#i need to keep this here so i can remember things

[randomshyperson]

One Of Your Girls - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

summary: A study session turns into a make out session. Or the one where the most beautiful girl on campus is your situationship and you would never refuse to distract her, even during exam weeks.

words: 3.820k | warnings: (+18), college au, fuck buddies, popular!wanda x loser!reader, mostly smut but there’s actually some plot here, bottom!wanda (we need way more of this sorry), oral, fingering, some dirty talk, reader is briefly described to be shy and introverted because of the loser archetype, w and r are actually super comfortable with each other don’t be fooled, text messages are in bold cause i never tried that before.

A/N-> I have written more than 100 works for wanda, but I don’t remember ever writing casual sex before. To be a demisexual is really something, huh? Anyways, this was actually based on “One of Your Girls” from Troye Sivan, but around the middle I just started doing my own thing honestly. Good reading!

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

To inspire students to have sharper minds, as she likes to say, Miss Harkness is known for having the hardest tests on the entire campus. This means that you needed to study seriously for next week's exam, without quick readings or breaks to watch the television or talk about anything other than Applied Sociology with your friends.

And definitely, no 'study' sessions with Wanda Maximoff.

You shouldn't even think about Wanda, and her emerald eyes and bold hands. You need to think about Émile Durkheim or Max Weber, and any other sociologist from past centuries, with their difficult theories from which long and complicated questions will be in your exam.

But Wanda and the casual thing you two have is like clockwork. You had barely made up your mind about keeping your distance, and prepared a proper study session in your dorm - empty that afternoon due to a divine miracle that occupied Natasha and her girlfriend Maria all day - for your cell phone to vibrate with the notification from the person you had decided to ignore.

Stealing a glance at the contact name, you grunted quietly and turned your attention back to the book that had just finished reading the first page.

Focus.

Another vibration makes you roll your eyes.

Wanda didn't do anything wrong, maybe you could just say you’re busy.

"I am bored."

Her text makes you laugh through your nose. Typing quickly, you don't expect a return to your "And I’m busy. Talk to u later."

Your cell phone vibrates again, but you stand firm. Sociology will not study itself. There's a shift of pages, and you taste some of the mint tea from the mug on the table before your cell phone rings again.

Maybe it's someone else. It may be important.

You can’t even fool yourself.

The book is placed on your lap, and you unlock the screen for a photo that brings a warm color to your ears and spreads around your body as quickly as this whole thing began.

"What if I was in public?." You type with a certain harshness, which doesn't match the way your heart missed a beat. Or how you've completely forgotten about the book now, and all you can do is bite back a sigh at the image of the prettiest nipples in this galaxy.

Wanda responds in the same second, and you want to ignore the way your stomach twists at the thought of her feeling eager for a response from you.

"Kinky."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "You're the worst" That's what you type. You end up sighing when looking at the pile of books around. Wanda only needed one stupid photo to completely take your focus away.

She types before you can tell her off for it. "Are you in your dorm? Wanna see you."

You bite your lip. She is so infuriating.

"I have to study."

You can almost hear her giggling on the other end. "Don't you always?"

You think about cursing at her teasing, but you don't want to cross any lines. It's true that this relationship is a constant push and pull, but Wanda isn't clingy for no reason. You're about to ask if something happened when she adds "Are you really gonna force me to send another photo..."

You swallow hard. "I'm not forcing you to do anything. I was innocently studying until now.”

It takes her a moment, but finally, there's another photo. With your fingers shaking, you forget to breathe at the image of her thighs, a red garter belt in contrast to the pale skin, barely covered by her mini-skirt. It was such a simple image yet so provocative, Wanda truly had talent.

"Fuck me." You sigh quietly, unable to type anything back for a moment.

And so she does it first. "Did I melt your brain?"

“Please come here.” You begged, only imagining her smirk on the other line.

Wanda typed back a second later; “I thought you were studying. I wouldn't want to distract you.”

You huckle incredulously at her cynicism, and almost type back a curse but end up deciding to get up instead, hurrying to make the room less messy for your guest.

Wanda takes a while to show up at your room - Unlike you, she lives on the other side of campus, in an apartment shared with her brother. The outfit she's wearing is definitely more impressive in person, and you have to control yourself not to feel jealous at the realization that a good part of the university has just seen her parading around looking so stunning. This was definitely Yelena's doing, the one responsible for trying out everything she learned in her course on her friends and successfully dressing the whole group like supermodels.

Sometimes you wish you were more sociable, at least to be friends with Yelena and get new clothes.

Not that you have any idea of ​​this, but Wanda did a great job of hiding the way her stomach did two flips when she saw how comfy you looked, the dark green sweatshirt covering your shorts making her immediately think about exploring underneath.

"What's up, loser?"

Wanda had this problem. High defense barriers, almost all the time, but especially when she was feeling things that were out of her control. Like the way her heart raced in your presence, or how she was starting to run out of decent excuses to meet you without admitting the only reason was simply because she wanted to spend some time together.

When you first talked, freshman year, she was the most intimidating person on campus (she still is), but with a little insistence (or friends playing cupid) you had managed to see sides of her that no one else had seen. And vice versa.

It was a pretty interesting dynamic, the most popular girl on campus and a big nerd with social anxiety were somehow dating. Wanda dragged you to parties whenever possible, a possessive hand on yours and a threatening look at any idiot who thought of giving you a hard time. And often you end up in some drunken Instagram live or records of friends making out in the background.

When you weren’t doing the things she liked, Wanda would just show up. After your classes, in the study hall, during your break from your internship, and in your dorm. She didn’t mind showing you off, but there was something so soft about spending time alone. When her defenses were down, the mean girl mask would fall and she would laugh at your stupid jokes, or dress up in your clothes to make pancakes in the middle of the night.

It wasn’t an official relationship, but it was something really closer to one. Something that gave her free rein to come and go as she pleased from your life, and mess everything around as she went.

You made room for her to enter, and she gave a long kiss to your cheek before leaving her shoes at the entrance. You were blushing when you closed the door.

The dorm you shared with Natasha had little more than the space needed for two beds and two desks, but somehow you and her managed to squeeze in enough decorations on the walls and even some of her ballet and fighting awards. Your side was covered in band and movie posters and science holiday medals. A barely used keyboard sat dusty in the corner, and you had made a mental note to show Wanda how to play Over the Rainbow sometime. She tossed her backpack on the corner of your desk, and you hurried to try to clear up some of the clutter on the wood, blushing even more when she chuckled. 

“Come here.” She asked softly, and you swallowed hard as you stumbled closer to her again, guided by her hands holding your wrists. Wanda actually wanted your arms around her, and that’s where she put them. So her hands went up to your shoulders. “You always get so shy when we’re alone.” 

“I am shy.” 

She shakes her head slightly.  “That’s not true,” she says, leaning in close to brush her lips against yours. You gasp slightly, and Wanda pulls away, teasing. "You're an introvert, but no one shy says the things you say when you're turned on, darling"

Yochuckle, shaking your head with pink cheeks. "Shut up." 

She bites back a smile, and leans in, but the kiss is too short, it's so unfair. You try to chase her mouth, but Wanda pulls away to hug you. And that surprises you as much as her breathing deeply into your neck. 

You don't remember hugging her before. Not really. There's plenty of sex of course, and making out and pillow talk and late-night snacks. But Wanda isn't the type to cuddle, or hug. It gives what you two have an intimacy that you understand she doesn't want to have, or didn’t, past tense. 

Your hand caresses your back, and you're not quite sure if you should say anything but finally you do; "Is everything okay?"

It's like throwing a bucket of cold, reality-filled water over her. She breaks the hug, forcing a laugh that doesn't convince you at all.

"Of course!" She says, pulling you close at once and giving you a kiss that's much more determined than before. That almost makes you forget where you were, almost. "Let's take these off." She pulls the folds of your sweater up, but even though you let her, you risk:

"Wanda, are you sure-"

She cuts you off again, this time kissing you with tongue. It's definitely hotter, and it elicits a breathless moan from you. Her hand holds your face, controlling the kiss until you whimper against her mouth. Wanda lets you breathe as she pushes you by the shoulders to the bed, and you fall sitting, facing her.

"I said take your clothes off." She repeats, but it's her who puts on a little show. She pulls off her blouse at once, and the exposure of her breasts covered only by a red lace bra leaves you mesmerized. Wanda giggles at your reaction. “Every damn time.” She teases, her hands moving to undo it. But you move suddenly, grabbing her hips and pulling her onto your lap in urgency. Wanda gasps in surprise at the heated kiss, losing herself in the task of removing her bra as you start to suck on her tongue. With one hand on your shoulder for support, the other ruffles your hair before she feels her bra loosen on her body, not having even noticed your hands working on the clasp until now. She bites her bottom lip as she feels the item being pulled away from her body. 

“You’re getting better at this.” She teases again. You look at her with lust-bright eyes but also with a frown.

“Better? When have I ever been bad at this? Certainly not with you, because you came three times on your first time together.” 

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, her hips grinding slowly against your lap. “Like I said, not shy at all.” You roll your eyes, gripping her hips a little more firmly to guide her movements. It's Wanda who chases your mouth again, returning with equal fervor every kiss you give her.

Your hands let go of her hips to slide down her thighs, until finally touching the garter belt. You break the kiss with an affected groan, and Wanda takes the opportunity to catch her breath a little. If the image of her swollen lips and dilated pupils wasn't enough to drive you crazy, looking down did. Her skirt was wrinkled up, and the red garter belt was truly a sight. A damp spot was now visible on your pants from all her grinding, and you would have time to feel proud of making her so aroused with just kisses later.

As you pulled the garters and made them slap gently against Wanda's skin, you smiled when she shivered, a breathy moan escaping her mouth. It was such a beautiful thing, turning all her bad girl attitude into a pathetic mess of whimpering.

But suddenly you remembered that she had walked across half the campus wearing this, so your clenched jaw had another reason.

"Did you get dressed up for me?"

Wanda gave a short laugh, not really understanding what you were saying. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

You glared at her, your hands giving another warning tug, and Wanda wanted to hate the way her body twitched, but she couldn't help it.

"If not me, who?"

She blinked in confusion, deep in her own lust. 

Why were you still talking when she was literally dripping on your lap?

"What are you-" She fell silent when you grabbed her throat, your grip making her thrust her hips in desperation for friction, her mouth opening in a needy moan. Her own reaction surprised her, and Wanda would have tried to work things out if you hadn't taken away her ability to respond when you kissed her again, dirty and hard until she started whimpering on your tongue again. When you pulled apart again, your fingers invaded her mouth and Wanda's eyes widened, realizing that this might be the first time she'd come without even being properly touched.

You seemed to have noticed the same thing, a chuckle escaping you as she began sucking on your fingers with the same fervor she was trying to grind into your lap.

"Tsk, look at you, Wanda." You began, your hand moving from her throat down to her garter belt, to pull it off again. "You really want me to believe anyone else can turn you into this needy mess?" Flushed with arousal, Wanda still manages to frown in confusion. Anyone else. What the hell are you talking about? There’s no one else.

But suddenly, you remove your fingers from her mouth, and when she tries to ask, it's too late. Your soaked fingers have moved down and they fill her without warning, sinking inside her and eliciting a throaty moan that makes her head fall forward, forehead to yours, and nails digging into your shoulders. You laugh hoarsely. "Fuck, you're so wet, Wands."

The dirty sound of your fingers moving inside her echoes in the room along with her breathless moans, but you don't prolong things for too long. There’s an urgency and roughness to your movements that makes Wanda roll her eyes back and bounce on your fingers in animalistic desperation.

“Oh, baby, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—” It’s always such a beautiful sight. She arches on top of you, spasming as her climax hits her and spreads hot waves of pleasure. Your hand is soaked, but you pull your fingers away to lick them one by one as Wanda tries to get back into orbit.

When she finally does, it's rewarding. It's your turn to have your throat grabbed, and Wanda presses forward until you're lying on the bed, at her mercy, even as a smile plays on your lips.

It's time for her to shake that smugness off your face.

"You're overdressed." It comes in a warning tone, and her hands go down to remove your clothes, one by one. You help her, between one kiss and another, a touch and a squeeze, until finally, Wanda ends up on your lap again, this time, with no fabric between you other than the beautiful lingerie she picked out for you.

Oh, of course she lets you know.

"I don't want you to get any more cocky than you already are." She began between the countless breathless kisses you were exchanging, minutes on end in this hot make-out session. "But all I could think about when I bought it was how you were going to look at me." She takes advantage of your gasp in surprise to bite your lip and pull, making you tremble. With a smug little smile, Wanda looks at you with darkened eyes. "And how were you going to take it off."

Your hands move of their own accord - There's a hard tug to pull her against you, and you end up rolling around on the bed, until Wanda ends up underneath, writhing at your touch. Your fingers slipped under the belt again, but now you take your time to remove the item, slowly until Wanda couldn't hold her breath any longer.

Stealing a glance at her dripping pussy that she displayed so proudly on her parted legs, you clicked your tongue again before finding your space in her middle, your hands fitting behind her thighs.

"You spoil me, you know?" You whisper, feeling her fit her ankles into your back, an impatient whimper escaping her. You were so close to where she wanted, needed, but still not giving her what she was begging for. "I don't know what I did to deserve such a sweet gift."

Wanda tries to play along, she really does. But you give her a tentative lick, and another, and all that escapes her are shaky moans, as one hand grips your hair, the other seeks support in the sheets. Something she can pull at will without hurting.

She feels hot in all the right places, and she wants to police herself for how addicted she is becoming to the feeling of having you like this, but it's impossible to think about that right now. With you eating her so well and making her forget all her problems.

You hum suddenly, satisfied at the taste, and at the vibration, Wanda loses it. There's a loud whimper escaping her throat as she arches against you, begging for more, but you hold her in place, your own hips grinding against the bed as Wanda starts to sound desperate for your tongue to go deeper.

When you risk teasing her again, shallow tongue strokes that leave her dizzy and shaking, Wanda loses her patience. She curses under her breath, and grabs your hair with determination, managing a satisfied grunt from you before she forces your face against her pussy. Not caring if she’s hurting you or suffocating you, Wanda chases her high with near desperation. She grinds her hips against your face, and locks her legs behind your back, using you until she comes.

She sounds so hot when it finally happens. Your name drips from her tongue as she drips into your mouth. It’s so strong that her body instantly goes weak, her legs shaking around you. You chuckle against her thigh, taking great satisfaction in leaving her like this.

Still catching her breath, she calls out. “Come here, asshole.”

You think she wanted a kiss, maybe another orgasm. But Wanda just adjusts you to her side, so she can rest against you. This is new too, spooning. It's the kind of thing casual encounters shouldn't do.

Of course she notices how tense you've become, and it only takes the moment for her to stop shaking for Wanda to look up, her chin resting on your chest.

"You don't have to overthink everything."

A nervous laugh escapes you. "I wasn’t."

Wanda makes a small grimace of unconvincedness. "I know you were. It's what you do. It's one of the things that makes you, you." She says, and it takes you a little by surprise. She sighs then, and looks away, resting her face against your chest again. You almost think she's not going to say anything else when she continues. "It's good that you think of all the possibilities. That way I'll never be able to disappoint you, you'll always see it coming."

You frown, absorbing her words in silence for a moment. Wanda begins to draw patterns on your stomach that look like her initials, until you sigh.

"I know we haven't named it what’s between us, but whatever it is, you can always tell me what's bothering you." You let her know quietly, your fingers playing through the strands of her hair. "And we can just talk, you know? It doesn't always have to end in sex. You don't have to get a new lingerie as an excuse to see me. No matter how hot you look on it."

She pinches you for the joke, but she’s smiling when she looks back at you.

“You’re not good at the whole casual sex thing, are you?” She teases, but she’s genuinely so happy with your previous words that she just can’t hide it.

You smile, watching her hover closer and closer. “You think? Because I think I’m doing pretty well at this, miss-Oh, baby, I’m gonna come,”

You do an imitation that makes Wanda's eyes widen and she blushes deeply while she huffs in embarrassment. You burst out laughing when she tries to cover your mouth and stop the teasing, and it ends up turning into a small fight of hands and tickles until Wanda ends up underneath again, now with her hands pinned on either side of her head.

There is an exchange of glances between the two of you, and you are smiling just like her.

You know that today, Wanda will not tell you what bothered her, what brought her here. She is right, however, you’re an overthinker and already have a hundred possibilities for what could have brought her there, and considering that you know from her friends how much she has been fighting with her father in the last few weeks, it is not hard to assume it is related to that.

But Wanda returns the intensity of your gaze, and you know that something between you has changed. She will tell you when she is ready.

Your grip on one of her hands loosens, and Wanda uses the opportunity to touch your cheek.

"What are you thinking about?"

You sigh, and she can tell. Her heart misses a beat, and she considers if she’s ready for a confession. If it would scare her or make her so happy, she would freeze. Maybe both. 

But you grimace a little, and smirk, and Wanda feels silly for even considering.

"I'm definitely going to fail Miss Harkness's class this semester."

Wanda frowns and then bursts out laughing, confused and incredulous.

"What?" She asks between laughs. “Why would you be thinking about this now? With a naked girl in your bed, you nerd!”

You giggle at her words, your free hand fitting on her waist as you wait for her to stop chuckling. "I don't know why you're laughing, this is your fault. You ruined all my study sessions with your... distracting presence."

She rolls her eyes in a playful manner. “"Well, I could always just leave-"

You grip her waist tighter, holding her in place. "Nah, who cares about classes anyway? Come here."

Wanda will definitely help you study, she makes a mental promise. But she will kiss you first just a little longer.

[witherby]

If the last fic takes place before the Batfam knew about Conners existence, I just wanna see Mouse explain to them that a Superman cosplayer saved them lol

I love that. "Yeah some cosplayer saved my life. 10/10 would let him do it again."

Littlest Wayne: Information Gathering

Masterlist is Here!

"You and Superman need to come straight to the Cave when you return to Earth."

"I miss you, too, babe," Hal smirks, gliding just above the ground on a planet he and Clark are guarding for a major diplomatic conference. "Tryna get the debrief out of the way so we can get me out of by boxer briefs right after?"

"Mouse was in a hostage situation in Metropolis today that was too overcast for them to get out of."

Hal's good mood plummets. He almost shouts for Clark to get his ass over to him so they can immediately head back.

"Are they —"

"Alive, and relatively unharmed considering the severity of the event."

"What does relatively mean in this context, B?" Hal snaps. "Relatively unharmed by vigilante standards or by civilian standards? Are they in the hospital?"

"Some bad bruising to the temple and a low-grade burn on the right arm. They're safe."

Bruce's calm tone and steady cadence helps relax Hal. His shoulders un-tense and he lets out a sigh.

"Alright. But there's more to it, otherwise you wouldn't have contacted me."

Bruce hums in that quiet way he does when he's pleased by Hal's deductive reasoning. It makes him smile and miss him that much more, and he's only been gone two days.

"They were rescued by a new Meta. Called himself Superman."

"Look at you, crackin' jokes on an official League line. Never thought I'd see the day!"

"..."

"You're not joking. There's a second Superman flying around?"

"A Superboy, by the looks of it. He's the real deal — the flight, the strength, and the suit all points to another Kryptonian. This will make three, after Supergirl."

Hal furrows his brow. He lets his feet hit the ground and starts to pace, kicking up little bits of purple dirt. This planet is ridiculously fragile. It's part of the reason he and Clark are protecting it during these peace talks.

"Is it a baby? Don't remember either Kara or Lois looking pregnant."

"A teenager. Around Mouse's age, by the looks of him, and very inexperienced from what scattered footage I can find of the event."

"Which makes no sense. There's something up if he's a teen but still can't use his powers right. Supes told us he could hone his almost perfectly before he was old enough to drive a car. A new scheme by Luthor or Waller, maybe?"

"I knew I married you for a reason."

"Keep praising me like that and there won't be time for a debrief when I get home."

Bruce hums again. His considering sound. The Green Lantern suit feels very constricting, all of a sudden.

"You don't need to rush your mission to get back. There is one more thing you need to know prior to return, however."

"I'm all ears."

"Mouse described the Superboy as... handsome."

Hal falls to his hands and knees, kicking up a small cloud of purple dust.

"No, no, nooo! They're just a baby!"

"Well. They're seventeen."

"Well I say they're too young for romance! Yesterday they were afraid of Cooties!!"

"Time flies. It's inevitable."

"We're gonna wrap these peace talks up tonight."

Bruce sounds amused on the other end of the line, like he hasn't just crushed Hal's entire world three sentences ago.

"You aren't due back for another week."

"We're wrapping it up tonight!"

"Okay. Agent A will know to set your plate tomorrow."

"Can he make some of those mini quiches? I'm gonna need comfort food to get over this."

"I'll pass the request along."

"And can you wear the see-through robe you were given after you shot that Dior commercial?"

"...if you slick back your hair, yes."

Hal grins. He's still not happy about his youngest kid growing up so fast, but this is a nice consolation prize.

--

True to his word, Hal and Clark get the peace talks concluded by nightfall and head back to Earth. Clark is given the general run-down of what happened on the way, and his curiosity and insistence on getting answers lets Hal know it'll be a long night. He's gonna slick his hair back anyway. He misses his husband, dammit.

You sit at the meeting table in the Bat Cave, feet propped on top exactly like Jason does it, with your hands stuffed in the pockets of your hoodie. You stare groggily at Hal and Clark as they fly in from their trip, shuffling to your feet to give them both sleepy hugs.

"Welcome back," you yawn. "Dad said you have questions?"

"Hey, Mousey," Hal grins, ruffling your hair. You grumble and wave his hand away, then grumble louder when Clark does the exact same thing. "Just got some follow-up questions about the field trip, then we'll let you get back to bed."

You go back to your seat and slump into it, rubbing your eyes. "Kay."

"Did the boy you met tell you his name?" Clark asks, sitting to your right. There's a dossier sitting on the table that he flips open, glancing over the information Bruce collected with Tim's help. He frowns at a still image pulled from his interview on TV.

"Just called himself Superman," you explain. "He had a version of your suit on. It looked legit. I'm guessing he's not your son, based on the way you're looking at the file."

"He is not. Did he seem to be acting maliciously or under someone's control? Was he flesh and blood or robotic?" Clark asks. "Did he hurt anyone? Did he try to hurt you?"

"No," you say, "he was warm. He's flesh and blood and definitely saved us from that fire. In fact he seemed...uh.."

You wave your hand around vaguely and pick over the best way to phrase this.

"Okay! There's a boy at school named Rory. He transferred to Gotham Academy this year after being homeschooled."

"Mousey," Hal speaks up, "I know you're tired, but we kinda gotta stay on track —"

"I am!" You insist. "I am, I swear. Look, it was obvious Rory was homeschooled because he didn't know how to, like, socialize properly? He asked a lot of questions that feel like common-sense if you're used to going to public schools and talking to people outside your family. The Superman cosplayer kind of acted like that."

"Cosplayer?" Clark mouths at Hal, who waves him off.

"So you think he's never been out there doing any hero stuff before that day?"

You shrug and nod. "I think he's never been out at all before that day. He reminded me a lot of Rory on his first day of school."

"But he didn't hurt you?" Hal asks.

"I promise, he didn't. He spoke to me like twice and then brought me to the EMTs to get looked at. Then Jason showed up and brought me home after making sure the school knew I wouldn't be taking the bus back from Metropolis."

"Last question," Clark promises, recapturing your attention. "Can you find him right now? With your shadows?"

"Uh, I can try."

Your gaze becomes a little distant. The shadows cast from one of the overhead lights shifts and dissolves into the ground, zipping out of the cave. Hal and Clark wait silently as you work, feeling for the presence of the boy that saved you just a day before.

"... M e t r o p o l i s..." You mutter, voice taking on that faint, echoing quality it does whenever you speak through the darkness. "...A r o o m...c o n c i o u s...k n o w s I s e e..."

"Come back, Mouse," Hal says, urgent. You take a moment to get your bearings, yawning and rubbing your face. "He knows you used your power to find him?"

You nod. "He saw my shadow move in the corner of his room. Guys, it's so bare and dark. He's got a cot, an alarm clock, and one blanket in there. It looks like some room you'd stick a sick person in to quarantine them."

"Where in Metropolis is he? That doesn't sound like the Solitary Confinement cells in the prison."

"It's not a jail. It looked like a lab, I think?"

"Lex Luthor," Hal and Clark state at the same time. Clark stands up, drawing you into another gentle hug, then heads for the exit.

"Thank you for your help, Mouse! Sleep well."

"Bye, uncle Clark. Have a good night," you call after him. When Hal stands, you rise with him, stretching. "Can I go to bed, now?"

"Yeah, hon," Hal nods, pressing his hand to your back and guiding you to the stairs. "We'll head up together. I'll tell your dad what we learned when he comes back from patrol."

"Kay," you mumble, climbing the steps with another wide yawn. "M'sleeping in tomorrow. Being up at two am sucks."

Hal chuckles. "Yeah, it does. We'll put your breakfast in some Tupperware for when you get up, then."

Once the two of you climb through the grandfather clock and reenter the manor proper, you give Hal one more goodnight hug, then excuse yourself to go to bed. Your eyes are closed as you shuffle into your room and nudge the door closed behind you, navigating the space from memory. It's not until you start climbing back into bed that you feel a dip in it that shouldn't be there.

The dip of another person's weight.

You snap your eyes open and you inhale to scream. A hand presses itself to your mouth, and you find yourself staring at those brilliant blues from yesterday.

"Waitwaitwait-" the boy gasps, whisper-shouting. "Please!!"

You push his hand off and he lifts them both up in placation, floating off the bed and several feet away from you.

"What do you want!?" You whisper-yell back. "Why are you in my room!? That's creepy!"

He grimaces, knees curling towards his chest. In the low light, you can see color painting his cheeks.

"I wanted to come see you," he murmurs.

"Why?"

"I don't know your name."

You're completely flummoxed. You shake your head and shrug.

"Do you need to?" You ask.

The boy floats a little closer, his gaze intense. He looks at you like...he looks at you like you're the most important thing in the world right now. It makes your stomach swoop.

"Yes," he says, completely sincere. "I'm...I can't...there's this..."

His brow furrows. He's exceptionally easy to read, like he's never known how to be anything except fully, authentically himself. It's a welcome change in a family of vigilante detectives with emotional intimacy issues. It'll help you know if he's trying to deceive you, too.

Quietly, you give him your name. His eyes snap to yours and he repeats it, lips shaping the vowels and consonants with an unusual reverence. You can feel your own face getting a little warm.

"I'm...Conner," the boy says. His eyes dart to your mouth. You oblige.

"Hi, Conner," you mutter. His whole body un-tenses, looking like a puppet with his strings cut as he almost dangles in the air.

"Can I —" Conner cuts himself off. He drifts closer to you. You shift back, feeling cornered from where you kneel in your bed. "Ah. I wanted... I don't know how to say..."

Exhausted and confused, you gesture at him to hurry it up a little. You know you should probably alert someone that the new Meta boy is literally floating four feet away from you right now, but you know he isn't here to cause harm.

"It's late," you speak up. "Can you try a little harder to get the point across so I can sleep?"

"Yes," Conner says quickly, obediently. "Call for me."

You blink heavily. Your mind feels like sludge. "Elaborate."

"When you need something," he specifies. "If you're in danger, or lonely, or just...or just want to. Please. Call for me and I'll come to you."

"Why?" You yawn. It's getting harder to stay conscious. You let your body fall over until you collide with the pillows, eyes slipping closed. "Why me?"

Conner floats above you, reaching down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear with more reverence than is appropriate for having barely met. His fingers brush against the bruise on your temple, featherlight.

"Because it's you," he says, as your consciousness fades. "Something in my heart is yours... I hope that's okay."

You hum, managing a barely discernible "kay," in your last seconds of awareness before sleep pulls you under.

In your subconscious mind, you register warmth wrap around you for a moment, and then you're alone with nothing but a cracked window as evidence anyone had ever been there.

[celestialgalaxyglow]

Batfam and Danny, Part 26

At Jason's office at his Gang's Headquarters.

Danny: Nice office.

Jason: Thank you. Now before my governors arrive remember, the Red Hood that they work with is not the Red Hood that works with the Bats. The Red Hood that works with the bats is a wannabe and only wears a simple domino mask, while I am the original Red Hood who wears a helmet that covers my whole head.

Danny (trying not to laugh): And the two Red Hoods have major beef with each other.

Jason (smiling): Yes it's a little dumb, but I can't go around as both a vigilante and a crime lord, I need to keep both of those identities separate.

Danny: But why the same name? You already have two entirely different suits for both Red Hood identities.

Jason: I thought it'd be funny.

Danny: I guess.

Jason: And you're not Phantom, you're my new righthand man, Phantasm, a extraterrestrial child who I adopted.

Danny: I am born of the stars themselves, I have not flesh but am made of stardust, look into my eyes for they hold the universe itself.

Jason (proud dad): Making your skin look like the night sky was a nice touch to hide your identity both as Danny and Phantom, but did you really have to make your face devoid of features except two green voids for eyes? It's a little creepy.

Danny smiled, revealing razor sharp teeth in front of a green void. Jason leaned back, a little scared of his son's flair for the dramatic.

Jason: Case and point... the suit is nice though, I like the sci-fi look.

Danny: Thanks dad.

There's a nock at the door.

Jason (sat up): You may enter.

The doors opened and four goons walked in.

The Goons (happy): Good morning boss!

The four goons walked towards Jason's desk and stood in front of it. Only then did they notice the strange alien child. They looked at Danny, then at Jason, then back at Danny, then finally back at Jason.

Jason: Good morning everyone, I would like you to meet my new righthand man, Phantasm, he is an alien child that I have adopted.

Goon #1: You're a dad?

Jason: Yes.

Goon #2: We have a nephew!

Goon #3: I'm an aunt!

Danny: What...?

Jason (embarrassed): We're all family here, if you wear my bandana you're my family, speaking of here you go.

Jason handed Danny a red bandana with the silhouette of Jason's hood embroidered in the middle with white silk.

Danny: It looks like you.

Jason: That's the idea, that way people know that if you mess with this person, you're messing with the Red Hood's family.

Danny (wrapping the bandana around his neck): It's cute.

Goon #4: It was your dad's idea.

Goon #3: We love it, we may be criminals, but we do crime with style.

Goon #2: By the way welcome to the family, little boss.

Goon #1: "Little boss," that's so cute, can we call you that?

Danny: Sure thing!

Jason (clearing his throat): As sweet as this is, we're here to talk about past month's reports. Sarah, do you mind stating us off?

Sarah "Goon #3": Sure thing boss, the Northern Sector has done well this past month, we were finally able to stop the drug ring that popped up there two months ago, we deposited the ringleaders at Commissioner Gordon's station.

Jason: Good, those bastards should have never showed up there in the first place, we're going to have more diligent in the future.

Sarah: My apologies, the north is my sector, I should have never let that happen.

Jason: It's alright Sarah, we all make mistakes, I wouldn't have made you one of my governors if I wasn't confident in your skills.

Sarah: Thank you.

Jason: Robert, what of the Eastern Sector?

Robert "Goon #1": All is well, the orphanage just opened its new wing, now we can accommodate another hundred kids. The new home ed. classrooms have also finished construction, but we're still looking for teachers properly qualified to teach.

Jason: Let's get working on that, those kids need to learn basic life skills, but remember to do thorough background checks, those kids have been through a lot, they don't need a maniac teaching them how to cook or how to use a circular saw.

Robert: You got it boss.

Jason: Amelia, what of the south?

Amelia "Goon #2": The Southern Sector is doing well, our food bank is still going strong thanks to Wayne Enterprises' weekly food donations. There is one thing however, this week the WE agent overseeing the delivery approached our head of operations for the food bank and said that Mr. Wayne would like to make a direct donation of 100 million dollars so we can expand our current location, as well as open a few more around the city. Elizabeth said she would have to talk to her superiors before accepting such a large monetary donation, the agent is expecting a response by the next delivery in five days.

Jason: How n̵͓̟̏͌i̴͎̎̔͜c̸͍̺͆̔è̷̢ of Mr. Wayne, I should pay him a visit to thank him in person. Amelia you can tell Elizabeth that she can accept Mr. Wayne's g̴̞̲̈́e̷̺͌n̶̞̝̉͒ḛ̷̹̍̀r̵̤͙̅o̶͎͆u̷͎̎s̴̪̒͌ donation. I'll also entrust you with setting up a committee to appropriate those funds, simply show me the names for approval.

Amelia: I'll start drawing up a list.

Jason: Henry, what of the west?

Henry "Goon #4": Uneventful, the arts academy is almost ready to open, the whole placed is furnished, we have staff lined up, final details should only take us a few more weeks, at most a month.

Danny: Arts Academy?

Henry: Hood's Academy for the Arts, a school to teach kids more artistic subjects, painting, pottery, acting, dancing, music, photography, cinematography, poetry, and the boss' favorite writing.

Jason: A well rounded education should allow kids to express their creativity, the Academy will hold classes during the weekends, as well as a summer semester for those who would be interested. We will be able to enroll as many as 5,000 students.

Henry: We made sure to hire a large staff, there will be plenty of teachers to ensure each classroom is a reasonable size, as well as many deans, councilors, library staff, and other members of administration, everything and anything that will make the students' time at the academy as easy and assessable as possible.

Jason: Thank you Henry.

Henry: Sure thing boss!

Jason (standing up): Well if that is all, then we're done here.

Sarah: Boss, wait!

Jason: Yes?

Sarah looked at Amelia.

Amelia: We're throwing a party, to celebrate all the progress we've made this month.

Robert: We know parties aren't your thing, but everyone would be happy to see you attend.

Henry: It'll make everyone's day.

Jason looked unsure about accepting the invitation, he looked over at Danny who was giving him a "please dad, let's go" face.

Jason (sighed): I suppose I can make an appearance.

Sarah, Robert, Amelia, and Henry: Yes!

Robert: You won't regret this boss!

Sarah: I'll run ahead and tell everyone!

Henry: Tonight it's going to be lit!

Amelia: We'll party till dawn!

Sarah, Robert, Amelia, and Henry ran ahead, Jason and Danny followed behind.

Jason: Kid, we will not be able to leave that party till well past dawn, my gang are party animals.

Danny: That's fine, besides you still need to introduce me to the gang at large.

Jason: I suppose that's true.

Danny: Come on dad, relax, you guys did a lot of good this month, you deserve to celebrate.

Jason: Ok, one night, but tomorrow it's back to work.

Danny: You got it!

(Master Post)

[lologoinsolo]

Cats and Their Men Masterlist, Part 5, Part 6

You can’t seem to think without debating over what you said to Kyle. Needless to say, you feel like you got in your head over it. Maybe he meant it and it wasn’t a pity ask or maybe it was. You don’t know. Kyle doesn’t seem like the type to do that to a lady. He’s sweet, and genuinely funny and handsome and kind an—

“Dude,” Jess comes from the grooming salon as you bang your head against the reception table. You were cold calling but your mind had other ideas. “You look like shit.” Normally you’re more focused on your work but it’s just Kyle, Kyle, Kyle— Remember what you said to Kyle?

Sighing defeatedly, “gee, thanks.” Hitting your head again and again on the firm table. Your forehead throbs when you finally give it rest. “I feel like shit.” You’ve been a zombie at work, you don’t speak much about your home life. You try to keep that separate from the job because you don’t want to drag it in here. It’s not your fault that a stupidly handsome man with an equally stupidly charming smile looked at you the way he did. So why do you feel so hung up about it?

“So…” She asks after a moment of far too much silence. “How’s the calling going?”

“Oh, it’s going.” Groaning softly, “not many people are answering. Some said they wanted to come in but not for today.” Some even started bitching about their previous grooms but you muted them until they finished and still asked if they wanted to come in for an appointment. Funnily enough, they said no.

“Surprised it’s slow for a Saturday.” One of the pains of a grooming salon is that it’ll be filled with clients or it’ll be deader than a western movie scene of a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. “You wanna leave early today?” Nudging you a little as she asks maybe to brighten you up. You’ve been a little cloud of gloom and the other groomers are getting worried.

You think it over, maybe you can ask Connor to let you take a shift on the floor? They still haven’t hired anyone but it would be nice to get home earlier than you usually do. Kyle hasn’t come back… maybe you did fuck yourself over. Wouldn’t be the first time you shot yourself in the foot. His warm brown eyes flashes through your mind's eye and you stand up quickly. Jess quirks a brow and you give a weak nod, “yeah… yeah, I’ll clock out.”

“Alright, clean up and get going.”

She leaves you to your thoughts, cleaning up some kennels and hurriedly clocking out before one of the groomers can even ask you to bathe one of their dogs. Heading straight for the breakroom and shoving your hoodie back on. Rubbing over your face again when you see your reflection. You do look tired. Why does this bother me so much? Walking out and stuffing your wallet and keys into your hoodies pocket. “Oh wait,” you bite your lip slightly, a man’s voice can be heard milling over the different litters the store sell. The Scottish notes to his voice barely heard when you think about those cats around your apartment that you’ve been feeding. “I could to buy another bag.” Blame your grandma for your love of cats, that woman is THE old cat lady and you love that for her.

You waltz down the familiar aisle, looking from the 25 pound bag to the 50 pound bag… It might be best to get the smaller one since you ride the bus but the big one would feed the cats longer. “hmm, alright,” you go for the heavier one after weighing your options. Heaving it onto your shoulders, you wobble a bit when you bend back too far. Shit… Shit! Your world starts to flip and you’re bracing for a hard fall.

“Woah!” A hand settles heavy on your back and steadies you. “Ye need help, lass?” Sparkling blue eyes look down at you. He doesn’t even wait for an answer as he pulls it over his shoulder with ease.

“You— hey!” He doesn’t let you take it from him even when you try to reach for it. In fact, he steps back towards his cart that pokes out from behind him. “I can handle it.” You’re just tired and sluggish, you can lug those things in your sleep.

“Nearly took a tumble,” he winks and you get a better look at him as your lips purse. He’s handsome in a charming, farmer boy way. His hair’s cut into a mohawk and you’d make fun of it if it didn’t actually fit his appearance. There’s a jagged pink scar that’s hard not to notice on his face, your stomach churns at what he must’ve gone through to survive that. The other thing that worries you is that he’s wearing no jacket or hoodie and his face, arms, and hands look like he’s been run through a human sized blender.

“I’m— are you okay?” You point to his arms first and he looks down. He grins something wild and you take the tiniest step back.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “this one just needed some convincing.” You tilt to the side and nearly squeal when he pulls his cart to his side. A bundled up cat in a thick, dark blue jacket is nestled over some litter bags. Orange fur poking out to the fluffiest extent and what’s something of a coincidence… The cat looks like they got an orange looking mohawk of their own. “Bugger didnae want to be caught.”

You blink once and then twice, “oh… oh?!” He laughs a little when it starts to make sense on those cuts of his. The cat doesn’t look like they’d do that from where you’re standing though. They’re sitting quietly in the jacket save for the tiniest flicker of its orange fluffy tail. Slowly blinking their eyes as if the noises from your conversation has woken them up. “They did that?” Gesturing to him once more, “really?”

He nods, doesn’t seem strained at all with how he still holds your bag of cat food. “He’s been around my house for the longest. Took a lot of convincing to grab him.” And you can see the effects of that convincing. Poor, little guy he must’ve tried so hard escape the Scot’s arms from how beat up the man looks. Wait… Scot?

“Johnny?” You blurt and his shoulders tense. His smile drops, the blue of his eyes switches to something sharp. “I— sorry, are you Johnny?” Stammering a little as he eyes you up and down.

His eyes squint and he stands a little more in front of his cart, blocking your view of his cat. “Aye, that’s me,” his accent thicker and just a bit on edge. “Have we met?” No… no you have not and he knows that.

“No, I— uh, Kyle? Are you friends with Kyle and John?” Stammering out your words.

It starts to click in his head and whatever tense moment that was there is gone immediately. “Bonnie?!” You flinch at his boom, “I ken who ye are,” puzzles all connecting finally in his head now, “boys been yappin’ about ye, was wonderin’ when I’d met this cashier of theirs.” Boys? Plural? Theirs? “Can ye help me, lass? I’ve an idea on how to take care of my boy but m’not against asking for help. Been told ye ken what yer doin’.”

The complete 180 is a whiplash, he acted like you were gonna hurt him. Like you could, all the men you’ve been meeting recently look like they can easily hold themselves alone in a fight. “Yeah,” shuffling around, the boys he mentioned are probably the three you’ve met already. Small world… “I can help you out. I don’t mind.” You smile and he returns it happily, granted you are off the clock but… you have a feeling he’ll need some pointers. Damn your heart of hearts. “I can hold tha—“

“Nonsense,” waving his hand with a shrug of his shoulder when try once more to grab the bag. “I’d never let a bonnie thing like ye lift anything heavy. S’what these are for, yeah?” He flexes his arms and you try to not ogle at the muscles. “Mind pushing the cart though?” You nod and step closer to push. His cat seems to not even care at all about the movement. Just sits and stares, calm as can be despite the terror he must’ve caused Johnny.

“He’s a pretty fluffy cat, I’d recommend a good comb.” Cats can get matted and knotted despite being self-groomers, you’ve seen some get groomed at the salon. Usually longhair cats like this one. His paws are big, ears pointed more, “I think your boys a maine coon cat.” The lion’s mane also helps in your thought process. “At least he could be?”

“I think so too,” Johnny looks positively happy in his capture. He worked hard to catch and chase. “He’s been eating what I’ve been leaving out, I checked for a collar but found none.” Though… you doubt he’d care about that from the way he’s speaking. “Guess he’s all mine, Kyle owes me money.” You perk up at the mention of Kyle.

“Poor lad, seemed sad the other day.”

You deflate a little, looking away and you miss the knowing look that Johnny gives you. “Yeah…” you mutter and leave the cart to pull items for his cat. If you had his number then maybe you could talk to him. Or maybe you wouldn’t… “here,” you come back with a cat bed and some toys. You’ve yet to figure out what to say to Kyle when— if. If he comes back. You hope he comes back.

“Careful, hen,” Johnny says worriedly as you put your hand in the cart. Johnny makes a move to grab your arm but it’s too late, your hands already placing the toys down in the cart. There’s a brief pause before his cat tilts his head and moves to sniff as best as he can despite being burrito’d in the jacket. “Oh?” His eyes widened slightly, “I see how it is, hmm? Ye scratch me up but allow the pretty lass to be near ye.” Turning rather green with jealousy as you laugh at his envious expression. To add insult to injury you pet his boy some more and he purrs. Loudly.

“Well…” you pet away at the purring cat, rubbing from his nose to the top of his head. His ears flickering when you thumb over his head to then scratch at his chin. “You did chase him.” Cooing down at the baby, not an ounce of spiciness in those big eyes of his. “Poor boy, you were just scared? Weren’t you?” Baby talking the cat as if he can understand you. “Big scary man came grabbing at you, poor baby.” You’d probably freak out too if Johnny came after you… the man looks like he can definitely toss you around.

“It was for his own good,” Johnny rolls his eyes with indifference. “I couldnae leave ‘im out in the cold.” You flick through the cat’s tufts of hair on the top of his head. Standing them up so it looks more like a mohawk to match his dad’s hairstyle. “He’s too smart, tried to box’im but he ken what I was doin’.” There’s a growing of a smile on his face as he watches you. Can’t be bothered to stay displeased, not with how sweetly you are eing towards his cat. He’s starting to understand the appeal.

You feel eyes on you and you lock eyes with him once you look up. He doesn’t turn from you even as you pull back. The cat doesn’t seem happy about the loss of pets when he tries yet fails to get out of the jacket. “I,” clearing away at your throat and that makes him blink finally. “Well… how did you get him?” A bit curious but it falters when Johnny grins wolfishly. “Oh no, what did you do?”

“Built him a cat house with one of those nice heaters. Only,” he leans closer like he’s telling you a secret, “I made it to where it would shut once he stepped in.” Rolling his shoulder slightly once he stands straight so the bag sits better. “Hardest part was getting him settled cause once I managed to get’em out of it. He ran all around the house knocking things over.” He chuckles, “had to wrap my jacket ‘round him. Clawed me up good.” — ouch! Aw ye stupid wee man! M’tryna help ye, stop bitin’! No, John, m’fine. Finally got my boy.— “He seems calm,” those blue eyes of his squint, “for now.”

Snorting a laugh, “yeah, he does. Just shaken up.” Pivoting on your heel, “come on, need to get you some more things for him. Hope you don’t mind?” He’s already got the litter and the litter box, even has the cat food.

“Not one bit, lass, not one bit.”

You take him around the store to grab what’s needed. His cat is snoozing the entire time, only waking up when a bump gets hit or you laugh a little too hard from Johnny’s jokes. Turns out, the Scot really is bad at naming things. “Firewatch is not a name, Johnny.”

“Ye sound like John.” He muses, cocking a brow at you.

“It’s the truth.” Saying it like a judge’s final answer on a case.

“An Cheddars any be’ter?” Tilting his head down, he’s long since put your bag of cat food in his cart. He would’ve held it longer had you not pestered him so. He liked how flustered you became when he asked if you’re always so worried or if it’s just for him. “Startin’ to think ye donnae ken how to give names.”

“Hey,” looking highly upset that he’d doubt your superior naming abilities. “I can name a cat, you just don’t like any of the names I’ve mentioned.” You’ve both listed off names. Cheddar, Bomb, Apollo, Firestick, Jackie, Blaze, Riley— now that on one, he seemed vehemently against. You don’t know why and he refused to give his reasonings behind it. “What about… Oliver?” He goes to say something but pauses once he chews on it.

“Hmmm,” he looks from your and then downwards, “Oliver, huh? Better than Riley that’s for sure.” Somewhere a big man in a mask that sneezes, “alright,” Johnny concedes, “I like it.”

“Could call him Ol’ Riley for short?” Wiggling your brows.

“Oh, now ye are pushing yer luck, lass.” Pushing the cart to the front to get to paying for everything you told him he’d need. He doesn’t mind the price, pays for it without doubting your knowledge. Even pays for the cat food that you planned on buying much to your surprise. He simply smiled when you tried to offer him your discounts, “s’fine, hen. Least I could do since yer not workin’.” Your cheeks warm a little, those butterflies start fluttering around once more.

“Okay, but, next time?” God, will there be one? “I’m paying for you.” Not taking a no for an answer on the matter.

“S’bad manners if I let ye pay for me, hen.” shaking his head once he walks with you to the exit. “Do ye need help taking this to yer car?”

“What? Oh,” shaking your head no, “I uh,” thinking of a quick excuse. “I need to talk to my manager, gott speak with him on somethings.”

“Ye want me to stay then?” His arms cross as he offers, “I can load it up for ye once yer done.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Coming close and petting Oliver one final time, you reach right for the big bag but Johnny’s hand wraps around your wrist gently to stopping you.

“Ye sure?” You take in a quick gasp, he’s nearly at your side. He’s warm, like a furnace, burns hot even when there’s a chill outside. “S’pretty heavy.”

“Y-Yeah,” tugging back from his grasp, “I’m sure,” you pick it up and he helps settle it on your shoulders. Distributing the weight for you so you don’t have to. “You should get home. It’s too cold out to not be wearing a jacket.”

“Donnae worry yer pretty head, lass.” His hand lands on his hip as he watches to make sure there’s not a wobble to your legs. “I’ll see ye?” Though it doesn’t sound like a question, sounds more like he knows he will sooner rather than later.

“Okay,” watching as he finally leaves to load up his car. You hide in the grooming salon till you think he’s gone and then make the trek up to your bus’s stop. Plopping the bag down and you sit to take a deep breath. There’s sweat on your brow despite the cold but your bus should be coming any minute now. Wiping at your brow, you pick up your phone to look on tiktok to pass the time. Once you hear the hiss of the bus stopping you heave the cat bag up and over your shoulders. Trudging along inside and sitting back in your usual spot.

You don’t notice the pair of eyes thats been watching you from a distance. Taking note of your exhaustion from where he observes you, “hm...” He leaves once your bus gets on moving down its route. It takes you straight home as always.

[narcissisticsmoker]

The door clicks shut and the silence is suffocating. The weight of the day sits heavy in my chest, but none of it matters the second I see her. My girl. Sitting at her desk, bathed in the soft glow of her screen, oblivious to the way I am watching her.

The second my eyes land on her, it’s over. The exhaustion is still there, gnawing at my bones, but it can’t compete with the hunger. Not when she’s sitting there, in my space, under my roof, wearing my shirt and nothing else, like she forgot who it belongs to. Like she forgot who she belongs to.

I don’t speak. I don’t have to. My hand wraps around the back of her neck, fingers sliding into her hair, tugging just hard enough to make her head tilt back. She gasps, her body arching for me before her mind can catch up. Her lips part, but no words come out because she sees it in my eyes. The need. The obsession. The dark, unrelenting claim I wear like a second skin.

You left me waiting, I murmur, my mouth against her jaw, tracing the line of her throat with my teeth, feeling her pulse jump beneath my tongue. You sat here working while I was out there losing my mind thinking about you. My fingers trail down her chest, her stomach, slipping under the edge of the shirt that barely covers her. I should punish you for that.

Her breath stutters, her thighs clenching instinctively, but I slide my hand between them, fingers pressing into her inner thigh, spreading her open before she can even think to resist. Her head falls back against my shoulder, her body already melting into mine like she knows fighting me is useless. There’s nowhere to go. There’s only me. There’s only this.

I’m too tired to be gentle, I whisper, my teeth grazing her ear, too tired to ask. I’ll take what’s mine and you’ll give it to me because you belong to me. I pull her up from the chair, dragging her back into my chest, my hand locked tight around her throat as I walk her to the bed. Her knees hit the edge first, and I shove her forward, watching her fall onto her hands before I press my body down over hers.

My weight keeps her pinned, her breath coming faster, her fingers curling into the sheets as I shove the shirt up to her waist. You know better, I growl into her ear, my hand sliding between her thighs, fingers spreading her open until she’s gasping, already wet, already mine. You know better than to make me wait for you. I’m not patient. I’m not gentle. Not after a day like this.

Her voice breaks when I push into her, my hand still around her throat, holding her still, making her take every inch, making her remember exactly who owns her. My girl. My possession. The only thing that keeps me sane and drives me insane all at once.

I don’t stop until my name is the only thing she remembers how to say. Until I’ve left my fingerprints on her skin, my marks on her throat, my obsession buried so deep inside her she’ll feel it tomorrow.

I’ll sleep when I’m done with you, I whisper into her hair, and not a second before.

Because no matter how tired I am, I will always need you more.

[mamawasatesttube]

man... "time machine" by autoheart has me pondering the agonies. like fuck rebirth not doing that, but. a situation in which via magic or something, everyone [temporarily] forgets kon rebirth style. and he has to deal with that. and oops! what's that? oh it's just his suicidal tendencies coming back in FULL force, haha.

like its devastating enough when his friends don't remember him. but john henry? ma kent? clark?

what's he supposed to do with himself now? he has nothing and no one. he knows what he was made for, though. he wants to die a hero. he wants to die a hero. it won't hurt anyone this time because they forgot they love him. why is he here? he's a hero. he wants to die a hero. except heroes are remembered even after they die. what are you when no one remembers you, other than "dead twice over"? and you keep thinking of how unfair it is that the first time you died it hurt everyone you love. and now they forgot you so you may as well be dead. you kind of wish you stayed dead.

so he's not exactly taking it well. and of course ma and clark take it in stride when he shows up at the farm in distress. maybe it's a case of inadvertent dimension travel or something, clark muses, stroking his chin. and kon looks at the notch on the leg of the sofa that krypto accidentally scratched while wrestling on the floor with kon three months ago and says, haha yeah. maybe.

BUT! this time all the discrepancies and all the little things that don't add up? they're the point. kon gets to go to centennial park and point at his statue next to clark and say look. look, i'm real. i lived. you loved me. i died. i'm real. i'm real. i'm real.

and i think clark gets really quiet at that point. and then he's devastated. and furious. because he has a little brother/son/cousin/Little Guy. and someone robbed him of all of his memories of him. he has so few kryptonian family members and someone took one of them from him in the most raw, horrific way possible. they took his little guy from him so thoroughly he isn't even grieving. and isn't that in itself a horror? that there's no grief where he knows grief should be?

and i think kon here just kind of sticks Hard to clark's side at this point. if anyone remembered him or the people he loved, they'd find it odd and notable how conspicuously he's avoiding tim, bart, and cassie. unfortunately, no one knows him anymore, so no one notices. but kon just can't face the complete lack of warmth in their faces when they look at him. and it feels like far too much to explain "sorry, you don't know me, but you're supposed to love me. i love you and it's tearing me apart." so he just needs as much space as he can get.

(there's definitely a subplot of tim's nosy ass going "hey bruce, who was that guy with superman and steel at the jla meeting? what was that about? he looked a lot like superman huh?? hey bruce what's up with that guy? hey bruce what's going on--" and bruce, a paranoid asshole on the best of days, just going "i don't trust him." but tim is a nosy little ferret who will not be deterred and quite possibly pulls bart and cassie in on trying to investigate the guy who looks like superman but isn't superman.)

(however, for some reason, the guy who looks like superman but isn't superman seems to want absolutely nothing to do with the three of them. isn't that weird??)

anyways it has to have a happy ending where the curse is lifted or whatever and everyone gets their memories back and kon gets to have an incredibly cathartic breakdown into ma's lap. but probably not before he nearly gets himself killed at least 4 times first. oops!

[deadrobinthoughts]

†  "do you love me?" : various.

♦ request: drafted request ♦ beta’d: nope ♦ a/n: none

"𝑫𝒐 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑴𝒆?"

The question lingers, soft and certain, slipping into the silence between you. It should be easy to answer, simple, light, nothing to choke on—and yet, it never is. Because love is weight. It is sharp edges and quiet fears. It is vulnerability, raw and aching, wrapped up in something none of them were ever taught how to hold.

𝐓𝐢𝐦 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐞 —

Tim does not freeze, does not flinch, does not give himself away. His expression remains carefully neutral, perfectly measured, because that is what he does. He processes, he calculates, he dissects every angle before he speaks. But inside - inside, it hits him like a sudden plunge into cold water; sharp and suffocating.

Love has never been something he’s had the luxury to dwell on. It is there, of course - woven into the fabric of his existence, buried beneath exhaustion and coffee-stained blueprints. He shows it in the small things, in the way he reminds you to rest, in the way he remembers how you take your tea, in the way he always, always waits for you to step inside before locking the door. But words are another thing. Words solidify things. Words make them real. And real things - real things can break.

He exhales slowly, setting his coffee down with precision, buying himself the extra second he needs to make sure his voice is steady when he answers.

“Of course I do.” It is not a grand declaration. Not poetry. But it is the truth, and it is his.

𝐉𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐨𝐝𝐝 —

Jason’s first instinct is to brush it off. Not because he doesn’t know the answer, but because he doesn’t know how to give it to you.

Love is something that has always come with a price, a condition, a leash. It is a thing that has been ripped from him, handed back in pieces, stitched together with guilt and loss. It is not safe. It is not something he lets himself hold onto, not for long.

But here you are, asking him for it, like he has anything soft left to give. And he hates that you’re asking, hates that you don’t already know, hates that a part of you needs to hear it out loud. His chest tightens, something ugly clawing its way up his throat, because if he says it - if he lets himself say it - then it’s real. And real things get taken away.

His fingers flex at his sides, a tell, a crack in the armor. When he finally speaks, his voice is lower, rougher, edged with something that is not quite anger, not quite fear—but something close. "Why?" The word comes out rough, edged, defensive. "You looking for reassurance or something?"

And then, softer, quieter—“Yeah, I do... but you already knew that.”

𝐃𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬𝐨𝐧 —

For a moment, he just looks at you. His first instinct is to smile, to tease, to ease the weight of it, because that’s what he does. He keeps things light. He makes things easy. But this - this is not something that should be laughed off.

Because love, to him, has never been a question. It is just there. It is something he gives freely, without hesitation, without fear. And yet, when you ask, something in his chest pulls tight, because what if he has not been showing it enough? What if all the lingering touches, all the warmth, all the ways he folds you into his life like you’ve always belonged - what if it hasn’t been enough?

His throat works around something unsaid before he speaks, reaching for your hand with an ease so familiar it’s second nature. He doesn’t squeeze too tightly, doesn’t pull too hard, but he lets you feel it. The steady press of his fingers against yours, the warmth of his palm, the unspoken promise resting between them. “Of course I love you,” he murmurs, no hesitation, no second-guessing. Just that. Just the truth.

And when you relax, when you smile just slightly, when your shoulders finally drop the weight they’ve been carrying - he knows how much you needed to hear it.

𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 —

His book snaps shut.

It is not loud, not forceful, but the movement is too precise, too calculated, too much of a deflection. His shoulders square, his posture too stiff, his expression unreadable, and for a long moment, he does not speak. He does not even blink.

Love is a battlefield, a weakness, a liability. It is a thing he was taught to sharpen into a weapon, to twist into something useful, something he can wield - but never something he can hold.

You have asked him many things before. But this - this is different.

His fingers tighten around the book, knuckles pale, and then slowly, deliberately, he sets it aside. His movements are too precise, his control too careful, but when he finally meets your gaze, his voice is not.

“I do,” he says, no hesitation, no doubt. Because love is not a thing he takes lightly. And if it is given, then it is absolute. It is a vow.

𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐢𝐧 —

She hears the question, but she does not answer. Not with words.

Instead, she watches you. Studies you. Not for weakness, not for tells, not for deception—but because she wants to know what you are really asking.

Love has always been something felt, something carried in movement, in weight, in presence. She does not need words to know it, to understand it, to see it. But you—you are different. You need the words. You need them to exist outside of a glance, outside of a touch, outside of the quiet ways she lets you in.

So she reaches for you, fingers wrapping around your wrist, guiding your palm to her chest. The steady, slow rhythm beneath it, her heartbeat, warm beneath your skin. She holds it there, holds you there, lets you feel it.

And then - then she nods.

It is not loud, not grand, not a declaration. But it is a confirmation.

And it is enough.

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in Feb 2025. For more new fics, check out this month's fic roundup at @1dmonthlyficroundup ! You can find my other fic recs here.

- Louis / Harry -

🎀 can we please get back to loving? by journeytothepast / @suckerforhome

(E, 20k, famous/famous au) exes to lovers AU where Harry and Louis have to meet up with each other after their sex tape gets leaked.

🎀 tread lightly on my ground by fairytalelights / @lookslikefairytale

(E, 20k, omegaverse) the one where Harry is having Louis' baby, but Louis doesn't know it's his.

🎀 a flicker of hope that i wanna keep (please don’t leave) by localopa / @voulezloux

(M, 12k, canon) harry is in love with louis, and he had thought louis felt the same until he accidentally left his journal in harry’s home. 

🎀 Unholy by wickedarcher_08 / @wicked-archer

(E, 11k, demon Harry) When Harry Styles started acting different after his 26th birthday, Father Louis Tomlinson is the only one that may be able to save his soul. He has successfully performed exorcisms before. This should be easy. Until it isn't. 

🎀 Roman Empire by Speechless

(E, 11k, long distance) One day Louis answers Liam's phone while he is in the shower. That's how he meets Harry, Liam's friend who moved to Italy just a while ago. And that's how Liam loses ownership of his phone.

🎀 chasin' the high (but it was always you) by kingofthefridaynight

(G, 10k, friends to lovers) the one where there's always something standing in their way and they keep missing their chance. Until they don't.

🎀 Zero Complications by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 8k, grief) Harry and Louis have only been on two dates so far, but things seem to be going great between the two of them. What happens when the third date ruins everything?

🎀 Sweetest Poison (series) by @hellolovers13

(E, 7k, witch Harry) It takes all his willpower to keep Harry from devouring it all now. Consume the raw energy that flows through it. Let it become part of him. Let it fuel and rejuvenate him. But it’s too soon. or Nothing like starting the day with a little bloodshed.

🎀 Fall With You by pointerbrother / @pointerbrotherblog

(E, 6k, canon) Harry and Louis are stuck in a hotel suite together watching the Euros 2020 final because they tested positive for Covid, and Louis is quite caught up in the game. Meanwhile, Harry is caught up in Louis.

🎀 The Nestuary by @homosociallyyours

(T, 5k, omegaverse) Louis has never gotten the hang of nesting, so when she gets an Instagram ad for a nest building service, she worries it's too good to be true. It's not, fortunately. She's hooked.

🎀 i forget (but i remember you) by honey_beeing

(T, 3k, established relationship) Where Harry has anterograde amnesia and needs Louis's help sometimes.

🎀 Just Another Card Again by @tippitytap

(G, 3k, epistolary) Dear reader, this is a story of Harry and Louis falling in love through greeting cards and being neighbours. With love, Clifford

🎀 I'll smile to hide the truth by BriaMaria / @briannamarguerite

(NR, 2k, outside pov) the "Happier" AU that finds Louis' ex running into him and Harry as a couple

🎀 Accommodate This by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 2k, professor Harry) Harry's a professor just trying to get proper accommodations.

🎀 scent holding me ransom by larryftnoctrl / @the-larry-way

(E, 1k, omegaverse) Louis is obsessed with the scent of an omega he's never seen. Harry knows his dirty secret.

- Rare Pairs -

🎀 (Whoops) Here We Go Again by @lululawrence

(NR, 4k, Louis/Oscar Isaac) the one where Louis and Oscar have been seeing each other regularly on the elevator at work for almost nine months. Maybe it’s time for something to finally happen between them.

🎀 The Stranger the Better by @haztobegood

(G, 2k, Harry/Hozier) Sometimes a painful break-up can lead to an unexpected new beginning. The note with a famous singer’s phone number in Harry’s hand is proof of that. Thankfully it wasn’t Harry’s heartbreak that led to this, but his best friend Niall’s.

🎀 baking me crazy by @disgruntledkittenface

(NR, 2k, Harry/Seth Meyers) Harry bakes when he’s had a bad day. He finds out that his roommate Zayn has been texting their neighbor Seth to let him know on those days that free baked goods are available. 

🎀 Be With Me by @allwaswell16

(T, 100 words, Zayn/Louis) Zayn wants Louis to know she deserves the best. And well, Zayn is the best.

[dr-flipflops]

*Will heading back, when he runs into Kayla a couple meters from his Nico- wait, HIS Nico, ohhhh goooods. Fuck this*

Will*awkwardly*: Hey--- Kayla Kayla*Frowning disapprovingly*: Will Will *small patheticness*: Hi? Kayla *iciness*: Hey. Will *sigh*: yeah, yeah, get on with it. Kayla: *smacks him over the head with a clipboard* Will: Uh- OW Kayla *glaring*: Serves you right, the hell are you doing here??? Will you need to look after yourself too!! Will: BUt Kayla *the queen points up the finger*: Nuh uh William Andrew Solace, nuh uh. I saw you this morning- You got up at the ass-crack of dawn like the rest of us, but instead of chilling out till camp woke up, you got up and started those crazy laps of yours, Will, you're too hard yourself, and I know that you have CRAZY stamina and are tireless but *punctuates each word with a smack of the clipboard*

ALL. YOU. HAVE. EAT-EN. TO-DAY. IS. A. FUCK-ING. BANANA. Will pouts sorely rubbing his head: Hey-! Kayla: No Will. You're literally on your break and looking after Nico di Angelo, and in about 5-8 minutes, you're on roster again. Will, take a damn break you idiot. Will sighs, serious times:sarcastic Kayla, I would love to, course I'd love to have some space alone to myself to let my thoughts consume me about how I lost yet ANOTHER bunch of people close to me. OF COURSE I would LOVE to drag my brain out of constant work and focus to have a moment to think. *laughs, but its a bit demonic and crazed*. I can't Kayla, I can't. Making sure that these people, who rely and trust me to ensure that they DONT FUCKING DIE, is the only thing keeping me from tearing down everything. I need this to consume everything, I NEED this- people NEED ME. All I can do now, is be able to be on the line to look after everyone. So yes Kayla, I will get up every morning to make sure that I can run as fast as I possibly can because every. Second. Counts. Yes, I will skip meals because I do not need them as much as other campers do to make that people eat. To make sure that the daughter of Hebe, Antala over there, has the vitamins she needs to stop her body from falling apart. To make sure that the son of Nike over there, Alex, has a shoulder to cry on, and meals that remind him of his family.

To make sure that Nico feels comfortable to talk to me about his issues despite his obvious feelings of dislike towards me, and that he heals the way he is supposed to, so that he knows that he and everyone else here has someone in their corner, so that he knows he has help. I will spend every minute here and you know it. I will look after patients who need my attention, squeeze out every drop of sleep and energy I have left to make sure that no-one else dies, to prevent more cases like Miles, Jeo, Mike, Phillip, Yash, and so so many more. I will use my breaks to attend to Nico, and you cannot stop me. You know you can't Kayla. Kayla: I understand Will, its like me with my archery, I would do it till my fingers bleed to make sure I would not miss another target, that I would not have another slight fumble result in the death 3. But Will remember- *soft* We need you too.

*Kayla turns away, and Will stands there for a moment, body tensed up, jaw and hand clenched tight, he knows he spilled too much, but he was so, so TIRED, he couldn't bring himself to care much. He forced himself to relax, to turn with a smile on his face. To meet the eyes of Nico who was watching everything without waver and tears. Will whipped around, and walked calmly to Nico as if nothing had happened, a smile, scarily accurate to his genuine one, plastered on*

Hey Neeks, I know I took forever, my apologies, I fear my darling sister was very intent on lecturing me about taking a break *chuckles* but hey, I got the honey! :D

*Flashback to three days in the infirmary, but was the days Nico hates Will and they are not besties*

*Will lays on the infirmary bed, starting blankly at the ceiling above. Damn the thing needs to get repainted. Out of the corner of his eyes he noticed Nico stir in the other bed, blinking slowly at also noticing that Will was awake*

*Will doesn't look at him and asked his question quietly*

I know you don't care if I live or die, you've said so yourself, so why'd you do? Why did you stop me from sucking out the poison?

@nico-sees-dead-people

[anpanman95]

Okay so I couldn’t wait for this I’m sorry. I need to talk about it because we might not get any answers any time soon — so I’ll create them.

Bear with me for a little while

Who is behind this?

My first suspect is Boss, for obvious reasons, but let’s think about it a little more.

Aside from the fact Yinwar are not that predictable, Boss has literally no motive to go after Jack/Joke at all, even if he hates them. He shouldn’t have any reason to want to hurt them cause his main desire is power. Money and power. How will he get power and money by kidnapping/keeping Joke hostage?

So here is my other guess. I’m sorry if this ruffles some feathers, but literally anyone could be behind this, knowing what Yinwar are capable of.

Apologies in advance, I’m gonna be brutal.

I suspect Nang and Rose

I know, I know, just hear me out

1. No auspicious date? Tragedy? I stand with Joke when he said “this is simply ridiculous”

Do you remember the last time Yinwar introduced a crazy, ridiculous idea (The Ring and its “power”), that ended up being false? (It was all a game from the Four Horsemen).

“you are also enemies” ?

My friend, they have literally never been enemies. Joke has never seen Jack as his enemy, not once. And Jack had never stopped caring for Joke, either. He had just been driven by anger and pain.

I understand they care a lot about this kind of thing in their culture, but the reasons P’Nang gave were simply not good enough. Telling them their union might become in tragedy? Why? Because they are enemies? They are NOT. They are literally NOT.

(my poor baby Jack fully believing it and Joke being outraged is the most accurate thing)

“You can’t be together” ?!? You’re telling me they’ve been engaged for a YEAR, and you choose this moment to tell them not to do it? Why are you dragging this out? Are you staling, perhaps??

I SAY SUS.

2. Rose not being helpful AT ALL.

I know she doesn’t really have any power, but what the fuck has she done to help them in this episode?

Girl did not lift one single finger except to try and hug Jack (yes that bitchy face did not escape me, Khun Rose)

My girl, I love you, but you could have done SO much more to help them. She didn’t do SHIT. Not ONE single useful thing.

Besides, everyone is talking about their loved ones being invited to this place, and then she casually says:

“It belongs to someone POWERFUL. Scarier and richer than Alice” — why would you say all that? Are you perhaps trying to pull them into a trap?

HUH? This brings me to the next one, actually.

3.How did everyone end up at the casino?

Let’s start with Nang’s scene learning how to drive. This scene irks me. She plants the “death” idea in Hoi, scaring him, unchaining the rest of the events.

Now, the rest of them:

Arun’s connection is his dad

Jack (and ultimately Joke)’s connection is grandma.

Hoi’s (and coincidentally Tattoo’s) connection is Nang.

Hoi is now scared

And loops Joke in to it.

More importantly, Nang gives the invitation to Hoi. Why did she give it to him?

Perhaps so he can show it to the rest? Tattoo, who eventually not only connects the dots for everyone to realize it’s a dangerous place, but also makes duplicates for all of them; to Joke, who realizes this might be the place where the stolen files went to, after Tattoo tells them it’s the same address Save sent them.

Also, did Nang go to this place, though? She was invited. Did Hoi tell her not to go? (I assume Jack stopped his grandmother from going. Arun might have done something similar, but then again, I’m not entirely discrediting boss as guilty)

Or did she actually go and we did not see her? You know, driving herself, as she now knows how to?

And WHY does she need to learn how to drive in the first place? And why didn’t we see where that ended? It felt so random, somehow. Does she need it cause she’ll be driving someone somewhere? Huh? Maybe to a house in the middle of nowhere? huh?

Last but not least,

4. Nang’s reaction to Joke ‘dying’

“If he didn’t die then it would have been you, Hoi” Excuse me, again, but why did anyone have to die? This is what I’m not getting.

How did Jack and Joke’s wedding result in someone dying? Is it because you don’t want this wedding to happen? Why could that be? Hmm?

It makes me wonder.

She also officiated the saddest, most depressing wedding of the century, and girl did not shed a single tear for a tragic dead of a friend. Not one single tear. That’s a biased opinion though.

….

Okay, now, why would they do this?

Well, Rose has a very obvious motive, everybody knows she might still have feelings for Jack.

Nang? Well, Nang will always be there for Rose. She cares for her, and let’s be real. They had a whole year to plan this out. Nang is always there for Rose, that much is clear. Even if that means breaking two people apart in the most horrible way.

Maybe they intended Joke to die and worked with carbon. Maybe they didn’t work with carbon and simply took advantage of the events to their benefit. Maybe they intended to abduct Joke all along.

Remember, it could be as simple as the person behind it being Boss, but Arun lives with him and how would he have not noticed his absence? Arun would have told his friends if his father disappeared or left somewhere.

And it doesn’t feel right. To me it wouldn’t make much sense that boss is the one behind this. I don’t think Yinwar will go down that route as it’d be too obvious. And so far, whenever they were obvious about something in the plot, they put it RIGHT on your face.

And another thing:

Joke’s reaction.

Joke looked both shocked and sad.

It leads me to believe it’s someone he knows and hadn’t expected to be there.

Look, I may be obviously wrong and they might be innocent, but I’m going out of my mind with grief at the moment and I need to analyze this shit to the bottom as a way to cope.

So, I know I might be missing a few things as I only watched properly once, so do let me know what you think. There is A LOT MORE to it, but my brain is all scrambled cause I only got these revelations an hour ago.

Do you guys think it makes a least a little bit of sense? Can you guys think of anyone else that might make sense other than Boss?

We can never be 100% sure, truthfully.

But if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that it’d be fucking awesome.

[finishwhatyoustarted-event]

Finish What You Started 2025 - Event Rules

[simple ID, more in alt: basic rules for the event. End ID.]

The goal of this event is to get things done that you’ve already started. We all have unfinished projects whose incomplete status haunts us. Those are what we want to tackle!

The structure is loose, as this is a multimedia event. While primarily aimed at writers, this event is open to any kind of creative fanwork. Fics, translations, podfics, fanart, animations, cosplay - if you started it and never got it done, it qualifies. There is no sign-up required. I will not assign beta readers for writers, but I can boost requests for those who want them! And I can boost messages of those who would like to beta read.

The mod is a danmei fan mainly, but your work can be any fandom. Maybe something you started before your current fandom excitement took over, or one you keep putting off in favor of compelling new ideas.

Feel free to pass this event info along! The more the merrier!

Further rules and clarifications:

Alt text is very encouraged, especially for boost posts or artwork! Remember, alt text is searchable (so much as anything ever is on this site), so it can help more people find your work as well as letting vision- and internet-impaired fans enjoy it (which is its main purpose).

Machine Generated or “AI” images and writing are not permitted. If you are found in violation of this rule, you will be removed from the event. All images, writing, or other works must be your own.

If your work is NSFW, I will only boost it if it has appropriate content warnings. Spoilering images is recommended but not required as long as it’s tagged. Do not letter-swap or abbreviate content warnings. These are so people can mute them as needed. Example: “gore” not “g0re”

Remember Tumblr can mute phrases, but each warning should be its own tag as well as in the body.

Please use genderbend or genderswap for characters depicted not as canon genders. Example: “#NSFW #genderbend #gore”

Please use Omegaverse or A/O/B for that content. The original letter order is a slur against Aboriginal peoples and will not be tolerated here, even with the slashes. It, like other racial or identity-based slurs, fall under hate speech and are thus not permitted.

This is a positive, shared space. Do not belittle other creators’ medium of choice. Please no fandom/character/ship/creator bashing, and don’t berate artists or authors for not being done with something, even if they don’t finish by the end of the event. Also, please don’t passive-aggressively send this event to the author of an unfinished fic you want to see done faster. 😥 Be cool, respect each other, and keep any interpersonal disagreements to your own tumblrsphere.

Schedule and Hashtags

This account will post weekly morale-boosting messages and helpful resources. Every Friday, starting March 14th, will be Finished It Friday. All the completed works posted that week will be boosted together in a big thread, so we can celebrate your accomplishment!

Halfway-point check-in is April 1st. Final event deadline is April 30th. The last Finished It Friday is May 9th.

All posts and boosts will be crossposted to the event bsky (finishwhatyoustart.bsky.social) and Discord. Expanded rules, explanations, and Dead Dove guidelines can also be found on the Discord. (invite link in pinned post)

Fics can be posted to the AO3 collection (archiveofourown(dot)org /collections /FinishWhatYouStarted2025_Spring)

Work-in-progress posts should be tagged #FinishWhatYouStarted2025 . If you complete a wip within the event, tag it #IFinishedWhatIStarted2025 for boosting so we can all celebrate!

FAQ:

Q: Are original works acceptable?

A: This is primarily a fanwork-focused event. If original work is the only WIP you have to work on, it’s certainly fine to work on it during the time frame of the event. If it is posted publicly when finished, you may tag it for boosting.

Q: Are there any restrictions on topics?

A: No, so long as your event # post is properly & fully tagged for content (see rules about tagging above). "Dead Dove” topics are allowed. Some submissions will be 18+. For me, this is less about the content and more about finishing it.

Q: Are there any restrictions on media that can be submitted?

A. All content created must be your own and must abide from other stated rules. The usual restrictions based on laws and Community Guidelines of course apply, so you may need to tailor how you post to which event space your interacting with. Twitter, Tumblr, and Discord all have their own rules. There are also some topics that are in poor taste to make fanworks around. The event organizer and mods reserve the right to not boost your work if they decide it is rage-baiting or trolling. They are not responsible for negative reactions to your works. Please be respectful of those you share a digital space with.

Keep in mind that when I link to your finished work during a Finished It Friday, it may reach a wider audience than you may be used to.

Find more information and community on the Discord, if you want! Joining the Discord is not required for the event. As always, if you have questions, don’t hesitate to reach out!

[very-gay-poet]

Scapegoats:

Scapegoats are a person or a group of people that are blamed for anything bad happening in a space (a country, state, town, family, etc).

In between the first and second World War, Germany had a terrible economy, so bad that parents regularly gave their children stacks of money to play with instead of toys. Soon, Jews were to blame for the economic crisis, with the help of Hitlers campaign. He pointed out a demographic for people to blame so they don’t start blaming the government.

I also want to highlight that in 2023 alone, there were almost 10,000 reports of antisemitic incidents in the US, comparing that to just the year before, 2022, with around 3,700 reports from the US, and under 2000 reports in 2008. Over the course of just a year, the oppresion of jewish people had risen at over 100% in just a year. Antisemitism beliefs are rising again, Jewish people are being met with hostility again, and it’ll just keep on getting worse if we do nothing about it. Especially with Elon Musk's little “stim” at Trump's inauguration. I’m no conspiracy theorist but It feels like him doing the Nazi Salute, Trump signing an executive order to make it legal to discriminate against people and canceling all D.E.I programs (also mentioning that the KKK were spotted recruiting people in Kentucky) seems to be a whistle to Neo-Nazis to let them know that they’ll get away with whatever they do, and give them the confidence to be more bold than they already are.

I don’t believe that this is a coincidence, and, I really hope I’m wrong here, I don’t believe that these people (Trump, Elon) are above antisemitism, saying it’s for not promoting christian values or something stupid like that. I’ll be getting into weaponizing religion later, but I feel that this is important to mention, considering that the stats mentioned above were of 2023, God knows what that number was in 2024 and I don’t think we’ll be getting the true number anytime soon. This is all my personal speculation so take this with a bit of salt, but I find it concerning with how we’re all calling the right and Elon Nazis and Trump a Hitler reincarnate (which is justified don't get me wrong), but aren’t mentioning all the antisemitism as a result of the rise this type of bigotry. Jews were the main target of the Nazi party, don’t forget that.

So the next time you hear that the reason why people can’t get a house is because immigrants are taking them, the Chinese made COVID 19, minorities are taking jobs away because they tick a diversity box, remember who's truly to blame. The Chinese didn’t kill all the people who died during COVID, your government did, because they didn’t take COVID seriously as they should’ve, saw the consequences, and don’t want the responsibility that comes with it. They base it on preexisting stigma to magnify it, many Asian people in America were treated with more hostility than ever during COVID, because the American Government needed someone to blame, and what better than a group that aren’t white and are "commies".

It’s acceptable discrimination so that no one will turn an eye on what the government really wants to do; be discriminatory. They base it on their own prejudice so they can get away with bills and laws further normalizing the prejudice in the country, and thus get away with it. We’re already starting to see this now, with the plane crash; Trump blaming diversity and “the right people not being hired”, is the perfect cover story to take away rights of minority workers, and publish it as acceptable discrimination. Remember, not being hired because of your race (including skin colour) , religion, gender identity, sexual orientation, pregnancy, national origin, age, or disability, is illegal, unless they have an agenda to push and have an excuse to make it “the right thing to do”.

If you find yourself feeling hatred for a certain group– ask yourself: will anyone benefit from this anger? The answer is always no. No one benefits from prejudice or discrimination. No one, except the rich pigs at the top. America is already turning into a plutocracy and it hasn’t even been a year yet, so remember: if you’re not already a billionaire, you’re never gonna be a billionaire, so don’t act like you ever will. Division is their favorite game, don’t let them win it.

this is a snipit from an essay I'm writing that's taking longer than I thought it would. So now I'm going to post some snipits of it in hopes that it can help people.

[earthkittytarot]

PAC READING - (PICK A

CAT READING!!!) 🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛🐈‍⬛

WHAT WILL VENUS RETROGRADE BE ABOUT FOR YOU? (March 1 - April 12 2025!)

By EarthkittyTarot.

Choose a cat that you feel the most drawn to, if anything calls out to you from the image that is your cat/oracle message!

Pile 1: 🌊 🐈‍⬛

Pile 2: 🪻🐈‍⬛

Pile 1: Prosperity - Sachiel.

This Venus retrograde will be about prosperity for you!

What new creative ideas do you have? What can you create/ begin/ continue? Use your imagination and third eye to create prosperity and abundance in your life! (I feel that some of you already are aware of how you can create abundance in your life, hence the eye on the card.) Do you have a project or idea that you have been thinking about executing ? Well now is the time to create, plan and then execute when Venus goes direct! (If you’ve already had this plan now is the time to go even harder !!! Put your heart and soul into this project!) You may be shifting jobs, thinking of ways that you are able to create true prosperity in your life. You may feel disconnected from your current place of employment or wish to become your own boss. This card is indicating that you will be able to create true prosperity and be able to enjoy and cultivate your dream life by becoming your own boss/self employed. This Venus retrograde may also be good for you to keep track of the flow of your money. Do you easily give away to those in need, leaving you with nothing for yourself ?!? Now is the time to track and manage what comes in and what goes out. Remember you cannot give from an empty cup, and this Venus retrograde is asking to to be critical of your money flow. It’s okay to pamper yourself and to enjoy what you have, with balance. Balance is the word for you this Venus retrograde, along with prosperity. Be careful, and manage your finances with a steady eye. Ensure that you have enough for yourself first; so when the time comes to share with those who may be in need, you will be able to joyously extend your hand. Remember to keep in mind your relationship with money, if you make money your friend who you treat with respect and care, it will value and honor you as well. You will be healing money wounds during Venus retrograde. “It is time to develop a healthy, loving relationship with money”. Remember, “abundance comes from within, not without. You have the power to create and accumulate wealth and prosperity now!”

Pile 2: Sacred site - Purpose.

This Venus retrograde will be about visiting sacred sites and discovering your purpose!

The first thing I get before I even read the meaning of the card is that you may be visiting a sacred site either for the first time or a place that you hold near and dear to your heart.( This may be connected to your childhood or you have fond memories here.) You may be visiting a place that brings about the discovery of your purpose!! Wether this is a new place you’ve never been to or to a past place that’s special to you, you will realize and see your purpose as to why you are here during this time. I’m hearing that things have been feeling a bit difficult for you during this time and during Venus retrograde it’s about discovering new places and sacred sites that reveal to you your purpose here on earth. All signs point to a foreign land/sacred site. Feel free to move and explore! There’s grounding energy here, travel and exploration of sacred sites may be important to you and you may be planning a trip to a sacred site during Venus retrograde! You will be led to this place intuitively and it may be connected to a past life you had here. The card states “Guardians of ancient lands welcome you as you take respite from the world of chaos to gain clarity, healing and inspiration.” During Venus retrograde you will feel called and pulled to visit a sacred site, do it!!! You will gain clarity, peace and a deeper understanding about life and about yourself. Land spirits await you, return “home”. (Home meaning in a past life you lived here.) This is a rite of passage for you, here you will discover clarity and a deeper understanding of the past. You may even feel more in tune with your confidence here and that will help you move forward. Like water it is now time to flow and move, towards a sacred site.

Sacred site speaks

“Stand within my sacred space,

Harness power from this place.

Ancient secrets hold the key,

Embrace your quest for liberty.”

// You will see your divinity!

( I added “You will see your divinity” as a final ending to the sacred site speaks message; I heard that while typing embrace your quest for for liberty.)

[kistnlads]

𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕

Zayne x FemReader | Short Fic, 2.7k Words | Anonymous Fic Request

Hintofthescene/Moans/Groans | Likes and reblogs are appreciated

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

You are his greatest distraction, the one thing he can never tune out. He’s memorized the rhythm of your heartbeat, sketched its shape in the margins of his reports, felt its pulse beneath his fingertips more times than he should. And when you remind him that he is tending to his patient, he loses another piece of his restraint.

He wants you.

Zayne exhales slowly, pressing his fingers into his temple. His mind should be focused on the neatly written reports before him, but instead…

Your heart.

Not metaphorically, not in some poetic, lovesick way. No, it’s your actual, anatomical heart. The one he’s listened to countless times, the one that flutters when you’re nervous, steadies when you’re at ease. The one that once faltered after an injury, forcing him to fight to keep it beating. He remembers the sound, the rhythm, the pulse beneath his fingertips.

And so he draws it.

Over and over. In the margins of reports, between scrawled medical notes, on the edges of prescription pads. It’s not just muscle and vessels to him. It’s yours. He knows it, could sketch it from memory, engraved into his mind like something sacred.

His pen scratches against the paper, outlining the delicate chambers, the intricate arteries, the pulse points where life surges through your body. But as his hand moves, the lines shift, detailing not just a perfect textbook heart, but something softer. 

A heart entwined with his own.

The thought sends a heat curling in his chest, but before he can tear the page out, a voice shatters the quiet.

“Still working this late, Dr. Zayne?”

His fingers tighten around the pen. He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you.

But he couldn't help but wonder how you slipped in so silently—no creak of the door, no knock to announce your presence. Not that it mattered now. 

You stood by the closed door, arms crossed, a teasing smile playing on your lips. You’re tired, he can see it in the way you shift your weight, the faint haze of sleepiness clinging to your eyes, yet you’re here. And suddenly, his focus on the medical reports feels utterly pointless.

“Should you not be resting?” he counters, voice steady despite the warmth creeping into his collar.

You huff, stepping inside. “Funny. I was about to say the same to you.”

You step closer, gaze flicking down to his open journal. Before he can close it, your fingers dart out, flipping the pages back to reveal his sketches.

And then—silence.

You start to take in the countless drawings. Some clinical, detailed, precise. But others… others are different. It was a secret he never meant to reveal.

“What’s this?” Your fingers brush the edge of the page, tracing the inked lines. “You seem to have drawn this a lot.”

Zayne swallows. Deny it. Say it’s just a medical habit.

Your gaze lifts, locking onto his, searching. And he sees it, the slight hitch in your breath, the same racing pulse he’s memorized.

“Zayne…” Your voice is different now as his pulse thrums in his ears.

He exhales.

“I find myself thinking about it more often than I should.” His voice is low, edged. “Your heart. The way it beats. The way it—” 

His jaw tightens. He should take the journal back. Should laugh it off, tell you it’s nothing. But he doesn’t move. 

“How long?” Your question sends a bolt of panic through him. “How long have you been drawing my heart?” 

He can’t answer. He thought he shouldn’t. Because if he does, if he gives even the slightest inch then you’ll know everything.

“When you check my pulse, when you listen to my heartbeat, do you picture this?”

Zayne clenches his teeth, every muscle in his body coiled tight. His instinct is to pull away, to put distance between you and him before he does something reckless.

But then—

You take his hand. Press it flat against your chest, fingers splayed over the smooth fabric of your white dress, right over where your heart beats for him.

Your fingers tighten around his wrist, keeping his hand right where it is. “Tell me… what do you feel?”

His breath is slow, measured, but he can feel it. Your pulse beneath his palm, the delicate but insistent rhythm of you. It would be so easy to pretend this is just another examination. Just another routine check.

But it isn’t.

He spoke your name, his voice was strained, barely holding together, and you tilt your head, lips curving in the faintest ghost of a smile. 

“That doesn’t sound like an answer.”

Damn you.

Zayne could lie. He could tell you he hears nothing unusual, that your vitals are fine, that this is meaningless.

But the way you’re looking at him—curious, knowing, waiting—he knows you won’t let him get away with it.

And then… he pulls away.

The loss of contact is abrupt, but he doesn’t let himself hesitate as he tries his best in ignoring the way his fingers still burn from touching you.

“This is inappropriate.” His voice is clipped, controlled. 

You didn’t move.

Instead, you study him, slow and careful, as if trying to piece him together.

“Why do you always do that?”

His brow furrows. “Do what?”

“Run.”

The word hangs between the two of you, heavy and unrelenting. Zayne’s lips press into a thin line. His shoulders square, arms crossing over his chest in a practiced display of distance.

“I do not.”

You huff, shaking your head. “You’re doing it right now.”

You take a step forward, and Zayne forces himself to hold his ground. He won’t retreat again. 

“You think I don’t notice? The way you look at me when you think I won’t see? The way you touch me just a little longer than necessary? And now this—” You gesture to the journal still open on the desk, the evidence of his obsession laid bare.

His heart slams against his ribs.

“I want you to say it.”

He knows what you mean. And you want him to admit it. To say the words he’s kept locked behind clenched teeth and medical reports and foolish sketches in the margins of his notes.

Zayne swallows hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. It would be easy—so damn easy—to close this distance. To grab your wrist, to pull you against him, to press his lips to yours just to see if you’d melt against him the way he’s imagined too many times.

So instead, he exhales through his nose, and responds, “You are asking for something dangerous.”

“I can handle danger.”

Of course you can. That’s what terrifies him the most. You’re not someone fragile, someone he can keep at arm’s length forever. You’re relentless, unyielding, just as stubborn as he is. And if you made up your mind about something—about him—then there’s no stopping you.

Your lips curl, amusement flickering in your eyes. “How about you, Dr. Zayne?”

“This is a mistake. You do not know what you are asking for—”

“Then tell me to leave.”

Zayne’s teeth grind together. You’re giving him another out, a way to escape before he ruins everything. But you don't realize—he’s already ruined.

His control is slipping, unraveling piece by piece, and the more you look at him like that, like you’re his, the more he feels himself cracking.

He spoke your name again, but you cut him off.

“Tell me to leave, Zayne.” Your voice is steady. “And I will leave—”

Just like that—he snaps.

His fingers curl around your wrist, flipping your positions in a single, fluid motion. In a breath, you’re against the desk, and he’s in your space now—caging you in, pressing your back until there’s nowhere left to run.

His other hand comes up, gripping the edge of the desk beside you, effectively trapping you between his body and the cold surface.

Your breath catches, eyes wide, but you didn’t pull away. You don’t want to. And that—that—is what breaks him most of all.

“Do you truly believe that I do not want you?” His voice is low, rough, and dangerous. His grip tightens slightly, his pulse a wild, erratic thing in his throat. “Do you think I do not—” 

He exhales sharply, shaking his head. Your lips part, breath uneven.

You’re everything—too close, too warm—and Zayne has spent too long pretending he could live without this. Without you.

Your gaze searches for him. “What are you so afraid of?”

His throat works, his entire body burning from the inside out. Then, slowly and painfully, he brings his forehead to yours, your breaths mingling in the sliver of space that remains between the two of you.

“You.”

Zayne’s lips crash against yours, fierce and unrelenting, as he presses you against the desk. His hands grip your waist, fingers digging in like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, but you’re not going anywhere. Not when his body is flush against yours, not when heat coils between you like a live wire.

You push off his lab coat, letting it slide to the floor, and your fingers work at his tie, loosening it with impatient tugs. He groans against your mouth as you make quick work of his buttons, exposing the warmth of his skin beneath your touch.

His breath is uneven, his restraint fraying at the edges. Then, without hesitation, his hands slide down, parting your legs as he steps between them. But you barely notice, not when he’s kissing you like this, like he’s starving, like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered to the world.

Zayne’s grip tightens on your thighs as he presses in closer, his breath hot against your lips. His half-unbuttoned shirt hangs open, the tie loosely draped around his neck, forgotten. 

He’s never been like this before—never let himself want like this. Yet, your body is so damn willing beneath his hands, and he knows there’s no turning back.

“You drive me insane,” he rasps against your skin, his lips trailing down the curve of your jaw, nipping, tasting.

You shudder, your fingers threading into his hair, pulling him down to you again. “Zayne—”

A low growl rumbles in his chest, and then his hands slide up your thighs, gripping firmly as he tilts your hips toward him, his body slotting between yours in a way that sends heat pulsing through every inch of you. His lips find yours again, demanding, greedy, and swallowing every gasp.

The desk creaks beneath you as he presses you down against it, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your top, brushing against heated skin. You arch against him, pulling at his shirt with desperate fingers.

Zayne, for the first time, curses against your skin. His mind is clouding with need. He should take you. Right here. Right now. And he almost does.

But then—

Reality slams back into him.

This isn’t some dark alley, some hidden corner of the world where he can abandon every rule that’s been drilled into him. This is a place of work. A place meant for professionalism. 

This is an office. His damn office.

And here he is, about to take you on his desk like some reckless fool.

Zayne was a man of control. He had to be. 

A doctor who let his emotions interfere with his work was a liability. A mistake waiting to happen. 

And yet, he almost lost about any of that now. Not when you’re right in front of him, lips parted, skin burning against his touch.

Zayne stills. 

His muscles tense, his hands freezing where they rest against your body while your brows furrowed in frustration, lips kiss-swollen and tempting, so tempting.

“Why are you stopping?” You murmur, voice thick with want, fingers still buried in his hair.

His grip on your waist tightened for just a second before he forced himself to step back, though every fiber of his being protested. His shirt was open, his coat discarded somewhere on the floor, and you—you were still sitting on his desk, legs parted just enough to make him ache.

“Because this—” He exhaled sharply. “We cannot proceed with this here. It is unethical. This—this is not the appropriate place for such matters.”

He shut his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

“I must have some self-control.”

“Self-control?” You push off the desk slowly, purposefully, closing the space between the two of you in a way that makes his heart stutter. “You’ve been doing so well, haven’t you?”

You are testing him. And God help him, it was working.

Your fingers brushed over his collarbone, trailing lower, slipping beneath the fabric of his half-unbuttoned shirt.

Shit.

“We—” He exhales sharply, trying to ignore the way you’re still clinging to him.

“It’s late.” Your voice is light, breath fanning against his lips. “No one’s going to walk in.”

“I… I have patients,” he grits out, hands twitching where they rest on your waist.

You lift a hand, cupping his face with a gentleness that nearly undoes him.

“You’re always looking after everyone else. Always tending to someone. Always taking care of others.” Your fingers then trail down, brushing over the rapid pulse at his throat. “But aren’t you already tending to your patient?”

Zayne stiffens.

“P–Patient?”

You lean in, lips grazing his lower lip, and fuck, you know exactly what you’re doing to him.

“Dr. Zayne,” you murmur, voice sultry, and taunting. “Are you really going to leave your patient unattended?”

A sharp, amused breath escapes him, somewhere between a chuckle and a curse, then his grip tightens, dragging you back against him.

“You—” His voice is strained, his self-control crumbling all over again. “Are going to be the death of me.”

I smile against his lips. And just like that, the doctor abandons all reason.

OUTSIDE DR. ZAYNE’S OFFICE

Yvonne hummed quietly to herself as she approached Zayne’s office, her steps light. She didn’t knock, she already knew she wouldn’t be getting an answer. Instead, she reached for the sliding status sign on the door, smoothly shifting it from DOCTOR IN to DOCTOR OUT.

Just as she was about to turn away, a voice behind her made her freeze.

“What are you doing?”

Yvonne sucked in a breath, schooling her face into something innocent before turning to face Greyson, Zayne’s ever-diligent assistant. He stood there, arms crossed, an eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“Oh, you know,” she said breezily, clasping her hands behind her back. “Just… helping out. Thought I’d take something off Dr. Zayne’s plate. He’s been so busy, after all.”

Greyson narrowed his eyes. “Uh-huh. And that required switching his status to ‘Out’ when he’s clearly still inside?”

Yvonne laughed, waving a dismissive hand. “Maybe he just wants to be out for a bit, you know? Doctors need breaks too.”

Greyson didn’t budge. “Nurse Yvonne…”

She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. “You really ask too many questions, Dr. Greyson.”

“It’s my job,” he deadpanned.

Yvonne opened her mouth, ready to spin another excuse when suddenly, a very distinct sound cut through the quiet hallway.

A muffled thump.

Then another.

Greyson’s brow furrowed. “What was that?”

Yvonne laughed a little too quickly. “Oh, uh… probably just Dr. Zayne knocking over some books. You know how he is. Always juggling too many things at once.”

And then—

“Zayne—ahh—!” A voice rang out, breathless, followed immediately by a low, husky groan.

Yvonne winced.

Greyson blinked.

There was a beat of absolute silence before the sound of the desk creaking again, followed by another deep groan.

Yvonne pressed her lips together, trying very hard to pretend she wasn’t hearing this.

Greyson, on the other hand, was frozen. His face was carefully blank, but there was no mistaking the realization dawning in his eyes.

“They’re—” he started.

“Yep.” Yvonne didn’t even let him finish.

“In his office—”

“Uh-huh.”

“Right now—?”

“Sounds like it.”

Another moan. Louder. Longer. Breathless. Followed by a muffled whimper.

“Zayne… don’t stop—”

Greyson opened his mouth, then closed it, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

He turned to the door, his hand twitching like he was about to knock. 

“Nope! No, no, no, we do not need to check on that!” Yvonne lunged, grabbing his wrist before he could ruin whatever was happening inside. 

He exhaled sharply through his nose, pulling her hand away. “This is highly unprofessional.”

“So is eavesdropping,” Yvonne shot back.

“But, I’m his assistant, and I need to—”

“Yeah? You wanna assist him right now?” Yvonne arched her brow. “Wanna walk in and ask if he needs a goddamn clipboard?”

Greyson opened his mouth, then shut it, looking vaguely horrified. Yvonne smirked. 

“That’s what I thought.” She patted his shoulder. “Now come on, doctor. Let’s go before they finish, and we have to make eye contact later.”

And as they walked away, another muffled moan echoed behind them—loud enough that even Greyson, despite his best efforts, winced.

He groaned. “I’m taking the rest of the night off.”

“Good call,” Yvonne agreed. “You’ll need therapy after this.”

[phoenixiaxia]

Shopping Surprise

I'm like, a few months way too late, but I finally wrote a fic for @jinwoosbabyboo open fic night. I'm sorry it took so long, writer's block and IRL responsibilities had me by the neck.

BUT ANYWAYS! Have this.

Sylus x notMC!Reader, gn!reader written in mind, MC is named Em in this fic, implied Zayne x MC in the fic, possibly OOC, fluff, Zayne and reader are friends

Grocery shopping can be stressful on a normal day. But when you’re shopping for ingredients to surprise your boyfriend to a meal you grew up with, it’s downright mind-breaking. Especially since both Linkon and Bloomshore markets don’t have all the ingredients you need. When you vented your frustration to Zayne, he offered to drive you to a market an hour outside the city that should have everything you needed. Which brings you to now, standing over your shopping cart in the produce section.

“Onions… lemongrass… banana shoots… collection of mints and herbs… am I missing anything?”

Zayne places the bag of limes into the shopping cart, glancing over everything in the basket. “Unless you plan on giving him watery broth, I would recommend getting some beef bullion,” He gently intones.

“What, talking from experience, Mr. Ice man?”

Zayne lifts his head, a deadpan look on his face. The only indication of his amusement is a light quirk of his lips as he shakes his head. It’s no secret that Em is not the greatest cook. You still remember her “attempt” to cook live crab, or at least two separate retellings of the event from both Em and Zayne. It’s something you lord over her whenever you can.

Regardless, he is right. You quickly look over the list in your hand before handing it over to him. “Can you head to the butcher counter and get the meats on the list? I’ll head over to the spice aisle and grab stuff for the broth.”

Zyne nods, taking the list from your hand and walking towards the back of the market. At the same time, you push the cart, navigating the crowds towards the spice aisle. You stop in front of a shelf, looking through the bullion choices. Delightfully, they have choices for specific dishes, which makes your life easier. You find the ones for the soup you need, though the boxes are not close to the front. You reach up to try and grab one of the boxes, but a large hand reaches over you, grasping a few boxes and holding them in front of you.

You turn around, jumping slightly when you come face to face with a familiar set of ruby eyes. “Sy! What are you doing here?”

Sylus smirks, his trademark smirk still on his face. “I just happened to be in the area, sweetie. But I should be asking you that question. This is outside your normal territory, kitten.”

You can’t help the pout on your lips as you take the bouillon cubes from him. It’s practically confirmed that the surprise has been spoiled, but you try to at least keep up the illusion of a secret. “Well I needed groceries that I couldn’t get in the city.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow at your reason. “Right. And that’s why you didn’t call me to drive you out here, but your doctor friend.”

As if on cue, Zayne steps up to the cart, placing a few bags of meat into the basket. He makes a point to stand at the front end of the cart, looking between you and Sylus. Lifting the list in his hand, he looks back and forth between the cart and the paper before coming to a decision.

“I assume my assistance is not needed anymore,” He places the list on top of the bags in the cart, ignoring your glare of betrayal. “I do have a few things I want to buy here, so I’ll be taking my leave.”

Without another word, Zayne heads towards the front of the market, ignoring your silent pleas for assistance. Sylus takes the moment to pick up the list from the cart, reading through the contents. A long pause settles between you two as his eyes scan the paper.

The silence finally breaks when he looks back at you. “Is this the soup that you’ve been telling me about?”

You let out a long sigh, finally accepting that you can’t keep this a surprise anymore. “Yes it is. I wanted to make this as a surprise for our next date. But clearly, I can’t even do that without your jealous ass getting his feathers ruffled.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow at that, leaning down to gently poke your forehead. “I don’t get jealous, sweetie.” He still has a smirk on his face as he straightens up, but his eyes are softer as he looks at you. “But I do appreciate you trying to do something nice for me. Next time, just let me know when you want to do something. It’s already hard enough to convince you to use my card.”

You let out a sigh, shaking your head before pushing your cart towards the checkout. You can hear him follow behind you. “Fine. I can’t do surprises around you. I’ll run all my surprise ideas through you for prior approval.”

He chuckles at your sarcasm, resting a hand on your waist as you both wait in line at the cashiers. “I’ll make sure to prioritize your requests before any other business I have to attend to.”

The payment for the groceries goes uneventful, with Sylus paying before you could even pull out your wallet. You make a point to ignore the cashier’s look of bewilderment as you both leave the supermarket. As he loads his car with your groceries, he pauses for a bit before turning to you.

“Make the chiffon cake as well.”

“Excuse me?”

“Luke and Kieran have been asking for your cake at the base. Make the chiffon cake as well.”

Epilogue

[tenderwatches]

summary: viktor and jayce feel close to cracking their current problem pressure builds from all sides, including from within

“The Council isn’t going to wait forever, Jayce.” Mel’s voice, diplomatic and calm, even in frustration.

Viktor doesn’t mean to eavesdrop. Walking to Jayce’s lab each morning isn’t exactly easy for him, and his lungs demanded he catch his breath. Now, the moment sounds a little… tense. He doesn’t want to intrude. So, he makes his way slowly, his fingers tracing the cold stone wall as he walks. The interruptions between tiles mark his daily progress like notches on a measuring stick; how far can he go before needing to rest, how many breaths between each step?

Jayce groans something he doesn’t hear, continuing, “Something about these crystals just feels… wrong, Mel. They’re unstable in ways I can’t really explain, and we know nothing about the byproducts of the energy output.”

The mention of the Hex crystals sends a tendril of adrenaline racing through him—the promise of progress, of change, of maybe finally bridging the gap between Piltover and the Undercity. But Jayce is right. Ever since his return to the City of Progress, they've turned Jayce’s runic patterns over, sideways, backwards—but nothing they do makes the crystals react in the ways they should.

“Councillor Salos says Clan Ferros is considering changes to their support of the Council,” Mel intones, her voice low. Viktor’s veins run cold at the clan’s name. He hasn't heard it in a while, but the mention and the subsequently conjured image of their intelligencer brings a nursery rhyme singing out from the fog of childhood memories.

‘Keep your fingers out of pockets, keep your fingers off the green, else a lady with stilettos will come and slice them clean.’

He tightens his grip on his crutch and tries not to think too hard about a blood-thirsty, amoral family “supporting” the council in any way. Audible clacks from deliberate, sharp motions of his cane accompany his next few steps, allowing the conversation to fall to a hush before he enters.

“Good afternoon, Councillor Medarda,” he greets with a polite incline of his head. He expects she will give him a thin-lipped smile, polite but tinged with distaste, like she’s stepped on a viridian beetle. When he catches her gaze, however, he finds it’s… warmer than he anticipates. This is actually slightly alarming.

“Viktor,” she calls as she turns towards him. There is a chary distance between Mel and Jayce, a space where casual comfort should be. Their bodies tell a story, one of paths diverged. Mel’s usual poise carries none of the coy softness she once reserved for Jayce, whilst the man himself curls forward, hands gripping the edge of the workstation he leans against. By the way Jayce stares into the middle distance instead of acknowledging his arrival, Viktor can see he’s still deep in thought.

“I was just leaving,” Mel continues, sweeping across the room, towards him and the door. She stops to put a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, and he almost reflexively shrugs out from under it. He’s far from accustomed to most people’s touch, and much less so, that of Piltover’s ruling classes. “But it’s good to see you back—I’m looking forward to seeing what you and Jayce do next.”

The underlying meaning in her words is obvious, and he’s not sure if she has deliberately made her motives known to him, or if he’s become reacquainted with the ways the people here say things beneath the words they speak. Mel, of course, is one of the greatest examples of this—if he didn’t have his misgivings about her ties to the more violent parties in Noxus, he might even appreciate her shrewdness.

Viktor offers her a smile he hopes is polite, but the way she returns his expression is full of the sharp political intelligence she’s known for—nothing cruel, but knowing. She both acknowledges Viktor’s wariness whilst also offering to him that she’s grown beyond whatever he might remember of her. There’s a slight tilt of her head that suggests she’s not offended by his guardedness—if anything, she respects it. Her eyes, as they meet his, seem to say, “Your caution is warranted—but perhaps not necessary in the way you might think.”

She waves an elegant hand over her shoulder at Jayce, a motion that dispels his absorption. He begins to pace the room with a restless energy Viktor recognises. His former partner has never been an early riser, but over the years, they've both spent countless nights in the lab with Jayce walking circles around their latest conundrum until dawn breaks.

Viktor makes his way over to the workstation. The reports he recovered from his lab floor after their argument, back on his first day in Piltover, are still strewn across the desktop. Both men’s handwriting litters the papers, bold strikethroughs mingling with notes scribbled into the margins. Some of the diagrams have been replicated and reworked on the chalkboard. and a tired sigh escapes Viktor as drops into a chair and ponders one of them now.

“So the Council is getting impatient,” Viktor tests, his voice neutral. He doesn’t mention the Ferros clan.

“It’s hardly a secret.” Jayce runs his hand his hand through his hair, further exacerbating its dishevelled state. Has he always done that? Viktor remembers him being more composed, his appearance perpetually neat, even after long hours spent in the lab. He pulls his bottom lip against his teeth, deliberately averting his gaze from the soft expression of deep thought that Jayce wears. There’s a furrow between his eyebrows that suggests concentration, the slight press of his lips hinting at both his focus and a touch of worry or uncertainty. Viktor has always enjoyed observing Jayce in these moments of quiet intellectual engagement; Jayce is so invested in the outcome of their work. He knows Jayce sees so much more than numbers—he sees the future, the possibility of progress, the greater implications their discoveries hold.

In their time apart, his love for the other man has hardly diminished. Even when he was at his lowest, when he wanted to detest Jayce with every cell in his body, he never could. It’s hard, almost impossible, he thinks, to hate something that you love. Love always wins out. He’s not sure if he’s grateful.

He’s pulled from his rumination by the steaming mug that Jayce wordlessly places next to his hand. When he looks up, Jayce meets his eyes for only milliseconds before they both look away.

This is not the first cup of tea Jayce has made him. A couple of weeks into their reunion, when their interactions still felt prodding a fresh wound to see if it still hurt, Jayce had held out a mug to him for an embarrassingly long time before awkwardly setting it down on the desk, where it stayed for the entire day. Viktor was certain that it had been an accident—Jayce, simply going through the motions of preparing himself a drink, had mindlessly prepared one for Viktor, just like he used to.

This is the first mug that Jayce given him, instead of only offering. Though the familiarity echoes the effortless routines of their past, Jayce flutters about in his periphery, suggesting this presumption is hardly intentional. Jayce has always possessed this rampant desire to be needed, to be useful, to hold secrets of you that no one else could. No matter how good, admired, lauded he is, he seems unable to quiet his own anxieties until he fulfils a singular purpose for every person in his life.

Maybe this is why Viktor pulls the mug closer to him by the handle and takes a sip. Heat floods him, washing his body of tension as the dark sweetness of brown sugar mingles with the rich taste of evaporated milk. How long has Jayce been keeping these very specific fixings? Since the day he knew Viktor had returned? Viktor hopes not—the waste would be incredibly distasteful, especially considering how Jayce had once called his preferences ‘completely insane, illegal, even’.

Though Jayce has certainly noticed that Viktor has accepted his umpteenth peace offering after almost a full month of previously ignoring each one, he, wisely, says nothing. Instead, he pulls a series of molecular renderings closer, pen tapping idly against the page as he considers the elements he’s drawn.

There is no real purpose to his review; at this point, they’re certain about their calculations, rune matrices, and stabilisation frame design. Both are restless, eager to move on to the next step, but the parts ordered from the artificers have yet to come in (on more than one occasion, Sky has had to stop Jayce from storming off to the forge to take things into his own hands). At her urging, they take waiting period to study the composition of the synthetic crystals, which both of them admit is a better use of their time. “About the energy signatures you mentioned to Mel,” Viktor starts after a while, idly rolling the warm mug in his hands, watching the tea swirl in lazy circles along the edges. “They are… paradoxical. The crystals are dense, but the readings are unusually erratic.”

Jayce almost looks relieved. “Yeah, you noticed it too?”

Viktor raises an eyebrow at him before reaching across the desk to trade his mug for one of the rough, synthetic crystals, his other hand simultaneously reaching for a loupe. He brings the crystal up for study, squinting one eye shut to peer through the magnifying lens. “There is something here I recognise, I think.” He’s afraid to dig into what that might mean, especially when Clan Ferros is involved somehow. But they feel close to something, again, some fragment of information that will be the loose thread they need to unravel this whole mystery. “It is… subtle,” he continues, sparing a glance over the edge of the loupe to see Jayce hanging on to his every word. His expression is knitted into that characteristic mixture of scientific rigour and personal concern. “Do you have the reports from our mineral testing?”

Jayce rifles through papers until he finds what Viktor has asked for, and slides it over to him. “I don’t know what you’re expecting to find.” Arcane energy makes composition testing difficult, and, as Jayce alludes, the findings from the report are less than satisfactory. But Viktor isn’t looking for the precise makeup of the crystal—he just needs to see what makes it up.

Uranium.

Sulfur.

Carbon. Hydrogen.

His eyes flick over to the diagrams in front of Jayce, narrowing slightly as his thoughts race ahead of him, towards potential solutions. “These elements,” he starts, indicating each one to forcefully slow himself down, “They’re common, environmental—nothing unexpected when creating new minerals.” He smooths out the relevant report pages on top of the drawings. “And you’ve drawn them here, as alkynes, with the expected triple bonds.” He picks up a pencil and scribbles away a connecting line. Jayce opens his mouth to protest, but Viktor silences him with an impatient hand and proceeds to circle two separate groups. There is again some recognition here, though he can’t place why. “But what if proximity to the arcane disrupts them, leading to the instability we see?”

Jayce’s fingers brush Viktor’s as he takes the pencil to hurriedly sketch out another set of connections, more clearly representing what Viktor has pointed out. “Then we’d have these compounds here—which leaves them free to form a chain over there…”

Viktor is almost too wrapped up on the precipice of discovery again to concern himself with the way the energy leaps between them as Jayce’s thoughts intertwine with his—almost. “And that,” he emphasises, commanding his own focus as well as Jayce’s with an emphatic tap on the newly rendered molecules, “would explain why your last test melted.”

”This is huge,” Jayce murmurs, sitting back in his chair with a dazed quality to his expression. “We would need account for the interference and deal with the output of the fission—”

“But it could work.”

Optimism tempers Viktor’s curtness; viability could completely change the game for the Undercity, but he hardly dares to think of the possibilities. But for the first time since they began working together again, Viktor feels that old spark of discovery—the same energy that spurred the meteoric rise of Hextech years ago. Despite the rift between them, working together like this feels natural. Their ideas harmonise and build upon another, effortlessly leaping from one point to the next without ever having to pause for exposition. Even changing directions is simple for them, like pivoting in a waltz. Slightly dizzy with excitement, he sinks back into his chair. Exhales slowly. Coughs. Ignores the way Jayce’s attention snaps to him, faster than an electric shock.

“We should document these findings properly before we proceed with any modifications.” Clearing his throat, he reaches for his crutch and hauls himself to his feet, stiffening his posture in an effort to quell his body’s trembling. He feels foolish for leaving so soon after initially arriving, but he needs to get out of this enclosed room.

The familiar rhythm of collaboration makes it too easy to forget himself, to slip back into treating Jayce like the past two years haven’t happened. He’s learnt better to than trust show too much vulnerability, as much as some part of him cries to allow himself this reprieve. His mostly full mug of tea still sits where he set it down earlier by the synthetic crystals, unfortunately abandoned.

Jayce, though, seems eager for something to do. He nods, bright with enthusiasm for their breakthrough, and Viktor can see the scientist he talked back from the ledge so many years ago. Jayce flips his journal to the next clean page, snatches a pen from the desktop, and swiftly records the date at the top. “I’ll take down the preliminary notes and then we can work on a fresh draft.” He pauses, pen nib hovering over the paper. His expression suddenly looks troubled, serious. “I know you hate when I, uh,” he waves hand in a complicated gesture, ‘you know,’ and Viktor comprehends the motion is supposed to encompass the complicated experience of being cared for by another whilst grappling with his own sense of autonomy. “But you could, maybe—well. You seem like you want to get some rest.”

In spite of his efforts to keep walls between them, Jayce reads him like a favourite book, even down to his mindfulness in not outright dictating what Viktor ought to do. “You’re… perhaps right,” he agrees with only a small amount of reluctance. The ease with which he’s fallen back into working with Jayce feels like a trap; the last time he’d let Jayce in on matters concerning his health, under the insistence that they were partners, had ended with Jayce proving himself to be like every other Piltie: someone whose grace was fickle, who seized on opportunities.

The truth of this clashes against his memories of his former partner, clashes even still with the image of the man in front of him, looking at him with warm irises gleaming with amity. He’d struggled to reconcile how this was the man who’d betrayed his trust, struggles still now to see it. He can’t begin to fathom Jayce’s motivations and, despite their proximity, can’t bring himself to ask. Some things are better left unknown. “I’ll look at your notes tomorrow,” he finishes, and Jayce beams at him as he makes for the door. Is this the shape of progress in their new, germinal relationship? This juxtaposition of timid hope for the future and fear of the past?

Behind him, he hears Jayce’s hand whispering as it dances over pages. The sound is as familiar as his own heartbeat, or his cane on the tile floors. 𓊈 first chapter | previous chapter | next chapter on AO3 𓊉

AN: Chapter 7, 'Interlude' !! i really loved writing for mel in this so we will see more of her for sure (you can read wayyy ahead on Ao3!! we're posting ch. 21 tomorrow)