#i have not been able to stop thinking about this for SO long

[cuteandhughesy]

Please Please Please | Luke Hughes

summary: navigating a secret relationship with your brothers teammate is turning out to be a little harder than you expected. the 3 times you and luke were almost caught + the 1 time you are caught.

4.3k

warnings: NSFW! pre-established relationship | brothers teammate trope | lazar! reader | sneaking around | kissing | suggestive dialogue and scenes | the tiniest sprinkle of smut but no actual sex | read at your own discretion

a/n: formed based on this request! i’m working on a good chunk of fics and similar stuff so keep your eyes open 💕 for now…enjoy! it’s been so long since i’ve written for luke..I missed him.

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one

"we really shouldn't be doing this..." luke's hushed words trail off, whispered against your slick lips as you two move through the room, stumbling over loose shoes and discarded clothes. his hands run up your torso hurriedly—yet smoothly—squeezing your skin in his palms like he can't get enough of you, despite his words. it's a sweet gesture, one that only turns you on further.

you shush him gently, dismissing his hesitance. you pull away from him slightly, but still close enough that you could lean back in at any moment and continue your hurried kiss. "please." you pout slightly, looking up through your lashes. you're so wound up from just kissing luke, you're not sure if you'll be able to stop now—despite the circumstances.

so regardless of your own selflessness—you can understand luke's apprehension. after all, if you were in his shoes you'd probably be shitting bricks right about now. your hands fall away from luke's broad shoulders, letting them trail down his chest until you reach his hips. slowly, you slip your fingers into the waistband of luke's sweats, and begin pulling him forward. "we just have to be really quiet."

luke stumbles slightly, caught off guard by your sudden movements. regardless, he follows easily, allowing you to bring him towards the edge of the bed. in that moment you're thankful the upstairs bedroom floors are carpeted, and the wobbly footsteps are muffled by the rug under your and luke’s socked feet.

the back of your knees meet the edge of the bed, and that has you falling back into the mass of blankets, releasing your hold on the elastic waistband around luke's ridiculously attractive hips—which, before you even met luke, you didn't even think hips could be so hot, but you'd been very quickly proven wrong.

you blink up at luke lazily, making your gaze come across as sensual as possible. you bring your knees up, and slowly your legs part, revealing the thin material off your blueberry printed panties—just visible under your shifted pyjama shorts.

but luke doesn't bite. he stays stagnant at the end of the bed, shirtless and visibly turned on—the straining situation under the soft material of his sweatpants giving him away.

his brows furrow. "what if curtis comes up here." luke questions, the worry evident in his expression. he gently rubs along his growing stubble, deep in thought as he continues to eye you. "what if we get caught?" luke's hesitant eyes flicker towards your closed bedroom door—well, your brother and his wife's guest bedroom door.

you were finishing up your final year of university in jersey, and instead of paying the ridiculous residence fees, curtis offered you the spare bedroom in his families home. and with that came a lot of social situations involving your brothers teammates. whether it was team dinners at different houses, or crowded bars after games, you were there—which is where you met luke.

luke seemed to always be around, and that combined with the constant banter he has with your brother, had you feeling enamoured with the youngest hughes brother very soon after curtis introduced you two. you found yourselves drawn to one another, and if one of you was near, the other wasn't far behind. you and luke quickly started dating—behind the back of your brother of course.

curtis has always been protective of you, especially when it comes to your relationships. it all comes from a good place, even if it made dating extremely difficult for you. curtis has always made sure to drill the negative stigma around young hockey players into your head—how he would never want you to date one...especially if said hockey player was one of his own teammates.

locker room talk was inevitable, and curtis didn't want to subject you to any of that ridiculous stuff or make you uncomfortable. and you didn't mind that protective rule of curtis' because you've never had an attraction to any of his teammates—until luke.

with that in mind, you and luke found yourself involved in a secret relationship. there's many measures you'd both take to ensure your romance stayed under wraps—you'd plan your calls around schedules, allowing yourselves to talk freely without your brother listening in. as well, you and luke would always plan secret dates, giving excuses of seeing friends in the city while you're actually tangled in whoever's bed is free. during gatherings, you'd be sneaking off into dark rooms, kissing like horny teenagers—it was all a thrill, one that you and luke found yourselves growing accustomed to, and honestly preferred.

you and luke were always careful—especially if curtis was around. if your brother was near, you and luke simply wouldn't sneak away, both too worried about getting caught and loosing the excitement and intimacy of your secret life.

but tonight was different.

the devils had been away on a week long road trip, expanding along the west coast and visiting teams like the sharks and kings. with the change in time zones, sneaking calls and facetimes with your boyfriend was practically impossible, and you and luke had only texted every few days to check in.

the interfering schedules and lack of communication left you and luke missing each other more than usual, and as soon as the devils plan landed back on jersey soil, you were practically vibrating with need.

when you proposed the idea of sneaking luke into the house once everyone had gone to bed, you didn't think he'd agree, but surprisingly enough he did. luke was apprehensive at first—which is understandable— because seeing one another while you're brother was home was always a big no-no. but the combination of the time missed between you and your pouty voice, luke had no choice but to agree.

slowly you unfold your leg, lifting your foot until you meet luke's shoulder. you nudge the buff surface with your sock covered toes, pulling luke's attention away from the bedroom door and back to you.

luke's gaze moves over you, shifting from your plump, spit slicked lips, down to your barley covered core and thin tank top that gives him the perfect outline of your pebbled nipples. he swallows roughly, a blush covering his high cheek bones.

"we won't get caught." you whisper seductively, your foot slowly trailing down his arm.

suddenly luke grabs onto your ankle, bringing your foot closer to his face. "you're such a bad influence." luke presses a soft kiss on your exposed ankle, right over the beaded anklet decorating you. his eyes don't leave your face, and as he slowly pulls away, a smirk begins to pull at his lips—tempting you.

you take your lip between your teeth. "you gunna punish me?"

he breathes a laugh, and manoeuvres your leg back into his spread, bent position. "you want me to punish you?"

you watch through hooded eyes as luke crawls onto the bed, moving until he's hovering over your flushed body. instantly your hands are in hair, running through his light curls, feeling the defined pattern between your fingers. "maybe I do."

his eyes flutter closed at the feeling, a small whimper passing through his parted lips. luke's large palm runs up your side, scooping under your tank until he's feeling your bare skin—running his thumb over your nipple.

you arch into him, a breathy moan leaving your lips, goosebumps covering your skin in the wake of luke's gentle touches.

luke kisses you slowly, a deep and bruising pressure that has you tingling all the way down to your toes. your lips part instinctively, moaning into luke's mouth as his continues to kiss yours, lips passing over yours in a gentle, slick embrace.

you're so easily distracted by luke's presence and touch, and you find yourself falling into a trance like state—loosing yourself in him. you find yourself here anytime you're with luke, always so easily falling into this intimate pattern. so it comes as suprise when your ears pick up on a dull thump in the distance, almost echoing through the quiet home.

"did you hear that?" you pull away from luke hurriedly, brows furrowed as you try and concentrate and listen further—straining your ears in attempt to catch any more sounds from beyond your bedroom.

luke whimpers at the loss of contact, eyes fluttering open to reveal his glossy, lustful eyes. "hear what?"

the dull thudding noise continues, increasing as if it was coming closer— sounding like somebody is walking, moving up the stairs towards your room. you gasp lightly, and with all the strength you can find, you push luke off the bed.

your sudden actions catch him off guard, and he goes easily, tumbling onto the rug with a loud thud. he groans out, and watches as you peek over the edge of the bed—your eyes blown wide with worry.

just before he can question your behaviour, you interrupt him, your tone hushed and full of fear. "it's curtis."

luke's face falls. "it's curtis?"

you nod quickly, looking in the direction of the door anxiously, listening as your brothers steps grow closer. you look back down at luke, "you gotta get under the bed."

"i'm not going to fit under the bed." luke whispers roughly, his own gaze darting between your nervous eyes and the bedroom door.

"well you gotta make it work, luke." you whisper wildly, shooing him. "scoot under—now."

the urgency in your voice has luke springing into action. he grabs onto the wooden frame of the bed, pulling himself under your bed. the rug rubs his bare back uncomfortably and the dust under the mattress is tickling his noise dangerously. the space is limited, and dirty, but you're not even thinking about that right now.

all you can focus on is the sound of curtis footsteps right outside the door, and just as the golden handle begins turning, luke finally gets situated under your bed, hiding from not only your sight, but hopefully your brothers.

you whip around just as the hinges squeak open, curtis appearing from behind the oak door. "hey." he greets you gently, still rubbing the sleep out of his eye with the palm of his hand. "are you talking to someone?"

you can feel the colour drain from your face, swallowing roughly as you keep your gaze ahead. "no?" your voice is definitely too high—too suspicious—answering quickly.

curtis's gaze narrows. "really? I thought I heard something." you watch in horror as your brother begins to look around the room, his movements suspiciously nonchalant as he scans the area—you can only pray that luke's feet aren't sticking out from underneath the mattress

you desperately need to get your brothers attention again and stop him from snooping around your space—you're pretty sure luke's phone is on the dresser. quickly, you spin your body to fully face curtis, clearing your throat. "well, I was watching a movie."

curtis' eyes flicker back to yours and away from your desk, his brows raised questionably. then, slowly, his gaze moves towards the tv on the wall. "the tv is broken."

you curse inwardly, swallowing thick salvia. "on my phone."

"okay..."he trails off. "just coming to check on you, making sure you were alright—couldve swore I heard something." your brother doesn't look all too convinced with what you're saying, and his pointed gaze has yet to waver.

you plaster on a smile. "oh i'm just peachy, curtis. thanks."

"you're acting weird."

"am I?" you question highly, crossing your arms.

he hums in answer, eyeing you suspiciously. "must just be tired. right?"

"right." you exhale shakily, and at this point you can only pray for this conversation to come to a close. subconsciously your eyes trail towards the bed, checking to make sure luke was still hidden.

curtis hums again, pulling your attention back to him. "better get to sleep then. goodnight."

you breathe, smiling again. "night."

he sends you one more curious look over his shoulder before he finally leaves, shutting the door with a gentle thud. the entire time you feel like you're going to die.

as soon as his feet sound descending back down the stairs, you're moving, practically skipping towards the bed.

your drop down on your stomach, looking under the gap between the floor and the mattress. "luke? are you breathing?"

he exhales loudly. "barley."

you send him a guilty smile. "guess we won't try this again, huh?"

two

luke pulls his hoodie over his torso, stretching his tired muscles as he adjust the material over his body.

the practice that finished only half hour ago was a taxing one. after a rough loss the previous night—one that he'd been cross checked in the ribs three separate times without a call—coach had been extra hard on the group today, which left luke even more sore and exhausted.

he shakes out his freshly washed hair, ruffling the curls between his fingers after they'd been flatted by his devils branded hood. the fuzzy material sticks to his damp chest, as luke was too tired to properly dry his skin—he just wanted to get home and call you, letting you coo at him and call him pretty (he loves it more than he’d ever admit).

"hey rusty." curtis distinctive teasing voice sounds behind luke, and he feels the center man’s hand on his shoulder, a rough squeeze in greeting. "you heading home now?"

curtis drops down to his reprieve stall—the one beside luke's—towel still around his waist as he pulls on his t-shirt, looking at the defence man expectantly.

luke swallows gently, giving curtis a quick nod. "yeah," he grabs his duffle bag, one full of extra hockey gear he always brings back and forth to the rink. "jacks already outside, said he wanted to shower when he got home."

"right on." curtis hums, pulling on his socks.

the sporadic buzzing noise of an incoming call draws the attention of both athletes, and their eyes are pulled to luke's beaten up phone, sitting screen up on the stall seat.

it's you. you're calling him.

curtis's brows raise, and he makes a teasing noise. "russssttttyyyy, who the hell is lovey?" before luke can even react, curtis picks up the phone, inspecting the profile picture set for your contact that’s flashing on the screen. thank god it’s an inconspicuous mirror pic, one lacking your face—luke can only pray curtis doesn’t inspect that picture too hard. "I didn't know you had a girlfriend."

luke swallows, eyes darting between the centerman and the phone clutched in his calloused hands. "I don't."

"there's a heart beside the name." he deadpans. "should I answer it and ask her about it instead?"

"no!" luke lunges towards his phone, but curtis is quicker, standing from is stall and side stepping the youngest hughes.

"easy dude. what's the big deal." with a breathy laugh, curtis slides his thumb across the answer button, picking up your incoming call.

"dude." luke grabs the phone from his hands just before curtis can place it to his ear. "a little privacy." the awkward chuckle that leaves him is almost embarrassing, and the way his hands have started shaking and the blush covering luke from head to toe is also humiliating.

curtis laughs, clearly finding amusement in luke's clear embarrassment. "i'm literally standing in front of you with my dick out, but sure rusty, i'll leave your secret girlfriend alone."

luke can just hear your muffled voice through the phone, muttering his name questionably—no doubt wondering what the fuck is going on. "sorry she's just...shy. you'll meet her one day."

curtis snickers, finally pulling on his sweats. "i'm sure I will."

luke nods—unsure what to say.

"better get going, rusty. think somebody is probably waiting to hear your voice." the center man's eyes dart between him and the phone in his hands, brows raised knowingly.

"right." he swallows, "see you later." luke practically runs out of the locker room, and as soon as he makes it down the hall, he raises the phone to his ear, hurriedly explaining to you the close call he'd just encountered with curtis.

three

you didn’t mean to have that many drinks—really, you didn't. but a couple of your friends from class invited you out to celebrate the ending semester, and because you all passed, they said drinks were in order and you had to join.

a few hours and many drinks in, you were practically falling over. you had stayed out later than you originally planned on, and curtis would be long asleep by now—leaving you with limited options for getting home.

drink you—ever to clingy girlfriend—called luke almost instantly.and obviously luke picked up on the first ring, despite the early morning time, and of course he came to the bar as soon as you asked.

which brings you to right now, knees weak as you sway on the your homes front porch, pouting at your boyfriend in the cold winter night.

luke looks down at you gently, his eyes full of exhaustion. but yet, there’s a hint of amusement in them, and the edge of his mouth is turned up in a lazy smirk.

"kiss me goodnight." you drunkenly slur for the 10th time since luke guided you out of the car. you are looking at your boyfriend expectantly, an impatient whine leaving your lips. "please baby."

it's so dark outside he can barley make out your features, but he can see the way your hazy eyes twinkle at him—silently begging. luke's gaze flickers towards the ring camera quickly, praying that it's one that isn't an audio recorder, and if it does pick up sound, luke hopes you're too quiet to catch.

you’ve both always been careful with the camera before this, and if the lazar house was the only option for your…escapades, you’d both avoid the camera expertly—sneaking through windows and back doors like misbehaved children.

but you’re too drunk to even think about that, and luke’s too tired to even attempt sneaking you through the back door.

your pout turns into a smile, and your arms snake up his body, wrapping around his neck and pulling yourself up to your toes. "please please please please."

he sighs gently, glancing at the camera again. in a moment of weakness, he decides it's probably to dark too make out any kind of facial features through the camera anyway, and if he doesn't kiss you now, the camera will be the least of his worries.

so luke wraps his arms around your waist tighter, keeping your sway steady. he leans down, pecking your lips so quickly that he hopes even if the camera can see him, the affection was so brief that in a blink you'd miss it. "okay now go inside."

your grin widens, and as you finally pull away from luke, you're overjoyed and satisfied.

when you wake the next morning, you feel yourself panic—flashes of the kiss on the porch and the ring camera running through your mind.

you wait anxiously for curtis to bring it up and call you out for kissing his teammate in front of the front door...but it never comes.

the ring camera hasn't worked for a week—and that has you breathing a sigh of relief when your sister-in-law mentions it the following evening.

+one

you can't even think logically as you rush through the crowded arena, weaving through bodies as you clutch the pass around your neck, anxiously fiddling with the lanyard.

the scene in your head is playing on repeat—watching luke get thrown to the ice during the messy scrum from only minutes ago, his head slamming against the ice as he hit the ground.

you'd shot up from your seat, worry sketched across your face as you watched luke laying limp on the ice as the trainer spoke into his ear—the fear all but consumed you. jack's girlfriend tried to console you—comfort you—but nothing was helping.

you gave it 5 minutes. 5 minutes after they helped luke off the ice and down to the assessment room, before you were out of your seat, mumbling some excuse to sammy as you left.

you make your way through the tunnels easily, very much used to the area and familiar with the space after many visits with curtis. you find the assessment room easily, the door left open the smallest crack so you're able to subtly peek in—so if someone else is in there with him, you won’t be caught.

but it's just luke, sitting slumped on a doctor like bed with his eyes closed—arms crossed over his chest guard, his jerseys discarded in a sweaty lump on the metal table beside him.

with the coast clear, you push open the door fully, letting it softly swing closed behind you. the sound has luke's eyes fluttering open, and he immediately finds your worried eyes blinking back at him.

you breathe a heavy exhale, a slight wobble in the sound that portrays the emotion crawling up your throat—desperate to be let out. all the fear and stress and worry you've been feeling for the past 6 minutes are coming to a hilt, and you rush towards your boyfriend with a pout pulling at your lips. "are you okay?"

"hey." he mumbles gently, brows pulled tightly as you appear his side. "what are you doing down here?"

you gently take ahold of his face, eyes frantically bouncing around as if you're trying to locate any injuries. "luke, holy shit. I was so scared." tears begin welling in your eyes, bottom lip trembling. “you weren’t moving.”

luke slowly swings his legs over the side of the medical bed, cooing gently. your hands fall from his face in favour of wiping your own, catching the trail of water as it cascades down your cheeks.

luke's hockey pant covered thighs part, creating enough space for you to stand between them. he wraps his arm around you waist, bringing you into his embrace. you go easily, tears continuing to cloud your vision as you fall into his sweaty chest. "i'm sorry I scared you." he mumbles into your hair, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead.

you shake your head. "are you okay?" you ask again, pulling back just enough to look into his warm eyes. “what did they say?”

"i've got a concussion most likely, but i'll be fine." luke's words are reassuring, and so is the kiss he presses against your cheek. he's coherent, and he's moving—he's okay.

"is there anything you need from me?" you ask gently, pushing his wet curls off his forehead—something you’d always find yourself doing.

luke’s eyes flutter slightly at the comforting action. his soft grin turns boyish, and silently he purses his lips, asking for a kiss.

you roll your eyes gently, but oblige, leaning in and pressing your lips to his. luke sighs pleasantly, parting his lips as he begins to deepen the kiss, pulling your body in tighter.

you smile into it, which allows luke the access to slip his tongue past your bottom lip, and you let him. his hand travels down your back, slowly tickling the expanse of your skin until he's rounding over the curve of your ass, giving your cheek a firm squeeze.

"alright rusty if you're gunna kiss my sister here, the least you could do is not play grab ass while you do it." the sudden voice of curtis has you pulling away, and you turn towards the door in record speed.

you'd been too lost in the trance luke always put you in—to absorbed in his body and lips that you'd missed not only the end of period buzzer echoing throughout the arena, but the door opening behind you.

you're too scared too move—too scared to even blink. you look at curtis with wide eyes, your face void of colour, giving you a lifeless look. and luke's no better, with his mouth opening and closing like a fish and his hand still on your ass cheek—even after you turned around.

you push his hand away and swallow roughly. "curtis...I-we can explain."

your brother shrugs. "there's nothing to explain. I know."

your brows shoot up. "you know?"

curtis nods triumphantly, looking rather pleased with himself. this time it's luke who speaks, swallowing the little salvia lingering in his dry mouth. "what-I-how?" he stutters.

"that night awhile back, when I came to check on you, luke's sweater was on your chair." he looks at you playfully, "I saw the number and I knew."

now you're going red, felling a wave of guilt and embarrassment creep in on you. "i'm sorry."

"we're sorry." luke adds gently. "we shouldn't of kept it a secret."

"I'm not mad—just a little disappointed that I was left out of the loop." then, curtis expression changes, looking at you with a gentle smile. "out of all the guys on this team you couldn't picked...rusty's the best one."

you smile, glancing up at luke.

he meets your gaze, and he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you back into his side.

"consider yourself in the loop." you chime through and exhale, looking back towards curtis.

"good." he nods, his usual teasing expression back on his face. curtis looks at luke, a brow raised. "so, were you under the bed or in the closet?"

you feel luke stiffen beside you, and you can't help but laugh.

[bathypelagicbutch]

the first time i was treated even remotely respectfully in public when i first transitioned was at 3am in a 24 hour pizza place while high out of my mind on shrooms. i was in full drag with a full face and it was the first and only time i was ever gendered correctly and respectfully in a public place while presenting femme. i pass now, and I'm thankful that i do, but the amount of effort I've had to put into making my body as acceptable as possible for people just so i don't get harassed for more reasons than being Black in places i don't belong (super white grad school lmao) is wild. i shouldn't have to make myself look like you want me to fuck you for you to respect me, and it really shouldn't be that hard for queer people to realise that that is literally what most of society, including white queers, forces us to do. there's a weird intersection with Blackness and masculinity for both Black men and women that i feel gets pointed out a lot, but i feel like the hypermasculinisation of Black women unless they present sufficiently slutty is something that only gets talked about at length for cis Black women and queer Black women in general. mainly because whenever the dolls try to bring it up the only response is immediate horniness or complete denial. it's also interesting that when i started presenting more masc i started passing, but since then the amount of horny white people who've been unable to remove the rupaulified fucktoy version of me in their brain for long enough to listen to me when i try to talk about how much it sucks being butch and trans has increased. exponentially. you all have too many issues with Black men to even notice how your racism affects every part of how you view Blackness in general.

speaking of! follow up to that earlier thing i said about not being able to be masc and trans without ppl needing to remind you that they only support you for your ability to fuck them ‐ it's worse when you're Black, and you white queens do it too. and i really don't think you realise you do! because I've talked about this with almost every person I've been with (if I've even been allowed to before being dismissed without a hint of concern) and most of them just admitted to doing this at some point in our relationship. so instead of being philosophical I'll just use a few examples from the past 3 years (because they get worse if you go earlier and also i. do not have to)

you don't get to call me sir in bed because I'm masc and you said you want to treat me like a guy in bed (you're gay please stop confusing Black masculinity for being a man and work on your issues before fucking me) and you especially don't get to use this as leverage against me whenever i discuss how racist the relationship dynamic is despite your incredibly vocal support of my activism. you don't get to use my body or the right to demand that i use your body because you have a fetish for Black men, and you aren't allowed to get upset when i point out that this is the most supportive attitude you've had towards any part of me the entire time we've been together. you don't get to take out your frustration against Black people or Black men by making me fuck you, and again you don't get to get upset when i point out how fucked up that is that you call yourself an ally and then only use that allyship to get dicked down. you don't get to assume that because I'm Black and masc i'm the most aggressive top you've ever come across and you don't get to white woman tears your way out of it by using your own transness as a pass. you aren't allowed to enjoy Black bodies if we're only a commodity to you (which you openly admit) and you similarly don't get to white woman tears your eay out of it by using your confused sexuality as a pass.

i think I've made my point so I'm gonna stop! but yeah can you all be normal about Black people thanks a million blushes sweetly

kinda uncomfortable how ppl cant celebrate black trans women unless they are superduperhyperfeminine with 19 layers of makeup + expensive surgeries/weaves/dresses and looking like theyre going to walk the red carpet every day

[angelfishe]

𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄 || 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 𝐀𝐔

<< yandere VIP genshin men x reader >>

Character : zhongli, childe, ayato

When you enter the squid game to pay off your debt, you didn't realize your gonna be playing a life and death game as well meeting some old faces

Warning : slight mention of non-con intimacy

( This is something i wip out in the middle of the night sorry if it's bad )

# ZHONGLI

the owner of the liyue cooperation, a multi billion company

- You were married to him but got divorce because how possessive he was, he wouldn't let you go anywhere without body guards saying this world is dangerous. You will be better with him and you feel trapped inside the marriage so you eventually divorce him.

- the reason why you were in the squid game was because after the divorce you were staying with your mother who got herself in debt. So you take multiple jobs to pay off the debt, until a business man approaches you offering for you to play a game to pay off your debt.

- you manage to survive until the marble game where your partner decides to betray you, you thought you were gonna die until the soldiers of the game drag you into a luxurious room and In front of you was a man wearing a gold reindeer mask, he took it off revealing it's your ex husband

reader : "zho- zhongli"

Zhongli : " I told you my love, this world is a dangerous place and you would be safe with me, you don't need to worry about anything"

He proceeds to hug you

Zhongli : "I pay off your mother's debt as long as you promised you'll be mine again"

# CHILDE

A VIP that decided to play the game for fun

- you met him during the game the red light and green light game, you find it oddly weird that he seems to be enjoying it and as well having fun not bothering people are dropping dead.

- you manage to get along with him as well learning about his past and family, he seems to be fond of his little brother Teucer. He odly seems to recognize you ,Unfortunately he decided to sacrifice himself for you to live in the marble game.

- during lights out, you were dragged by the guards towards somewhere, you were struggling thinking you would die without saying goodbye towards your family, but instead you were put in a bedroom with a man in a red and black suit wearing a gold jaguar mask, saying if you want to leave the game you have to serve him in a way.

??? : "I'm surprised you don't recognize me and remember me"

Reader : who are you exactly

Childe : ( he took off the mask ) "it's me childe sweet heart, during childhood you and I were best friends and I promised you to marry you, don't worry sweetheart you don't have to worry about anything anymore cause after this let's fulfill the promised and get married"

#AYATO

Head of the most prestigious clan in the country as well the head of the yashiro prefecture

- former master of yours, you were his servant as well childhood friend but unfortunately stop serving his family because your grandfather has fallen with an Illness, you have to take care of him 24/7 meaning you to stop serving him. He tried everything to convince you not to leave but you still left.

- unfortunately the hospital bill has gotten worse and you eventually found yourself drowning in debt, until you were eventually invited into the squid game, unaware he planned this to happen, he's actually been stalking you looking for an opportunity to bring you back in his arms.

- you were Carried away by the guards when no one wants to partner with you, and you land yourself and kneel in front of a man with a gold owl mask. And he grabs your chin to look him straight to the eye and you recognize who's under the mask.

Reader : "master kamisato"

Ayato : "A clever girl manages to recognize me, that's my ( reader ) always able to recognize me"

Reader : why are you doing here

Ayato : "isn't't it obvious for you, I've been waiting for this moment for years and finally you're mine"

[ofbatsandballads]

please take this. I made myself cry writing it and I have nothing to say except that putting ya’aburnee and darling by halsey on my jason playlist was a brutal choice. also look up flower language if you want additional feelings.

There’s so many things you want for Jason Todd.

You want him to get a good night’s sleep for once. You let him close his pretty seafoam eyes and lay his head in the crook of your neck as you scratch gently at his scalp. It always calms him down, grounds him in the here and now. Your arms around him, your fingers carding through his hair, the rise and fall of your chest that’s synced with his–it all reminds him that he’s safe, that he’s home. You want that feeling to follow him into his dreams, to let him find true rest. So when his body goes tense and his breathing gets labored, you hold him closer and hum gently into his ear until whatever haunts him in his sleep is chased away by the comfort you bring.

You want to make sure he’s protected. You wish you could deflect every hit, blade, and bullet away from his body. You wish he would see his body as something worth protecting. He would stop if you asked, would settle into a normal life as best as he could. You would never ask because to do so would be to deny the part of him you love most: his heart that beats to help others. So you protect him in the ways that you can. You stitch cuts and treat burns, you mend his jackets and help clean his guns. More than anything, you guard his peace of mind like it’s the most valuable thing in the world. You’re never cruel to him, never scream vicious words or toss him out into the cold night. You call Bruce and thank him for the first edition Jane Austen novels that arrived on your doorstep on August 16th when Jason just…can’t. You let him grip your hand brutally tight under the table when you go to the manor for Thanksgiving for the first time. And when it gets really bad? When he feels the burning of green waters that breathed life into him that he didn’t want, when hideous laughter echoes in a place it’s never been? You do something no one has ever done for him. You wait. You stay. You stay by his side until he can breathe again, until dawn breaks and he can see the light again. And always, always you, haloed in it like an angel he doesn’t think he deserves. He does.

You want him to have a good cup of hot chocolate. He told you about it once when he came home after a long winter patrol. Half delirious from exhaustion, he reminisced about how Bruce would make them both a cup of hot chocolate after particularly rough or successful patrols in December. How this specific hot chocolate had no equal—even Alfred couldn’t replicate the richness and warmth. You noticed the fondness in his voice, the longing so intense that it still makes your heart ache for him. So you do some light stalking and hunt down Tim Drake, demand that he give you the information you want or else you’ll disclose how he really lost his spleen to Bruce (why he was dense enough to tell Jason, you’ll never know). And that is how Bruce Wayne, billionaire philanthropist single father and the Batman, receives an email with the subject line “URGENT: Recipe Request” that reads as follows:

To whom it may concern,

I have been made aware that you have a remarkably compelling hot chocolate recipe that is hitherto unparalleled by cafes, franchises, and butlers alike. I am emailing you to inquire about my being sent this recipe post-haste. This is less a request than a demand. I will do my best to ensure that you, at some point in time not specified (it will take great effort on my part), are able to witness the consumption of the hot chocolate by the individual that will be receiving the product of the recipe.

Best regards,

Someone who loves your son.

Bruce sends the recipe the second he receives the email. He has to sneak his phone under the conference table at the Wayne Enterprises board meeting to do it, but he still manages to reply in two minutes and forty-seven seconds. And you make good on your promise. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jason shine as brightly as he does that Christmas, lit up by the lights on the twelve foot tree as he sips his hot chocolate from the same red mug that’s been sitting in the kitchen cabinet since he last drank from it. The matching black mug is clasped in the hands of the hot chocolate connoisseur himself, who smiles softly like the magic of the season has returned to his life for the first time in ages.

You want him to heal. It’s a big ask; you know that. But you’ve never been one for giving up hope, and if anyone can manage to achieve the impossible, it’s Jason. So you tell him it’s a great idea when he jokes about getting a therapist. You wait for him in the car the first time he goes and you let him open up to you in his own time when he comes out of the appointment body tight as a bowstring and eyes bloodshot. You watch quietly and celebrate the little victories you see him win. He can call his father first now; he doesn’t do it often, but he can. He can talk to his younger brother without hating his hands and the blood that’s been spilled on them, without going out on patrol and intentionally letting all the worst hits make contact. He can go out to lunch with his older brother and his youngest, can laugh with them over that ridiculous thing Bruce did at a gala once to make them all laugh. He can bear his birthday a little bit better now, can accept the cake you bake and actually make a wish when he blows out the candles. But you’ll never know about the moment that you start to get what you want. Jason goes to visit his own grave on the anniversary of his death and finds a bouquet of red carnations, baby’s breath, and honeysuckle with a note in your handwriting that reads “Someone told me once that you were magic, that that was the best thing about you. I think it’s far more important that you were loved. I don’t know what you could’ve been. I don’t wonder about it like those that loved you did because all I know is who you became. He’s wonderful. He’s still magic. I think you’d be proud of him. I’ll do my best to take care of him for you.” He sits there for an hour in tears. Then he takes one bud of each flower and the note, goes home and presses them into the pages of his favorite book. He holds you in his arms in bed that night and feels, for the first time in a long time, a sense of peace down to his very bones.

You want—above all else—Jason Todd to feel loved. You want him to feel so cherished and wanted that he cannot possibly look at himself without realizing that he is something precious, something beloved. So you tell him that you love him and you accept his warm embrace as his way of saying it back. You make him chocolate chip cookies and sneak one into the pocket of his tactical pants when he goes on patrol (they’re soft, they don’t get crunched when he’s thrown from a roof). You read his favorite books to understand what he’s saying when he goes off on tangents about class and social hierarchy and how they governed life in the 19th century. You trace his scars and kiss away his tears when he can’t believe that he could be transformed from a being marred by brutality into a man revered with gentleness. You will love him until the day you both die. You will love him in death, until whatever atoms made up you and him come together again. You will love him until everything that ever is or ever was ceases to be in a supernova of light. And maybe, just maybe, you’ll love him in whatever is born after.

[alchemistc]

Gonna be pissed as hell if Tim throws out a plotline to replace it with a three episode arc about LA on fire (what will Brad do when his house burns down?), which makes me a hypocrite and a half because here's some ripped-from-the-headlines bullshit.

Tommy's duffle lands on the bottom stair with a thump.

He glances around the space like he's seeing it for the first time - or maybe like he's just taking in the gravity of the situation. There's a quirk of his lip, an ironic shake of his head, and Buck can't quite stop himself from imagining the thought running through his mind. Despite his intentions, he'd landed here anyway.

They're both bone tired. Exhaustion seeping into their marrow, the kind of tired Buck hasn't felt like this since Texas, maybe. He wants a shower and about 48 hours of sleep.

"I'll take the couch," Tommy says, voice raspy, eyes refusing to draw towards Buck.

And the thing is.

The thing is Tommy definitely had other places to go. Other friends who would have put him up as long as he needed, people he trusted, people who cared about him. But it was Buck he'd found as things wound down, the both of them covered in soot and ash, Tommy dropping to sit beside him on the curb as they waited for relief teams to finish up at the command tent.

They'd stared at the burnt out husk of Tommy's home just long enough for the tiredness to really settle in.

"You're not taking the couch," Buck says, and flips the light switch in the downstairs bathroom. Tommy's shower gel is still under the sink, his fancy curl conditioner down to the last few dollops because he'd spent enough nights here to go through most of a bottle. They've already showered at their respective stations, but Buck knows from experience how much Tommy hates the Harbor showers ("You'd think a fire station would have better water pressure, but I'm telling you, Evan, it's about as strong as an eighty-year-old's dribbling piss.") and Buck knows he still feels like he's caked in days of grime.

"Evan," Tommy starts, and Buck can't read into that, refuses despite the way it knocks around in his chest.

"You need the rest just as much as I do," Buck argues, and Tommy's shoulders just... slump. He sighs. Nods his head. Shifts on his feet and accidentally catches Buck's eye.

The contact holds just long enough for Buck to see the tears swimming in Tommy's eyes, and he can't imagine -

It strikes Buck for maybe the first time how dumb he'd been to ask Tommy to move in here. Tommy had a life, a home, a place he'd spent a decade making his own.

He'd made a joke once about a firefighter living so close to the hills, the first time he'd had Buck over, that ironic lilt to his voice while he talked about replacing all the east facing windows the first time he experienced the Santa Ana's after moving in, and Buck had spent a good ten minutes watching the light fade from his backyard, dusk casting the hydrangea bushes in a rose-gold hue.

"If I hug you are you gonna make a break for it?" Buck asks, regretting the spiteful tone when Tommy curls further in on himself, but he ducks his head even as he's shaking it, and Buck doesn't fight the urge any longer, three long strides before Tommy's curling fists around Buck's waist and pressing his nose into the skin of Buck's neck.

("It's just stuff," he'd said, knee knocking against Buck's where they huddled together on the curb across the street, Tommy uncharacteristically fidgety as they both stared straight ahead.

"Come stay with me," Buck had responded, and felt Tommy tense so quickly he'd sort of expected him to bolt to his feet and leave.

Instead, the stillness eased out of Tommy's body all at once on an exhale, and he'd nodded out of the corner of Buck's eye. "Okay."

He hadn't quite been able to stop himself from reaching out to squeeze Tommy's knee. "Okay.")

Tommy's never been one to take more than his fair share. He breaks the hug before Buck can really get into it, sniffs once like Buck didn't notice the wetness against his neck, shifts backwards and sideways. He stops halfway through the doorframe when he catches sight of the canvas bag on the counter.

Buck just hopes Maddie actually bought the specific list Buck had sent her three hours ago. Tommy's particular about his stuff, and he'd pressed the point with his sister despite the eyebrow raise he could see in every text back she sent him. He can see Tommy doing the math - only so many people with a key to the loft, only so many people who weren't there in Tommy's neighborhood for a stretch of exhausting hours that hadn't amounted to much other than saving that purple house down on the end of the street that Tommy was always bemoaning for having a better garden than him.

"Tell Maddie thank you," Tommy says, still with that rasp to his voice that under any other circumstance would have Buck vibrating in place. When he digs through it, Buck catalogues his findings - that weird organic toothpaste Tommy swore by, the cheap electric toothbrush he refused to switch out for the better one Buck had a subscription to; a pack of briefs and socks in Tommy's preferred brand.

It's not the first time Buck has wished there wasn't a canyon between them, but he strikes the urge to quip, to smile, to reach out and try to comfort him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he digs it free, glances at the readout and immediately feels the ire rise in his throat again. It's from Eddie, a private response to the group message he'd sent out letting everyone know Tommy had a place to stay.

Is that a good idea?

And Buck gets the point. Understands that Eddie has his best interests in mind, but he's not here, hasn't been here, hadn't been there when they rolled down the street to find three houses already fighting the blaze.

Buck can't hold in the annoyed snort, and when he glances up it's to find Tommy's eyes on him.

"I'm gonna go shower," Buck tells him, and manages three whole steps before Tommy's hand curls around his wrist.

He doesn't seem to have the words to ask, but Buck reaches back to strip his shirt over his head anyway and shuffles them both towards the shower.

It's the least sexy thing they've ever done together, if he's being honest. Buck hasn't felt this tired in years, hasn't felt this grim in years, barely has the energy to do more than scrub at Tommy's back while he rinses his hair. Perfunctory, is a term for it, except for the way Tommy leans into the press of his fingers when he suds up Tommy's hair, except for the way Buck drops his forehead to Tommy's chest while Tommy aims the showerhead at Buck's back.

This is the kind of stupid shit Buck had meant, all those months ago, even if he'd done an extremely shitty job of expressing it. This is the kind of shit he'd pictured while Josh waxed poetic about some television show and wondered if Buck saw a future with Tommy.

By the time they're rinsed off and toweled dry Buck can barely stand, but as Tommy's footfalls echo just behind his up the stairs Buck has just enough sense left to roll open the drawer he'd never cleared out, toss Tommy a pair of clean briefs and one of his threadbare LAFD shirts.

Tommy stares at the drawer long enough for Buck to pull on his own clothes. He blinks himself out of it only when Buck stubs his toe wrestling the body pillow Tommy always pretended he wasn't going to end up curled around out from under the bed.

The drawer closes with an echoing 'snick'. Tommy tosses his own towel in the hamper and makes quick work of dressing.

His hair is gonna be a nightmare in the morning. They're both gonna be absolute messes. Buck's pretty sure the only food in this place is raw flour and approximately seventy-five chocolate croissants - he's pretty sure he used up the last of his eggs trying to perfect his meringue technique.

There's a stiff moment after they slide into bed where they both just lay on their backs and stare at the ceiling, oozing into Buck's mattress. Tommy shifts first, and Buck's sure it'll be away - no matter how often they fell asleep tangled together Tommy always ended up hugging the edge of the bed, and it's not like -

"Is this okay?" Tommy asks, even as he's shifting a leg over Buck, hands finding purchase in the cotton of Buck's sleep shirt.

It's like he's been dosed, for the way Tommy's body sliding into place next to his steals all the energy he has left in him. He blinks once, twice, manages to get a hand in Tommy's damp curls in response. The rest of it can wait for tomorrow.

"Evan?" He's sinking into it too, Buck can tell - the weight of his arm and leg pressing Buck further into the mattress, the drawl of Buck's name drifting instead of sharp.

Buck hums. Presses lips into whatever skin he can find without opening his eyes - a temple, or a cheekbone maybe. "Go to sleep, Tommy," he manages, but if Tommy responds he doesn't hear it.

[rafeysdeer]

valentine (aka sunshine reader and in love jason)

civil!reader x jason todd

prompt: valentine's day wasn't exactly jason's favorite holiday, he didn't really care about it, that's until his very excited girlfriend decided to surprise him.

a/n: okay, that's my second imagine, and i think it looks better, i was giggling and kicking while writing because these two are just soo cute, and the detail about the candle being syntactic is from a hc that jason just doesn't deal well with fire because of the explosion. english is not my first language, hope you guys like it 💗

It had been at least two weeks since you started leaving little hints about the big day that was coming, Valentine's Day. A cute romcom about the holiday, some cute couple videos, anything to try to get your boyfriend in the mood for the day, but he simply didn't seem to care about it.

You figured it was because he never really had the chance to properly celebrate, or anyone to spend the day with, before you, his only focus was the whole vigilante thing, he never would have dreamed that on a saturday night he would be curled up on the couch, eating ice cream and watching 'How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days', but he was, and with a pretty girl resting her head comfortably on his shoulder.

"Jay? Do you have patrol next friday? I thought we could go out for dinner or something?" the girl asks, lifting her head from his shoulder to look at him with her bright eyes and a little pout on her face.

"I think Steph can cover for me, it's just routine patrol, why? some special occasion?" he asks with a naughty smile on his face as he pulls her close to him again, leaving a kiss on her forehead.

"Nothing really special, I just miss you," she says and his laugh immediately fills the room, leaving that comfortable energy in the air. "Baby, you're literally wrapped around me, like, right now." He hears her snort and shove him playfully. "Doesn't stop me from missing you." The silly smile on his face took over as he stroked her hair. "You're just one of a kind, aren't you?"

Turns out that missing him was only half true, not that you didn't miss him, but coincidentally, next friday was also, Valentine's Day, and the closer the day got, the more anxious she looked like.

When friday finally came, she already had everything planned out to the last detail, she convinced him to finally go out with Tim (who had been trying to go out with him for weeks by now), and put her plan in action, she had all the classic stuff, flowers, chocolates, a beautiful dress, a set table on the roof, and the best part, a limited edition of Pride and Prejudice packaged methodically with a red bow, matching her dress.

You managed to convince Tim to join you on the plan, stalling Jason until 7 pm, when he came back to the apartment, just to find everything in complete darkness except for a trail of synthetic candles leading to the window.

"Honey? Are you ready yet?" No answer, the only option was to follow the candles to the window, where he found a table set on the roof, with a bouquet of red roses, synthetic candles lighting everything up, and his favorite girl with a smile from head to toe in a long red dress.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Jay," she says as she tries to strike a sensual pose, leaning on the table, but she's so excited she can't hold it in for long, running towards him and stealing a kiss. "So? Did you like it? I know you're not the biggest fan of Valentine's Day, but I just wanted you to be able to experience it and it's okay if you think it's too much, we can just go back inside and order pizza or something-" her nervous speech is interrupted by an anxious and completely passionate kiss.

"I loved it, sweetheart, I really did, how did you manage to do all this without me noticing?" she smiles playfully, shrugging her shoulders and pulling away from him slightly. "I may have had some bats helping me, and wait, there's more," she says excited, her smile as bright as the candles as she runs to the table, grabbing a package, her heels making a clicking sound along the way.

"I remember you told me you really wanted it and I just couldn't help it, I hope you like it" she hands him the book, wrapped with a big red bow that matched her dress, and the happiness on his face made all the effort she put on it worth it. "You're so fucking perfect, how did I end up with you, huh?" he asks, showering her with kisses, while the smile never leaves her face.

"I guess it was fate."

[blackgirlsloveburrow]

NSFW 18+

i really need a fic of this bad and i am not a good writer at alllll. okay just imagine with me real quick. also this is completely imaginative don’t come for me lol

!jealous joe !bengals fan bf !cheating

your boyfriend is a really big bengals fan. i mean has so much bengals memorabilia, friends and family love the bengals. he even grew up in the good old land of chili cheese coneys and graeters ice cream. well you never really were into football. it was kinda boring, kinda long, and could have your boyfriend in a sucky mood the whole day.

until…

you saw him.

joe burrow. he’s gorgeous, humble, and is so passionate about the game and his team. you were obsessed. so when your boyfriend one day invited you to an event where you may be able to meet him and have him sign something, you said yes.

you didn’t really have bengals merchandise at the time, so you borrowed your boyfriend’s bengals hat and scarf, and just wore a black outfit to match. you were standing at the fence, waiting for the team to come out to practice. you felt kinda antsy. you really hoped you would be able to meet joe. all of a sudden him and his team came out and everyone started screaming to get his attention. joe was signing jerseys and footballs. it was all a bit overwhelming. he got to you and your boyfriend, and did a double take a bit. your boyfriend was asking him to sign his poster, which he did, and you took out a little notebook. he smiled and looked you in the eye. your boyfriend didn’t notice this as he was already facetiming his friends about his interaction. joe didn’t give you his regular signature, but rather, wrote his name legibly and his phone number right underneath.

your eyes went wide. he laughed and headed to practice.

you went home and laid in bed. it was about 9 pm and you were still staring at the number. you decided not to tell anyone, as you didn’t want joe’s privacy to feel invaded. you put the number into your phone and texted him.

“hi. is this joe burrow? i am y/n. we met earlier today at your practice”.

he immediately texted back, you kinda freaked out.

“hey this is joe. it was nice to meet you earlier, y/n. your bengals hat was cute”.

you screamed into your pillow. you texted back.

“thank you! it wasn’t mine cause im just kind of getting into football haha”. you cringed at yourself, not really knowing how to respond.

“well, maybe i can teach you a few things sometime. maybe you can come to my house?”.

flash forward a few weeks later, you’re in joe burrow’s lap, with an oversized bengals jersey on and no pants, in his huge living room.

he’s kissing your neck and squeezing your ass, as he rocks you back and forth on his underwear clad dick. your phone is ringing on the coffee table. it’s your boyfriend.

“joe-“ you tried to say, but he’s trying to distract you with his tongue on your neck.

“joey!” you say exasperated. he pulls back and halts his movement.

“i gotta take this phone call”. he furrows his brows and looks to the side.

“you don’t even like him!” he responds, aggravated.

“i know, but i want to give him the news in a way where he won’t throw a fit. it’s not the right time” you respond.

here’s the thing about joe. he really likes you. ever since he gave you his number, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. he liked how interested you were in learning about him, whether it was about his football career, or who he was as a person. he didn’t care that you had a boyfriend, because he knew he wanted you.

but joe is a jealous guy. there’s only so much he can put up with. i mean, you’re sitting there in his lap, wearing HIS jersey. you have HIS hickeys on your neck, and your wetness is on his underwear. he’s not gonna put up with it anymore.

you’re on the phone saying hello as he pushes your back onto the couch. you had been making out for hours so you were fully ready for what was about to happen. your eyes grow wide at him as he takes your underwear off and pushes your knees to your shoulders. you’re so wet he audibly grunts.

“where are you at?” your boyfriend asks.

joe’s mouth is so close to your pussy it’s kinda hard to make up a lie.

“the grocery store?” you reply like you didn’t believe it yourself.

“oh okay cool”. he brushes it off. nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him as he only really wanted to rant to you about how the season is going so far with the bengals.

you let out a sigh and before you know it joe was sucking on your clit. you cover your mouth trying to avoid moaning on the phone, but joe removes your hand and holds it by your side. he’s licking long stripes up your hole to your clit, making you want to scream.

as good and toe curling joe’s mouth is, you’re able to keep some composure to keep the phone call normal. he’s still talking with no chance of stopping soon. you roll your eyes at the conversation and then see joe taking his underwear off. you can’t help but ogle. he’s longer than average and so so girthy. he always has to go slow putting it in so that you don’t go insane.

well he thinks you’re ready to go a little faster, and he’s desperate to be all the way in you.

your knees are still to your shoulders as he sticks his tip in. you bite your bottom lip hard as to not let out your moans. everything is fine.

until he puts himself all the way in in one swift motion, bottoming out in you. a moan escapes you.

“fuck you’re so tight” joe moans out.

your boyfriend catches on.

“what was that? are you at a guy’s house?”

you didn’t even have time to respond before joe is pounding into you hard and fast. his face is right above yours, and all you can do is moan. you drop the phone, not even caring because all you want is for joe to fuck you dumb.

“p-please daddy”. you have tears pricking the corners of your eyes. you don’t even know what you’re begging for, you just want him to keep fucking you.

“you like that baby? are you gonna cum on daddy’s dick?” he can feel you pulsating on his cock. he keeps hitting your g-spot.

“yes daddy i’m gonna cum” you grab the back of his head and he kisses you sloppily. you unravel beneath him, eyes rolling to the back of your head. he continues using you, chasing his own high.

he’s grunting. mumbling how good you feel.

“please cum in me daddy”. you start to feel yourself wanting to unravel again. he fucks you with deep long strokes, until finally he cums deep inside of you, letting out a long moan. you cum again too, tears streaking your face. he kisses you again. foreheads to each other, all you can hear is each others breathing. smiling at each other, until you hear something coming from the phone on the floor:

“WHAT THE FUCK”.

[klunkcat]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

42. "Tell me what I did wrong! What's wrong with me?!" + rise A Team 🥺

You keep requesting things that I know will hurt ur feelings!!!

TW: panic attack, derealization/dissociation

Waking up in the med bay had been less painful than this. He’d broken fourteen bones and fractured three more, been coughing up blood and some thick substance he was very sure was never supposed to be on the outside but he’d thought, ‘hey, we won’. 

This didn’t feel like winning. This felt like standing on the other side of a very long tunnel and seeing the world from a sideways tilt. 

He’d been allowed out of the med bay for a glorious two days– mostly to lay up on the couch instead of the stiff medical room— and missed somewhere that the world had actually ended. Because when Raph leaned over him to grab his glass of water on the table beside him, Leo flinched. 

It wasn’t him, he decided. Because Leo had never once in his life feared anything from his big brother, not even when Raph had gone through his snapping phase. Because Raph was Raph and that meant the biggest warmest hugs you could imagine, and big wet watering eyes and crying over commercials with kittens that sneezed too hard. It couldn’t be him that saw Raph moving forward and thought of pink, slimy tendrils, and felt his airways closing with a sharp thrum of oh god and I’m going to die, because that didn’t make sense. 

Raph froze, eyes wide. Leo fell further outside himself. 

The other him made his hand move, he didn’t feel it move. The other him spoke. 

“Oh, ha. Sorry, static must have shocked me.” From the blankets, yeah. That made sense. This other him that jumped at things at least had his wits, that was reassuring. 

“Leo,” Raph said very slowly. Some hindbrain red alert crawled all the way up from his heart and right out his mouth, and into that other version of him that was staying very still. 

“I didn’t— I didn’t mean to.” 

Raph put his arm down just as slowly, leaned back like he could telegraph every moment. His eyes stayed wide and locked on to him. “Okay, that’s okay.” 

“It wasn’t you,” the other him said, and Leo couldn’t feel his lips moving but he desperately wanted to be able to shut him up. “It wasn’t um— just. Jumpy. Pulled something funny, you know with the. The bandages.” 

Shit, Leo thought. Stick to the script, pal. 

“Right,” Raph said, without blinking. Like he was thinking something else. 

“Don’t do that,” other him said. “Okay, the big brother voice thing. I don’t need it, let’s just. Watch the movie, right?” 

He was suddenly aware of Donnie by his kneecaps, Mikey staring at him from the mound of pillows he’d made at Don’s legs. He needed this other him to shape up, acting classes were a must. He was flubbing big time, Leo did not flub. 

Raph shifted again, molasses slow, and gave Donnie a look. His twins face twitched with a nod, and he summarily picked up Mikey, blanket and all and shuffled into his lab. Traitor, Leo thought vaguely. Pincer attack, coordinated front. He hated that. That was his and Don’s thing.

Stepping on my turf, he meant to say. Other Leo’s mouth didn’t move, so he was useless. 

“Actually, Raph’s a little worried.” 

Oh, Leo thought, oh no. Fear lanced through him again, in some distant way. He could see his fingers twitching and couldn’t make them stop. “Worried? About what. Can I help, big guy?” 

Raph hummed. “Think you could, yeah. We haven’t talked about everything that happened, have we?” 

Well, Mikey had made him talk a little, about why he thought it would be okay to choose himself without telling anyone else first. Hugged him as tightly as he could with Leo’s broken ribs for three solid hours until Leo’d given in and promised he’d be kinder to himself. Donnie had been furious at him for three straight days somewhere after he’d blearily woken up from his coma, but they hadn’t talked directly about why yet. Suddenly, the look he’d caught clicks.

He was still too outside himself to react the right way. Other Leo looked away and twisted the blanket in his hands. 

Ever so slowly, he felt Raph’s warm hand land on his knee. He could see it, his big brother’s hand, green and normal. No spikes, no pink. He could breathe out— there was a rope somewhere there that guides him closer enough that he can flip his own hand around and squeeze. 

“Nothing to talk about, bro bro,” Leo managed, but it was croaky and lacking all the usual fizz. Fizzless, him. The horror was nearly too much to think about. 

The look Raph gave him was half a wince of apology, half tangled up exasperation. He didn’t like that there was guilt there. That didn’t fit. Raph hadn’t done a single thing wrong. 

“Leo.” 

He made himself swallow. “Raphala.” 

Raph sighed. Flipped Leo’s hand over so he could stare down at the bandages crossing his palm. He’d burnt the inside of his fingers somehow, he couldn’t even say when it happened. Silly, really. He’d laughed when Don had told him. Come to think of it, Dee hadn’t really looked like he’d agreed with the joke then either. 

He watched the way Raph traced his thumb across the white gauze, the way his face twisted and crashed down with mounting horror. 

“I’m so sorry, Leo. You know I love you, right?”

Other Leo made a second appearance, making his hands go numb. “I— of course? I love you too, what does that—?”

Raph’s non bandaged eye blazed when he looked up at him, swimming in the dim movie light. “I hurt you, Leo. I took your trust and I hurt you with it. Raphie’s so sorry.” 

That didn’t— Leo blinked rapidly. The world fell out of focus, clicked free of its puzzle piece board. Out into the ether. “Stop apologizing.” 

“Leo—”

“No!” Other him said it sharp, loud. Too electric behind the words, he winced at himself and didn’t feel his face move. “You don’t— you don’t get to apologize to me. That doesn’t— what are you talking about Raph?” 

Somehow his brother’s face only fell further, it made the panic in Leo’s chest sticky. “I said that wrong, I don’t—” It was so hard to think, why couldn’t he make himself think? “I’m not afraid of you! I’m not.” He wasn’t. Because it was Raph. 

“It’s okay if you are, buddy. Raph understands—” 

“I’m not!” Leo bit out, and blinked rapidly again as the world falls further out to sea. “I put you in danger, I jumped in and— I did something stupid, and you got brainwashed. Because I fucked up. Why aren’t you mad at me? Tell me what I did wrong!”

What’s wrong with me, he thought, vibrant and liquid like toxic sludge seeping down to his core. 

He couldn’t even see right anymore, everything had gone shapes and colors. It wasn’t even Raph in front of him, it was something. It was nothing and— 

“--breathe with me, okay? In. Out, that’s it. That’s perfect, Bug, keep doing that.” 

The Bug snapped him together, pulls all of his strings forward. Raph hadn’t called him that since they were toddlers, when he and Donnie had started insisting being twins and Raph tried to play along. Bug and Boo, he’d said all proud. Donnie had hated it instantly and rebuked any attempt at being called something so sweet by biting. Leo’d tried to make it fit a little better, since Raph seemed to like it so much.

‘S it b’cause I bug you?’ Leo’d said, sad and puddling up but hiding it with a teasing smile he knew would make the hurting less loud. 

Raph had smoothed his hand across his head and grinned. ‘It’s cause you’re my favorite bug.’ But it sounded like a good thing when Raph said it. 

Leo forced in a breath, feels his hands become his hands and his toes firmly plant as his toes. “Sorry,” he managed. “Sorry, went. Um. Somewhere. Back.” 

Raph’s big worried eye peered down at him, he let go of Leo’s hand with a firm squeeze. Leo shook his head, clearing out all the fuzz as much as he could. 

“I need you to hear me, just for a second. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Raph tried, worry making his voice small. “Can you believe me on that one thing? You were brave, and you got us through it, and most importantly you got Leo through it. I’m not mad.”

Leo scoffed, staring down at the blanket instead. Raph carefully scrubs a hand across the top of Leo’s head, warm and calloused the way he knows. 

“Raph wanted you safe. That’s all. And I hurt you, so it’s okay if you— if you need time.” 

Leo snapped his eyes up, grabbing at Raph’s hand again even before he pulled away. “I don’t! I don’t need you to go anywhere, or leave or. Please don’t leave.” 

Raph’s face gentled. 

“Can we just,” Leo couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t. “Can we just stay here for a minute? Maybe talking can be later.” When it wasn’t him and other him preferably, so he could say things the right way.

“Okay.” 

Raph settled back on the couch, slowly lifting his arm free and telegraphing the space underneath for Leo to decide. As if he needed to decide, the best place in the world was in Raph’s hugs. He’d always fit perfect there. 

Raph smoothed his hand across Leo’s head with his thumb, back and forth.The warmth pulled him all the way back into himself, almost with a shudder. Leo squeezed his eyes shut and buried his snout further into Raph’s side. It made him brave. “I’m not scared of you. I’ve never been scared of you, big guy.”

Raph’s thumb paused. Smoothed back again. “It’s okay if you are. That was… pretty scary.” 

Leo shook his head stubbornly. “Wasn’t you. I know my big brother anywhere. That wasn’t him.” 

He pretended kindly not to hear the hitch in Raph’s breathing. The warm chuckle after is like lottery gold. 

“Thanks, bug. I know you, too.” 

[terrestrialnoob]

Danny was far to used to needles to flinch when Mr. Alfred stuck him. His stupid DNA wouldn’t stay in tact long enough for them to verify his story, so he suspected either this would knock him out and he will be taken back out to where they’d gotten him or they’re being nice and putting him out of his misery quickly. If it’s the former, then he’ll have to find another way to survive- or a nice place to die. He didn’t get a lot of time to wander around Gotham before going to the GCPD, but dying in his… original’s city would at least be thematically valid. That’s what Mr. Lancer said about Danny’s analysis of Hamlet, that his “unique interpretation was thematically valid”, meaning Danny was wrong but did the work and would get a passing grade for turning it in. At least keeping it together long enough to continue existing would be the last thing he failed to do and his teachers wouldn’t have to worry about grading his thrown-together-at-the-last-minute bullshit.

“So, basically, since the only way to get a good sample of your DNA is to stop it from degrading, this is going to be a kind of two in one solution.” The man – teen? Red Robin didn’t seem that much older than Danny but it felt wrong not to think of him as an adult or at least older. He was obviously more experienced, smarter than Danny, and had been chosen as one of Batman’s sidekicks. “If you’re B’s clone, this modified, uh, kinda virus type thing will infect your entire body and basically, like, re-instruct your DNA on what shape it’s supposed to be. You know, Batman shaped. If you’re not B’s clone, then it will... do nothing and we’ll have to come up with something else.”

Danny stared at him, then at the band-aid now on his arm where he’d just been injected. “What?”

“Yeah, it’ll probably take a few days to actually be sure it’s working and we might have to re-administer it depending on your immune system’s reaction. But, if you’re telling the truth, then we did it!” Red Robin gave a little celebratory jazz hands.

Danny stared at Red Robin, then at the band-aid again. Something dripped into his arm and Danny was suddenly aware that he was crying. He hurried to wipe his eyes with his hand, “I – sorry, I wasn’t – I wasn’t expecting…”

“It’s alright. This has been stressful for you.” Danny heard Batman say and someone managed to put a tissue in his hand to clean up his face.

“I’m not going to die.” Danny didn’t even realize he was talking.

It wasn’t loud and it wasn’t clear through his shaking breath, but Batman responded anyway. “You’re not going to die.”

Danny just kind of, curled up in himself, his face completely hidden behind his legs and arms, where the heroes of Gotham couldn’t see to hopefully save at least a little of his dignity. He wasn’t going to die, he was going to keep living. He didn’t know what to do now, but he was alive! He thought he could feel it already, that the aches and pains that had been slowly growing more intense over the past few months – his entire life – were fading. He could go back home to his friends at least, tell them the truth about why he’d left, let them know he wasn’t going to be more dead than he already was, give Jazz a hug and let her know her little brother wasn’t going anywhere. The Fentons – he could talk to them when he was ready.

It took him a few minutes to get back in control of himself, but once he was able to breath without shaking he looked up again. Red Robin and the guy who’d been with regular Robin where gone. Robin was still there, staring at him from across the room, and Batman was a few feet away, working on something else.

“Master Bruce,” Mr. Alfred said, but Danny was the only one who looked at him. “I’ve prepared a guest room.” The older man then turned to look at Danny. “Have you eaten dinner yet?”

“Um, no?” Danny’s voice was hoarse from crying so much it made his face blush.

“I thought as such. If you’ll follow me, I’ve already prepared a small meal for you...” Mr. Alfred said with a small bow and then turned to almost fully face the back of Batman and spared a glance at Robin. “...all three of you, since the two of you left to meet with Commissioner Gordon before dinner was properly served.”

Danny cringed at having made them leave before they’d been able to eat dinner. He watched as Batman seemed to ignore Mr. Alfred, but Robin looked like he at least heard what was said.

“We’re going to-” Mr. Alfred cleared his throat making Batman stop and sigh, then he stood up from his amazing computer that Danny low key wanted to play with.

He slid the mask off his face. “We’ll be up, give us a minute to change.”

Danny tried not to stare at Batman’s bare face. He didn’t expect to see it, though he guessed he can understand why. It’d be Danny’s face eventually, but it still felt wrong. Danny was already being given so much trust; they’d brought him into their lair, weren’t being careful with names anymore, and now showing Danny this, letting him know Batman’s true identity, it was too much. But maybe- maybe Batman didn’t think the virus thing was going to work and Danny wasn’t going to live long enough to share it. Red Robin had said something like that. That they really weren’t sure their injection would work at all or that it might only work a little bit or maybe it reset the degeneration or something like that. That really made more sense than Batman trusting Danny this much. Still...

Danny followed Mr. Alfred to a small elevator that could hold two people comfortably, or four people uncomfortably. And Danny turned around to see Robin still directly glaring at him as the doors shut. There weren’t any buttons in the elevator, but it moved very fast and they were at the top in seconds. It opened to what looked to be an office with a big desk with a computer and bookshelves, but there were also two couches facing each other with a coffee table in the middle – so it was like an office slash meeting room.

Mr. Alfred stepped out in front of Danny and motioned for him to follow. “This way to the dining room, I’ll be sure to give you the full tour once everyone has had dinner.”

“You really don’t have to. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” Danny said, following behind him and trying not to get distracted by where they were. It was a big house, much bigger than his home – than the house he grew up in. And the further they got, the more it looked like it might be somewhere close to what Vlad’s house was. Maybe not the Cheese Castle, but the “little” mansion he’d gotten in Amity Park.

“It’s not a waste of time.” Mr. Alfred said and they started down a big staircase. “I think it will be important for you to become familiar the manor and grounds. It’s quite easy for people to get lost here.”

Danny wanted to say it wouldn’t really matter, that he was only staying long enough to satisfy their observation of him- make sure their efforts didn't go to waste. But, the tour would mean that Danny would know where he was and wasn’t allowed to go and he’d be able to stay out of the way easier while he was there.

They soon entered a large room with a giant table in it. There were several plates set and several dishes. “I assumed you have the same allergies as Master Bruce, but are there any extra dietary needs you require? Master Damian is a vegetarian so there are already options for it.”

“Oh, no, I’ll eat whatever you give me.”

Mr. Alfred nodded and pulled out a chair for Danny. “There is roast chicken and baked marinated tofu, rosemary potatoes, steamed broccoli, and a wild rice salad with tomatoes, red onion, red bell pepper, pine nuts, and a honey-lemon dressing.”

“Thanks. This all looks great!”

“It does.” Batman said as he entered the room. He was wearing normal clothes now, just a black sweater and gray pants. Robin came in behind him, he was wearing a dark green long sleeve shirt and normal looking jeans.

Danny suddenly realized he was in the seat next to the head of the table and that was obviously where Batman sat down. Robin sat across from him, still glaring, but Danny was starting to think the other kid might just have resting bitch face and Danny would either just get used to it or see Robin so little it wouldn’t matter.

Danny must have sat frozen for a little too long there, because Mr. Alfred leaned over the table. “Here, I’ll get you started, but usually this is a serve yourself household so that everyone gets what they want and as much as they want without shame or embarrassment.”

Danny just nodded and let the man do as he pleased. It felt kind of weird, sitting at a table and eating with his… He wouldn’t have said family, but that is technically what they were, right? Danny literally had Batman’s DNA in him, and Robin had called the man Father with a capital F, so that kind of made them brothers? Cousins? Uncle and nephew? Or father and- Danny cut that line of thought and grabbed the nearest eating utensil to focus on eating instead.

“Holy shit, this is good.” Danny said before he realized he’d said it. He looked at Batman. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to swear.”

Batman shrugged it off with a smile, “It is good food. I often forget how spoiled I am with good food.”

Mr. Alfred hummed at that and, Danny felt more than saw, an exchange of looks between the two older men. Mr. Alfred probably deserved more appreciation for cooking like this and Batman didn’t think he needed to vocalize the appreciation, that it was simply understood he loved Mr. Alfred and all the work he did.

“So, you eat meat?” Robin asked. He seemed a little off-put by Danny taking some of the chicken after getting some of the tofu.

Danny shrugged. “I mean, I’ll eat anything that doesn’t attack me.”

Robin narrowed his eyes. “So should I attack you so you don’t eat me?”

“What? I’m not cannibal? What?” Danny said and looked between the other people in the room. Batman looked exasperated and Mr. Alfred looked half amused at Robin and half offended on Danny’s behalf.

“Then why do you need to specify that you prefer your food doesn’t attack you?”

“Because I... don’t most people prefer food that you don’t have to kill first?”

Robin gave him a sardonic look. “You have to kill all meat before you eat it.”

Danny shook his head, “No, I mean like – when you eat it. Like, you sit down to eat and then the hot dogs grow mouths and teeth and attack you so you have to kill it before you eat it.”

Robin’s glare turned into a shocked stare, and Batman and Mr. Alfred joined in staring at him. “What?”

“What do you mean “what?”?” Robin was annoyed at him. “Hot dogs do not come to life and attack people.”

Oh fuck. He’s ruined it. He doesn’t know what he’s ruined, but he’s too weird for The Batman. Danny started shoveling food into his mouth so he’d stop talking and freaking out Batman.

“How does that happen?” Batman asked and there goes Danny’s hope of being less weird.

Danny swallowed and waved his free hand around a little bit. “I – it’s just that my- the people I lived with before weren’t very good at keeping their specimens quarantined, and they also liked to experiment with food. So, just, sometimes the hot dogs or a turkey or other foods would just, come to life and we’d have to kill them.”

There was a beat of silence before Mr. Alfred asked, “And did you eat this experimental food?”

Danny half shrugged, “There wasn’t really anything else to eat, so yeah.”

Mr. Alfred hummed and it sounded like he might be worried. “I can assure you that nothing like that has ever happened here.”

“Oh. Okay. Cool.” Danny said and, again, tried to eat his way out of the conversation. But it was too awkward. “But, Mr. Alfred, your food is way better than any of that stuff.”

“I would hope so.” Mr. Alfred said. “And feel free to take as much as you want, we have plenty.”

Danny hadn’t even noticed he’d cleaned his plate already. He was about to refuse, but the look on Mr. Alfred’s face made it feel like it would insult the man if Danny didn’t get seconds. So he did.

“What are their names?” Batman suddenly asked.

Danny glanced at him. “Who’s names?”

“You’re… creators.”

The one question Danny hated above all others; ever since he was a little kid who realized that his parents were the town weirdos and that their status as the town weirdos had spread to Danny before he even knew how to walk. He felt the unfortunately familiar mix of the heat from embarrassment and cold from the rejection experience made him know was coming. He wanted to look anywhere but at someone. “Why do you want to know?”

“They made a clone of Father.” Robin said with disdain, and yeah, Danny should have known that. He knows how much it hurts to be cloned. “What if they try again?”

Danny tried to sound as matter of fact as possible. “The Fentons, Jack and Maddie. They’re married to each other. And yeah, they do want to try again, but they used up all their Batman DNA making me.”

“They want to make another one?” Robin was somehow even more annoyed.

“Well, I mean, their first one was such a failure…” Danny half mumbled then sighed and added. "It’s why they want to autopsy me. So they don’t make the same mistakes twice.”

Danny spared a glance. Now Batman was glaring and Danny couldn’t blame him. He doesn’t know how widespread the Fenton name is, but if anyone knows them, it’s not because of how caring, thoughtful, or altruistic they are. And here Danny was, his very existence a violation so deep he wouldn’t blame Batman if he kicked Danny out right that second.

So Danny decided to give the man the opportunity to do that. “How long is the observation?”

Batman’s face quickly changed from angry to confused, so Danny reiterated. “You know, for the kinda virus thing? How long do do you want me here under observation?”

Batman still looked a little confused but went along with the change in topic. “It should take somewhere between two days and two weeks to be certain of it’s effects.”

Danny nodded. “That’s the range they estimated it would have taken for me to completely destabilize, so I can go back once it’s confirmed.”

“Go back?” Batman seemed more confused.

And that made Danny confused. “It’s not like I can stay here forever.”

Batman frowned at that, but Robin spoke first. “You want to go back to the people who want to autopsy you?”

“It’s either them or that guy I told you about earlier.” Danny said and indicated to Batman cause he thinks Robin might have been too far away to hear that part in the cave. "And it's not like they actively try to kill me - I mean, well, usually anyway. It's more of a -if I just so happen to die- type thing."

“Why not stay here?” Batman asked.

Danny couldn’t help the look on his face. Stay here? With Batman? The man he’s been secretly measured against his whole life? The person he’s failed to be time and time again? Danny’s not sure he could take that. “No, you don’t want me here.”

“Should you let us decide that?” Batman gave Danny a pointed look.

Danny shouldn’t answer that. He knows they wont want him. No one wants him. Even Vlad; he doesn’t really want Danny, he wants Maddie’s Son, he wants to steal Jack’s Son, he wants The Other Halfa. Danny knows that he’s just going to burden Batman and his family and the other vigilantes. But he’s not going to say that. He knows better than to argue about where he belongs.

What are you? A ghost trying to fit in with humans or some creepy little boy with creepy little powers?

So Danny folded immediately. “Sorry, you’re right. You get to decide who does and doesn’t get to stay in your house.”

Danny was looking at his mostly empty plate and didn’t see that statement earn him a frown from everyone else in the room.

Danny sighed and glanced over to Mr. Alfred. “I know you said you wanted to show me around, but I’m really tired. Can I just go to bed?”

“Of course.” Mr. Alfred said and motioned for Danny to follow him.

Danny didn’t talk, though Mr. Alfred gave him general direction on how to get from the dining room to the bedrooms, pointed out whose rooms were whose, let Danny know he had an en suite and a dresser full of clothes the other boys didn’t wear anymore. Danny hadn’t realized that Batman had such a big family and he wondered how they would feel after learning that Danny existed. He doubted any of them would accept him. He could hope one of them might want to be his friend, but he knows who he is, what he is. He wont hold any of their feelings against them.

Gut Feeling

DPXDC

Commissioner Jim Gordon meets an odd kid in the precinct.

--

“Come on, you really don’t have a way to directly contact Batman?”

Jim smiled. Kids came to the station and asked that all the time. Usually, it was just curiosity and showing them the signal was enough to get them to sign up for the Junior Police program. This one looked a little older than most, teenagers were often “too old” to believe in Batman, but again, give them a little faith now and they’ll never loose it.

“Lookin’ for the Bat, kid?” Jim asked, knowing he was about to make this kid’s –

Jim froze. The kid turned to face him and it was Bruce Wayne. Not playboy billionaire Bruce Wayne, but freshly a teenager Bruce Wayne. The Bruce Wayne who Jim had checked in on time and again from age eight until he ran off on a globetrotting trip to find himself. The little Bruce Wayne with too pale skin and dark bags under his eyes, and not enough love to make up for all the grief weighing him down. And he didn’t look like Damian either, where Bruce was obviously his father but there were distinct traits from his mother. This was a carbon copy of a boy Jim remembered vividly.

“I am.” He even sounded like teenage Bruce. All business, like he was on a mission.

“I might be able to help you, but it’ll take a while.” Jim said and the officer the kid had been talking too gave him an odd look. He waved her off and told the kid to follow him to the commissioner’s office. Normally, he’d be more dramatic, put on more of a show for the kid, but his gut told him this was different, this was important. He offered the kid a styrofoam cup of water then closed the door behind him. “So, what do you need to talk to Batman for?”

“It’s personal. I need to talk to him in person.”

Jim took a sip of coffee from his cup. “He doesn’t appreciate me calling for no reason in the middle of the day.”

“So you do have a direct line?” The kid nearly jumped out of his seat. “If he’s upset, it’ll be my fault, just call him, please.”

“Who should I say wants to talk to him?”

The kid hesitated. “He doesn’t know me, but I have to talk to him.”

Jim frowned. “What’s your name, kid?”

He swallowed and looked like he wasn’t going to answer for a moment. “Danny.”

“Danny…?” Jim wanted a last name but Danny kept quiet. Jim sighed, “He’s likely not going to show up until sundown.”

“I can wait, as long as you guarantee he’ll show.”

“And you’re not going to tell me why you need Batman?” Jim just got a glare in response. “What about one of the other heroes?”

“Only Batman, no one else can help.”

“You sure about that? Not even Superman?”

“Not unless Superman can get me in the same room as Batman.”

“Why’s it so important that you meet him in person?”

“It’s personal.”

Jim liked this less and less by the minute. “Do your parents know you’re here?”

Danny looked away but right when it looked like he wouldn’t say anything he mumbled. “They wouldn’t care anyway.”

After another moment to give the kid time to reconsider, Jim pulled out the Bat-phone. It was a normal Wayne-Tech cell phone, but Jim had been given very specific instructions on how and when to use it. The phone listed all the Gotham Vigilantes without visible numbers so they couldn’t be copied and handed out. He pressed the one for Batman.

“Stand outside, would you?” The kid gave him a look, but followed the request. Jim could see his shadow in the door’s window, not so subtle eavesdropping.

It rang a few times, and Jim sat there awkwardly with a teenager listening to his every move. Finally, a familiar voice picked up the other end of the line. “Commissioner Gordon.”

“Sorry to call you out of the blue Batman, but I’ve got a kid here who needs your help.”

“Who?”

“Says his name is Danny, that you’ve never met him but you’re the only one who can help him.”

“Why?”

“Refuses to tell me.”

“What’s your best guess, Commissioner?”

Jim looked at Danny’s shadow, it looked like he was straining his ears to try and hear what he was saying. Danny had given him almost nothing to work with. Just his name, that he’s never met Batman but needs to talk with him in person. But Jim was here because he listened to his gut. A feeling like when you see a random rock on your neighbor’s doorstep but you’d never go in without an invitation. A feeling like you know what’s in the present and are preparing your surprised face. A feeling like when you cheated on your wife and you know she knows.

“He looks like Bruce Wayne.”

A beat of silence. “What?”

“Danny looks exactly like Bruce when he was a teenager. Exactly the same.” Jim hoped Batman would get it, feel in his gut what Jim felt.

“And he wont say why he’s there?”

“No, and he demands to see you in person.”

“I’ll be there in an hour.”

“10-4.” The line cut off before Jim had finished saying it. He called Danny in again. “He’s on his way.”

Danny glared at him. “If he’s not, if you called some social worker or something, you’ll regret it.”

“I’m sure.” Jim sighed and downed the rest of his now cold coffee.

The sun hadn’t set, but only just barely. Jim ended up taking Danny up to the roof in the end after all, if only to save his window from being broken into. The kid had a red hoodie on, but he was still shivering in the autumn chill and it was just going to get colder by the minute as the sun made its way behind the horizon.

Jim checked his watch and, at exactly an hour from when he called, he acted surprised when Batman and Robin appeared out of nowhere. “Bats.”

“Commissioner.” Batman greeted but his eyes went straight for Danny. “Danny, I assume.”

“Yeah, I…” Danny hesitated, looking at Jim and Robin.

All it took was four words from Batman. “What do you need?”

The kid held out his hand with a flash drive in it. “I’m your clone. My par- The people who made me wanted to make a stronger version of you, but they got ahead of themselves. My DNA is degrading and I’ll die if I don’t get your DNA to stabilize me.”

Holy cow.

“You don’t expect us to believe that, do you?” Robin sneered at him.

“The flash drive has all the info on it. All the data about the cloning process and the, uh, relevant experiments after that.” Batman gave the kid a look. “I didn’t want to waste time on unnecessary data.”

“If what you’re saying is true, why are you here, alone? Are they working on a different solution?”

Danny’s shoulders hiked up. “I’ve been a failure for a while now, I’m not worth the resources and they’d learn more from an autopsy.”

Oof, kid. Jim looked at Batman who seemed to feel the same… if Jim was reading him right.

“So, you wont object to a DNA test?” Robin asked with a cocky head tilt, at least he was relatively easy to read.

“You can try.” Danny said, and then realized what that sounded like. “I mean I wont stop you, but my DNA degrades faster outside my body. You’ll have to take me to whatever lab you plan on using.”

“Then we will.” Batman said and jerked his head towards where they’d probably parked that ridiculous car of his. But then he looked at Jim with a nod. “Commissioner.”

“Batman.” Jim returned the nod. “You’ll tell me how things turn out, yeah?”

“I’ll give you a report.” Batman joked – Jim could tell, it was gut feeling.

[chaotic-archaeologist]

So to make a long story semi short; during fall term a couple unknowing found a set of mastodon teeth and brought to my anthropology professor at the college, since then they conducted some field work and found more bone. They obviously stopped because of winter but in summer the college will be offering a field work class to go help at the site. I want to do that, but as mentioned before I have Cerebral Palsy which means I don't have a lot of upper body strength or flexibility. But I can still do a lot. My I guess problem is my Professors respect me and that's hard for me to get with all the ableism and I worked hard these last two semesters to break out of my shell to get here , I guess I just don't want to 1. make a fool of myself 2. be a hindrance and/or mess something up

any advice?

This sounds like an incredible opportunity, and I would definitely encourage you to pursue it! I hear your concerns about embarrassing yourself and being a hindrance, but I think you should reframe your thinking around facts that 1) everybody deserves learning experiences regardless of their physical ability, and 2) there are things you can do that will be an asset to the excavation.

Some of these things include taking notes and photographs, documenting and storing finds, and working with any digital tools like GPS units. You may also be able to do lab work and different kinds of analysis, depending on what they find and how they run the program. A good supervisor (although not all are created equal) will be willing to work with you to come up with a plan for how you can participate and what that will look like.

Usually, classes like this have applications where students list their relevant coursework and write a brief personal statement about why they want to participate. There are a couple of ways you could go about this in regards to disclosing your disability and seeking accommodations. You can either:

Disclose early: this would entail including something about your disability in your personal statement, in an email to the professor running the dig, etc.

Disclose later: submit your application without mentioning your disability. Feel free to mention how hard you've worked to get where you are, and if you want to talk about vague challenges with your health as part of that, it's up to you. If you are accepted to the dig, ask for a meeting with the supervisor where you can then explain your needs and what you are able to do.

Generally, I advise erring on the side of disclosing later rather than earlier. As I'm sure you're aware, prejudice and implicit bias are unfortunately a thing, and sometimes the only way to protect yourself from those impeding your application is to withhold information (although obviously this isn't an option if the professor already knows you). Additionally, you have legal protections against discrimination that are much easier to enforce after you have been accepted.

That being said, I've been heartened to see that more and more people in archaeology spaces are thinking about what accessibility means in field settings and how to include people with disabilities.—perhaps this is also the case with whoever is running this dig. Archaeology is for everyone, and there are many roles in an excavation for someone who can't do physical labor.

Finally, I'll close with some resources that might be helpful.

The Disabled Archaeologists Network: while I don't think they have a ton of programming for undergraduates (yet), membership is free and can put you in touch with

Field Tested: an article about a disabled student who was able to participate in a geology field school (similar levels of work to an archaeology one). It discusses some of the accommodations the student needed, and what they were able to do.

Here's an article by Dr. Anita Marshall, the professor who ran that accessible field school. Its content isn't substantially different from the one I linked above, but at the end it also cites some good literature about accessibility in field work. You should be able to access a lot of those publications through your institution's library or @jstor's free (or institutional) service.

Good luck, -Reid

[riririnnnn]

To know that Sae doesn't think he is having any kind of fight with Rin and he, in fact, watches BLTV too makes me think that this post of mine wasn't that far from the tracks.

Yes, of course, he might not be watching BLTV solely for Rin and the reasons might also be Isagi, Shidou, Kaiser, and maybe even Lorenzo, Charles, Loki, and Noa. However, I just like to believe that he never stopped looking out for his little brother, Rin. And in a very strange way, I think he was looking out for Rin in that Snowy Night too.

First thing first, something was wrong with Sae in that flashback.

As the saying goes, "Eyes are the window to one's soul," he looks so worn out—miserable, in fact. And I highly think that around the time of this flashback, it hadn't been that long since he lost his dream—or maybe got his dreams crushed. And I got two reasons to think this way:

To repeat my words, he looks miserable, which is a given when you lose a dream, compared to his later appearance like in the U-20 match. And judging by the timeline, the flashback and U-20 match have 1 year-ish gap which is an ample amount of time to cope up and get a hold of yourself.

Rin kept close tabs on Sae through news and all. The younger Itoshi would definitely be the one, if not the first, to know that Sae was now aiming to be the best midfielder instead of the best striker. But..

...Rin didn't know shit.

Now, you might be wondering why in the world I'm focusing so much on the timeline, right? Like, Sae got his dreams crushed, then he return to Japan and confronted Rin—what's the big deal about it even if these events happened in a short amount of time?

...

And that's where you'd be wrong if you think this way.

We all keep forgetting that to be the world's greatest striker was Sae's dream first before he decided to share it with Rin. Sae has been playing this sport since he was one year old. Soccer, probably, came into his life before Rin did. Rin gave his teen years to this game, but Sae has nearly given his whole life to this dream.

Now imagine yourself in Sae's position. Imagine devoting your whole childhood and teen years to something only to not be able to achieve it in the end. Won't you be devastated? Won't you be a mess? Won't you need some time to collect yourself together? Now do you understand why the timeline matters so much? And why the timeline is such a big deal? Hm?

Secondly, Sae has never been a visibly sweet person, even to Rin.

Yes, Sae took care of Rin, but did we ever see him go, "Aww! My lil baby bro Rinnie! Cutie patootie! My baby bro <333333" Did we? He had always been rather.. emotion-less and blunt. After the above panel, too, his words were, "You can be the most amazing, after me."

He just has been like that.

Always.

That's why I have always believed that he never changed as a person, even after Spain. He has been like this from the start, which is also why I think that his harsh words in that Snowy Night was just another way of him looking out for Rin because guess who has known soccer longer? Who has gone out of Japan and seen the outside world's soccer with his own eyes?

Yeah.

In a way, Sae's dream had more weight than Rin's. The older Itoshi had soccer in front of his vision, meanwhile the younger one had his Nii-chan in front of his eyes. Despite being so focused in this sport, Sae just couldn't be it, so what makes you think Rin could've made it when his sole focus was his Nii-chan instead? Wouldn't have Rin struggled so much in the outside world with this kind of mentality?

And this is something, I think, Sae knew too—on that Snowy Night, he actually realised what Rin's real mindset was like and immediately knew that it just wasn't going to fly in the world stage. Sae was just saving Rin from the hardships he himself must've went through during his time in Spain—Sae was just looking out for Rin.

"What about those mean things he said to Rin?" you may ask, and that's exactly where the timeline comes into play—Sae was just a mess, and Rin's words were the breaking point for him.

"What words?" you may ask now, and these are the words:

Repeating myself, eyes are the window to one's soul:

Sae never broke his promise—Sae never stopped looking out for Rin.

[noirsdoll]

your mouth washing work is so good! what if curly was the one scheming the baby trapping on captain reader, like taking the condom off mid stroke (jimmy is fs the one that pushed him to do it, devil on his shoulder)

thank you so much what?!? i think curly would baby trap because he doesn’t want to lose you while he’s gone… (i didn’t see captain!reader until i was done writing it SORRY)

cw for baby trapping and a sprinkle of manipulation!! also some filthyyy smut and curly breeding kink!!

Piloting the Tulpar is like therapy for Curly. The gentle hum as the ship drifts through space, the dreamy green glow of the controls and diagnostics. He sits back in his chair, watching the blinking screen that displays the Tulpar’s trajectory.

They’re on the ending branch of their cruise, on their way back to Earth. Curly’s only thinking of one thing— you. He’s excited to get back and see your gorgeous face in person again.

Jimmy’s beside him, picking the dirt under his fingernails, tongue poking out of his mouth as he does it with utmost concentration. He’s bouncing his leg like he has somewhere to be.

“I’m thinking of putting a ring on her finger,” Curly says into the silence, “when we get back.”

“Cool.” Jimmy doesn’t look up, but he frowns, wrinkling his nose.

The quiet drags, Curly tips his head back against the seat, sighing in content. He has the whole thing planned out. He’s gonna take you to your favourite restaurant and ask them to bring over the band and play a song you like. He’s even got a whole speech that’s he knows by heart—

“That’s not gonna stop her from cheating on you.”

“What?” Curly turns to look at him.

“Yeah, well, I mean, what do you think she’s doing while she’s waiting for you to come back?” Jimmy snorts. “It’s not like you’re there to fuck her when she wants.”

Curly’s unsure of what to say. He’s never thought about it like that.

“We were gone, what, a little over a year this time?” He reclines with a creak, grinning. “Who even knows if she’ll still be there waiting for you?”

Curly frowns. “What could I do?” Jimmy’s right, what if he comes back to you and you’ve moved on or you’ve grown bored of waiting?

��Knock her up,” Jimmy says, like it’s the most obvious solution.

His eyes widen. “I couldn’t do that— We haven’t even talked about kids yet.”

Jimmy scoffs. “Then don’t talk to her about it. You want the relationship to last, right? This is the best way.”

The way Jimmy talks to him sometimes makes Curly feel like he’s looking at the world through a whole different lens, like Jimmy is expanding his horizons. And Jimmy’s right. You wouldn’t be able to leave with your belly all swollen with his kid.

So Curly does the unthinkable. When Curly gets home and you both have your habitual fucking that is more humping and groping than anything meaningful, he puts his plan into action.

Curly’s lips slot with yours, he kisses you messily. Your nails drag over the broad planes of his back as he lays you down like he has been wanting to do all this time. He thinks he almost cums just from slipping his dick in, the way your pussy clamps down on him is tighter than any hug you’ve pulled him into.

You both stare at each other for a moment, catching your breath, the air is hot and dizzying and there is so much want coursing through both of your systems. And then Curly sets his pace.

It’s sweaty and sloppy, shallow thrusts as he doesn’t want to leave your warm cunt for too long. He holds you down with one big hand spread over your stomach, fucking into you like it’s life or death.

His dick “pretends” to slip out of you, like his fat head could ever miss your cunt— it’s practically muscle memory. As he goes to realign his cock, he slips off the condom, sandwiching it into the pleats of the tousled sheets behind him.

You don’t notice, too busy moaning and whining and drooling into your pillow as Curly’s rhythm turns damn near brutal. God, he’s gonna breed you, he’s gonna fucking breed you. He can’t go back now.

Wet strings of your slick connect his hips to yours as your pussy leaks all over itself. The sounds it’s making are almost pornographic. Curly’s thumb slips on your soaked clit as he makes you cum alongside him. He read somewhere that it helps get you pregnant too.

You’re too fucked out to notice that creampie he just gave you, thick, milky cum dripping out of you. He reaches down with one finger and pushes his cum in deeper. He doesn’t want you wasting a drop.

Maybe this was a net positive, Curly thinks as he cleans you up, peppering kisses along your body and praising you for your hard work— laying there and taking it.

Now you have something to keep yourself company the next time he’s gone.

[eldritch-spouse]

Fucking robot. Why does he always bother me during breaks? He doesn't even need breaks.

“Hi Xavier. Was there something that you needed?”

You know he likes you because he bothers to address you by your name. As opposed to a serialized string of numbers and letters.

The numbers before your shift code and initials make you wonder just how many of them there were before you. How many he tossed away after an unfortunate workplace accident. That tag on your uniform is more of a death sentence than anything.

'Like'... As if this tin can is actually able of feeling.

It's more realistic to say he sees value in you, for some reason, and employs some kind of social algorithm to fabricate a twisted sort of relationship.

" You have been consistently distracted lately. "

Is that a warning?

Two red abyss-like orbs cast a crimson filter upon your face. It always feels like Xavier is watching you a little too closely, monitoring more than just your verbal responses.

" Ah, my bad! " You force a wobbly smile. " I promise it doesn't get in the way of my wo- "

" It does. " He silences you immediately, imposing and unforgiving in his cold corrections. " Clients notice when you zone out. Your movement speed is drastically reduced and the chances of committing errors -which you have by now- is considerably increased. Spacing out this much is in no way acceptable behavior for a multitude of... "

Only the very real notion that he's noting your facial expressions stops you from rolling your eyes at the robot's tireless monolog regarding the dangers and consequences of being distracted at work. One of your eyes still manages to twitch, as if in defiance.

" Yes sir, I understand. " You try to cut in, try to abort that speech before it turns into a whole lecture.

One camera cranes down slightly. " Your reputation as the exemplary employee is being damaged. "

Xavier says this like it should make you anxious. You hate that he thinks of you as an example, that he emphasizes it constantly. Not only is it putting unnecessary pressure on you for no compensation, it's also costing you the few mild friendships you have worked to maintain in this hostile minefield of an environment.

The more he speaks of you as some ideal of professionalism, the more others give you judgemental side-eyes. Sneers. Avoid you. Spread snide comments that then find their way to you through gossip.

Maybe if Xavier stopped exalting your mediocre performance, your asshole coworkers would stop murmuring that you've been orally pleasing the glorified microwave.

Xavier doesn't even have a dick! Why would he?! He's an artifical stand in for a manager that only cares about the dehumanizing process of maximizing profit.

He doesn't have a penis. You think.

You only realize a long silence has installed itself this whole time when the robot breaks it.

" ... Are you ill? "

" Huh- No. No, I just have a lot on my mind. I'll work on it boss. "

There's another pause. This time, you presume Xavier is waiting for you to cave under pressure, or counting the pores on your complexion. You bet he'd know the exact number.

" You have not allowed access to more in-depth medical records. If I had such a permission, I would be able to rework your current shift into something more suitable for any preexisting conditions such as- "

" Uh no sir, no. I don't think that's relevant, it's probably just my sleep schedule. " The thought of Xavier knowing about your health beyond what is strictly necessary for employment is chilling to the core.

He takes the rejection silently, lenses refreshing.

" I know who is bothering you. "

Xavier says, so naturally and spontaneously that you gawk for a moment, forever surprised by his eery bursts of casual remarks.

" ... Pardon? "

These moments make it seem as if there's more than mere cold calculations running through his processor components.

Xavier drifts that much closer to you, now suffocating your personal space. Only the crimson of his camera lenses light the dingy alley you've chosen as your break spot.

" Incubus, Babesley. Masseur. He has self-inflicted carvings on his body consisting of infatuated statements and your name. "

You rattle for a second, the memory of the demon's mutilated chest surfacing, his wild and desperate eyes searching yours for a hint of approval that wasn't there, only disgust and fear.

" Wrathfolk, Mozgrag. Trapper. Teamed up with the incubus upon being confronted, effective in forcing his way to you at any cost. "

Another memory flashes by, burly hands carelessly tearing the horns out of someone's head, he'd look at you when the screams rang, attempting to prove something you only saw as terrifying murderous intent.

Shaken, irritated, afraid, you openly glare at Xavier.

" Why haven't you done anything... " It was too quiet to sound as confrontational as you wished.

There's a split second where his stiff arms twitch, like the machine was trying to roll its shoulders. Cameras tilt and reposition, erroneously assuming the light from his lenses is what's causing you to tear up.

" The customer is always right. " Faintly, or perhaps just in your head, his words sounded dragged out.

" Then what's the problem?! "

You can't help the childish irritation, the desire to pluck your hairs out of your scalp in a pull that might just tear your skin asunder. You want to scream and kick this stupid fucking machine until it shuts off. Why does he bother you during your breaks to ask things that make no sense, to unnerve you, to create contradictions. You've never had a positive interaction with this robot. Why would he mention those two if he seemingly has no problem with their attitudes?

You know he doesn't care, because your coworkers are also living through their own cases of harassment at the hands of the denizens of Hell. You've had to pretend you didn't hear the sound of a cashier's arm being twisted in all the wrong directions before. Reminded that quitting is not an option, that you can only pray such doesn't happen to you.

" Your performance- "

No. Shut up.

" Okay, let's do some math, Xavier. " You growl. " My precious work performance is being impacted by a lot of things, but mainly those two. Those two are customers, and the customer is always right, aren't they? So there's nothing to be done, yeah?! Stop- "

Your confidence begins to falter when you realize you've stepped out of line, that you snapped at your own superior. The fear of consequences flashes very briefly across your eyes. That's enough, you need to calm down. You need to leave.

Xavier's silence doesn't help.

" I'll... I'll be heading back to work now. "

Head hanging low, you attempt to swiftly retreat into work, halted quickly by cold metal wrapping around your arm.

His grip is as frighteningly solid as it is sudden.

You don't remember Xavier having ever touched you before.

When you squirm around to glance at him, ask what he thinks he's doing, those two cameras pin you into silent obedience. You could never hope to free yourself of his grasp, only if you wished to tear a limb out of its socket.

" Do you think I enjoy these limitations? "

There's a mute gasp. Then the pain of his grip tightening, restricting your blood flow into a tingling soreness. Your teeth bare themselves.

" I don't think you enjoy anything at all, machine. "

It was ruthless, yet, deep down, you almost believed it.

Xavier stares at you for another prolonged period of time, unaware that the pain in your arm is only worsening. You have no idea what occurs behind those lenses, what those words might mean to him.

Metallic fingers unclasp with the slowness of a decompressing blood pressure monitor, allowing you to yank your own limb back and hold it to your chest like an animal licking its wounds.

" ... This issue will be resolved. "

He doesn't make a move to follow after you. In fact, Xavier remains staring forward, at the empty space where you once stood.

Maybe you broke him. Who cares, he might give you peace for the rest of your shift.

[thanosscross]

My Darling - Choi Seung Hyun/T.O.P x reader part 3

Summary: After weeks of thinking of ways to wrap up your tour, your boyfriend has the perfect idea, making your last show for tour a lot more memorable and less stressful

Warnings: None

Life couldn't be any better for you and your boyfriend, you hadn't fully made it official, but you and Seung Hyun agreed to stay committed to each other, which you were both fine with. As the months passed, so did your tour dates, getting closer and closer to your last show which started to weigh on you.

"Jagi..What's going on?" Seung Hyun asked as he walked into your shared home, you were only home for a few days before you had to leave again, so your boyfriend tried his best to be as present as possible while still keeping to his schedule "I can't think of anything for my last show! I need something big but I can't think of anything other than releasing the song we made, but I don't want everybody to think there's gonna be another album before the end of tour" You frowned looking at the spread of screens in front of you tiredly massaging your temples. Seung Hyun thought after that up until the day you had to leave, smiling at you with his adorable smile as he waited for you at the door "What're you doing?" You laughed raising your eyebrow at him "I was thinking... You know..You've really been helping me rebuild my reputation..And you're always there to make sure the critics aren't too harsh..so what if for your last show, we both release our single" He offered, you furrowed your eyebrows dropping your bags "Seriously? Seung Hyun, if you're serious that's amazing you feel ready again!" You cheered hugging him tightly "As long as I have you, I've got this" He smiled softly "So, I've got everything packed, lil guy is with your sister so he's being taken care of in doggy paradise, we are free to tour the road" He smiled, picking your bags up taking them to the car that was outside waiting, Seung Hyun smiled at your body guard nodding "Good morning" He smiled, happy to be able to see you more.

Rehearsal was hard on you, you weren't expecting your award shows performances to be demanding, and yet you were more worn out than you had ever been. Looking at the clock you groaned, only twenty minutes before you had to be back on stage to do it all for real. Looking towards backstage you offered your poor boyfriend a sad smile, feeling bad he had to sit back and watch you work for the next two shows.

They flew by rather quickly, leaving you in your hotel room the night before your last show, pacing the hotel floor nervous about every possible outcome, your boyfriend almost mimicking your behavior with his own worries. You jumped as you heard shouting and your body guard slide into the room holding the door shut "M-Ma'am, do you know a Ji-Yong, or G-Dragon? He says he knows the both of you" He asked, you tilted your head looking at Seung Hyun, watching his expression change through different emotions "Yea let him in" You replied resting a hand on Seung Hyun's chest as a form of comfort "Seung Hyun!" Ji-Yong shouted rushing in "Is it true? Are you really coming back to k-pop?" He asked rushing to his friend "He's not sure, we're taking it slow" You smiled softly extending your hand sweetly "Y/n l/n" You offered, he smiled stopping to shake your hand "it's so nice to meet you! I'm Ji-Yong, Seung Hyun's friend" He introduced, you shook his hand gently, glancing back to Seung Hyun "Y-Yea, Y/n's been a huge help with trying to restore my name back home" He explained nervously, you smiled, letting the two talk and catch up while you went to do you pre-show routine. Hearing your call you quickly moved to your mark on stage taking a deep breath as you started the show.

It'd be a full hour before Seung Hyun finally got his call, you stood in the center of the stage panting trying to catch your breath from the last show as the crowd slowly quieted down you lifted the microphone up "This next part..I know it will be hard, But I need you to contain yourselves, because he's-" As soon as the pronoun left your mouth the crowd erupted again, you nerves vanishing whenever you heard Seung's chuckle in your ear piece, knowing he was getting his microphone and ear pieces hooked up you knew you had to be quick. "-He's a little nervous about this, but we're excited to show you what we've been so busy working on.." You smirked turning around to face the entry and exit to the stage along with the giant big screen that was currently showing the same entry you were watching as the intro to your song started to play. "T.o.p is back, baby!" Seung's voice played over the track, having to cover your ears for a moment from the screaming echoing off of the walls you missed Seung rushing out on stage waving as the track cut out for a moment, letting the crowd process what was going on first. As Seung Hyun snapped out of his trance he made his way to you, wrapping his arm around you leaning close "Are you okay?" He asked softly, you nodded softly smiling at him "Yea, Wasn't expecting everybody to be that loud, but what can I say, everybody loves T.O.P!" You said shouting the last part into the microphone, he just chuckled shaking his head as he got into his mark.

Preforming with you was different than it was performing with BigBang, it was less people on stage, all of the attention was just on you and him, it was scary but at the same time he missed the feeling so bad, and as of right now, everybody seemed happy he was there. As Seung Hyun started his verse you made sure to circle around him, dancing overdramatically to his lyrics, along with adding in random back up vocals, your only goal was to make sure everybody had fun during the show, including Seung Hyun. He quickly turned his body to started moving towards you as you started to rap with him, staring him down as you both went faster and faster before you ended up stumbling over your words laughing loudly. You were quick to realize you wouldn't be able to end the show so soon after bringing Seung Hyun out, so of course you encouraged him to perform some of his songs with you, knowing both you and the fans would love it.

As Zutter started to play, you gasped sprinting across the stage, watching your boyfriend playfully hump the air to the lyrics "T.o.p! We are a PG show!" You giggled into the microphone, He just raised his microphone up making direct eye contact "Sorry, Jegi" He smiled, you just blushed running off to the other side of him "continue on! But PG!" You laughed, watching him from your spot as he preformed, almost like it was second nature to him, Seung Hyun always make sure to occasionally make eye contact with you as a silent way of letting you know he was okay. You watched him preform quietly until the final song started to play, Knock out, your eyes shot over to him as the crowd screamed loudly as you raised your microphone starting to rap Ji-Yong's verse, even making an effort to spot him out to get him to help him finish the verse off. As Seung Hyun finished his part of the chorus you both stood next to each other, laughing as you matched each others movements as you sang Ji-yong's double double combo part. As Seung Hyun started again, you followed him down the stage, mimicking his movements, freezing anytime he looked back, as the song approached its end, you and Seung Hyun partnered up to finish the last verse. As you finished the last word and went to strike a pose with Seung Hyun, he had already beat you to it, pulling you back to your platform that lowered you back underneath the stage to the backstage area, before cupping your cheek before raising the microphone up one last time "T.O.P, baby" he whispered before pressing his lips to yours, you giggled as the platform lowered and the crowd screamed loudly. Once you were under the stage and your microphones were off you looked at Seung Hyun squealing "That was so fun!" You giggled hugging him tightly "Thank you" He whispered, hugging you back gently "For what?" you asked, he just shook his head "Helping me so much..for seeing I'm still a person beyond my past mistakes" He whispered, holding your hands tightly "Of course, I'll always be there for you, Seung Hyun..I promise" You smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips before pulling him towards to stairs to take you backstage "Now come on! I took the liberty of making us an after party!" You smiled excited, you watched his face fall "I'm sorry, baby..I just..Don't feel like going out tonight" he frowned, you just smiled pulling him to your dressing room, which was decorated slightly, the only difference being the three men sitting in your dressing room excitedly waiting for the person they saw as an older brother for so long.

"What's this?" He asked cluelessly, you just shook your head "I figured, your comeback is a big thing, and the only family you really talked about celebrating with after shows was the boys, and your sisters family..So..Your sister can't make it till tomorrow night, so You'll get a night with the boys, and a weekend with all of your family" You smiled, turning to face him, Seung Hyun just hugged you tightly, trying to hide his tears, just in the few months you had been together, you had done so much for him, in his own interest, not your own, and it was one of the reasons he was starting to fall in love with you.

--

You like?

--

Taglist!!

@ag022123

@acehasmyheart

[letsgoletsgetit08]

ateez unholy hours - kinks

some kinks I could see ateez members having.

warnings: MDNI!, mentions of freakteez idk, kinks

author's note: I'm quite literally running a fever right now and this is where my brain went. I have two psych degrees and this is what I'm using them for. If you're offended by any of this, I guess scroll on, it's not even serious.

word count: 700ish

hongjoong: somnophilia. hear me out, the man keeps weird hours. you're not guaranteed to be awake when he gets home. he's hesitant at first, but you've had a long discussion about it, and he starts to be brave and explore it, he's SO hooked. watching your face scrunch up in the dim light at his first touches, only for it to turn to gasps of pleasure as you wake up to him pushing inside you. it's 3am on a tuesday and neither of you could care less.

seonghwa: finacial domination. look, the guy has money, there's no denying that. but the idea of you telling him how he can spend it? it fucks with his brain in the best ways. oh, he wants that new lego set? he better be good for you all week and prove he deserves it. when he spends within his means of the allowance you give him and you reward him for it? his brain short circuits. he hopes he forgets what bank he uses, he never wants to think about being in control of his account again.

yunho: size kink this, breeding kink that. i hear you and i agree HOWEVER, that man is eating your ass. sorry. he just is. the man is captain of freakteez and he's the king of oral fixation. he's obsessed with finding different ways to get you off, and his sexual appetite knows no bounds. he's not mingi, he's not afraid of getting his hands dirty (metaphorically). you might be worried about it being unsanitary at first, but once he gets you in the shower and helps you wash - everywhere - you feel much better about it. and let me tell you, you won't regret it.

yeosang: ear fetish. i read a fic (shout out to op) about this, forgot what the specific -philia is called and I really don't want to fumble around on google to find it, but all i can say is yes. yeosang is an odd duck but also a rule follower, which leads me to believe he's very curious about the taboo, but not something so taboo that would be risky or anything. he just wants to lick your ears a little. let him. just look at him and tell me you wouldn't let him do it.

san: he wants to fuck your titties. hear me out, he has smallish hands already, which means that even if you're rocking some a cups, they would feel sizeable in his hands. hell, his tits might even be bigger than yours. doesn't matter. he's squeezing and torturing (pos) yours any chance he gets. something about this whiny pouty water sign man begging you let him do it because he's so curious just. ugh. yeah.

mingi: chastity. mingi is sooooo subby, especially for the right person and for that person (pick me!) he would be so eager to please and to prove that he could be good. he's constantly poking our eyes out with that thang on stage, as well as touching it subconciously any chance he gets. can you imagine, locking him up for all of tour? his whiny phone calls. teasing him. how desperate and needy he'd be for you when he finally got home and you could give him some relief.

wooyoung: body hair. i stand by him being a lowkey furry and you know what, whatever that man wants, tbh. i just think the first time you stopped shaving for the winter, it would unlock a whole different side of him. he wouldn't be able to stop touching your newly fuzzy legs and he'd bury his pretty nose in your softy, downy armpits. he'd finally show you the cat ears he's been wanting to wear while he fucks you. meow meow.

jongho: this mischievous little shit sweetheart wants to push the limits on what he can get away with as far as fucking you in public goes. fingers between your thighs at the restaurant, fucking you on a balcony at a hotel, on the tour bus, plane bathroom, green room on set for music video shoot, car sex, you name it, he's trying. the two of you are always reappearing after being mysteriously gone for too long to be innocent, clothes rumpled, cheeks flushed, matching shit eating grins poorly concealed on your faces.

[specific-dreamer]

my baby, my baby (you’re my baby)

Summary: darry visits his dad and rants. he also cries. </3

Darrel loves each of his kids (and stray kids) equally. No matter how hard Steve tries to pry it out of him, he does not have a favorite.

He loved when Johnny came over for dinner and he’s able to convince the kid to spend the night, he loves when Soda and Steve came home with new stories about their day at the rodeo, he loved when he came home from work and Ponyboy would rush to tell him about the book he’d just finished, he loved attending Ace’s recitals, and he loved when Dally comes over just to sit in their company when he could’ve been causing a ruckus around town instead.

He is, however, a little more partial to his first born than the others. No hard feelings, he still loves his other kids, but Darrel Junior was his first child; the reason he’s the father he was a father, so he’s always going to have a soft spot for him no matter what he does.

Besides, it doesn’t hurt that Junior is the only one who visits him and Karen on a normal basis. Darrel huffs to himself has he sits on top of his grave. Since dying, he’s somehow gained an internal watch, so he knows it’s 3:47pm exactly; when Junior visits it’s usually around 4pm.

Junior’s early today though, Darrel thinks to himself hearing footsteps approaching. There’s not much else he can do but wait for Darry who bends in front of Karen’s grave and leaves her a flower first. If he were alive, Darrel’s heart might’ve clenched. Karen’ll be sorry he missed Darry, but she’s watching over the other boys right now; it’s alright though, Darrel will fill her in when she gets back.

Darry’s head was bent too low for him to get a good look at first, but now that he’s turned towards Darrel’s grave he can see the tears streaming down his face. If he still needed oxygen, he’s sure his breath would’ve caught.

“Hi, Dad,” Darry’s says taking a seat on the ground. Darrel can’t help but notice he’s got his knees pulled to him like he’s trying to protect himself.

He frowns and pulls himself to join Darry on the ground. Hey, kiddo. What’s the matter? He knows Darry can’t hear him, he learnt that the hard way a while ago now, it still brings him a little bit of comfort though.

Darry sniffs. “I don’t know how you and Mama did it.”

Did what?

Darry gestures in the air, “This parenting shit- stuff, I meant stuff, sorry.” Darrel laughs a little; his baby’s twenty years old and still apologizing for cussing.

If he’s honest, Darrel isn’t even sure how he did it. It was in large part thanks to Karen, of course, she kept him steady whenever he floundered. Junior also helped too, though. He doesn’t like to throw the word around, but for all intent and purposes, Darry was a perfect first child.

“The other night,” Darry continues. “I guess Ponyboy had a nightmare or something, I don’t know, but I heard him asking Soda why I hated him.” His voice breaks at the end and Darrel is forced to watch as Junior sobs into his arms.

It’s futile he knows, but after a moment of watching he hugs Darry anyway. Almost as if he could actually feel the hug, Darry stiffens before looking up and staring straight through Darrel. Spooky, he thinks.

“I don’t hate him, I promise.”

I know you don’t.

“I love him a lot, but it’s like he purposely grates my nerves. He knows I’m stretched thin and it’s like he’s trying to see how long until I snap. And that’s not fair! I don’t know how to be a parent, I don’t how to raise a fourteen year old!”

Darrel isn’t sure when it happened, but a flip was switched as Junior started to rant angrily. He doesn’t leave the cemetery too often, but when he did he noticed the two often riled each other up; it was never one sided. He can’t exactly correct Darry though so he hums instead.

“Daddy, you know when you first, um,” he winces. “left, Pony didn’t talk for a week. Okay, that’s fine, I can handle that, but he stopped eating too. I tell him, ‘Pony you have to eat something, you can only go so long without eating before you die from starvation.’ And I kid you not the only thing he says to me that entire week was ‘You’re not dad, Darrel, you can’t tell me what to do’. I never said I was! I just didn’t want him to die too, is that so bad?”

Darrel blinks. That was a lot, and he’s not really sure where to start processing it. He sighs airlessly, It’s not bad. You were worried about him and had his best interests at heart I get it. Is he eating now at least?

Just as fast as it came, the anger seems to leave Darry all once as he lies back on the grass with his hands over his face. “I don’t even know if he eating for real, yet. I’m not home enough to know; I eat my breakfast in the dark, go to work, come home when everyone’s asleep, eat dinner in the dark, go to bed, rinse and repeat.”

Darrel winces. Even he didn’t work those kind of hours and could’ve handled them. Darrel liked his solitude every now and then, but not Darry. No, not his Junior; his Junior is a people’s person through and through, there’s a reason he won boy of his year.

Rubbing Darry’s ankle he says, I know you’re working your ass off, but I’m real proud of you, baby. I know it don’t look it now, but it will all pay off.

There’s a pause, and if he wants he could trick himself into believing his boy heard him, before Darry says something so quietly Darrel has to strain to hear. “I know it’s wrong, and I try not to, but sometimes I wish I let them get taken. I love them, really I do! But Soda wants to drop out of school and Pony hates me and he thinks I hate him back, and don’t even get me started on Dallas— I don’t think there’s a been a weekend where we haven’t haven’t argued or he hasn’t been in jail. I’m trying my best, but I keep screwing up and that’s not fair on them.”

He breaks into sobs again, this time so strong his whole body shakes. Darrel can’t even do anything to comfort him, his stupid ghost body isn’t corporeal. The best thing he can do is stroke Darry’s hair and hope he knows his daddy is here for him. He hates seeing his kids cry and he’s never been more angry that he’s dead.

Between sobs Darry says, “I wanna leave. So I can’t mess anything else up.”

No, sir. You’ll get the hang of things soon enough, it’s a new adjustment and y’all’ve just gotta find your footing. I know it’s hard, but y’all will find it.

“I’m not gonna,” Darry protests. His baby is red in the face and breathing real hard, but Darrel is thankful is eyes are finally starting to dry. “I want to leave but I don’t want to leave them.”

So, what are you gonna do, Junior?

“I don’t know,” he answers. “I wish you were here, you’d know what to do.”

Darrel winces. Actually now-

“Well, never mind. You wouldn’t be dumb enough to get in this situation to begin with.”

Harsh, but he’s probably right. Darrel watches as the gears turn in Junior’s head. He loves all his kids equally, yes. But Darry’s always been his favorite to watch because when he isn’t focused he wears every emotion on his face. He can see exactly when Darrys made his mind up long before he stands up and dusts off his pants.

“You drive a hard bargain, but fine I’ll stay.” Darrel barks out a laugh as Darry checks his watch. It’s 6:29pm, he’s been here for nearly three hours. “Shit, I said I’d make dinner.” Somehow, when Darry looks up he’s staring Darrel in the eyes. “I’ve gotta run, but I’ll see you later.”

Alright, stay tough out there. I love you, kiddo.

Darry’s eyes widen a minuscule amount and he grins as he ducks his head. “Yeah, I love you too, daddy.”