting once, twice before he pumps thick, hot ropes into your fluttering walls. Tight balls squeezing painfully as he cums with a loud groan of your name. 

Two arms kneading your ass - wrapping bruisingly around your waist - touching any and every inch of skin he could reach. Leaving pretty little marks for days.

You can feel such a sinful, sticky mixture of his slick and your cum trailing down your legs as he fucks you both through your highs. Pooling at the cold counter, stomach now uncomfortably hot, vision blurry - yet you still manage to make out the satisfied grin on Choso’s face. 

Pure pride shining in his eyes as he takes in your fucked-out state, marks blossoming along your skin as if you’d been thrown to the wolves. 

Ah, success.

But he’s barely had time to bask in his victory till you murmur out a quick “Hold on.” Pulling him firmly by the collar of his t-shirt. Lips firmly slotting over the sensitive skin peaking out. 

Choso’s breath hitches as you bite and tease the skin - a pathetic little imitation of the absolute wreck he’d havoced on your skin - not pulling away until you’re satisfied with the dark, red mark blossoming on his milky skin. 

“There. Perfect.” you flash an almost-innocent grin at him. And despite all that transpired in this heady bathroom, this is what makes his knees weaken so desperately. Oh, how he loved being yours.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - The show-off

If the King of Curses owns something nice and pretty, then you can bet he’s going to show it off to everyone and anyone that crosses him. It doesn’t matter if it’s human trash or some lowly curse he’s just about to kill, all of them have the same last sight - you.

You, sat so prettily on the hulking king’s lap. All doe-eyed and batting your lashes so innocently at him as he wielded chaos on his throne. 

It made them almost want to save you from this monster, only to realize - if Sukuna was feeling particularly generous that day - that he was the last thing that you needed saving from. 

Because if by some miracle, Sukuna was feeling generous - and decided that those scum that bow beneath him should see something pretty before they die - then they see you. Legs spread so shamefully on his lap, large arms the width of your head keeping them open for your guests.

Sukuna trails his rough fingers dangerously down your robe - one that does absolutely nothing to hide your curves or the heaving of your chest. Thin fabric tearing easily under his sharp fingernails, exposing such tantalizing flashes of skin as whoever’s watching gulps heavily in both fear and anticipation. 

He doesn’t stop till your robe is all but hanging off you now, dripping cunt soaking the tattered fabric as you keen desperately into his touch. 

“Shhh, my lil’ slut.” he murmurs, low and gravelly into your ear, hot breath sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins. “Wouldn’t want to be rude in front of our guests, hm?”

Whoever’s bowing before you two don’t know what makes shivers run down their spine more - Sukuna’s dangerous words or the way you whine desperately. “But Sukuna~” grinding onto his very obvious erection as you do, “Wan’ you so badly, haven’t been filled by you today.”

Shit, scratch that. The scariest thing here was the deep chuckle that echoes across the throne room - the King of Curses laughing. Laughing. 

They watch in horror - unable to rip their eyes away - as he snakes down two large fingers to your dripping cunt, spreading open your swollen folds. Absolutely delighting in the way you flutter around nothing - his lil’ slut, so desperate for him. 

You buck readily into his hold as Sukuna bullies two large fingers into your snug cunt. Ready walls clenching down so sinfully at finally getting some of the friction you’d been aching for all day.

“Ohh, yes. Sukuna, finally. Wanted you in me s’bad.” you squeal as he curls his fingers deftly inside you, expertly grazing that familiar spot he knew would have you falling apart in a matter of a few seconds. 

“So spoiled.” Sukuna hums, a sly grin curling his lips - and the scum bowing before him completely forgotten - as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of your sloppy hole. Thrusting in rough, jerky little movements that no matter how filthy and unrefined they seem - hold a dangerous, calculated intent as he hits that spot over and over.

The ones before you find their cocks hardening traitorously at your breathy whines and the lewd squelching sounds. Torn between training their eyes on the ground and greedily watching your thighs quiver on the monster’s lap, cunt dripping so obscenely onto his robe. 

“Look at her.” a sharp order jolts them out of their reverie. Sukuna didn’t have to ask, he knew you were a heavenly vision in his little hell. Yet, he continues anyway, amusement spiking at the way they can do nothing but gape at what they can never have “Look. So desperate f’me. Should I make her cum?”

“Nooo, Sukuna don’ be mean~” you whine half-deliriously at the silence that follows. Voice strangled at the merciless pace Sukuna had on your cunt, rolling your swollen clit on his fingers, dipping in and out in and out in and-

Sukuna chuckles darkly in your ear, over the protests of the trash at his feet, “Seems like they don’t want you to cum.” He increases his pace ruthlessly, over and over. Hitting that spot with reckless abandon, delighting in the way you writhe and convulse on his lap. “But s’alright, I’ll be the one to make you cum. Your king, hm?”

And make you cum he does. Adding three fingers into your tight cunt now, thrusting in and out at a pace that has you bowing into his hulking body. Over and over. Hurried. Hasty. Almost torturous for those watching.

“Ah! Yes yes yes, Sukuna~ M’gonna-” you can barely finish the sentence before you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, broken moans of Sukuna’s name leaving your swollen lips. He doesn’t stop - not when your orgasm is mere tingles, your voice too raw to even let out fucked-out moans. Not even when you’re quivering and fidgeting on his laps.  Not even when he leans down to mutter in your ear, voice husky with pure need, “Now, how should I kill these fuckers off?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Just a lil’ taste

The great Gojo Satoru loves all things sweet, and that includes you. Not just you, but your pretty lips, your sweet cunt, and the sweetest - something else he’d never admit to anyone but you - the taste of him in you.

And right now - bullying his throbbing cock into your snug cunt, his heavy balls smacking your ass over and over as he rams into you hard, fast - Gojo knows there’s something for him to look forward to. 

The bed creaks in protest as he chases the heavenly feeling of your tight pussy around him, mixing with the filthy moans leaving your mouth.

He was probably going to get another noise complaint - good, let them nosy fuckers know how good he makes you feel.

“Ah! Hah- hngh, Toru filling me up s’good.” you mewl and buck your hips underneath him for more more more- wanting, needing the feeling of him stretching you so deliciously. His glistening veins dragging along that one spot so deliciously, pulsing against your tight walls at an urgent, incessant rhythm. 

“Oh yeah?” he grunts. Cock pushing into you deeper and deeper, cervix kissing your tip so painfully good. “Like this? Like it when I fuck you like this? Can’t get enough of it, hm?”

Because of course, Gojo Satoru can’t stop running his mouth even when he’s fucking you relentlessly. Even when his thrusts grow frenzied, sloppy with desire. And especially not when you’re creaming on his achingly hard cock.

God, you’re so fucking perfect he can’t help but lose himself in the heat of the moment as well. 

Body arching off the bed, you see stars behind your eyes as Gojo cums in thick, hot spurts inside your fluttering walls. “Shit, oh Toru, s’full inside me hah-”

You think you probably cum harder just at the sight before you. 

Gojo’s head thrown back, blue eyes prettily rolling to the back of his head as he bites his lips in concentration - desperately trying to fight off that feral, animalistic part of himself that just wants to fuck his cum deeper and deeper inside your dripping cunt. Wrestling that urge to breed you full to the back of his mind. 

No, because he’s got bigger things in mind. 

Bigger things that include urgently dropping to his knees as soon as your breathless moans bate. He wrestles your hips on the mattress, grip bruising on your waist as he pulls your pretty cunt closer. All wet and painted white with his cum, dripping so obscenely onto the fresh sheets below.

Mouth dropping into a soft oh! at the sinful sight before him, Gojo doesn’t waste a second before surging forward. 

Nose-deep in your pussy, he doesn’t stop till he’s nose-deep and breathing you in so obscenely. Tongue bullying its way in between your swollen folds, dipping into your sloppy entrance in and out in and out in and out-

He groans into your cunt as he tastes himself. Tastes you. 

Sweet. 

The absolutely filthy mixture of his cum and your slick sliding down his tongue as he laps up your juices with the desperation of a madman. God, it makes the blood rush straight to his dick at the way your mouth drops open in disbelief - he never does get used to it.

Messy. It was so fucking messy. 

“Mmm, s’sweet on my tongue, baby.” he slurs, drunk off the absolutely intoxicating taste of your sin. “Fuck- Can’t get enough of it. Shit.” 

You flinch as he swears into your throbbing cunt. Seeing flashes of white behind your eyes each time he flicks his tongue just right to graze over all your most sensitive spots. You could almost cry from the overstimulation - walls fluttering sensitively around his relentless tongue.

And you probably do really cry when Gojo moves up your dripping pussy, sucking on your swollen clit. Rolling his tongue over and over at the same maddening pace of the tears down your cheeks. 

Absentmindedly, you wonder whether he’s done with his little feast - and moving on to torture you full time now.

Gojo huffs out a laugh into your cunt, popping off your abused clit with a lewd pop! Hands snaking down to grab his rock-hard base. Pulling in short, desperate little tugs to get himself ready for what was to come. “Yeah, m’done, baby.” he chuckles darkly. Shit, did you say that out loud? 

But you have no time to wonder too long about that, instead stuck on that dangerous little glint in his eyes as he stands from his position nose-deep in your cunt. Swiping his tongue across his lips, savoring every last drop of you. 

Dazed, your eyes drift from his slick-glossed mouth down, down, down to-

Oh.

“Don’t worry, baby. M’gonna be feasting again real soon.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Disney princess Danny

It’s known that animals can sense death. Instances where pets gravitate to someone on their death bed and dogs barking at ghosts. Danny already knew this from before he half died, so he was expecting animals to rat him out with their sixth sense or become aggressive or cower from him. Instead, they all behaved the complete opposite than he anticipated.

Stray cats come running to rub against his legs, dogs nearly pull arms out of their owners sockets to get close to him, birds bring him trinkets, raccoons lead him to trash cans full of food, and even squirrels and rats get close to just sit on his shoulders. It’s… weird, but not unwelcome. He always loved animals.

Danny had come to semi-trust the animals that come to him. They know where the good food is and drinking water, they know when to steer away from a certain area right before something happens, and they always know when a person is bad or okay. So when an animal leads him somewhere, he follows. Sometimes they need help and he’s the one they go to. He’s helped plenty of raccoons out of garbage bins and cats out of gutters to have a good relationship with the animals of the streets.

What he isn’t expecting is to be led to Robin again and again.

The first time it was a cat. A mangy old Tom cat that rubbed against his torn up jeans and looked back with - Danny swears- a raised eyebrow. Danny follows and soon enough he finds himself standing a few paces away from Robin who is kneeling down to give clean water to the momma cat and her three kittens.

Robin freezes and so does Danny. They stare at each other.

“Um, hi?”

Robin straightens immediately, leaving the water on the ground where the cats can drink. Tom cat swaggers over to guard them.

“Civilian. Is there something I can assist you with?”

The dude is probably a year or two younger than Danny himself and he has to suppress a smile at the formal tone.

“Oh, uh, no? The cat just led me here.”

He can see Robin glance at the Tom cat who was now licking himself.

“Is that so?”

“Yea. Sorry to interrupt. Animals just like me for some reason.”

The three kittens one by one all totter over to him on unsteady legs after they had their fill. The orange one starts trying to climb his pant leg with its short and sharp claws digging into the jean material.

“They really like me.”

He carefully sits down crossed legged so the others could also climb all over him. Robin watches for a moment silently and when he sees Danny react well to the little pricks from tiny claws, he seems it safe enough to return to patrol.

The second time it’s a couple of rats that lure him away to find Robin fighting off more thugs than he probably should by himself. So taking the rats’ movements as encouragement, he takes the closest thing, a piece of plywood, and hit the nearest guy over the head with it. The guy crumbles like a wet sock and Danny is moving on to the next thug.

They sweep the floor with these guys with only a few splinters and a twisted ankle.

“It was dangerous to intervene,” Robin tells him. “I had it handled.”

“Yea, I know.”

The vigilante didn’t seem to be expecting that response from his stunned silence. He straightens as much as he can with bruised ribs.

“Well, I’m glad you know your mistake. Don’t let it happen again.”

Danny neither agrees nor disagrees, just shrugs and allow the rats to climb up his leg to his shoulder. Robin looks at them curiously. Danny gives a salute before leaving. Robin gives him a nod.

The third time it happened the roles are reversed.

Some people from the local gang are bullying the lonely, homeless teen to run drugs for them. They don’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. It gets to the point where Danny finds himself with his back against the wall and all his exits blocked with a guy shoving him again and again.

“Stop it!”

“I’ll stop if you agree.”

“I’m not doing it!”

Frank the raccoon and his buddy Bobby launch themselves at the guy’s ankles. The guy shrieks and pulls a gun.

“No!”

Before Danny can dive for it, a projectile comes out of nowhere to knock it out of his hands. He can’t even process what happened before the three are running away, two raccoons chattering at their heels before coming back to crowd him in worry.

Danny looks up to see Robin with a sword out threateningly, staring at where the three fled. He sheaths the sword after a few seconds.

“Are you okay?”

Danny realizes he’s breathing a little heavy and slows down a bit as he leans over to pet the top of the two heads.

“I’m- yea, I’m okay. Thanks for the save. Those guys were jerks.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Robin is staring at the raccoons and it takes Danny a long moment to piece things together.

“Did- did they lead you to me?”

Robin doesn’t answer right away.

“You have loyal friends.”

Danny smiles at the weird compliment. Looking down at the two heroes of the evening Danny is also inclined to agree.

The fourth time is funny in a way Danny doesn’t know how to describe.

It was the pigeons. They were at fault of course for how Robin’s secret identity was outed. By pigeons.

The grey birds swarmed Danny and settled in a cloud of feathers. One holding something in its beak before plopping it down in his lap like a golden retriever. It flaps off as Danny picks up the obvious wallet clip holding quite a bit of cash and a student ID. The card says Damian Wayne from Gotham Academy. Just then Robin comes skidding around the corner, clearly out of breath and freezes.

Danny looks down at the clip in his hand and back up at the vigilante. He looks at the crazy amount of birds around him and again at the vigilante.

Said vigilante straightens and approaches like he called Danny there.

“If I could have that so I could return it to its proper owner.”

He holds out a hand with false arrogance, but Danny can see the nervousness in his stance. Danny looks down one last time before putting the clip in the outstretched hand without a word.

Robin nods once, pockets the ID and money, and immediately leaves.

The fifth time just cements what Danny had already figured out.

He was at the park. Not Ivy’s park of course, the one where people actually like to go. He was helping the squirrels find and hide acorns when he’s nearly knocked over by a massive black dog.

“Titus!”

The end of the Great Dane’s leash is a familiar face. Damian Wayne’s eyes widen in recognition as he finally sees who Titus was so excited to get to.

“Uh-“

Danny has to close his mouth quickly or else the massive tongue on his face would have turned into a French kiss.

“Titus! Heel!”

Danny laughs at the embarrassed blush on the other’s face, obviously not used to his companion going off the rails like this.

“It’s alright. We both know how animals like me.”

Damian narrows his eyes to analyze the teen. Danny wasn’t about to pretend and Damian looked like he was debating whether to follow his lead or not. There was literally no one within hearing distance.

“Have you told anyone?”

Danny thought about redirecting, but thought better of it. He actually liked Robin and what he did.

“Nope. I haven’t and I won’t. I swear.”

Damian tilts his head and then looks down at Titus. He seems to come to a decision before looking back at Danny.

“You’re homeless, are you not?”

Didn’t think they were being that direct but sure.

“Yea?”

“I will pay you in food and shelter to take care of my animals.”

Danny blinks. Then actually considers the offer.

“What kind of animals? How many we talking?”

Damian grins.

The family finds out pretty quickly when a teen they’ve never seen before walks into the Batcave with two pails of food for the bats, Titus at his heels and Alfred the cat perched contently on his shoulders.

Duke stares and Bruce short circuits.

“Um, who are you?”

“Hi! I’m Danny. Damian employed me to take care of the animals.”

“O…kay?”

“And where is Damian?” Bruce sounds like it physically hurts to ask and Danny does not envy Damian’s position right now.

“Upstairs. I think he said he was going to his art studio.”

Bruce marches past the boy to the stairs before stopping abruptly and turning to Danny and Duke.

“Don’t touch anything. Watch him.”

Duke and Danny blink at each other for a moment as Bruce disappears up the stairs.

“I’m Duke by the way.”

Danny grins.

[sonarspace]

NO NUT NOVEMBER ?

꒰ synopsis. no nut november or nut november. who knows.. ft. sukuna. choso. nanami. toji. geto. gojo. (separate) warnings. thigh riding. tittyfūcking. chōking. slightly rough sėx. unprōtected. 69. öral. a/n. back again (maybe).. hope you all have a wonderful week!

✧ SUKUNA

it’s only been four days, and sukuna’s already scoffing at the whole idea of no nut november. ridiculous, he thinks. restraint has never been an issue for him—especially not with you. but tonight, with the way you’re straddling his lap, that teasing glint in your eyes, he feels the beginnings of a crack.

you’re barely moving, just a subtle shift of your hips as you sit on his throne, looking every bit like you belong there. his gaze hardens, watching as you lean in close, your fingers tracing the lines of his chest. even as he fights it, his breathing hitches, his grip on your hips tightening.

“you’re really gonna test me like this?” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous. there’s a smirk on his face, but it’s more forced than usual, as if he’s already starting to lose his grip.

“oh, i’m sorry—is this getting to you?” you whisper, voice soft, teasing, that wicked little smirk of yours barely hidden.

his jaw clenches, and you see that familiar spark in his eyes. “you think you’re funny, don’t you?” he mutters, tone dark. “testing me, here, of all places.” there’s a slight growl in his voice, but you can tell he’s barely holding it together.

he lets out a low growl, and without breaking eye contact, his voice sharpens as he commands, “out. all of you.” the quiet shuffle of footsteps fades quickly as the doors shut, leaving the room silent and thick with tension.

the second you’re alone, his hands are on you, pulling you closer, his lips hovering just over yours as he growls, “now… let’s see how long that attitude lasts.”

one of his hands drifts up, finding the tie of your robe and giving it a slow, deliberate tug. the fabric slips loose, sliding off your shoulders, and he watches with a dark gleam in his eyes as it falls to the base of the throne, leaving you completely exposed to him.

“you wanted my attention, huh?” he murmurs, his voice a low, dangerous whisper against your ear. “well, now you’ve got it.”

he pulls you up, positioning himself, and with one powerful thrust, he’s inside you, filling you completely. a shiver runs through him, and his smirk returns, fierce and possessive as his hands move to grip your hips, holding you steady. “don’t think for a second you’re in control,” he mutters, his gaze fierce, unrelenting.

he leans in close, his lips brushing your neck as he begins to move, each thrust rougher, deeper, driving him further from the restraint he swore he’d keep. “you feel that?” he growls, his voice barely more than a whisper. “that’s me claiming every part of you… reminding you who you belong to.”

his hands tighten on your hips, guiding you to meet his rhythm, his breath hot against your skin as he loses himself in the moment. the intensity in his gaze is almost overwhelming, his usual confidence giving way to something darker, something that borders on need as he pulls you closer, deeper.

“look at me,” he demands, his voice low, ragged. “i want to see the way you fall apart. just like this… just for me.”

you lock eyes with him, the intensity of his gaze almost overwhelming, but you hold your ground, meeting him thrust for thrust. “sukuna,” you breathe out, barely a whisper, your voice catching on each of his movements.

“say it again,” he murmurs, his voice low, ragged, his usual control slipping. “say my name.”

when you do, a shiver runs through him, and his movements grow desperate, his grip bruising on your hips as he drives you both to the edge, each thrust more intense until he finally lets himself go, pulling you close as he shudders, his breath hot against your skin.

as he pulls back, chest heaving, there’s a satisfied smirk on his face, his gaze still dark and possessive. “don’t forget… you asked for this,” he murmurs.

but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s far from done.

✧ CHOSO

choso lasted exactly two weeks, longer than anyone expected—including himself. his quiet, focused nature kept him in control, but tonight, you can see his resolve wavering. he’s watching you as you get ready for bed, his gaze lingering as you slip your shirt off, his breath catching when he realizes you aren’t wearing a bra.

his eyes widen, and a blush spreads across his cheeks as he tries to look away. “a-are you… doing this on purpose?” he stammers, voice barely above a whisper, struggling to keep his composure.

you step closer, a playful smile on your lips as you look at him, tilting your head. “is it working?”

he nods, swallowing hard, his gaze reluctantly drifting back to your chest. “i… yeah. it’s… it’s definitely working,” he admits, his voice soft, almost reverent.

you move in front of him, leaning close so he can see every inch, and his hands come up without thinking, fingers brushing over your skin. he lets out a soft, shaky breath as his hands settle on your boobs, his eyes filling with a raw, almost worshipful hunger as he strokes your skin, feeling the warmth beneath his fingers.

without even realizing it, he leans in, his face pressing into your chest, his lips brushing over your skin. his hands tremble as they slide over your boobs, and he lets out a quiet, desperate sound, his mouth pressing against your skin, his eyes fluttering closed as he loses himself completely.

his tongue flicks over your nipple, his breath hot and unsteady as he nuzzles deeper, barely holding himself together as he finally indulges in the softness he’s been craving. “so perfect…” he murmurs, voice barely more than a breath, as if he’s talking to himself.

you gently push him back, sinking down onto your knees, and his eyes flutter open, his breathing ragged as you help him out of his pants. he watches you, lips parted, as you wrap your hand around his length, guiding him toward your chest.

pressing the head of his cock against your nipple, you let him feel the warmth and softness, watching as his eyes go hazy, his lips parting in a soft moan. his hips jerk forward instinctively, grinding into your chest as his head falls back, completely lost in the sensation.

“oh… god,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a breath as you press him between your boobs, holding him there. his eyes roll back, a deep, unsteady moan slipping from his lips as he watches, entirely undone by the moment.

“does that feel good?” you murmur, and he nods frantically, his body trembling as he begins to move, each slide of his length sending a shiver through him, his hands gripping your shoulders as if he needs to hold on.

“yes… please, don’t stop,” he breathes, his voice filled with awe and need. “i… i can’t hold back,” he whispers, his gaze darkening with raw, desperate want.

“then don’t,” you reply, holding him close, guiding his movements as he lets out soft, needy sounds, his breathing growing more ragged with every slide, his whole body tensing as he loses control.

as he reaches his peak, his body shudders, and he lets go completely, painting your chest and stomach in white, his eyes widening as he gazes at you, breathless and in awe. he’s silent for a moment, taking in the sight of you, then, unable to stop himself, he gently pushes you back onto the floor, hovering over you as his hand trails down your body. his voice is low, almost pleading, as he whispers, “please… let me feel you. i need you.”

✧ NANAMI

nanami had lasted ten days into november, his natural discipline keeping him steady, even as you spent the morning testing his patience. during breakfast, you’d nudged his foot under the table, let your fingers brush his a little too long, your playful glances lingering. he brushed it off with his usual calm, but now, as you slip into his office just after his last meeting, he’s holding onto his control by a thread.

he looks up at you, his gaze lingering, something dark and intense flashing in his eyes. “come here for a minute,” he says, his voice steady, but with an edge that makes your pulse quicken.

you step closer, dressed in a soft, silk nightgown that flows against your skin, and before you can say a word, he catches your wrist, pulling you close. in one swift movement, he turns you around, pressing your wrists behind your back, his grip firm as he holds you in place. his breath is hot against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine as he murmurs, “you’ve been testing me all day. and now… you’re going to see exactly what that gets you.”

he reaches for his belt, looping it around your wrists, securing them firmly, his fingers lingering just long enough to make you tremble. his other hand slides down, pressing you flat against the desk, the cool surface meeting your skin as he pushes the silk nightgown up over your hips. with one quick motion, he slips your underwear down, letting it fall to the floor with a soft rustle.

you feel him press against you, his hand pressing into the small of your back as he positions himself. he takes a breath, and you feel the head of his cock brush against you, firm and thick, making you catch your breath. he guides himself in slowly, letting you feel every inch as he stretches you, filling you completely. a low, rough sound escapes his lips, and his hands tighten on your waist as he holds you there, his restraint unraveling with each second.

the desk creaks beneath you as he begins to move, his thrusts steady but intense, each one pressing you deeper against the hard surface. papers slip from the edge, fluttering to the floor as the table rocks beneath his rhythm, the soft creak and the shuffle of falling papers mingling with his ragged breathing.

“all day…” he mutters, voice strained, his hand gripping your waist with possessiveness . “you’ve been pushing me… testing my patience.” each word is punctuated by a deep thrust, the stretch leaving you breathless, his length filling you to the brim

his rhythm grows more desperate, his pace quickening as his control slips further, his breath hot against your ear as he murmurs, “you feel incredible.” his tone is low, rough, filled with raw need.

the sound of the desk creaking beneath you fills the room as he drives deeper, harder, the intensity building as he loses himself completely. his hand slides up, pressing firmly into your lower back as he pulls you closer, each thrust sending a shock of pleasure through you. “you have no idea how close i was,” he whispers, his voice barely more than a growl, “to doing this hours ago… right here.” his movements grow more urgent, his grip tightening as he lets out a low, guttural sound.

as he finally shudders, burying himself fully, he lets out a deep groan, his breathing ragged, his hand still pressing you down as he reaches his peak. even as he catches his breath, his grip on you lingers, fingers tracing over your skin as he glances at the scattered papers, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

before you can fully recover, he lifts you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the bedroom. his voice is low, a hint of mischief coloring his usual calm tone. “oh, we’re far from done,” he murmurs, as he sees the look of slight confusion your face. “i think it’s only fair that i tease and edge you, just like you’ve been doing to me for the past ten days.”

✧ TOJI

toji lasted one day. just one. patience was never his strong suit, and especially not with you. by the time you get home from work, he’s already at his breaking point, practically pacing, anticipation coiling tight as he’s waited to see you all day.

the second you walk through the door, he’s on you, gaze dark and hungry as it roams over you, taking in every inch like he can’t believe you’re finally here. “took you long enough,” he mutters, voice rough, barely restrained.

before you even get a word out, he closes the distance, hands grabbing onto you and pulling you close, his lips crashing into yours, all impatience and need. his hands roam down to your waist, fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes, and with one swift, impulsive motion, he grabs hold and tears it off, the sound of ripping fabric filling the room.

“toji!” you huff, exasperated at yet another ruined outfit, but he just chuckles, his smirk widening as he leans in, voice a low, teasing murmur. “shouldn’t have worn anything, then,” he mutters, his hands moving over your bare skin, possessive and rough.

he presses you back against the wall, his body pinning you there, heat radiating off him as he takes in the sight of you, his gaze lingering. he lips you up, your legs wrapping around his waist, and you feel the thick, hard length of him pressing into you, making your breath hitch.

you’re already soaked, your arousal slick between your thighs, and he wastes no time, lining himself up. in one powerful thrust, he pushes into you, filling you completely, and a low, rough groan slips from his lips as he feels you stretch around him. his cock is thick, stretching you just enough to leave you gasping, clutching onto him as he bottoms out.

the wall behind you creaks with every thrust as he sets a relentless pace, his cock sliding in and out of you, each movement making you slicker, the sound of your bodies joining filling the room. his hand slides up to your throat, fingers pressing just enough to keep you focused on him, grounding you as he takes you harder. the way he fills you has your walls fluttering around him, each thrust hitting deep, brushing spots that leave you gasping and clinging to him.

“one day…” he growls against your neck, voice rough and strained, his fingers tightening slightly around your throat, making you gasp. “that’s all i could last. one. damn. day.”

he thrusts harder, each movement more intense, your arousal coating him, easing his rough pace, his cock thick and heavy inside you. each time he pulls back and thrusts in again, you feel yourself tighten around him, your walls clenching with each push. “you feel so good… so tight around me. you’re gonna remember this every time you tease me, every single time.”

his breathing becomes uneven, his grip on your throat and waist tightening as he pulls you close, thrusting deep until he’s fully seated within you, pushing against your most sensitive spot. with one final, thrust, he pauses, buried as far as he can go, and you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your most sensitive spot, making an indent as he holds you there.

he shudders, his hold on you tightening, and a deep groan slips from his lips as he finally lets go, his release spilling into you in waves. his cock twitches, pulsing with each spasm, savoring every second of how tightly you’re wrapped around him, his body tense, completely overwhelmed.

as he catches his breath, his hand slowly eases off your throat, and he pauses, his gaze softening as he notices the faint mark his fingers left. without a word, he leans in, pressing gentle, lingering kisses over the sensitive skin, his lips warm and tender against where he’d held you. his smirk is gone, replaced by a quieter satisfaction as he looks at you, voice low and soft. “next time…” he murmurs, “don’t make me wait. one day was already too damn long.”

✧ GETO

geto kept a calendar next to his bed, marking off each day of the month, like keeping count would somehow make it easier to get through. day 19 stared back at him, almost mocking him—no matter how many days he marked off, the restraint wasn’t getting any easier.

tonight, as you settled into his lap to watch a movie, pressing your weight into him, he could feel every shift of your hips and smell that soft, intoxicating scent that told him you were ovulating. his jaw tightened, fingers digging into the cushion as he tried to keep his breathing steady, fighting to hold his composure.

and then you whispered, low and pleading, “screw no nut november, suguru… i want you.”

his hand flexed against your hip, and he closed his eyes, inhaling slowly, trying to keep his calm. “it’s almost over,” he murmured, voice calm, though his eyes betrayed the struggle. “just a few more days. you can be patient.”

“please…” you murmured, voice breathless, pressing closer, testing every last bit of his resolve.

he shook his head, voice strained. “if you need it that badly… then get yourself off.” he positioned you over his lap, hands guiding you to straddle his thigh, pressing you down so you could feel the firm, sculpted muscle beneath you. his thigh flexed, the intricate snake tattoo winding down his leg, every line a reminder of him. but he stayed still, just watching, his gaze dark, waiting.

you pouted, shifting against him, letting out a frustrated huff. “i want you, not just this,” you murmured, grinding down against his thigh, your hands braced on his shoulders, fingers digging into him, trying to break through that last bit of control.

his breathing grew heavier, his gaze flickering down to where you moved against him, your arousal slick against his thigh. each roll of your hips tested his patience, the feeling of your heat soaking through his clothes, your soft whimpers as you tried to get closer.

“just a little longer,” he murmured, though his voice had a rough edge to it, the words catching in his throat. but the way you looked up at him, eyes pleading, breath coming faster, was enough to start cracking his resolve.

finally, he let his hands grip your hips firmly, holding you in place as he lifted you slightly, positioning you so he could slide beneath you. with a smirk, he shifted you, guiding you so you were hovering above his face, your legs on either side of him. “if you’re going to make me lose control,” he murmured, voice dark with intent, “then i’m going to make it worth it.”

before you could respond, he pulled you down, his mouth meeting your center, his tongue pressing flat against your clit, sending a shiver up your spine. he lingered there, savoring the taste of you, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate circles, making you gasp. his hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you exactly where he wanted, guiding you to move just enough to deepen the contact, his tongue slipping lower, teasing your entrance before sliding inside, his movements slow, unhurried, as he tasted you.

you couldn’t help but moan, your fingers tangling in his long hair, gripping tightly as he worked, his mouth and tongue relentless, flicking, tasting, his lips closing around your clit as he sucked gently, sending waves of pleasure through you. your walls pulsed around his tongue, each sensation building, making your grip on him tighten as you struggled to keep your balance, overwhelmed by the way he devoured you.

unable to resist, you shifted, turning so you could settle over his face fully, leaning down to free his cock, feeling the heavy, aching heat of him against your palm. he groaned into you as you wrapped your fingers around him, his cock flushed and hard, a deep shade that matched the warmth on his cheeks.

leaning forward, you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling over the tip, tasting the salty hint of his arousal. his hips twitched beneath you, a low, muffled sound escaping him as his grip on your hips tightened, but his focus never wavered, his mouth and tongue working against you, your bodies moving in sync as you both gave in to each other completely.

✧ GOJO

it only took six days for gojo to break, though he’d never admit that it was because of you. every little brush of your fingers, every flirtatious smile—it was killing him. now, with him just back from a mission, that need has become almost painful, and he can’t hide it.

“you’re really going to make me keep waiting?” he asks, his voice low and playful but with a hint of something darker as he watches you, gaze intense.

you give him a teasing smile, taking a step back. “come on, satoru… it’s only been six days.”

he laughs, stepping closer, his smile turning into a smirk. “six days too many,” he murmurs, reaching out, his fingers brushing along your waist, pulling you in close. his lips hover near your ear, his voice a soft murmur. “haven’t you missed me?”

you feel a shiver run through you, but you keep your composure, smiling up at him. “maybe,” you tease, “but it is no nut november, you know..”

he chuckles, his grip on your waist tightening as he leans in, pressing his lips to your neck. “hmm, don't really care for it,” he murmurs, his mouth hot against your skin, his hands roaming over your body as he pulls you closer.

you try to keep up the teasing, but his touch is making it impossible to think. “satoru…” you whisper, your voice barely steady.

“yeah?” he breathes, his gaze darkening as he studies you, his blue eyes filled with that familiar glint. “why don’t you just say it? you want me just as much as i want you, don’t you?”

before you can answer, his lips crash against yours, all teasing replaced by a fierce urgency as he pulls you against him, his hands sliding up to tangle in your hair, keeping you close. his kiss is deep, almost dizzying, as his fingers trail down, finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it off with a skillful ease.

he sits back onto the edge of the bed, taking you with him as he pulls you into his lap, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you to straddle him. he looks up, his eyes filled with that playful, almost wicked spark. “if we’re breaking rules,” he murmurs, “we might as well do it right.”

he presses you down, letting you feel him hard against you, and a soft, satisfied groan escapes his lips as he watches your reaction. his hands slide over your thighs, fingers pressing firmly into your skin as he tilts his head back, smirking. “see? this feels a lot better than no nut november, don’t you think?”

you roll your hips against him, feeling him throb beneath you, and his breath catches, his grip tightening as he lets out a low, ragged laugh. “you’re really going to make me work for this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, voice dropping.

without warning, he shifts, pulling you down so he can lean in, his mouth finding your neck as he kisses down, his tongue flicking against your pulse. his hands roam over your body, tugging off the last of your clothes, his mouth following every inch of bare skin he reveals. finally, he leans back, hands on your hips as he positions you over him, his gaze never leaving yours as he pulls you down onto him.

he looks down, smirking as he brushes his finger along your entrance, teasing you. “did she miss me?” he murmurs, his voice thick, and before you can respond, he pushes in, letting out a deep groan as he fills you completely. “yeah, sweetness,” he breathes, his voice low and rough, “i’ve missed you too.”

DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, OR REPOST MY WORK ON OTHER PLATFORMS!

[happy74827]

Joyride

[Wade Wilson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Remember kids, always look at the road when driving. It can help you avoid certain blabber mouths 🫶

WC: 2556

Category: Fluff, Annoying!Deadpool, 4th Wall Breaks, Insane Amounts of Profanity {TW: Deadpool (for obvious reasons)}

In honor of watching Deadpool 3 (super good btw), enjoy this random chaotic fic I created with the help of @yoursacredqueenmother. This is super chaotic lmfao

『••✎••』

Shit. Shit. Shit. SHIT.

A millisecond ago, you were driving down a street. In the middle of traffic. At a red light. Now, you were panicking, looking over the front of your car for the flash of red you had just seen. It took a couple of seconds for you to realize that there was blood on your car and on the ground—a lot of blood.

"Oh, shit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!"

You quickly hopped out of the car, rushing to the spot you thought the person… or thing would be, but… there was nobody. There was blood on the ground but nobody.

Did you hit a deer, and it just… ran off? No, that can't be right. You definitely saw something red, and it most certainly was not a deer.

You looked around, confused. How the hell does something bleed all over the ground and then disappear without a trace?!

You got back in your car, deciding to drive to the closest police station. Maybe they knew something about this.

So, you decided to abandon the shortcut home and drive to the nearest police station, which happened to be just down the road. But as you were minutes into the drive, you felt the sudden urge to look in your rearview mirror.

And there you found your mysterious red-suited victim in the backseat, holding the biggest knife you have ever seen as his white-covered eyes stared at you from behind the mask.

You never hit the brakes faster in your life. The car made an ugly screeching sound, and the sudden force slammed the red-clad man into the back of your seat, making him let out a surprised yelp.

The car finally came to a stop, and the masked man recovered quickly, pushing himself off of your seat and glaring at you.

"Well, aren’t you just a heart break—"

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

You grabbed your keys from the ignition and popped off the attached pepper spray, turning around and squirting him in the face. He let out a scream, and you quickly got out of the car, shutting the door and running as fast as you could.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get very far. Despite being hit by a car, and subsequently getting pepper sprayed, the man (or what you assume to be) caught up with you and blocked your path, his hands on his hips, his head cocked to the side.

"Alright, lady, what the fuck?" He asked, his voice sounding nasally, most likely because of the spray.

You stared at him, confused. He looked like he was waiting for an explanation.

"W-What the fuck?! What the fuck me? What the fuck you!" You exclaimed, your voice cracking a little. "What the fuck are you doing in my car?!"

"Well, I was trying to hitch a ride! But clearly, that didn't work out. Thanks a lot, by the way, for the pain and suffering. You’ve really opened up my horizons here."

It almost sounded like he was pouting.

"What the—! A ride?! Why in the hell would you just hop into someone's car?!"

"Uhh, because you ran me over, genius! I mean, come on, the least you could do is offer a guy a ride home after that. And then, the cherry on top of the fucking sundae: pepper spray!"

The masked man, so to speak, threw his arms up in the air, and you could almost see him rolling his eyes underneath the mask. Of course, that’s when you noticed the obvious broken bones in his hands. And the blood. There was a lot of blood.

"Look," the guy started, walking closer to you. "I know, I'm a big scary guy with a big scary knife and a bad temper and all, and you’re just… well, I’m sure you have an amazing personality, but how about we put all that aside, and you give me a ride, alright? Just drop me off at the corner of 10th and 55th, and you can forget this ever happened."

"Your arm… your wrist. It's broken," you told him.

"Yeah, no shit," the man scoffed. "Got any Taylor Swift CDs in that car?"

"Uh… no, not really. Why?"

"Cause, baby, I’m Shaking It Off!"

There was a pregnant pause, and you weren't quite sure if he was being serious or not. I mean, surely he wasn’t about to just ignore the fact that his arm was the complete opposite of norm—

But when he shook his arm in a violent manner, and a loud crack followed suit, you realized, with a heavy heart, that yes, this guy was serious.

What you didn’t know until a few seconds later, however, was that he snapped his bones back into place like it was nothing. It took the flexing in his fingers to realize it, too.

"Holy shit." You truly were in awe.

He seemed to find amusement in your expression, tilting his head slightly and giving you a once-over. And, yes, you could feel his eyes on you, and for some reason, it sent a shiver down your spine.

"So… Wendy Torrance, about that ride? Can you give me a lift, or are we gonna start that chick flick moment where your mental breakdown leads to slow-motion running to a Sia song?"

You could only stare.

"Alright, well, if you're going through with the latter, then at least play something that doesn’t involve that little dancing girl who likes to wear potato sacks as clothes."

You couldn’t believe this was happening.

"You are literally insane." You breathed out, shaking your head.

Even if you couldn’t see it, something told you that he made the biggest grin underneath his mask.

"Why, thank you, darling."

Fast forward a couple of minutes, and you found yourself driving towards the address the red-suited stranger had given you. You couldn’t really make conversation. He had his hands in his lap, playing with a knife, and was staring at you, his head tilted.

"You can blink, you know. I'm not a zombie," he informed you, making a gesture to his mask and eyes, which you assumed he was blinking underneath.

"Right," you nodded.

“Well, mostly, at least. I mean, I still have a pulse, but it's kind of irregular, and I think it's because I keep getting shot and stabbed in the heart. Oh, and I guess I'm also pretty much immortal, so that's probably the reason. But I think the whole not-dying thing cancels out the heartbeat thing, right? Like, the more times you get impaled or decapitated or set on fire, the more it doesn’t matter because it doesn’t affect you anymore, am I right?"

You glanced at him. He was staring at you, his hands still and his knife resting on his leg.

"…Do you ever shut up?"

"Woah-hoho, feisty. And here I thought I was going to break the ice with a good ol' fashioned knock knock joke."

"I don’t think that would've been funny."

"That's what the last girl said."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm. Except she wasn’t talking about the joke. I made her laugh in a different way."

You glanced at him again, and he was giving you a knowing look.

"I can't decide if you're disgusting or not."

He hummed, shrugging his shoulders. That made him shut his mouth just long enough for you to turn on the radio but not long enough to avoid the inevitable.

"Hey, hey, I got a good one: Knock knock."

You let out a long sigh, closing your eyes. "Who's there?"

"Orange."

"Orange, who?"

"Orange you glad I'm not a serial killer?"

"That wasn’t even good."

"I know. It would've been better if I could've pulled the knife out of my belt. You know, just for show." He twiddled his fingers at you.

"That wouldn’t have helped," you said.

"Nope," he agreed. "But it would've made a great story."

"I suppose."

"Yeah. Hey, hey, I got another one: Knock knock."

"You just—"

"Knock knock."

You let out a huff. This man was the most childish, annoying, idiotic, strange, weird—

"Knock knock."

"Oh, just fucking tell me the joke!"

"No! It doesn't work that way!"

You rolled your eyes, but before you could answer, he beat you to it.

"Okay, okay, how about this: Knock knock."

You didn't say anything.

"Knock knock."

Your eyes flickered over to him for a second.

"Knock knock."

"For fucks sake!" You exclaimed. "Who's there?"

He leaned forward, closer to you, and you could see his mouth moving.

"Deadpool."

You were confused.

"D-Deadpool? Is this a reference to that shitty horror movie? If so, that wasn't even good, and I'm not laughing, and I don't get the joke."

He just gave you a blank look, or at least you thought he did.

"No. My name's Deadpool."

"That’s…" you trailed off. "A pretty dumb name. Like that outfit you're wearing."

"Hey! Diss the name all you want, but don’t you dare diss the suit. It's my trademark. Not everyone can pull off this type of look; it’s a very rare art."

"Whatever. You still haven't told me the punch line to your dumb joke."

"Punch line? I never said there was a punch line. It was a knock knock joke."

"So then… What was the point? To annoy the driver into wanting to run you over again?"

He chuckled, a low, deep sound that vibrated in his throat. That… That was… oh.

He was still close, and now, with the new angle, you could see the small, yet very visible, curve of his lips, and that made you wonder who was actually hiding behind the mask.

"You are seriously the strangest person I've ever met."

"Oh, babe, you don't even know the half of it."

"Please, enlighten me," you replied sarcastically, glancing over at him.

His masked eyes looked into yours, and you knew he was grinning; you could practically feel it.

"What do you wanna know?" He asked.

"Uh, I don't know. Something other than the fact that you're a nutcase. How about your real name? It's obviously not 'Deadpool,' and I doubt anyone actually calls you that. So, what's your actual name?"

"Oh, wow. Right off the bat, huh? You know, the last girl I was with wasn’t nearly as direct. Then again, she never sprayed me like I was a roach in her kitchen."

You didn’t respond. You kept your eyes on the road.

"Fine," he relented. "But don’t expect a happy ending. This isn’t Kanas anymore, Toto."

He leaned back in his seat, his arm hanging off the open window, the wind blowing through his red suit.

"Names Wade, like the boxers, but without the fancy pants."

You raised an eyebrow.

"Wade Winston Wilson, I love long walks on the beach, and a good movie, and tacos, and chimichangas, and guns. Especially guns. Kinky, but not too kinky… and did I mention the tacos? Cause I love fucking love tacos."

Maybe you should start carrying tape around.

"What about you, sugar lips?" He asked, gesturing to you with the hand he wasn’t leaning against. "Got a name, or can I call you mine? Ooh, I should’ve used that before the pepper spray. 'What's your name, or can I call you mine?' Classic, Wade. Well, except for the fact that I forgot the 'I'd like to hit it from the back' part. Damn, should have used that, too. It's a good thing they gave you the lead. Otherwise, the audience would've been confused. They would've been wondering, 'Why did the writer suddenly change the dialogue to be about sex? Wasn’t this supposed to be that pure Notebook love story we all wanted?'"

He paused for a moment.

"Wait a minute. Are we still doing the monologue thing, or is the writer done? Cause, no offense, but that was a shitty transition. And, come on, no one wants a Notebook love story anymore. Who writes those? What we need is a little romance and a whole lotta smut."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Me? Nothing, just giving some feedback. I've always had an open relationship with writers. Some might even call me the next J.K Rowling. Except, instead of a lighting scar and magic, I have an ass load of weapons with an insatiable lust for violence and blood. And tacos."

You decided to ignore him.

"Anyway, back to you. You never answered my question. Do you have a name or not?"

"I can’t believe I actually agreed to give you a ride home."

"Yeah," he said, sounding bored. "Why did you do that?"

"I don’t know. Because I hit you with my car and felt bad? You had a broken arm and were bleeding out all over the ground."

"First sign of insanity."

"What?"

"Nothing," his mask wiggled around the area of his eyebrows. "So, your name? Don’t tell me you’re gonna pull out the classic yes and no abbreviations. You know what? I’m just gonna call you Spidey. It's easier, and it’ll sound sexier when you're screaming it later."

You rolled your eyes, deciding just to ignore his comments for the rest of the drive. You were wishing that you didn't live in a city full of traffic cause, damn, this was taking a while.

"Alright, turn here."

You followed the directions and pulled up in front of an abandoned-looking building. You didn't say anything, but you did raise an eyebrow in question.

"What? A guy like me has to keep his place secret, especially when the fangirls are after him."

"I didn’t ask."

"Yeah, but I saw you wondering."

"Right."

"Hey, Spidey," he said, unbuckling his seat belt. "Thanks for the ride."

"No problem. Just make sure to keep your ass away from car bumpers. And out of my car."

"Awe, come on, baby cakes, don't be like that. You're really missing out. My ass is the finest in the business. Not to mention my package. You should see the reviews I get online."

You snorted. "I'll take your word for it."

"Yeah, you will," he said, leaning over and patting your cheek. "Hey, if you ever get lonely, or bored, or horny, or whatever, just give me a call. Here," he handed you a crumpled piece of paper. "Don't lose it, that's my number. We should totally bang, like, tomorrow, or tonight, or right now."

"Goodbye, Wade," you said, and he took it as his cue to leave. He gave a silly salute and exited the car, but not without giving you a wink first.

"See you soon, Spidey!"

With that, he walked up to the building and disappeared inside. With a sigh, you collapsed into the seat, not even bothering to watch him. You were exhausted, and all you wanted was to go home and sleep.

After a couple of minutes of relishing the nice breeze that came through the open windows, you sat up and un-crinkled the paper.

The only thing written on it was a phone number, with a small, messy, red heart and a few words that honestly had you questioning the sanity of the world:

'If you're lucky, maybe I'll even let you top. ;)'

——

Spoiler alert: it took about a month for the two of you to hook up.

And no, you did not have Domino’s luck.

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

part one

warnings: depictions of blood and injury, standard gotham violence, jason doesn't know how to have feelings, reader is angry, threats against readers life, implied concern of sexual assault

It might be a matter of deficiency in self-preservation skills, how the sound of your window sliding open does nothing to phase you. You don’t know if that’s your fault or his.

“How’s it goin’ down there?” You mumble, not sitting up from your position on the couch.

He pushes the window shut in his wake, huffing. “I am up here for a reason,” he says factually.

You crane your head back just in time to see him tug the red helmet off his head, setting it down on your side table. He has on his under-mask that covers the lower half of his face. You don’t like that one.

He glances around your apartment as he approaches with slow steps. “Why are all the lights off?”

“Forgot to turn ‘em on,” you tell him simply.

He frowns at you, confusion evident.

You pay him no mind though, taking an exaggerated breath and pushing yourself up off the couch before trotting over to the kitchen. You open the fridge and scrummage for a water bottle. Jason thinks it’s odd how long it takes you to find one in your own fridge. 

Once it's (eventually) in your hands, you chug down several gulps and toss the half empty bottle towards the counter where it lands with a sloppy thump and rolls.

When you return, he’s leant against the armrest of your chair, watching you. You stop in the middle of the room, a contemplating stare on the floor. He tilts his head at you, wondering what you could possibly be thinking so hard about.

You take a deep breath before plopping down to lay on the carpet all in one go. 

He peers down at you, barely trying to hide his amusement. “You’re drunk.”

You shake your head, “I’m not sober.”

“That’s—yeah.” He stands all the way, coming to lay down on the floor next to you, using significantly more coordination than you had.

He lays in between you and the couch, though it doesn’t seem you’d left him much room. If he minds, it doesn’t show. “What’d you do?”

“I jus’ went out with my friend,” you tell him, closing your eyes. “She moves pretty fast..”

It occurs to him that you might be laying on the ground because you got nauseous. He turns to look at you, scanning you over. “You good?”

“I feel great,” you keen. “I feel…swooshy.”

He gives you a bemused look. “Dizzy?”

You shake your head with a great deal of consideration on your face, “No, not even dizzy, just…swoosh.” You throw out a hand with a theatrical flick.

“Mhm.”

You pucker your lips to the side. “You come here a lot,” you comment, clearly working up to some greater observation.

“You’re in my neighborhood,” he shrugs. 

Your head tilts, “You live here?”

He pauses before correcting himself, “My territory.”

You hum, “Still. There has to be other people around here you know. ‘Specially if you��re passing out on balconies on the reg.”

He frowns, “I try not to make a habit out of it.”

You continue on, “Why do you always go to my apartment? There’s—”

“I don’t always come to your apartment—”

You deadpan, “You’re here like three nights a week. And I don’t even help you that much anymore, you’ve used up my whole first aid kit.”

You can literally feel the eyeroll like you have a sixth sense for it. “That thing wasn’t exactly impressive to start with..”

“Did enough for you, didn’t it? Anyways, my point is: I think you like me,” you say with a nod.

That has him going absolutely rigid, “What?”

“I’ve heard you’re an asshole.”

“What?”

You nod, “Like, people that run into you. They say you’re kind of a dick. You help ‘em ‘n everything, but also while being a dick. Sometimes.”

“Okay...”

“But you’re nice to me. Sort of,” you squint. “I think you like me.”

He hasn’t felt this straggled in a conversation in a while. “I—well I’m not here because you’re a world-class medic.”

You scoff, “There’s no world-class medics..” But then your tone switches up, into something lighter. “We’re friends aren’t we? I think we’re friends.” 

He shakes his head, staring up blankly. “Sure, we’re friends.”

“We’re friends and you like me,” you reiterate.

He really wishes you’d stop saying that. “Okay.”

“I like you too. Even though you’re kinda sketchy.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

You hum into the silence, looking up at the ceiling. “J…James, Jack, John…”

He smiles, gaze dancing across the egg-whitened popcorn texture of the ceiling. “I’m not going to tell you.”

You ignore him, “Jake, Jaden, Jason, Josh, Joe, Jesse…”

You’re about three shots too drunk to notice the way he briefly stiffens. 

“Juuhhh…” you lull your head to the side, the letter fading out slowly as you look into his eyes. If you focus, you think you can make out a few of those little specks of green again.

He seems to already be running his own study on your irises, his eyes now softer than you can remember seeing them before. 

His next words are whispered, the sounds barely escaping. “You’re pretty.”

What?

“What?”

“What?” He seems taken aback by his own words, like he also wasn’t expecting them to climb out of his mouth.

You can literally feel sobriety seeping back into your blood. “I’m…pretty?”

He blinks a few times, apparently trying hard to decide on what position he’s going to take here. “I—well…yeah.”

You blink once, relaxing. “I think…I think you’re pretty too.”

“What?”

“We can’t do this again.”

He breaks eye contact, looking almost dejected.

You turn your head down to where his hand thrums against the carpet. “I mean, I know I haven’t seen your whole face in one go, but I see the top half now and the bottom before, so I…maybe I shouldn’t be saying this.” You reset with a shallow breath, “I don’t know what your whole face looks like.”

“That was,” he blinks, eyebrows raised. “Fascinating.”

“Thanks,” you say flatly. You close your eyes again, though this time you remain facing him.

He feels a slight pang of guilt for the way he continues to ogle at you, eyes tracing over every detail of your face. But that ounce of guilt does nothing to outweigh the reward of gazing upon you. He didn’t mean to say it but he definitely meant it: you’re really fucking pretty.

Your eyelashes flutter for a moment before stilling, a display of peace washing over your features. It’s when your breathing steadies over and your face relaxes completely is when he starts to feel like a creep. It takes a lot of strength for him to force his eyes shut, depriving himself of the view.

And he doesn’t do it on purpose, but after a few moments his inhales and exhales take to the same rhythm of yours. The thin layer of the rug isn’t doing much to protect his back from the hardwood below and he’s pretty confident later he’ll curse himself for lying like this for so long. 

But as he lays, he doesn’t find himself focused on the dark red-gray of his eyelids like usual, so much as the warmth from the proximity of your bodies. He’s usually so concentrated on whatever the hell is going on in his head and it prevents him from really truly resting, but now, the only thing taking up his attention is physical sensations.

He feels this warmth in his heart that if he didn’t know any better, he’d call burning. His hands feel numb and he can distinctly feel the beat of his own heart in his chest, thrumming away.

He presses his lips to your forehead with a feather light touch, slow to pull away. He doesn’t make it all the way back to his original position before his movement lulls and his body relaxes again, joining you gladly in unconsciousness.

Gotham City has a particular gift for inconveniencing you at the worst possible moment and doing it multiple times a week.

Tonight's round of problems resulted in an entire city district getting shut down, the district which is regrettably right between your job and your apartment.

So on top of having to hole up into your work for two hours longer than you were supposed to, it took you an extra 45 minutes getting home while trying to maneuver around every other person in the same situation. And just to cement the quality of this night, the door to your apartment building slams nice and hard against your side and the light in the hallway is out.

You groan when you fail to get your key the lock the right way for the third time, lodging it in a final time and shoving the door open. You flick on the kitchen light and dump your bag onto the counter, kicking the door shut behind you.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed, as you lean your head back against the wall. The second you crack your eyes open again, a pile of red mass on the floor behind your couch catches your attention and startles some energy right back into your chest.

“Oh, shit,” you scurry over towards the window, crumbling down onto your knees in front of him. Your eyes dart across the red helmet, trying to makeout any signs of consciousness. “Hood?” 

There’s no response from him, no movement. You tug his helmet off, finding him eyes-closed with blood running down the side of his head. You push a hand down on his chest armor, shaking him. “J? J!”

His eyes flutter open slowly under his domino mask, adjusting to the light. With the disorientation on his face he looks younger, more his age. His hair is tousled up and you can make out some distinct curls in it when it's undone like this. 

He grimaces, gloved hand coming up to his head. He looks wearily at the blood on his fingers, before plopping his hand back down and blinking up at you. “Hey..”

You sit back on your heels with a sigh, “What the fuck?”

He makes a strained effort to sit up on his own so you try to heave him up by his forearm. As he comes up all the way you glance behind his back at a bag crumpled discarded on the floor. You can barely see some sort of fabric poking out the top. “What is that?”

“Huh?” He throws back a tired glance, “Oh. They're..curtains.”

“Explain.”

He looks at you blankly, “You don’t have any curtains.”

You blink. “Explain.”

“It’s dangerous for people to just be able to look in and see you. So. Curtains.” For a guy who reads Dostoevsky, he’s not much of a wordsmith. Though that could be the concussion. 

You reach around him and pull some of the fabric out of the bag, inspecting the linen. They match the theme of your living room.

You set it back down, blinking. “Thanks.”

He only gives a half-hearted shrug.

You look back at him, “How bad is the…?” You gesture to the side of your head.

He feels at the blood again, “It’s mostly just a cut. Shoulda stopped bleeding by now.”

You nod, “I’ll, uh—I’ll clean it up.”

He looks at you, shaking his head. “You don’t need to. Your kit’s almost empty anyways.”

“I restocked it,” you tell him, rising to stand. He lets you go retrieve your aid box without protest, listening blankly to the faucet run in the bathroom while you’re gone.

You return momentarily, damp rag in one hand, kit in the other. “Here, sit on the couch,” you tell him, nodding him up. 

He lugs himself up off the hardwood and onto the cushion with a groan. You position yourself on the cushion next to him, leaning over to inspect the cut. You brush through his hair as gently as you can, though you have to suspect he wouldn’t have minded either way—if only based on the pain threshold you know him to have.

As much as you are completely in his space, you’re having trouble getting all the access you need to fix him up right. You turn and adjust your angle this way and that but none of it works. 

You huff, sitting back. “I can’t..”

He nods his permission at you without delay, and you shift yourself over to sit fully on his lap, straddling him on the sofa. You put your focus into cleaning his wound, but you have to notice how deep he’s breathing and how he’s seemingly trying very hard to avoid eye contact. You’re sure your own breath is uneven and telling, and frankly you’re kind of hoping he has a concussion just so he might not notice it.

An unexpected sting has him flinching and grabbing your hips on instinct, a certain heaviness lingering in the air after contact. His hand tenses and he’s about to remove them from you completely when you manage to catch his gaze, and the few moments of silent eye contact are enough to convince him to stay. He forces his hands to relax against your waist, his fix on your face wavering before fizzling away completely.

You go back to dabbing at the blood and it’s clear that his thoughts get the better of him quickly. “You should move.”

“But then where would you go?”

He makes a rumbling noise from the back of his throat at that, saying nothing more.

You continue to wipe away at the blood until you can’t see it anymore, beyond the slice of the cut. You misjudge your own spatial awareness as you pull back from him, and the tips of your noses graze. Though the contact surprises you, you don’t move away from it. You become very acutely aware of his touch on your waist, how warm it feels atop your shirt. 

His head leans forward just barely before stopping. He retreats slightly and his body ultimately decides to come closer. He doesn’t stop until his lips, slightly parted, skim across yours.

Your breath catches as he looms nearer, lips touching against yours softly. He tests that pressure out for a moment, before moving to kissing you with more intent. You kiss him back, and though there’s an increasing resolve on both of your parts, the connection itself remains gentle, reposeful.

The last slight movement of his lips gradually slips away as he rests his forehead against yours.

A long beat passes before he’s tightening his grip on your waist and pulling you up to stand. You aren’t given the time to process the shift as he’s moving straight past you, head down. He pauses only when he gets to the window, back turned to you.

“Sorry—I’m…” his shoulders drop, “Sorry.” 

He climbs out and scales the fire escape in total silence until he’s gone completely.

You stand frozen in position, staring at the window with incredulity burning across your face.

What the fuck?

Two weeks pass of voided midnight visits. 

You’re not sure what to make of that. He kissed you, not the other way around. You couldn’t possibly have done something to upset him or throw him off since he’s the only one who did anything. All in all, it’s a little disappointing.

There had been tension there and it wasn’t shocking for you to learn that he wanted to kiss you. It was a bit of a surprise for him to actually do it, though not a bad one. But you were thrown for a grand fucking loop when he immediately bailed out.

Maybe you can’t read him as well as you think because you’d expected him to at least say something about it. It was a borderline given that he would come back and there would be a bonus surplus of tension but then there would be a resolution. Because he wouldn’t kiss you and then never come back. Nobody would do that, it doesn’t make sense.

It’s a little more than embarrassing to admit that you’ve been purposefully staying home in the hope that he’ll drop in. After fifteen nights of disappointment, you decided to put your focus elsewhere.

You’d asked a friend of yours to go out with you tonight, and never one to decline a night out, she agreed happily. 

The bell above the door jingles as you crack it open, peaking your head in. You find Chloe quickly, stood behind the bar with bottles in hand.

“Hey gorgeous,” she smiles at you, waving you in.

You step in, air conditioning hitting you hard. The sparkles on her cocktail dress catch your eye as she turns this way and that, trying to find the right spot for the whiskey. 

Chloe hums to herself as she searches, honestly taking a bit longer than she should. “You been cool?”

You nod, “Yeah, just—you know…” She doesn’t. Your affiliation with the Red Hood is something you’ve kept to yourself, though you don’t know why. It would be safer, more responsible to let someone else know about these drop-ins, but something about it feels personal. A strange feeling to tack onto it, you think. A regrettable one, at least. 

You take a deep breath, “You’ve been busy. Jessie call out again?”

She laughs dryly, “Oh yeah, of course. But it's fine, I love staying over an hour after close.” She sighs, “I’m almost done anyway.”

You circle around the bar, looking over the several yet-to-be-sorted bottles. “You need help?”

“No, there’s—” she cuts herself off as she looks over at the front door, face dropping. “Oh, shit. Duck.”

“Wha—” she yanks you down to the floor to crouch awkwardly behind the counter.

You hear the bell ring as the door swings open, followed by several pairs of footsteps and low voices.

“—Christ, if she forgets to lock the door one more fucking time I’m gonna kill her.”

You look at Chloe through furrowed eyebrows, her grip on you still tight. She shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

A second man mutters something you can’t make out.

The first voice continues, “Go around back and lug the crates in, we gotta start packing that shit.” 

Another voice, “The crates? They’re not here..”

There’s a heavy beat before the first voice speaks, “What the fuck do you mean they’re not here? She needs them now.”

“Well…the first shipments will be in later this week. The next batch’ll take until the end of the month, probably.”

A sigh, “Dumbass…”

The first voice huffs, “The end of the month? Are you fucking kidding me? I told you to get that shit ready weeks ago and you’ve got it coming in at the end of the month?” 

“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do to get it sooner.”

“Yeah, you do that,” he grumbles. “Motherfucker. I need a drink. Get a bottle of something.”

One of the men rounds the counter, tracks falling short at the sight of you and Chloe huddled against the counter.

“What the fuck?”

You and Chloe are wide-eyed and frozen as he sneers down at you. Still, he looks like he’s trying to be tougher than he is, compensating for size that he does not have, with an attitude that doesn’t match up with the way he sped around the counter to get the other man a drink.

Another guy comes around and you quickly recognize him as the man in charge. He frowns at Chloe, sighing, “You’re not supposed to be here still, Chloe.”

She shifts her weight, “I was just…finishing inventory…”

The bossman’s eyes move to you, laced with nothing but inconvenience. “Oh and you brought a friend. Great.” 

“Mr. Murray, we were just ab—”

He’s quick to cut her off with a hand, “Chloe. Stop talking.”

Her face falls flat and her words die off without hesitation.

“Get up.”

She’s pushing herself off the ground instantly while you’re still on the floor catching up with what the hell’s going on. As she moves out from behind the bar, you scurry to follow her. Your arm bumps against hers as you fiddle with the seams at the bottom of your outfit.

You dressed to go out with your friend on a Friday night, not to meet three mobsters in a closed bar with no witnesses. That’s to say, you’re feeling a little exposed.

You stand in the center of the bar, the three men looking various degrees of annoyed looks across their faces. Though the oldest looking of the bunch has something else in his eyes as he looks you up and down, in no rush to hide his engrossment in your bare legs.

“How old are you, honey?” Even without the blatant ogling, that’s never a good question to hear from a fifty year old man.

Your eyes avert to the floor, lips pursing. 

“Hey, don’t be rude. I asked you a question.” He nudges your chin up a bit rougher than necessary, forcing you to look him in the eyes. 

Somehow, you feel like there’s no answer here that would help you. 

The man at the bar serves as an unexpected saving grace of sorts, muttering, “We don’t have time for this.”

Your pursuer shakes his head, looking you over in a way that makes you feel very small. “I think we got plenty of time.”

“I disagree.”

All heads whip to the doorway where the Red Hood leans against the frame, checking his phone. A never invited but always welcome addition to the party. At least for you.

The man in front of you instantly steps back, putting some distance between the two of you. Hands across the room instinctively fly to holsters only to begrudgingly relax at their sides, probably figuring drawing on Red Hood isn’t in their best interest. Though your focus lies on the bell above his head that didn’t make a peep whenever he came in.

Hood shuts his phone off and puts it away with a quiet sigh before glancing up at the tension-filled room. He literally double takes when his helmet scans past you. You somehow feel more in trouble now than you did two minutes ago. 

“Hood..” the bossman says measuredly. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you for a second longer before tearing his gaze away. “Just thought I’d check up on you, Murray. Make sure you’re not causing trouble in light of our agreement.” He makes a point of looking back at you and Chloe at that last part before looking to Murray expectantly.

He waves that off easily, “This is nothing. Just two late-shift employees.”

Hood takes a piqued breath. “You picked a bad time to lie to me,” he says flatly.

Murray shakes his head, “Look, we’re just cleaning up a mess. No harm.”

“Really?”

“This clean up benefits you too, they heard too much. The one girl—Chloe, get out. She’s fine, she’s not talking.”

Chloe wastes no time exiting hastily. Bye Chloe.

He continues, “We only need to kill one of them.” He says it like this is an ideal compromise. You’re feeling differently.

Hood huffs, pulling out a gun from his holster. “I’m thinking it’s implied that killing innocent people is a form of causing trouble. Which is in direct violation of our agreement.” He cocks the gun, pointing it at Murray’s head.

Murray steps back dramatically, throwing his hands up. “Hey, an alliance is an alliance!”

Hood wavers his head to the side, “Alliance is a strong word. Temporary tolerance maybe…”

The short man pipes up, “Okay, calm down, calm down. Nobody needs to get killed. We can cooperate.”

“That’s the spirit,” Hood quips, lowering his gun.

The older one shakes his head, “We don’t have anything on her, she’ll talk.”

The short man demurs, “We don’t know that—”

“She saw too much, we can’t have her walking around with that information,” Murray says, moving towards you. 

Hood puts his hands up like some kind of mediator, “Nobody’s killing anybody.”

Murray scoffs, “You were gonna kill me!”

Hood's hands drop as he stands in full, “And I still might!”

Boldly, Murray steps up to him.

But Hood looks down at him, easily a full head taller than him and at least twice his muscle mass. “Let's weigh out your odds here, Murray. Is that a fight you’re winning?”

The look on Murray’s face tells you it’s not and he struggles to maintain this chest to chest confrontation.

It only takes him a moment of wavering to decide to back off, though he sure as hell doesn’t look happy about it. 

Hood pushes past him, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him. 

Murray splutters, watching you go. “You can’t—I-I know people.”

“I am people,” Hood grumbles, steering you towards the door.

Though you can be sure they have them, no one voices any objections aa he pulls you outside.

His stride doesn’t even falter as he marches you down the sidewalk in the direction of your apartment. Aside from the sound of the breeze wisping past your ears, it’s silent between you.

After two blocks you get the strong impression that this muted exchange of energy is just going to keep on, so you force yourself to find something to rattle off about. “That uh, that seems like something he’s gonna be mad about.”

He huffs, “Yeah, well he can get over it or die so I guess it’s a personal choice.”

You frown at his tone, “What’s your problem?”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say as his head snaps in your direction. “Why the hell are you out here?”

His sharp attitude has you stumbling a bit. “Why are you out here? You have a concussion.”

“I don’t have a concussion,” he grumbles. “And I just saved your life so maybe complaining about it isn’t your best move right now.”

You try to stop and face him but he doesn’t let you, keeping you moving along with him. “That’s what we’re doing? Really?” 

Are these about the social skills that you had expected from him based on your first meeting? Yeah. But that first meeting was months ago. He’s proven again and again that he has half a brain and the ability to read a room so you’re really not fucking sure what the hell his problem is. He won’t acknowledge that he kissed you and all but jumped out your living room window, but he will snap at you for asking about his concussion that there’s no way he doesn’t have. Especially if he’s acting like this. 

He ignores your comment, blatantly at that. “Did they say anything about a drug shipment?”

This is what we’re talking about? Sure. Fine. At least you’re talking. 

You open your mouth briefly before closing it again, eyes narrowed. “I don’t know.”

He tries again, “What about Nocturna? Did you hear that name?”

“I…I don’t know.” You weren’t exactly taking notes behind the bar counter. 

His head drops down heavily, “Okay, I think I’m seeing a trend for how this conversation’s gonna go...”

You gawk at him, astonished that he thinks it’s you who’s handling this discussion poorly. “You cannot be serious right now.”

He sighs, slowing as you approach the steps to your building, “Just—why’d they let Chloe go?”

You blink a few times, “I mean, she has a drug problem…” You guess that might be where she’s getting them from…

He nods solemnly, “Okay.”

You huff, turning to walk up the steps, shoulders heavy. You hope he’ll come up with you and maybe, just maybe, address the elephant in the room. 

“Are you—” you turn around to face him again, met with nothing but vacant air. 

A deep, tense, breath from you before calling out, “Really?”

One month. One month. And he decides to show up tonight like it’s no time lost. But there was some fucking time lost.

Count ‘em up, that’s one period, two paychecks, three grocery trips, four laundry days, and thirteen showers. And that stupid fucking vigilante ransacked your head during every single one.

You went through the five stages of grief for this bizarre, undefinable relationship and then discovered about six more while you were at it. 

So when you walk out from the bathroom, you’re a little pissed to see him sitting there on your living room floor, helping himself to a glass of water. 

Maybe it’s his domino mask that gives his expression the illusion of neutrality. Or maybe he really has no idea how insane it is that he would occupy your apartment like this after skipping out on you for an entire lunar cycle.

He leans against your armchair, inspecting a scratch on his lower arm. You enter silently, watching him the whole time as you make your way over to the far end of the couch.

He doesn’t look up at you though, not until after a minute or two of silence. 

“You got any bandages left?” he asks, throwing a glance over his shoulder. 

You stare at him incredulously. 

After ten seconds with no response from you, he turns around fully, frowning. “What?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I—” he squints, eyes flickering across your face. “No?”

You continue to gawk at him, not trying for any words.

He stares back, eyes wide. “I don’t know what you want me to say...”

You tear your gaze from him, preferring to stare at the wall. “You know what, I think I know what your problem is.”

He gives a laugh with little life to it. “I only have one?”

You bite down on your lip, “You only have one I’m ready to kill you over.”

He sits with that for a minute. A long minute, before asking softly, “What is it?”

You shake your head, glaring at an unoccupied nail in the wall. “That you’re an idiot,” you mutter. You start to walk away before turning around again after a few steps. “Where the hell have you been?”

He blinks, “Uh, there’s just been a lot of—”

“Bullshit.”

He’s about to argue his point, but quickly decides to concede, “Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, sitting back. “I…wasn’t prepared for this conversation,” he says carefully.

You scoff with a nod, “Yeah, neither was I, but it’s happening. I m—what did you think was going to happen here? I—you kissed me, you kissed me!”

“No I—” he huffs, “I shouldn’t have done that, okay?”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

He sighs, throwing his hands up at his sides. “What do you want me to say?”

You shrug without genuinity, “Anything that could possibly rationalize that sequence of decisions. You kiss me, run away, ghost me for a fucking month, and then show up again like nothing happened.”

He shuts his eyes, shaking his head. “I know, I know, I’m sorry!”

“I’m not asking you to be sorry, I’m asking you to pick a fucking lane and stick to it!”

He falls silent at that, eyes on the floor. It’s quiet for long enough that you start to think he’ll accept the silence as his cue to leave. You’re not sure if you want him to or not.

You take a deep breath, eyes closed. “I need you to start being straight with me. Now.”

He doesn’t look up, taking his time to find his words. “I am sorry,” he tells you. “I…I’m not good at this. I’m not good with words so I shouldn’t have fucking done it.”

Honestly you weren’t expecting him to actually come up with a reason, so you’re not prepared to weigh out whether or not it’s a good one.

“I like you...a lot. And I didn’t know—I don’t know—what to do about it so I kissed you and I didn’t think it through, and…I guess I panicked.”

That’s more than enough for you to warrant looking back over at him. It doesn’t take long for your gaze to start shifting around awkwardly while you scratch at your neck. “I would’ve taken you for more of a fight over flight kinda guy.”

He nods to himself. “Jus’ depends..” he says quietly.

And then it seems neither of you have anything else to say. You’ve run out of angry words to spit and he’s run out of apologies and excuses. But neither of you feel like you’re done.

The quiet lingers on for a painful amount of time. Your annoyance dissipates into something else, something more uncomfortable, but you couldn’t find a name for it. It’s got your thoughts going faster though and your chest feeling more hollow. Maybe not hollow…maybe just softer. 

He cuts through your thoughts before you can, “Are you mad that I kissed you?”

You shake your head, “No. I’m mad about what happened after.” You’re just mad about what happened after. Should’ve said just.

He thinks about that for a moment. 

“I can be honest with you,” he tells you. The way he says it, it’s somewhere between a peace offering and an assurance to himself.

You look at him again. He reads oddly vulnerable for a man his size with his reputation. You believe him. 

He goes on, “I trust you, you know? I want you to trust me too, if you can.”

You blink a few times, processing. “I…I don’t know anything about you.”

He nods, an anxious aura radiating around him. He leaves you hanging for longer than a few moments, getting you convinced that the conversation is just going to end there.

It doesn’t though, and after a few minutes, he sits up and reaches up to his mask.

It has you sitting up too, like he just pulled out a gun. Your hands fly up instinctually, as though this is completely uncalled for, as if he’s crazy for doing it.

He pauses his movements for a moment, making eye contact with you. His eyes reaffirm his words. He trusts you and he wants you to trust him.

You allow your hands to relax onto your lap and he continues on, taking his mask off.

You’re not revealed to much more of his face than you’d already seen before, but entirely in view like this, he’s a sight. You try not to stare but there’s little reward to removing him from your sight whereas the alternative…

All together like this you can see how his features balance his face out so nicely and make for a warm countenance, if not rough.

He takes a deep breath, setting his mask to the side. “My name is J…” he says with assurance. “Todd,” he tacks on.

You don’t mean to, really, but you’re sure the frown on your face is evident as puzzle pieces start forming and connecting in your mind. 

J…Todd…J…Jay…Todd…Jason…Todd…

Your mouth hangs open, “You’re Jason Todd. You’re de—” Well a couple things are starting to add up. “How are you…how are you not—”

He waves that away, tiredly. “It's a long story. Not particularly happy, either.”

Autopsy scar. Fuck. 

“I mean, I’ll…” he hesitates, “I’ll tell you if you want me to.”

He says it, but discomfort is painted across his face. You’re quick to shake your head, “It’s okay.”

He nods, likely relieved.

You stand up from your seat, crossing the room to sit down next to him. You’d half-expected him to tense up, but his body relaxes when you lean back against the chair.

You close your eyes before asking, “Who’s Nocturna?”

“She’s just this woman that’s been causing trouble for us.”

You don’t say anything and he continues on, shaking his head. “She’s more annoying than anything.”

You open your eyes, looking over. “Yeah?”

He shrugs, “Just trying to take over the underworld, the usual stuff. Nothing you need to worry about.”

You give a laugh that’s barely more than an exhale, relaxing your body completely..

There’s the slightest lull in activity before he sets his hand down on the floor, right on top of yours. The sounds of your breathing are the only thing that fill the room for a few minutes, save for the occasional car horn.

He glances at the clock on the wall, nearing midnight. “I have to go...” He says reluctantly.

You try not to let the disappointment show through your body language. “Go where?”

He pauses before telling you,  “A cemetery.”

You nod vacantly, “Oh. Just for fun, or…?”

He gives a dry laugh, “Just meeting an associate. They’re a bit dramatic, so.”

“Yeah, I’d say.”

“I’ll come back—I’m going to come back,” he mutters against your hairline.

You don’t respond, but you both know he’s good for his promise.

He looks around your apartment for a second before seemingly getting an idea. He pushes himself up off the ground and heads for your kitchen. You watch as he rips a sticky note off the deck on your fridge and scribbles something down on it. 

He returns to you, kneeling down and pushing the square of paper into your hand. “Here,” he says, looking you in the eye. “If you need anything. Anything.”

You engulf the note in your palm, nodding sincerely. His eyes flicker across your face, like he’s thinking about something. He hesitates for a moment, turning towards you, away from you, then towards you again. He holds the back of your head tenderly before pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead.

You look at each other up close for a second with nothing short of starry eyes before he turns away and ducks out the window.

You open up your palm and look down at the paper, at the ten digits scrawled across it.

Huh.

Must be official. 

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