#in a weird state of his hair being down but not at the same time

[quirkwizard]

The Epilogue to the Epilogue

Sweet mercy Hori, end your story! I've already had to two other ending analysis post of your story, each one with less content then the last. What is, the next ending going to come via your Twitter sketches? I never thought an author would be brave enough to pull off what amounts to a hat trick to end their manga, but here we are.

All joking aside, the final fan book was released for My Hero Academia not to long ago. Normally, I don't care to talk about these. However, since there are a lot of things cleared up about the world and story with this, I figured I would talk about it. And since it's so mostly filled with random facts and a few pages of panels, these will mostly boil down to notes about it. These will be divided into groups.

For the sake of this, I am using the translations provided by aitaikimochi and shibuyasmash on Twitter.

Other:

-I'm actually mad that the United States got a new Number 1 pro hero and it wasn't Captain Celebrity. Christopher Skyline did not go through his whole mini-arc in Vigilantes just to be forgotten about here. Man overshadowed by a character that's just a name.

-The fact that Hori worked with real medical professionals on whether or not Bakugou could survive getting his heart exploded is so fascinating to me. Especially about how it was done the way it was to be as realistic as possible.

-Hori saying "Use your imagination" is not the proper translation. He's not calling people illiterate, nor is he saying that it's up to reader interoperation. He's just telling people to go and take a look at the volume for the answer. Which still seems like conformation. It's just not as bitter as either side seems to think it is.

Villains:

-Giving All For One a name at all is weird to me. Calling himself Zen is weirder. Having it tie back to his dead, prostitutes mother and her alias is about as weird as you can get for me on this.

-I honestly disappointed when we found about Tomura's real Quirk. It was just some random Quirk All For One used when flying around. Like, it makes sense to manifest that way given how "Float" works, but it feels like it anti climax to find out about it in a fan book.

-I like how this book goes on to push how much the LOV was slumming in. Going with pre-packaged food and entraining themselves by playing cards. It does make me wonder if Spinner and Tomura brought a rig to play games with each other all the time.

-Hori described what Gentle and La Brava does as "I guess it's kind of like Google". Hori, what does that even mean? I feel like I need a little more context then that. Are they some weird conglomerate of tech stuff? If it is, that seems kind of like an odd place for them to end up.

-It's interesting to see Hori talk about the back and fourth about killing off Toga. While I could see the arguments for keeping her alive, I still ultimately agree with the idea of killing her being the better option. I just think that alternative doesn't have the same impact.

Heroes:

-I'm a little mix on All Might being called the "Best Hero Ever." This feels like a compromise for All Might and Izuku with their achievements, but you could still have made their titles more distinct.. I would have preferred something like the "Greatest Pro Hero".

-Saying that All Might's highest speed is Mach 10 is kind of insane given everything we've seen. I prefer to think that's just his highest recorded speed. Like there was some charity event to see how fast he went and that's the number they recorded.

-I am a little disappointed that Aizawa cutting his hair was just an artistic choice. Because there is that whole symbolism of hair carrying memories that people talked about and it gets cut once that lingering memory of Oboro is gone. Just makes it feel less special.

-It's really odd to me that we don't have any kind of ending comment with Endeavor. Again, I always thought that his ending was the most open ended and hoped that we would have gotten something out of Hori for this book. It's a shame to say the least.

-Actually, there really aren't a lot of notes on the other pro heroes. Besides a few of the main stay teachers, the only one to get mentioend is Miruko. Who, I have to say, I could not care less about what she is doing now that the series is Miruko. She's still fighting? Wow, how riveting.

Other Students:

-There's some fun trivia. Koda liking bunnies, but being scared of Miruko is one of the funniest pieces of trivia in this entire franchise. And I have to wonder if Sero's bit about the mustache was inspired by the Spiderverse movies and the one that Miles grew out for that.

-It's interesting that Jiro is able to focus so much on her music career in spite of still bein a hero. While it could just be because heroes have more time to do stuff, it makes me wonder just how much work you have to do to be considered a hero and to keep your job as one.

-I have to know what Kirishima's "manly calendars" are. Is it just Kirishima doing differently manly things? Stuff like lifting big weights, breaking stuff with power tools, and working on big pick up trucks? I don't care what it takes. We need this available to us.

-The fact that Mina's horns grow with her Quirk is interesting. I just assumed they were there for aesthetics and didn't have any real function with her Quirk. It makes me wonder what kind of connections they have to her ability to produce the acid.

-I'm not a shipper, but I find it funny that Hori told everyone that Denki and Jiro aren't together in Chapter 431. Only to go on about how Jiro and Momo spend lots of time together and are "SUPER close friends". He has to be doing that intentionally. I don't know why, but he has to be.

-The idea of Bakugou and Monoma becoming closer is interesting. I actually thought there was a lot of overlap with their characters. I kind of wish we would have gotten more out of them in the main story. Maybe some new, minor rivalry that Bakugou can throw himself into.

Main Cast:

-The fact that there can be heroes with the same name is very odd. Or that Tensei can even be counted as a hero since he can't exactly do hero work. Maybe he's acting as a sidekick for Tenya, working as the one helping his little brother from the sidelines.

-You know, I wouldn't have had "Shoto goes into urban planning" on my bingo card, but here we are. Though it is still humorous how socially inept he still is. The fact that people faint at his smile must be very worrying to him. Probably makes him think his smile is cursed.

-The fact that Bakugou still gets babied by the other pro heroes. It's like they look at that train wreck of a kid that's killing his reputation with every interview. And they decide that he needs some kind of mentor figure right there and then to keep him on the right path.

-What's that? Ochako was the one who put a positive twist on Deku? Was the one always supporting him? Even has the nickname of "Deku's Cheer Capitan?" Wow, it's almost like she's important to Izuku's growth and play a major role in him gaining confidence.

-So not only did Izuku stay a Top 100 without doing any hero work, he shot up to the fourth spot on his first day back. To everyone who says he was forgotten about, I want you to send a hand written apology for all the terrible takes you had and you appalling ignorance.

-Not only is Izuku still teaching, but apparently he's teaching hero history and regular history. Though I can only imagine that his entire classes would just be him yammering on about all the smallest details of history. Once again proving he's just like me, for real.

One Shot-Review:

Yeah, there isn't a lot to say about this one. It's nice to see Eri and see her happy after everything she's gone through. It's a good way of showing that even deviations who can't control their Quirk can still live in this world. And it's cute that she has her own thing going on outside of hero work. It does solidify Izuku's place in the world after he lost "One For All". That people still adore and look up to him. Something that I greatly appreciate after the last two ending chapters. I like that look we get a proper look at Izuku's costume, or at least the back of it with the cape. Plus having him dunk on Bakugou after all these years is still nice to see. Izuku was out of the race for years and he's still a higher rank then you. Yet I really don't think it adds that much to the overall story. Eri's story wasn't really something that needed completion. That tiny bit of her living a normal life was more then enough to finish off her story. This kind of just feels like it's a section of a secret, missing Chapter 430.5 where we got updates on all the other characters we didn't see as much. I'm glad we have it, I just don't think we need it.

Which kind of sums up my feelings for a lot of this fan book. Sure, none of the fan books have been earth shattering in terms of the content they provide. Yet this one feels pretty dull in comparison to everything else. There are a few highs, like the bits talking about Toga or getting more information on Izuku. It's why I didn't feel that compelled to talk about some of the characters with this, especially the students. A lot of their content is just say something really innocuous about their lives as heroes. Which I do like to read about. It's cute to hear things like Denki getting into issues because someone yelled a name at him. I just think that there should have been something a little more interesting for one of the last pieces of content for the story. These could have been the chance to go all out with the details of the story Hori wanted to talk about, but didn't have time to discuss. Or at least don't repeat information we already know.

[threepoint14art]

Yo cuando freddy eres el mayor culpable de mis actos tan infames

skill issue

[dearsnow]

BIRDS OF A FEATHER

- phoenix and her girlfriend set you up with a wso they insist will be right up your alley. (robert “bob” floyd x fem!reader, fluff, reader is meant to be similar to bob, ie quiet, sweet, and nerdy, mentions of being drunk/having sex but nothing explicit)

word count: 2,003

a/n - this fic is parallel HEAVY, so don’t be surprised if you see the same phrase passed around. it’s truly a mindlink esque situation lol. and it’s 100% self-indulgent because the reader’s personality is so similar to mine (i am nothing if not a self caterer)

“Nat, I’m really not sure.” Bob tries to protest. “You know I’m no good with dating and stuff. Who’s to say she’ll even like me?” Natasha pats him on the back, firmly enough for him to know she means it.

“You guys are birds of a feather. Trust me, she’ll like you.”

“Jamie, I just don’t know.” You frown. She’s trying to set you up with her girlfriend’s friend, claiming that you’d be the perfect match, but you know you’re not the most amazing when it comes to meeting new people. You’re slightly awkward at best, socially anxious at worst. “He probably won’t like me. And if we’re really so similar, don’t you think it’ll be stiff and weird because neither of us can say the right, flirty thing?”

“You don’t need to be ‘flirty’ to have a good connection. Not every relationship is going to be like Natasha and I, all fire and flame. Sometimes it’s slow, and slow is good. It’s exactly what you need.” Jamie chides, putting a soothing arm around your shoulder. “Trust me. Birds of a feather, right?”

You shift uncomfortably in the booth you’re sitting in, Jamie’s hand rubbing the side of your arm comfortingly. It’s ten minutes before your supposed double date, and Natasha affirms that it’s about five minutes before he shows up. “Bob’s always early,” she stated, “so we can be even earlier to give you some prep time.”

You’re quiet. Shy, even, and you don’t have the best track record with social events. You’ve never really had a date that understood why you don’t want to get roaringly drunk and have sex in a bathroom and whatnot. The two girls, one in front of you and one by your side, have assured you that Bob will be different. He’s quiet too, but he stands up for himself. He’s strong and capable, with a humble attitude and the slight southern charm that you can bring home to your parents. If he’s really so great, though, what the hell is he doing going out with you?

Bob can see your booth through the door of the diner, and he steels his nerves quietly. He’s got this. He’ll make it a nice dinner, a nice experience, and he will not, under any circumstances, fuck it up. He owes you that much. He knows he’s probably not what you want in a guy. Natasha described you as hardworking, kind, and a good listener. He can’t help but think that you deserve much better than him.

He takes a breath and pushes open the door, the flowers in his other hand a little damp from his sweaty palms.

When he finally rounds the server stand, he can see you. And you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever had the pleasure of setting sights on.

He’s royally fucked, he thinks.

Oh my god, he’s so hot. You smile at him and curse a bit under your breath, careful to not let anyone hear. He’s everything you imagined and more, with sandy colored hair, bright blue eyes, and glasses that look like they’re just a little crooked. If you were bold, you’d reach across the table and fix them as he sat down. You’re not, though, so you just fidget with your hands under the hard wood.

He clears his throat and hands you a small bouquet of daises, sliding into the spot across from you. Nat gives a little self-satisfied smile from next to him. “Hi. I didn’t know what you liked, so I hope that’s okay. I’m- I’m Robert by the way, or Bob, whatever you prefer.”

You think your cheeks will split open from how hard you’re smiling. It’s such a small gesture, but the blush on his cheeks tells you that it’s earnest. “They’re perfect. Thank you, Bob.” You introduce yourself with the next breath, and he shakes your hand like it’s a business meeting. His palms are warm and just a little bit damp, but when his fingers curl around your own like they were meant to fit together, you couldn’t care less. “So,” you begin, somewhat shyly, “you’re Natasha’s WSO?”

When Bob hears your quiet voice, he knows he’s in deep. “Yeah. She’s a great pilot.” His praise earns him an elbow from Natasha, a silent ‘talk about yourself, dipshit’ evident in the action. He smiles nervously. “We do a lot of the weapons bits so the pilots can fly safely. How about you, what do you do?”

“It’s not as important and exciting as your job, that’s for sure.” You laugh before explaining exactly what you do.

“Honestly, that is important and exciting. I’m sure you excel at it, too,” Bob offers, somewhat bashfully. What makes your head spin is that he seems like he means it. He’s sincere, wonderfully so.

As that statement quirks the corners of your mouth up, Bob’s heart explodes. You’re charming and beautifully sweet, with a pretty smile and dashing eyes to boot.

Jamie enters your conversation carefully, like she wants to help but isn’t forcing anything. Natasha pipes in a few times, but overwhelmingly, it’s you and Bob. Neither of you have ever spoken so much in this type of setting before, and it’s great. You bounce ideas and jokes and quips off of each other like you were meant to. You feel like you were meant to, because everything just comes so easily with Robert Floyd. You’re finally talking to someone who understands every bit of you, polishing the hidden parts of yourself until they shine. You never thought you could feel this way with another person.

“Wait, have you read this book called For One More Day?” You ask, finding every opportunity to drag out a subject you enjoy so deeply. “It’s really sad, like a fictional memoir, but I think you’d enjoy it. The whole story is basically an ode to loving your parents while they’re still around.”

“I haven’t, but I’ll be sure to check it out the next time I go go the library.” Bob says, giving a slightly lopsided grin that makes your heart scream. “It seems right up my alley though. I like non fiction books, mostly, but I could go for a change every once and a while.”

Your food is almost forgotten in the midst of the conversation, and his is too. “When you do read fiction, what genres do you go for? I have a million recommendations, so help me narrow them down a bit.”

Bob will never admit this to his friends, but he’s an avid reader. He’s a sucker for a true story or anything about dogs, however, he’d read anything you could ever think to tell him about. He has already made a mental note to check out For One More Day and is currently making more notes as you list off more dog-central books. You, as you’ve told him, go for more of the fancy prose-d, heavy drama-d, and emotion-filled stories. It’s nice to see you like this, talking about something you’re honestly passionate about. The light in your eyes makes you look like a ray of sunshine.

Jamie grins at Natasha from across the table, utterly and unashamedly content that her plot has worked. Natasha rolls her eyes. “Alright, you two,” Nat says, “can we move on to something more exciting? Like planning a second date, maybe. One where Jamie and I can be happy at home while you two nerd out.”

Bob’s face reddens and you give a small, sheepish smile. “I’d like that.” You say.

“Me too.” Bob adds. Natasha can firmly say that she’s never seen him so happy, not even after a successful flight. It’s like he’s finally found the thing that made him tick, like you reached into his chest and wound up the gear box in his heart. “I’m free this Friday, if you’re up for it.”

You tap your fingers on the tabletop, thinking. “This Friday… this Friday is when I’m doing a book reading for the kids at our local library at lunchtime. We could have dinner after that, though.” You want to spend the entire day with him, but if a few hours is all you’re given, you’ll take it. You’d take anything.

Bob’s hands move to touch yours, just barely. His warmth radiates out, perfectly soothing your nerves. “If you want, I can make lunch and help you out at the book reading. I like those kinds of things, but I don’t want to impose.”

“You absolutely should.” You breathe. “You wouldn’t be imposing at all. In fact, I think the kids would really like it if Mr. Naval Aviator read a few books to them. You’d be like a superhero in their eyes.”

You’re a bit astounded by how much Bob’s face flushes. If you thought he was a bit pink before, he’s got a drunk man’s glow now. And you were being completely, one hundred percent honest when you said that the kids would like him. They’d love him. Micah’s father was in the Navy when he was younger, so there’s one connection, and April loves airplanes with a passion. It would be amazing.

“Then I’ll be there. Here’s my number, so you can text me when and where.” Bob slides a little piece of paper over to you, one that he must have written a bit ago, because his pen is securely clipped to his pocket. He likes you so much he wrote down his number while you were (probably) explaining your love for reading, or crafts, or small animals? You’re going to swoon if he keeps this up.

Natasha eyes where your hand is touching Bob’s. “Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Now eat your food.” She gestures to your half-touched plates. You and Bob both stutter a little, completely having forgotten what you’re going to have to pay for.

The rest of the evening goes amazingly. You talk about so many subjects that by the end of the day, when the sun is slipping below the horizon, you feel like you’re floating on air— light and unburdened by the way you’ve been able to express yourself. Bob insisted on paying for your meal, and though you protested, a little part of you feels giddy that you’re worth spending money on. Bob walks you to your car, tucking your flowers into the cup holder between your seat and the passenger side.

“I really enjoyed that.” He muses. “I really enjoyed you. I thought Nat and Jamie were kinda full of it when they told me about this whole double date, but I’m glad they weren’t.”

“Me too, oh my gosh. I was totally expecting some stuck-up Navy nerd, but I’m glad it was you. I enjoy you too, Bob, probably way too much.” You’re standing by your door, but you feel like you can’t leave just yet.

He looks at you with something you hope to think is affection in his eyes before glancing down towards your lips. “I’ll let you get going. Text me anytime.”

You hesitate, staring up into his ocean blue eyes. Before you can stop yourself or tell yourself it’s a bad idea, you take the collar of his shirt in your hand and kiss him.

It feels right. His hand coming up to rest on your waist, his body pressed against yours as he stabilizes himself on your car, it’s everything you’ve always dreamed of. His lips work in tandem with your own, like they’re collaborating on some sort of secret mission, and he kisses you like he loves you.

His pupils are blown up and he’s panting just slightly when you pull away. He misses the feeling of your lips on his as soon as it ends, the tingling sensation working its way down his face. “T-Thank you…?” He whispers. You laugh, the sound music to his ears. He can hardly believe that that just happened.

“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Definitely.“

You give him a small peck on the cheek and step into your car, so happy you think you could explode. As you pull out, and as he waves at you from the parking lot, you make an effort to remember to thank Jamie and Natasha.

Who would’ve thought that you really would be birds of a feather?

Taglist: @seitmai

[odoraful]

𝑰: 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹, 𝑫𝑶𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹.ᐟ

xiao has been noticing some symptoms in you lately and decides to go to baizhu for some advice…

⟡ part II: l-o-v-eternally!

⟡ content — xiao x gn!reader ; absolute fluff, i'm talking very silly and cute ; baizhu and qiqi appearance ; reader has a massive crush on xiao and it goes utterly over his head ; but xiao is just trying his best to be caring ; 3.2k words

⟡ a/n — xiao lovers please rise 🙂‍↕️ banner art by dsmile9 on twitter!

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In his time as a doctor, Baizhu had seen it all. Every weird and wonderful thing about the human body. Every high and low of the human experience. He thought there was little that could shock him now. However, he was disproven at this very moment when the Conqueror of Demons showed up at Bubu Pharmacy.

There actually didn’t seem to be wrong with the yaksha in terms of ailments. No gaping wounds or visible signs of karmic corruption. Baizhu did observe that he appeared more bashful that usual with how tight his arms were folded across his chest, but he did well to hide it under his stone-faced expression.

What was wrong was that he was standing here.

Willingly standing here.

Not being dragged in a half-conscious state by little Qiqi or another one of his companions who certainly cared about his health more than himself.

If Xiao was at his doorstep, the situation must be rather serious.

“Conqueror of Demons,” he greeted, resting his chin on his hand. “Now, isn’t this a welcome surprise?”

Qiqi hopped down from her stool behind the counter, shuffling towards Xiao with unbelieving eyes. She poked at his leg, checking that it was really the yaksha in the flesh. Xiao let the young girl prod as he unfolded his arms and spoke.

“Baizhu, I need your assistance.”

A request for aid? From the Conqueror of Demons himself? Baizhu stood up straighter, his curiosity changing from amused to serious.

“I-it’s about Y/N.”

Ah, I should have known. Yes, he was familiar with you. The person who had brought Xiao to the pharmacy in the aftermath of a particularly dangerous patrol. He could never forget the worry carved into your face and the tenderness in how you brushed his hair away from his sweat slicked skin. As to your relationship together, he had his internal speculations, but never heard anything official as of yet.

Baizhu nodded. “Qiqi, would you mind closing up the pharmacy early today?”

He looked over at Xiao with a soft smile, “Come with me to the back. We can have a discussion there.”

The room Baizhu led Xiao into was reserved for consultations with patients who had more complicated presentations. The furniture inside were all crafted from the same dark wood with gold embellishments. It contained a bed with white linens, a chest of multiple drawers containing all sorts of herbalist components, a low table for working with accompanying stools and chairs, and a bamboo screen for privacy where a wash bucket and cloth were set up behind.

Rather than sit on the bed or in any available chair, Xiao chose to stand. Baizhu sat in his chair by the table, legs crossed. Qiqi joined them soon after, plopping herself onto a stool.

“What seems to be the problem?” Baizhu asked.

Xiao sighed, brow twisted with concern. It was probably the most emotion he had seen in the yaksha. “Y/N hasn’t been themself lately… I believe they might be ill, but I can’t conclude what the ailment is.”

“And may I ask why you came to me? Wouldn’t it make greater sense to have them see me directly than through a middle man?”

Xiao shook his head. “Each time I’ve asked about the state of their health, they dismiss me.”

“I see…” Baizhu hummed with understanding.

It wasn’t uncommon for people to ask about the condition of their loved ones. But to see the Conqueror of Demons show such care for someone despite his reclusive nature. Curious indeed.

“Well then,” he continued, taking his pen and flicking open a notebook in front of him to a fresh page, “what symptoms have you’ve observed so far?”

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patient has been showing signs of increased clumsiness…

Xiao wasn’t a master at interpreting emotion, but he was adept at observing them. Any flicker of change in someone or something’s manner could be the difference between blocking a strike or being fatally injured. Not that being in mortal danger applied to this situation right now, but the skill was transferrable. Right now, Xiao was observing you from the balcony of his room at Wangshu Inn. You were assisting Verr Goldet with hanging some new decorations far below. The boss, however, had currently been pulled aside to help an elderly couple with directions.

He watched as you stood on a step ladder, hanging up a red colored ornament to one of the lantern poles that lined the deck of the inn. His keen senses spiked. The combination of you on your tippy toes, the unstable structure supporting you, and your focus being entirely on hanging the decoration instead of yourself did not have many positive outcomes. Instantly, Xiao went from being on the topmost floor to behind you. Traces of his teleportation manifested as green wisps of energy in the air.

You felt the ladder stabilize beneath your. Your heels fell back down as you stood properly.

“Thanks Goldet!” you called over your shoulder before turning around fully to ask, “Tell me, would the flower or butterfly one look better—”

The rest of your question caught in your throat. Verr Goldet was not there behind you. Rather, a certain teal haired protector who you had grown close to.

You were introduced to Xiao by Verr Goldet herself. She believed it would be good for you and him to meet. Being apart of the adventurer’s guild meant that you had interacted with many different individuals, and could share your knowledge of the mortal world.

As time passed, strangers would turn to acquaintances, then acquaintances would turn into friends. The label of which Xiao himself bestowed upon you on an ordinary afternoon. It made your heart both soar at the heartfelt admission and sink to hear such a definitive term. You always hoped there would be room for something more.

Xiao blinked up at you on the ladder. In a matter of seconds, he saw your eyes go wide with recognition, then your feet slipping against the ladder’s surface. Thankfully, he had reflexes as quick as an electro thunderstorm. You tumbled forward, straight into his arms.

“X-Xiao?!” you squeaked.

He didn’t let you go just yet. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, trying to let the shock of the fall pass over you.

“This ladder is too unbalanced,” he said. “You should be more careful.”

You could only nod. Your brain was more occupied with your proximity to Xiao. How you could see the different shades of amber in the irises of his eyes, and the shape of his lips.

Some part of your consciousness pinched itself, and you whipped your head away.

“I-I didn’t realize. That’s my mistake,” you answered with a sheepish chuckle.

He gave a short sigh before gently letting you stand. The places where his strong grip held you still tingled against your skin.

“Also… the flower one,” Xiao mumbled.

You cocked your head, thinking you had misheard him. “I’m sorry?”

Xiao folded his arms, nodding towards the lantern pole.

“You asked about the decorations. The flower one would… look nice.”

Never had such simple words caused a flutter in your stomach.

If that wasn’t enough, Xiao remained with you, lending a hand where he could. He didn’t want there to be an accident if he had left you alone. What he didn’t expect was that you seemed to be more clumsier as time continued. Unable to step on the ladder without your knees wobbling, tripping over the boxes of decorations, dropping the tools every time you went to hang a decoration up. Considerate as he was, Xiao climbed ladders, moved boxes, and hammered things in place for you without protest. Though, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but be concerned.

Verr Goldet returned to find the pair hard at work. She observed, amusingly, how obvious you were being about your feelings and how oblivious the other was in seeing them.

Ah, youth, she mused to herself.

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patient has been experiencing raised bodily temperature…

Telling Xiao not to worry was like telling the waters in Chenyu Vale not to flow. It was a simple law of nature; a force unable to be stopped.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine,” you emphasized for a second time.

You were seated on the small sofa in your living room. Beside you, Xiao also sat, straight-backed and gloved hands in his lap.

Xiao had come to your home to visit. Both out of curiosity as to how mortals lived in their own dwellings and curiosity about you. More specifically, why you had been so flushed recently. Whenever he saw you, he noticed the pink that spread from tips of your ears to apples of your cheeks.

“There are signs that show otherwise,” he stated, bluntly.

Ever since that time he helped you decorate the inn, Xiao had been much, much more attentive towards you. Eyes examining you up and down with little subtlety. Under such a gaze, how could you not become hot and bothered?

“I am not familiar with mortal health, but I have noticed you’ve grown more…” Xiao searched for the right descriptor in his head, “…redder, recently.”

Archons, does he know about it?! you thought to yourself with alarm. He turned towards you, and you stifled a yelp. There was no way in Celestia this was how he would find out.

“It may be due to some kind of illness.”

It took a moment for his words to register in your head. An… illness?

Sensing the confusion on your face, Xiao moved nearer until he was right by your side. He lifted a hand up to your forehead, an action he had observed many adults perform on children to assess their temperature. If he was correct in its function, then this should allow him to draw an appropriate conclusion.

Your body locked up.

He was so, so close once again.

“Even now,” the slight gravel of his tone reverberated in your ears, “your face is heating up. It is likely a fever.”

He pulled away. You exhaled a breath that you subconsciously held.

“I can take you to see Baizhu. He will know what to do.”

Xiao stood up, implying that he would take you there right now.

“No, no! There’s absolutely no need!” you protested.

The emphatic rejection made Xiao frown.

“I-it’s nothing that bedrest can’t fix.” you said, attempting to provide a convincing cover. “There’s no need to waste your teleportation powers to transport me.”

“It is no waste if it concerns your health,” he answered.

“You know what,” you shot up from the sofa, “I’ll go to my room right now to get some sleep!”

Xiao opened his mouth, prepared with his own protest. However, you were faster than him in continuing your sentence.

“You should go now, Xiao. I wouldn’t want you to catch whatever sickness I have.”

Though he appreciated your consideration, as an adeptus with a completely different constitution, he was certain mortal ailments would hardly affect him. However, he couldn't explain all that to you with how fast you marched away to your room, leaving him behind.

He saw your head poke out from behind the door of your bedroom.

“Thank you for visiting me!” you called out before shutting the door.

If Xiao knew this word, he would have used it to describe the exact emotion he was feeling at this moment: Flabbergasted.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

patient’s heartrate is frequently elevated…

Even after the fever incident, Xiao, to your relief, still wished to see you. You half expected him to be so bewildered by your actions that he would no longer want to be associated with you. So, you two returned to your ordinary routines of meeting with each other.

Xiao liked having your company in the evenings before he went out on patrol. As you sat on the edge of his bed, you would tell him about your week’s completed commissions. For Xiao, it served many purposes. Tactically, he could get insight any threats to Liyue that he couldn’t detect if you were involved in or overheard any significant commissions. In those first instances of meeting with you, Xiao would have said that that was the only purpose your stories held for him. But, with each passing night, Xiao realized he rather enjoyed hearing your voice. The cadence of your tone soothed him the same way notes played by a skilled musician captured an audience. He then found his lips curving into a hidden smile whenever you described a particularly frustrating encounter. Cheeks puffed in annoyance that drew a word from his vocabulary that he seldom used: cute.

Tonight, however, you appeared to be in no such mood for stories.

You were quiet, slowly flipping through pages of a novel as you read. It wasn’t strange for you to complete your own activity during this time, but Xiao had come to anticipate your conversation. His concerns about your health bubbled to the surface once again.

If he had focused more closely on you, he would have seen that your attention was far from the words on the page. Not looking at Xiao meant your heart could be less out on your sleeve and instead encased within muscle and bone where its supposed to be.

Xiao glanced back at you, eyes glued to the novel. He wouldn’t push it. Maybe this was the rest you were speaking about previously to help you recover.

He grabbed his shoulder armor from the bedside table, preparing to put it on himself using one hand as he had done hundreds of times before.

Two hands grasped the armor, lifting it from his own grasp.

“Let me help you.”

Your voice was delicate, almost hesitant as you reached out.

Xiao wordlessly accepted, sitting down on the bed to grant you easier access. You adjusted the spiked armor piece, making sure it laid flat and the black material beneath was secure around his shoulder.

Whilst you didn’t look up at him, he freely observed you. There was something beneath your avoidant gaze and bitten lower lip he couldn’t quite decipher. At the same time, there was something in his chest that stirred.

So unfamiliar with these new emotions you seemed to bring for him, Xiao could only think in somethings.

“Thank you,” he said. “You are very kind.”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “It’s always easier to have someone else helping you out.”

Fitting the amour in place, you went to pull away. Suddenly, Xiao caught your wrist with his hand.

The breath escaped your lungs. You blinked rapidly, wondering if you were imagining all this in your head. Xiao brought two fingers to your wrist, applying light pressure onto your skin.

“Your pulse...” concern laced his voice as he spoke. “It is quite fast.”

How could he even sense such a thing!? You cleared your throat, trying to temper your shock.

“It’s always naturally this high,” you answered as light-hearted as possible.

“Mhm,” Xiao could only hum with mild suspicion.

Willing his jade spear to materialize, Xiao weighed it in his hand, readying for the night’s patrol.

“Look after yourself,” he said gently. “I’ll return tomorrow.”

With a nod and a lilt in your voice you replied, “I know. You always do.”

Xiao headed to the balcony. He did not turn around to face you, and therefore missed your tender gaze and your fingers brushing over your wrist where his gloved touch still lingered on your skin.

Disappearing into the night, Xiao made up his mind. He would go consult Baizhu about your condition and see what the course of action he should take. Surely the well practiced doctor could provide some necessary answers.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

During the first part of Xiao’s recounts, Baizhu had a pretty good guess about what was happening with you. By the halfway point, he wondered if he should even continue feigning writing patient notes.

Xiao finished relaying his information, hands now on his hips—expectantly. “What do you think is happening?”

Baizhu tapped his pen against the page of the notebook. It certainly is a very special type of sickness… he thought to himself. How would Xiao react if he told him he diagnosed you with 'lovesickness'?

“Will Y/N be okay?” Qiqi asked, tugging on Baizhu’s white coat. “I like Y/N. They always give warm hugs.”

The doctor gave a reassuring smile and patted Qiqi’s head. “Yes, they’ll be alright. I’ve made my assessment.”

Xiao prepared himself. If it was serious, he needed to know how to best help you. Comparatively, Baizhu appeared not the least bit troubled. Turning to the adeptus, he drummed his fingers against the table.

“Did you notice a particular trend in the occurrence of these symptoms?”

“A trend?” Xiao repeated, resting his chin on his hand.

Maybe it had to do with the weather? Or something you had eaten on those days?

“Yes, they all seem to happen when you’re there,” Baizhu answered seeing Xiao unable to come to a conclusion. “Being more clumsy, feeling hot, a fast beating heart, but only around a certain someone…”

Xiao’s brows raised. “Am I the cause of Y/N’s illness? Is my karmic debt responsible for this?”

Baizhu shook his head immediately. “No, no, Archons no! I can assure you that these symptoms have nothing to do with your karma.”

He sighed, trying to switch his words. “Rather, it’s more to do with your… character.”

“My character?” Exasperated confusion was permanently affixed to Xiao’s face. “This ambiguity you speak with is unhelpful.”

Baizhu had done some tough things as a doctor. But trying to subtly hint to a somewhat emotionally unaware individual that someone had a crush on him was certainly one of the hardest.

He paused a moment. Was it really his place to reveal this? Wouldn’t it be far better, and more meaningful, for you to tell him on your own?

“Some symptoms that people report are actually very normal parts of everyday living,” he said, adopting his most professional tone. "My recommendation is for you to ask Y/N how they’ve been feeling recently, and to tell them that it’s never healthy to keep things bottled up inside.”

Finally, some advice for Xiao to action.

“You think I should be more direct in my confrontation?” he asked.

“Yes, but not too much to arouse anxiety.”

Xiao nodded thoughtfully. He should have known that it didn’t have to be a physical illness—maybe your symptoms were a manifestation of stress or worry you were experiencing. Talking it out would be a good step. Even if he was not the most skilled at it, he would try anything to help you feel better.

“I will take your advice. Thank you, Baizhu.”

He bowed his head in thanks. Baizhu gave a hum of what sounded like satisfaction.

“Tell me how it all goes, Conqueror of Demons.”

Baizhu’s voice as he spoke was a little too singsong for Xiao’s taste. But, he was one of the best doctors in Liyue, so who was he to second guess his words?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #25

Danny Fenton hadn’t meant to punch Captain America in the face. In fact, he’d spent the better part of the week trying not to punch anyone, despite the rapidly growing laundry list of reasons to lose his cool—like not sleeping for seventy-two hours because Technus decided to merge his data with every Bluetooth speaker in the tri-state area, or the GIW tracking his every move again, or that weird, suspicious portal energy he kept picking up from somewhere labeled Stark Tower. Danny was running on fumes, ghostly adrenaline, and one too many Red Bulls when it happened. Really, the stars aligned perfectly for an international incident.

He’d only been in New York for six hours, trying to find the source of the energy spike without alerting every superhero on the block—because the last thing he needed was to get into it with the Avengers. Again. The last time had involved Hulk trying to punch a ghost and failing miserably, Thor throwing Mjölnir into the Ghost Zone, and Iron Man demanding to know if ectoplasm was FDA approved. It was a whole thing.

Danny was crouched on the rooftop of some high-rise, scanning with a modified Fenton Specter-Tracker, eyes bloodshot and twitching slightly. He hadn’t slept since Monday. It was Thursday.

“Hey, kid,” came a voice behind him, calm but firm.

Danny spun like a feral cat, eyes glowing, hair frizzed out with ghost static. He registered the silhouette of a man—tall, broad-shouldered, carrying a star-shaped shield—and his brain went danger. Ghost hunter? No. GIW agent? No. Super-soldier-hydra-time-travel-experiment?

He didn’t even process it. He just swung.

There was a crack like a thunderclap, followed by the very human sound of pain—a grunt that broke mid-voice like it had surprised the man himself. Captain Steve Rogers staggered back, hand pressed to his jaw, blinking stars out of his vision and trying to comprehend the fact that someone had just hit him hard enough to make him feel it. Not just feel it—wince. His serum-enhanced, war-hardened, literally-punched-by-Thor-once jaw hurt.

Danny stood frozen, fist still outstretched, pupils blown wide in horror.

“Oh my God. Oh my God. I just punched Captain America. I just decked the star-spangled man with a plan. I am so sorry—I thought you were a ghost! Or like—a time-traveling war criminal! Wait, that’s redundant—”

“Okay, wow,” Steve mumbled, touching his jaw again. “That’s definitely gonna bruise.”

Danny looked like he was about to combust. “Why were you behind me like that?! Who just materializes out of nowhere and says ‘hey, kid’ in the middle of a rooftop stakeout?! I thought I was being ambushed!”

Steve blinked. “I was asking for directions.”

Danny gasped. “You were WHAT?”

Steve looked sheepish. “Tony dropped me off on the wrong building. Said, and I quote, ‘GPS is for cowards.’ I’ve been circling the same three blocks for twenty minutes.”

Danny stared. “Captain America got lost and asked a sleep-deprived half-ghost teenager for directions?”

“I didn’t know you were a sleep-deprived half-ghost teenager,” Steve said defensively. “You looked… competent. Specter-tracker aside.”

Danny made a strangled noise and sat down hard, face buried in his hands. “I’m going to be assassinated by your PR team.”

Steve rubbed his jaw again. “You’re stronger than you look.”

“That is not the point here!”

“No, seriously,” Steve insisted, kneeling down. “That punch? I’ve taken hits from Thanos. You rattled me.”

Danny peeked through his fingers. “Are you flirting with me?”

“What? No!”

“You’re complimenting my punch like it’s a pickup line.”

“I’m—okay, no. You’re a kid.”

“I’m nineteen!”

Steve squinted. “You look like you’ve been through five timelines and one midlife crisis.”

“I have!” Danny wailed. “Do you know what it’s like to babysit the entire ghost population of the afterlife and then accidentally elbow Thor in the ribs during a training session because you forgot he was behind you?! I’m a walking international crisis!”

Steve paused. “Wait. You trained with Thor?”

“Long story. I died once, came back, now I punch ghosts for fun and may or may not be legally considered a WMD by six governments.”

Steve took a long breath. “Do all teenagers do this now? Or is this just a… you thing?”

Danny groaned. “Just me. I’m special.”

Steve lowered his shield and sat cross-legged like they were about to have a heart-to-heart. “You okay, kid?”

“No! I haven’t slept in three days, my enemies keep possessing animatronics to scare me, and I just committed accidental patriotic assault!”

Steve tried not to smile. He really did. “You got a name?”

Danny sighed. “Danny. Danny Fenton. Or Phantom. Depends on how you know me.”

Steve looked intrigued. “You’re the ghost kid.”

Danny flinched. “I prefer ghost young adult, thank you.”

“You’re the one Nick Fury won’t shut up about.”

Danny’s eyes widened. “He talks about me?”

“Nonstop. Every meeting. ‘The ghost kid leveled a tank with his pinky finger!’ ‘The ghost kid opened a portal to another dimension with a yawn!’” Steve did a passable impression of Fury’s gruff voice. “‘You think your team’s strong? Try containing a seventeen-year-old who talks to the dead like it’s a podcast!’”

Danny laughed, a bit unhinged, definitely sleep-deprived. “I did do the tank thing. That was an accident.”

“Fury thinks you’re the future.”

“That’s horrifying.”

“You’re not wrong.”

Danny looked at him warily. “Are you gonna try to recruit me?”

Steve considered. “Honestly? Not until you’ve slept. You look like you’d punch Thor if he asked you for coffee.”

“I have, and I did, and he was proud of me.”

“…Of course he was.”

There was a moment of silence, just the city humming beneath them, both of them sitting cross-legged like two war veterans who somehow found themselves on a rooftop in Manhattan instead of the battlefield they were clearly built for.

“So,” Steve said eventually. “You gonna tell me why you’re camped out here?”

Danny pointed to the tracker. “Someone in that building”—he gestured vaguely toward Stark Tower—“is leaking interdimensional ghost radiation like it’s designer cologne. I was trying to be subtle.”

Steve looked at the tower. “That’s Tony.”

Danny blinked. “Tony Stark is radiating ectoplasmic energy?”

“Yeah. He bought a ghost portal off eBay last month. Said it’d be good for ‘multiverse surveillance.’ It… got loose.”

Danny stood up so fast he swayed. “I knew it! I told Jazz that someone was messing with rogue ghost portals again and she said I was paranoid! I am paranoid! But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong!”

“You’re… very high-strung.”

Danny glared. “Do you have a collection of alternate-universe versions of yourself constantly trying to kill you?”

Steve held up his hands. “Fair.”

Suddenly, Danny wobbled. His legs buckled, and Steve caught him with a grunt. “Woah, hey, hey! Okay, that’s enough hero time for now.”

“I’m fine,” Danny slurred. “I’ve just been awake for three days. It’s not a problem unless I—”

He passed out.

Steve stared down at the kid—a half-dead, glowing teen who apparently punched like a demigod and talked like a sitcom character on speed—and muttered, “…Tony owes me so much alcohol for this.”

He slung Danny over his shoulder and started walking toward the Tower.

A few floors down, Tony Stark looked up from his holograms and blinked as the elevator pinged open.

Steve walked in carrying what looked like a sleep-dead raccoon in human form.

Tony blinked. “Did you adopt a raccoon?”

“He punched me.”

Tony raised an eyebrow. “…You?”

“Knocked me back five feet.”

Tony whistled. “Damn. Strong raccoon.”

“He’s nineteen. Name’s Danny Fenton. Ghost kid.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. The one Fury thinks is a nuclear bomb with social anxiety.”

Steve dumped Danny on the nearest couch. “Let him sleep. He earned it.”

Tony looked down at Danny. “Should I be worried he’s glowing?”

“No. But maybe hide the ghost portal.”

Tony scoffed. “I knew someone was tracking it.”

Danny stirred, groaning, “Stark, I swear to the Ancients, if I wake up and your toaster is haunted again, I’m putting salt in your arc reactor…”

Steve stared. “Wait, what?”

Tony sighed. “Long story. Ghosts don’t like me. Something about my attitude.”

Steve sat down, already dreading explaining this to Fury.

Across the room, Danny turned on his side, mumbled, “Tell the Captain I didn’t mean to punch him…”

Steve looked over, surprisingly fond. “It’s fine, kid. I’ve had worse.”

Danny let out a soft snore.

Tony grinned. “You’re getting soft.”

“He reminds me of Bucky.”

Tony choked. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged. “If Bucky died and came back with ghost powers, he’d absolutely punch me in the face for fun.”

“…Okay, yeah, that tracks.”

And thus began the weird, wonderful, mildly catastrophic journey of Danny Fenton, ghost boy, menace to the Avengers, and accidental best friend to Captain America, who still rubbed his jaw now and then, remembering the punch that nearly knocked out a super-soldier’s tooth.

[skinnyhmhas]

oxytocin ❦ b.e

smut, pervert!sub!billie, dirty talk, masturbation, sex call & bestfriends au

billie knew what she was doing was wrong. well, not that wrong. she cursed under her breath when she saw her state: legs spread, her body on the couch in her house, her hair was tied in a messy ponytail, pulling down her baggy jeans to be in nothing but her white panties with a small flower on top.

she let out a whimper as she noticed a large portion of her underwear was wet. she bit her lip, quickly grabbing her phone. what she did was call you. yes, in the middle of the night, call you, her best friend.

you answered instantly, of course, it was billie, you wouldn't hesitate for a second to answer her call. she let out a sigh of relief, her fingers beginning to go down to her covered pussy.

"hi, bils?" your voice. a drug for billie, who began to move two of her fingers over her underwear. "what happened?"

"uh—hi, i...i just needed to hear your voice." and in part it was true, but not for the reason you thought.

"oh, how cute." you smiled, so you decided to start talking about your day since you had gone shopping, surely billie would be interested. "well, i went shopping today."

billie closed her eyes tightly, trying to keep her whimpers in the back of her throat. "what more, pretty girl?" the nickname took you by surprise.

of course billie always treated you like that, but there was something more intimate about the way she said it, her voice husky in the middle of the night. it felt like a secret, a good secret. you settled into your bed, on the other side of the city, blushing. thank god billie wasn't sitting next to you.

"i went shopping for clothes, i didn't like almost anything that store sold...it was all very modern. so i went to buy some underwear, do you remember that night here at home when i told you i needed more?" of course billie remembered it.

she remembered the way her pussy got wet just hearing you talk about it, she was like that all night and when she got home the next morning she smashed a vibrator against her clit screaming your name.

now her fingers were no longer on her underwear, but were now inside. she felt how wet she really was, how much her clit wanted to be stimulated. she let out a low moan. your eyes filled with confusion at that sound billie had made, what was wrong with her?

"bils, are you...okay?" you asked genuinely concerned, she stopped moving her fingers trying to take a deep breath and calm down.

"yes, keep talking." you weren't entirely convinced, but you still started talking about your day again.

and that fucking underwear. billie imagine your fingers stimulating her clit, hearing your voice describing your new underwear. "it's like lace, i bought it in many colors but my favorites are perhaps the dark red ones."

billie's back arched, biting her lip so hard she thought it would bleed. her thighs clenched, her eyes turning white. she could feel her juices everywhere, waiting for her. she imagined you, she had seen your ass so many times without any shame that she knew exactly what it was like, the same with your tits. now it was a challenge to keep her moans in, and then she stopped teasing her clit and buried a finger inside.

"i was also thinking about wearing a skirt tomorrow, which was the only thing i bought at the other store that poorly covers my ass. it's weird...it looks like lingerie." every fucking word that came out of your mouth made billie's mind spin, covering her mouth with one of her hands.

her hand on her mouth didn't last long because she quickly used it to touch her own tits, she couldn't hold out much longer. "mmh—" she let out a loud moan.

"billie!?"

fuck.

she stopped her movements, mentally slapping herself for not being more careful. her cheeks were now red, and she felt embarrassed.

"w—what...?" she tried to hide it.

"are you fucking yourself right now?" the world stopped spinning for her, she knew she couldn't hide the truth from you, you knew her too well.

billie should have hung up, turned off her phone, and lied that she had fallen asleep, but no, she just quickly removed her fingers from her throbbing pussy. she gave a nervous laugh, clearing her throat.

"what?—no, no dude, i—" her breath caught in her lungs, she quickly covered her underwear with a sheet, as if you could see her.

there was silence for what seemed like an eternity but was only six seconds. you relaxed your body, putting your phone close to your ear, bare thighs.

"keep going." was your only answer.

silence again. you thought for a moment that billie would hang up and never speak to you again, but you heard her heavy breathing, combined with small whimpers. she had returned her fingers to her clit, desperate to cum with you on her mind.

"you like it, don't you?" you smiled, your own hand ending up in your pussy, doing exactly the same thing as billie.

"please— keep talking... i'll do whatever you want."

billie begged. she wanted to hear you moan for her, to explain in detail how you want to fuck her, how you should thrusts your fingers into her desperate pussy, moving them mercilessly.

"do you like hearing my voice while you fuck yourself? god, i can imagine how many times you've done this..." your voice was full of moans, as you were touching yourself as well.

billie closed her eyes once more, letting herself be carried away by your sounds, releasing hers with more force.

"remember those nights when i dressed in such little things? it was so you could fuck me with your eyes, mmh— and stay wet for the rest of the night." it was so intoxicating the way you were talking to your best friend while you put two fingers inside you.

she felt like she was in heaven, moving her head, pressing her cheek to the pillow and starting to moan louder as she inserted another finger.

"such a fucking slut—god, fuck...fuck me." billie growled, ending her sentence with another plea.

"it's what i always wanted to do." you confessed.

your own moans were becoming more and more chaotic, bringing you to the edge of your orgasm. and billie was just the same, the sounds of you two pussies along with your whimpers and her moans were a dream come true.

"i'm...i'm close, mama." billie could feel her eyes filling with tears.

"fucking cum with me, slutty baby." you tried to speak, closing your eyes, your orgasm beginning to hit every part of your body.

your best friend moaned your name, her juices spilling onto the palm of her hand, her tits bouncing on her own.

"fuck—mmh!"

you both came at the same time, and the call remained silent, only her low moans could be heard. a few seconds passed, you decided to speak when you were already much better

"bils?" you called her.

"y—yeah?" her voice was soft, waiting for something.

"next time just tell me what you're doing from the beginning." you laughed. "and i'll help you in person."

billie felt a flutter in her stomach, excited that you were saying that to her. she relaxed her body, smiling at the ceiling.

"okay." you both laughed this time.

"so..." you paused for a moment. "now can i send you a picture of my new underwear?" billie almost choked.

and without realizing it she was already beginning to stimulate her lower abdomen once again, going down to her pussy. "fuck, yeah."

she needed you for the oxytocin.

and you were happy to help.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Heavy Love

Summary: Carlos got a surgery of his appendix but that doesn't stop him from treating his girl how he usually does

Song: Heavy Love - Odetari

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 4.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The fluorescent lights of the hospital room hummed, a sterile symphony that did little to soothe the anxiety churning in your stomach.

Carlos lay in the bed, pale but smiling, a testament to the surgery that had sliced through his appendix just days ago. You sat beside him, a vigil, your hand hovering just above his, afraid to touch too hard.

"You okay, babe?" he asked, his voice a little weaker than usual, but with that familiar teasing glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, just... thinking," you replied, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Thinking about how much better you're going to feel when you're fully recovered."

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that made you wince internally. "You think I don't feel good now? I've got you here, fussing over me like a mother hen. What could be better?"

You shot him a playful glare. "Don't get cute. You nearly died. A burst appendix is not a joke, Carlos."

"I know, I know," he conceded, his smile softening. He reached out, his fingers brushing against yours. "But I'm here, thanks to you. You got me to the hospital in time."

You squeezed his hand gently, relief washing over you. "I was so scared."

The days that followed were a blur of cautious optimism and tireless care. You transformed into his personal nurse, meticulously following the doctor's instructions, making sure he took his medication, and preparing bland, easily digestible meals.

You read to him, watched movies with him, and kept him company during the endless hours of boredom.

But a strange tension had settled between you, a quiet distance born out of your fear. You were so acutely aware of his fragile state, of the stitches holding his abdomen together, that you hesitated to be the same way you were before.

Intimacy, once a natural and joyous part of your relationship, now felt like walking on eggshells.

He noticed, of course. Carlos always noticed.

"You're being weird," he said one evening as you were settling him in for the night.

"Weird how?" you asked, avoiding his gaze as you adjusted his pillows.

"Like you're afraid to breathe too loud in case I shatter," he chuckled.

"Don't be silly," you mumbled, fiddling with the remote control.

"Come on, be honest. You're acting like I'm made of glass. I appreciate the care, I really do. But you're treating me like I'm some delicate porcelain doll."

You finally met his eyes, your own filled with a mixture of worry and guilt. "I just… I don't want to hurt you. You're still recovering. What if I accidentally put pressure on your stitches, or something?"

He sighed, reaching for your hand again. "You're not going to hurt me. I know you're being careful."

"But…" you started to protest.

"But nothing," he interrupted gently. "I miss you. I miss us. And I'm not talking about running a marathon or anything. I just miss being close."

Your heart ached at his words. You missed it too, more than you could say. You missed the way he would pull you into his arms, the warmth of his body against yours, the feeling of being completely and utterly safe.

But the fear was a powerful force, a constant reminder of his recent brush with mortality.

"I don't know, Carlos," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes. "I'm just so afraid of doing something wrong."

He pulled you closer, his arm carefully encircling your waist. "Hey," he murmured, his voice soothing. "Look at me. I know you're scared. But I'm okay. I promise. And I trust you. I trust you to be careful."

He leaned in and kissed you softly, a chaste, lingering kiss that sent a shiver down your spine. It wasn't the passionate, all-consuming kisses you were used to, but it was enough to remind you of the deep connection you shared.

"Please," he whispered against your lips. "Don't let this surgery change everything between us."

Over the next few weeks, you started to relax, to trust yourself and trust Carlos. You still took precautions, of course. You avoided strenuous activities and made sure he didn't overexert himself. But you also allowed yourselves to rediscover the intimacy you had lost.

Slowly, tentatively, you began to rebuild the bridge that fear had threatened to destroy. You started with simple things – cuddling on the couch while watching movies, holding hands during walks, sharing gentle kisses.

You talked, really talked, about your fears and anxieties, and about the importance of physical touch in your relationship.

One evening, as you were preparing dinner, Carlos came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You stiffened slightly, your muscles tensing in anticipation.

"Relax," he whispered in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "I just want to hold you."

You leaned back against him, letting his warmth seep into you. "Are you sure you're okay?" you asked, your voice still laced with concern.

He chuckled. "I'm fine. You're not going to break me by standing here."

You closed your eyes, breathing in his familiar scent. "I love you," you whispered.

"I love you too," he replied, squeezing you tighter. "More than a functioning appendix can ever express."

You laughed, the sound lighter and more joyful than it had been in weeks.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked.

You smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached your eyes. "You don't have to ask."

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, passionate kiss that deepened with each passing moment. You ran your fingers through his hair, relishing the feel of his body against yours.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, he looked at you with a hopeful expression. "Can we…?" he started, then hesitated. "Can we be… closer?"

You knew what he was asking. The fear was still there, lurking in the back of your mind, but it was no longer as overwhelming as it had been. You trusted him, and you trusted yourself.

"Yes," you whispered, your heart pounding in your chest. "But we take it slow, okay? And if anything hurts, you tell me immediately."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with joy. "Deal."

"Wait until after dinner though," you muttered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "I don't want to get distracted and burn the food."

Carlos pouted, his eyes drifting to the tray of hospital cuisine that had been delivered earlier. "But I hate this hospital food," he begged.

"Nope, you have to eat," you said firmly, placing a hand on his cheek. "Do it for me." You tried to make it sound like a playful dare, but the underlying concern was clear.

He groaned, his eyes drifting to the tray of hospital food that looked as appealing as a soggy cardboard box. "Come on," he whined. "You know how much I hate this stuff."

"I do," you said, your voice laced with amusement. "But it's part of the deal. You want to get better, right?"

With a dramatic sigh, he picked up his plastic fork and poked at the lifeless pile of food on his tray. "Fine," he grumbled, taking a tiny bite. "But you're going to pay for this later."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension between you momentarily easing. "How about I make you a deal?" you suggested. "If you eat all of this, I'll give you a little something extra to make it worth your while."

His eyes lit up. "What kind of extra?"

You leaned closer, your breath tickling his ear. "The kind of extra that involves me, you, and a lot of gentle touches."

He swallowed hard, the food suddenly seeming a bit more palatable. "Deal," he said, attacking the meal with renewed enthusiasm.

Each bite he took was a silent declaration of his love and desire for you, his stomach grumbling in protest but his resolve unwavering. You watched him with a smile, feeling a thrill of excitement building in your core.

As he worked his way through the meal, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the promise you had made. Your body grew warm with anticipation, and you felt the familiar ache between your legs.

You had missed this, the thrill of the chase, the delicious buildup to something so much more satisfying than any meal could ever be.

When the last bite was gone, he looked at you expectantly. "Well?"

You took a deep breath, your hand shaking slightly as you reached for the tray. "Alright, you win," you said, setting it aside. "But only because you ate all your food."

He grinned mischievously. "I'm not just playing for fun, you know," he murmured, his hand sliding down to your waist, his fingers tracing the curve of your hip.

You felt your cheeks flush as you turned to face him. "What do you mean?"

Carlos' grin grew wider, his eyes darkening with desire. "I mean, I've missed feeling your body against mine, your breath on my skin, your touch driving me wild."

His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing your jawline. "I want you, all of you. But we're going to take it slow, just like you said."

Your heart raced as he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft, tentative kiss. His movements were cautious, as if he was afraid to startle you or cause him any pain.

You melted into him, the gentle pressure of his mouth on yours sending waves of need crashing through your body. Your hands found his shoulders, holding him close, as you deepened the kiss.

"Carlos," you murmured against his mouth, your voice filled with a desperation that had been building for weeks.

He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes for any signs of doubt. "Are you sure?"

You nodded, your pulse pounding in your throat. "Yes. I need this. We need this."

He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that reached his eyes. "Okay, then. But…" he paused, his brow furrowing slightly. "We have to be careful. I don't want to rip my stitches."

You chuckled, relief flooding through you. "Believe me, I'm acutely aware of your stitches. We'll take it very, very slow."

He nodded, his eyes still filled with that hopeful look that made you want to do anything for him.

You moved closer, placing a soft kiss on the tip of his nose before trailing your lips down to the corner of his mouth, feeling the stubble of his unshaven cheek against your skin.

His eyes fluttered closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips as you continued to explore his face with gentle pecks.

"I've missed this," he whispered, his hand moving to the small of your back, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded, feeling the same longing. "Me too."

Taking his hand in yours, you led him to the bedroom, the dim light of the hallway casting shadows that danced across the wall. The room was filled with the faint scent of his cologne, a comforting reminder of the life you shared before the surgery.

You helped him onto the bed, his weight shifting the mattress beneath you as he settled in, wincing slightly at the movement.

You took a moment to admire him, his strong frame now marred by the surgery scar that snaked under the bandages across his abdomen.

The sight of it brought back the fear of that night, the helplessness you felt as you watched the doctor's face grow grim with the news of his condition. But here he was, alive and with you, and that was all that mattered.

"Lay down," you instructed softly, your voice a gentle command that made him comply without question.

The bedroom was a sanctuary, a place where you had shared countless moments of passion before the surgery. Now, it was a battleground of nerves and anticipation. You approached him with the grace of a gazelle, each step measured and careful.

"I'm okay," he reassured, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the air. "Really."

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the last few weeks slowly lifting from your shoulders. You straddled his legs, his hands coming up to rest gently on your thighs.

The fabric of your pajamas was the only barrier between his skin and yours, a barrier that was suddenly unbearable.

"Can I take these off?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

"If you promise to be gentle," he said with a hint of a smirk.

You nodded, your fingers trembling slightly as you began to peel back the bandages. The stark white of the gauze was a stark contrast to the tanned skin of his stomach.

You took a moment to examine the neat line of his incision, the skin around it slightly pink and tender. You kissed it softly, feeling the warmth of his body under your lips.

"Careful," he warned, his eyes half-closed with pleasure.

You nodded, taking in the sight of his body before you. You had seen him naked countless times before, but this was different. There was a newfound respect, a newfound gentleness in the way you regarded his body now.

Each scar, each imperfection, was a testament to his strength and the life you had together.

You began to kiss him again, starting at his forehead, moving down to his cheeks, his neck, his collarbone. Each kiss was a declaration of your love and your care, a promise to be gentle, to cherish him.

Your mouth found the pulse at the base of his neck, his heartbeat a steady rhythm that matched yours. You felt his breathing quicken, his body responding to your touch.

He reached up, his hand cupping the back of your head as he guided your mouth back to his. His kisses grew more insistent, his tongue sliding against yours, a silent plea for more.

You felt your body come alive, the ache between your legs growing more intense.

As you kissed him, you felt his hand slide under the fabric of your shirt, his fingertips brushing against the bare skin of your back. He groaned, the sound resonating through your body like a physical caress.

It was a sound that had always made you melt, a sound that had always meant he wanted more, needed more, and now it was back, a sweet reminder of the passion you shared.

You pulled away for a moment, looking into his eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked, the question almost redundant as the desire in his gaze was answer enough.

He groaned, not from pain but from pure need. "More than okay," he murmured, his voice thick with lust.

Encouraged by his response, you allowed his hands to roam, feeling the warmth of his palms as they glided over your skin.

They traced the contours of your body, exploring every curve and dip with a reverence that made you feel cherished, desired despite his weakened state. His thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of your ribcage, sending shivers up your spine.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

You blushed, feeling vulnerable and exposed. "You make me feel like it," you whispered.

As your kisses grew more fervent, you became acutely aware of your weight, the softness of your body that you had always loved, and sometimes loathed. You shifted slightly, trying to balance yourself so that you weren't putting too much pressure on his stitches.

The thought of causing him pain was unbearable, so you carefully placed your hands on his chest, using your arms to hold yourself up as you kissed him.

"Put all your weight on me," Carlos murmured, his eyes open and searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You bit your bottom lip, feeling the heat of his body beneath you. The urge to give in was strong, but the fear of causing him pain held you back. "I don't want to hurt you," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Trust me, I've got you," he said, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you closer. "I can handle it."

You took a deep breath and did as he asked, feeling the softness of your flesh pressing against the firmness of his abdomen. The sensation was strange at first, a mix of fear and excitement.

But as he kissed you harder, as his hands roamed over your back and his hips began to move slightly beneath you, the fear melted away, leaving only desire.

You felt the heat of his skin, the steady throb of his heart against your palms. His breaths grew quicker, his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath.

The sensation was exquisite, a gentle reminder of the passion that had always burned between you. You could feel his erection growing, pressing against your center, but you held back, not wanting to push him too far, too fast.

"We can stop," you whispered, your voice laced with concern.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "No, please don't stop." His voice was thick with need, the words a desperate plea.

You leaned back slightly, breaking the kiss to remove your shirt, revealing your braless breasts to the cool air of the room. His eyes followed the movement, dark with desire.

You watched as his hand hovered over the fabric of your pajama pants, his knuckles brushing against the swollen bud of your clit. You gasped, the sensation sending shockwaves through your body.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as his hand slipped under the waistband, his fingers finding your slick heat. He stroked you gently, his movements tentative and careful, as if he was worried that even the slightest touch would shatter you.

But as he grew more confident, his touch grew bolder, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers delved deeper.

Your hips began to rock against his hand, the pleasure building with each stroke. You moaned into his neck, your teeth grazing his skin, leaving a trail of kisses along his collarbone.

His breaths grew shallower, his hand moving faster as he matched the rhythm of your movements.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his voice filled with amazement and hunger. "You're always so wet for me."

You felt your cheeks flush with heat at his words. "It's just… you make me feel so… alive."

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against your chest. "Good to know I still have that effect on you."

You leaned down to kiss him again, your tongues dancing together as your bodies grew more in sync. His other hand found your breast, his thumb brushing against the tightened peak of your nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

As you reached down to undo the button of his pants, he stopped you, his hand covering yours. "Let me," he said, his voice strained with effort.

With trembling hands, he managed to open his fly, the sound of the zipper echoing in the quiet room. His erection sprang free, a testament to his desire.

You felt your own need growing, a warm ache that spread from your core to every part of your body. You reached out tentatively, wrapping your hand around his length, feeling the pulse of his blood beneath your fingertips.

"Careful," he warned, his voice tight with arousal.

You nodded, stroking him slowly, savoring the velvety feel of his skin against your palm. His eyes fell closed, his head tilting back into the pillow as he let out a low groan.

You watched him, memorizing the way his chest rose and fell, the way his abs tensed with each breath. You felt a strange mix of tenderness and hunger, a desire to both protect and claim him.

The sight of his scar, a stark reminder of his vulnerability, only served to fuel your passion.

As you worked your hand up and down his shaft, you leaned in to kiss him again, feeling his hips shift beneath you, urging you closer. The kiss grew deeper, his tongue sliding against yours in a silent demand for more.

Your body responded, arching into him, seeking the contact that you had been denied for so long.

"I need you," he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You nodded, understanding the desperation in his words. You leaned back, sliding off his pants and boxers, exposing him fully to the cool air. His cock stood at attention, a silent plea for your touch.

You kissed your way down his body, your mouth worshipping every inch of his skin. Your breasts brushed against his thighs as you moved, sending waves of sensation through you.

Positioning yourself above him, you hovered, your pussy mere inches from his erection. His hands tightened on your thighs, urging you closer.

You paused, looking down at him, his eyes full of need. The weight of his gaze was almost too much to bear, but the fear was still there, whispering in the back of your mind.

"I'm okay," he assured you, his voice strained with want. "I need you, baby. I need to feel you."

You took a deep breath and allowed yourself to sink down, feeling the tip of his cock press against your opening. The sensation was electric, sending a jolt through your body.

You hesitated, waiting for any sign of pain from him. When he only moaned in pleasure, you began to lower yourself, inch by delicious inch.

His cock slid into you, filling you completely. You bit your bottom lip to stifle a moan, feeling a mix of pleasure and relief. It had been too long since you had felt this connection, too long since you had been this intimate.

His eyes never left yours, his expression one of pure adoration.

"Oh, Carlos," you murmured, his name a prayer on your lips.

He groaned, his hips lifting slightly to meet yours. You began to move, the rhythm slow and steady. Each movement was a declaration of your love, a gentle dance that you both knew so well.

You could feel his cock stretching you, the sensation of fullness that you had missed for weeks. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve and valley with a tenderness that brought tears to your eyes.

You leaned back, sitting up straight as you rode him. The new angle allowed you to take him deeper, the feeling of him inside you making you dizzy with pleasure.

Your breasts bounced with each movement, the tips tightening with every stroke. His eyes never left you, drinking in the sight of your body, his hands moving to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples.

The friction grew, the sound of skin on skin filling the room. The ache between your legs grew stronger, your body begging for release. You leaned back further, placing your hands on his thighs for support.

The new angle allowed you to grind against him, the pressure building with every move. You watched his face, the way his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth gritted with each thrust.

"Mi amor," he whispered, the Spanish endearment rolling off his tongue like a warm caress. His hand slid down to the small of your back, guiding you, urging you to move in a way that brought him the most pleasure.

You felt a warmth spread through your body, a gentle wave of passion that grew stronger with every beat of his heart. You knew he was holding back, trying not to let the pain of his recent surgery overwhelm him.

But you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles tensed and relaxed with each movement. It was a dance you knew well, a delicate balance of pleasure and pain.

Leaning forward, you kissed him again, your mouths moving in a silent conversation of love and lust. His hands found their way to your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he urged you faster.

Your breasts pressed against his chest, the friction of your bodies setting your nerves alight. The room felt like it was spinning, the only anchor the warmth of his cock inside you.

"Más," he murmured, the word a plea that sent your body into overdrive. You picked up the pace, your hips moving in a rhythm that was as natural as breathing.

His breath grew ragged, his grip on your hips tightening as you rode him. His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. "Te amo," he said, the words a declaration that sent a shiver down your spine. "I love you."

You felt the orgasm build, a coil of pleasure that grew tighter with each stroke. You whispered the words back, the English translation feeling inadequate next to the Spanish. But you knew he understood, knew that your love was as deep and vast as the ocean.

His eyes searched yours, the depths of his love and desire reflecting in their dark pools. You felt his muscles tense beneath you, his cock swell even further inside you.

You knew he was close, could feel the tremor in his hands, the way his hips jerked with each movement.

"I'm going to come," he warned, his voice tight with restraint.

You nodded, feeling the same urgency building within you. Your walls tightened around him, the sensation of his impending release sending you hurtling towards your own climax. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you palpable.

You felt the muscles in his abdomen contract, a silent promise of the pleasure to come.

With a final, deep thrust, you felt him release inside you, his warmth filling you completely. Your own orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure that made your vision blur and your body quiver.

You collapsed onto him, your chest heaving as you both fought to catch your breath. His arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go.

The feel of his heart hammering against your cheek was a sweet symphony that only the two of you could understand.

"I love you," you murmured into his neck, feeling the sticky sweat on his skin.

"Te amo," he replied, his voice hoarse.

You remained still for a moment, basking in the afterglow, the fear of his fragility forgotten in the face of the overwhelming love you felt. But as your breathing slowed, the reality of his condition began to creep back in.

You lifted yourself off of him, careful not to cause any discomfort.

"How are you feeling?" you asked, your voice filled with concern.

He winced slightly as you moved, his hand coming to rest on the bandage across his stomach. "I'm okay," he assured you. "A little sore, but nothing I can't handle."

You kissed the spot gently, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the fabric. "Thank you," you whispered. "For letting me… for being so patient."

He chuckled, the sound a little strained. "What can I say, I'm a trooper."

You couldn't help but laugh, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the morning sun. "Yes, you are," you said, your eyes sparkling with affection.

The days that followed were a gentle reawakening of your love, a rediscovery of the passion that had always been there, simmering just beneath the surface. Each touch was a declaration of your care and desire, each kiss a promise that you would always be there for him.

One morning, you awoke to the feeling of his hand on your hip, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. You rolled over to face him, his eyes already open, watching you with a soft smile.

"Morning," he murmured, leaning in to kiss you.

You returned the kiss, feeling the warmth of his breath on your cheek. "Morning," you murmured back.

He shifted, his hand sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you closer. "Ready for round two?" he asked, his voice filled with mischief.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling despite yourself. "You're not going to let me have a break?" you said, feigning exasperation.

Carlos' grin widened, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What? You don't want to?"

You playfully slapped his chest, unable to resist the flirty banter. "You're insatiable," you said, your voice filled with affection.

He chuckled, his grip tightening on your ass. "Only when it comes to you."

You felt a warm blush creep up your cheeks. "Well, if you promise to be gentle…"

"Always," he assured you, his voice a low, seductive rumble. . . .

[rottenaero]

They were gonna put Eddie down like a damn dog.

The group had insisted that Steve visit the hospital today, one year and two months after the incident. It was a random day, and he thought, ‘ why the hell not?’

Family Video had been closed for months, doing ‘ repairs’, so he really didn’t have much else to do.

He thought it was weird, the way the group was as far away from the bed as possible, and how when he entered the room, Hopper almost blocked the exit.

He doesn’t question it though, sidling up to the open chair beside Eddie, who was still asleep after all this time, and punching his shoulder lightly.

“ Hey, Hero.”

He’d taken to calling it sleeping instead of what it was, a coma. Sleeping sounded more peaceful, because with sleeping came dreams and relaxation.

Eddie doesn’t respond, doesn’t react. Steve didn’t expect him to.

He turns his head to Dustin, the one who’d called him in the first place. “ So, why’re we gathered here today? Any updates?” He asks, addressing the whole room.

The boy swallows, and something tells him something’s wrong. Really wrong.

“ Yeah, actually. Uhm, since it’s been so long, we were thinking-“ He cuts himself off, crosses his arms and starts tapping his foot. Thinking, probably.

Hopper glances to him, and sighs, deciding to lead. “ We’re gonna have to let Munson go.” He states.

Steve takes a sharp breath.

“ What?”

‘ Let him go’ like this is a job. Like this isn’t him losing his life. He wonders when they decided to do this, in the hospital room for the ten minutes they were waiting.

Eddie doesn’t give any indication he hears what’s being said, the beeps from the heart monitor still steady and even as ever. A constant metronome of the exact same sound on the exact say beat, all the time, always.

Except maybe not always.

Dustin takes over again, arms placating. “ It’s been a really long time, Steve. We’ve come to terms that he probably won’t wake up, and it’s doesn’t have to be sad-“

“ You’re killing him.” He hisses, “ You’re killing him and it’s not meant to be sad?”

Nancy steps forward, seeing it as her time to speak. “ Steve. You barely knew the guy, and you spend all your time here, it’s not good for you.”

“ There’s been no good signs, no nothing, not even when El looks into his brain.” Dustin nods at the girl across the room, who’s fiddling with her fingers.

Steve furrows his brow, “ Oh, so I guess you’re gonna pull the plug on Max too?”

Lucas’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, and Nancy glares. “ That is not fair, Steve.”

“ This whole situations pretty fucking unfair, so I guess you’re gonna have to explain to me how this is different from Max.” He stands, stance wide as he points to the man in the hospital bed.

“ Max is making progress.” Lucas says weakly, and El sets a hand on his shoulder. The boy deflates.

He turns toward Hopper and Joyce, the latter still not having spoken. The Byers family had moved back to Indiana for God knows what reason, and Steve knows that if he had the money, that he could’ve moved somewhere else long ago.

“ Does Wayne know you’re killing his kid?” He asks.

He’d met the man while visiting, and they’d usually sit in silence and watch baseball or whatever was on. He never questioned why Steve was there, or why he was holding a limp body’s hand and taking off it’s rings and putting them back on.

When they did speak, it was stories he had from Eddie’s childhood, about how he buzzed his head because a spider crawled on him and he was convinced it was hidden in his hair, making babies.

Hopper pinched his nose, like he was being a pest. “ Stop using words like killing, and yes. He said he didn’t want Eddie to have to suffer, and his bills are getting expensive.”

And he blinks, realization dawning.

This hadn’t just been decided, had it? This wasn’t a ten minute decision while Steve was getting ready to come here.

He speaks, his voice low and keeping even through each word, “ You guys had a meeting.” The ‘ without me’ goes unsaid, but still echoes throughout the room like if would’ve if he shouted it.

They’d decided this whole thing beforehand, somehow knowing that Steve would hang on. And he would, will. He can’t let him die, he can’t lose.

Will nods, and next to him Mike and Dustin look ashamed. He would’ve thought they’d hold out more.

He racks his brain for any reason they should keep alive, can’t find one. Somehow, even without one for them, he has a million for himself.

“ If the bills are the reason, I’ll pay the damn bills. He’s fucking alive.” He tries.

“ You don’t have a job, Family Video is closed. Just let it be, Steve. Please.” Robin had been eerily quiet during this entire conversation, and it brings him chills him when she speaks.

His best friend had been in on it.

He crosses his arms, “ I’ll get a job. Listen, I’ve been having dreams,-“ He lies. He lies because there’s nothing true to prove Eddie is getting better. “-dreams that he’s alive in like a dark space, I don’t know- his mind maybe? I just- I really think he’s in there.”

The hope Dustin gets on his face hurts, but he doesn’t care. The guy will wake up and it won’t matter that the ‘ dreams’ never existed.

Maybe it’s because he’s an optimist, and that’s why he’s trying so hard, as pessimistic as he can be sometimes.

“ Why didn’t you tell us?” Dustin asks and Steve licks his lips.

Why didn’t he tell them? “ Despite all this crazy shit, me having dreams that he’s alive still sounds crazy.” He doesn’t look at the boy as he says this, eyes roaming over Eddie’s face.

He looks serene, the bat bite on his face as healed as it can get. The doctors had mentioned swelling on his back shoulder blades, but Steve thinks his would be swollen too if he sat on them for a year.

‘ A year and two months.’ He corrects himself.

He stares at the hair that, occasionally when it got matted, Steve would go through and brush it, not wanting him to wake up to being bald because a doctor seemed it necessary.

Wayne mentioned how much he hated the shaved head, and he wouldn’t put him through that again.

As he looks at him, he thinks ‘ I’m doing this for you, so you better wake up, asshole.’

Dustin’s eyes are wide, staring at the members of Hellfire. Steve could only describe the look as ecstatic.

“ Holy shit, I mean, holy shit!” He laughs, and Mike breaks into his own grin.

Jonathan chimes in, disbelief sketched into the lines all over his face. “ Sorry, but doesn’t that seem too convenient? I’m not saying you’re lying Steve, just… If El didn’t find anything, that’s pretty much it.”

His lips form into a line, determined. “ I told you, I’ll be paying for whatever. It’s no skin off your back, or money out of Wayne’s pockets.”

Joyce nudges Hopper when he goes to speak, and nods at Steve. “ If you wanna try, sweetheart, you can. But I don’t want you visiting too much, it’s doing you more harm than good.” She wraps him in a hug, before leading the ex-chief of police out of the room.

Slowly, everyone vacates, until it’s just Steve, Eddie, and El.

She doesn’t make a move toward the door, eyes locked onto his face.

“ You’re lying.” She whispers like a secret.

He nods.

She looks toward Eddie, nervous, and she messes with the hem of her shirt when she starts to speak again. “ I lied too.”

She doesn’t elaborate, walking out of the room without anymore information, and Steve blinks.

The hospital has to call Wayne to confirm the transfer, that's how he learns of the circumstances. He doesn't say much of anything, aside from a promise of a visit on Tuesday before he hangs up.

That night, that same fucking night, he gets a call.

It's the front desk lady, voice distressed rushing through an explanation.

" Eddies gone...Only blood in his bed...We don't know where he is."

Steve stares at the wall, the rest of the words falling upon deaf ears.

Someone had probably found out where he was being held, murdered him a year later for his crimes, and stashed the body away.

He sets the phone back in its holster without saying anything to the other line. Not even a goodbye, or a thanks.

He thinks, it only for a second, that he should've let them just pull the plug, it would've been far less painful.

A creaking brings him out of it, and his eyes dart to his door.

It's dark, too dark, and Steve's aware the Upside Down fucked him up in incomprehensible ways, and now every shadow looks like something,

But there was definitely someone in his house.

He keeps slumped on his bed, the same position as when he'd answered the call. He doesn't flinch when the door pushes open enough for a body to slip in.

There's the sound of something dragging along the carpet as they come closer, probably a shotgun, or maybe they're gonna beat him with his own nail-bat.

He doesn't care to decipher the shape, instead shutting his eyes.

A hand grabs his, sets it on dry skin. His thumb touches a rough patch, a scar like feeling.

One his hands had roamed over while patching up his stomach, refusing to get looked at. That concave patch of scratchy skin that they tell you eventually will just be soft, scarred, but normal.

The skin stretches, and he feels a cheek.

Somehow, he thinks if he keeps his eyes shut, he doesn't have to face the thing in front of him, that it somehow isn't real.

A scratchy, disused, and croaky voice sounds out.

" ' Hey, Hero.' "

[unavailableapple]

Like…DOES patriarchy hurt men though? There certain ways that it does but I feel like a lot of people insist it hurts men MORE. And uh…does it though?

-They have to be the breadwinner. Except they don’t…most households in the United States are two-income. It’s very difficult to have a one-income household in the modern climate of the economy. And women who still work as much as their husbands also have to come home and cook, clean, care for children, do laundry, etc.

-They aren’t allowed to dress fun. Except they are? Harry Styles gets on the cover of magazines for wearing an ugly dress. Movies like Wicked repeatedly show men in skirts. Social media is full of men wearing makeup and cute outfits and heels. I feel it’s become pretty normalized now for men to dress how they like. It’s just also normalized for them to dress comfortably, whereas I get a ridiculous amount of pushback for wearing pants, no makeup, not shaving my legs, and having short hair.

-They aren’t allowed to show emotions. Except they are? How many times has a video gone viral of a man crying because he loves his kids. All television, movies, books, etc are ever about is men’s feelings. Philosophy pretty much boils down to “men are sad”. The male loneliness epidemic is all I ever hear about…

-Men aren’t allowed to be gay. Neither are women???? I keep seeing this idea that women have an easier time being gay because they’re fetishized so much, whereas gay men are just treated as gross and weird. Sorry but like…no. Being treated like a porn search is not acceptance.

When men do experience hatred for being gay, wearing pink, or crying it’s literally because those things are womanly. Having sex with men is associated with women (that’s why “it’s not gay if you top”), pink is the “girl” color, crying is “feminine” aka WEAK. It all just reinforces the same thing: ‘woman’ is the worst thing to be.

But men are the victims here?

[hhrtfelt]

💐 — I’m just a girl…

awkward/lover boy travis x oblivious reader

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∿⠀⠀⠀⠀ 𓉸ྀི⠀⠀⠀⠀𓈒⠀ 𓈒⠀⠀⠀⠀wc :: 619⠀ᥘ⠀ׄ

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ♩ ⠀⠀warnings :: fem reader intended, fluff　　୧

➺ ✿ ̣̣͙ a/n :: woah. i haven’t posted since the 2nd… HEY YALL!!! i’m gonna be going on a travis like rant so i’m gona post like 5 travis fanfics don’t be mad at me… he’s just been my favorite character for like weeks on end and i need to get this off my chest. I WONT ABANDON U GUYS AGAIN I PROMISE აㅤㅤㅤㅤ

⠀⠀rules ⠀⠀masterlist ⠀⠀part 2

you and travis had a well established friendship… relationship? who knows. friends since middle school, you guys would always tell each other everything, but it always felt like there was something he wouldn’t tell you or he would sometimes ignore you the whole day, sitting alone at lunch while u stood behind him and slightly tugged at his shirt sleeve to sit with you.

(he really just had feelings for you and was a total drama queen about it.)

travis was always a closed off person and often avoided human contact as much as possible. he could be a complex person sometimes but it just takes a while to get to know him to understand him better.

most people just think he’s weird or only know him by the title flex (which he absolutely hates) or just ‘the coaches son’, which is better than flex. he’s okay with not being one of the most popular people there. after all, he really had all he needed, someone he could lean on, decent grades, and a friend that could double as a tutor! (you are the ‘tutor’ in question) what else could he need?

ever since you to met back in 5th grade, he’s had feelings for you, but he knew you were a bit.. hard in the head? and it took a while for you to understand certain feelings, so he just didn’t even try to confess.

he did try to make some moves though, like holding your hand for a bit longer than normal, sharing rations of food, hugs lasting a big more longer and he tried his best to make them feel more passionate, to maybe be a hint that he feels something for you.

he was always scared you didn’t feel the same way, but he also knew it wasn’t totally impossible because you were really never involved in any guy drama or have ever had any crushes from 5th grade all the way to your sophomore year in high school. he always found it weird because he thought this was the women’s ‘peak’ of crushes but he never spoke on it.

he is very insecure and very careful on everything that he does that involves you. he tries to not make things awkward but it’s in his nature. any conversation could quickly become awkward, but also quickly revive with how fast topics flow when he’s around you. you to could talk about anything for hours and he would never get bored. he cannot hold eye contact to save his life though. he’s always looking down at something or looking away, and if he is able to look you in the eye it’s because he either is fidgeting with a pencil or just a random rubber band.

like stated, he’s tried multiple times to try to get the hints accorded that he has some sort of feelings.

“oh, hey, [reader]. you look pretty today…” he mumbled as he scratched the back of his neck, watching you sit down next to him with a smile on your face.

“oh, thank you travis! i tried some new things today.” you said, putting a loose strand of hair behind your ear as u got your stuff out of ur bag, waiting for class to start.

during this same class, he would make moves by moving his seat closer to your, interlocking his pinky with yours for a slight second before quickly moving his hand away and acting like nothing happened.

“what was that?” you whispered towards him as your hand moved to your desk.

“what are you talking about…? literally nothing happened?” he mumbled as he looked at you for a slight second before turning his head away, attempting to dismiss your worries.

Part 2 is uploaded!

[hees-mine]

The boy in my class - L. HS

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader!

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, cnc, pervert/stalker heeseung, bathroom sex, cursing, multiple orgasms, fingering, with animated pictures.

Genre: cnc, if this bothers you please do not read!

WC: 2k+

-

Everything happened so fast. One minute, you were walking down the empty school hall headed home for the day, and the next moment, you felt a pair of strong arms wrapping around your torso from behind. The action caused you to miss your next step and sent you falling back into their chest.

Before you registered what was happening, your mouth was being cupped. You felt your body being dragged backward, and you couldn’t utter a word or scream for help.

You tried to grab onto something, anything, but it was futile as your nails scraped against the wall, chipping away the paint.

Your eyes are wide with panic, your muffled screams being heard by absolutely no one as you get taken to what you quickly identify as the school bathroom, and soon, your body is being maneuvered to face your captor.

In your state of panic, you didn’t even think about who it could have possibly been that snatched you out of the hallway, but when you see his face…..

It all came together.

The boy in your class.

Lee heeseung.

The guy who had a crush on you, the one who wrote love notes to you, the one who begged you to give him a chance, but you never did.

Simply because he was weird you’d catch him staring at you from afar following your same path on the way to school and one time he even sent a love letter to your house which you’re not sure how he got the address but luckily it only happened once so you didn’t bother to bring it up to anybody.

Not to mention his appearance wasn’t the most inviting. He was tall, lanky build, shaggy hair that nearly covered his eyes and was shaved on the sides. He wore big round frame glasses and didn’t take time to tie his tie properly or iron his school uniform.

To sum it all up, you just didn’t like Lee heeseung, and you never reciprocated any of his advances, which makes you wonder why he’s got you trapped inside a bathroom against your will, but he makes his intentions all too clear as he firmly presses himself against you.

-

Read full story only on my Patreon

[mixsethaddams]

Scary Dog Eddie Munson and Tamer Steve Harrington.

(Originally posted on twitter)

🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀🥀

Steve Harrington had changed.

It was subtle, easy to miss. You really only noticed if you knew what you were looking for.

It wasn’t his hair, his clothes, his cologne… No. It went deeper than that.

It wasn’t the person that had changed, it was the soul. His very essence had been rewritten.

On the surface he was still the same goofy Steve, the jock still not quite getting the joke.

But if you saw the change, oh you really saw it.

He carried himself differently now. There was a confidence held in his shoulders that came from much more than some meaningless status as a school athlete. His smile was sharp enough to cut right through you.

It was obvious once you knew why.

Eddie Munson was a dark cloud. He infected any space he graced with a searing sense of dread and he always left people with a chill down their spine.

It was impossible to relax around him.

The whispers about what it was really like in his hidden corner of Forest Hills never sounded too far fetched because if you knew Eddie, nothing would surprise you.

Eddie was a beast. And who better to slay a dragon, than a King.

Steve was like a lightning bolt through Eddie’s storm.

They fit together in a way that boomed like thunder and flowed like a flood. If Steve was untouchable in this town before, Eddie made him invincible.

Steve revelled in the way people looked away when they went anywhere.

After years of having all eyes on him, being paraded through school like a prize pony, he licked his teeth every time someone turned away to avoid him looking their way.

Not everyone was smart enough not to stare directly into the fire.

Tommy Hagan missed his friend.

They were two sides of the same coin for years, until Munson came along. When Carol moved out of state and took her heart with him, Tommy was left adrift. He wanted some comfort from an old pal.

Getting shot down after trying to call Steve hurt. It stung. It made no sense.

Tommy was walking through the woods behind the school when he heard Steve’s voice.

He followed it to the clearing; the old picnic bench where girls would lift their skirts for ten dollars a look.

It was nice out here, Tommy decided. They could talk for a while, maybe.

Tommy stood at the treeline behind Steve, who sat backwards on the seat looking out to the forest, leaning back against the table.

His mind was slow from the warm beer he’d stolen from his old man to drown his sorrows. He didn’t see anything at first. He just started talking.

“Steve?”

Steve’s head whipped around to see who called him. He let out a small breath of a laugh, one of the hands that had been spread across the table flying to his lap.

“Tommy, hey,” Steve said, shifting where he sat. “I’m busy,”

Tommy’s brow creased. “Doing what?”

Steve laughed again and turned away, facing back to the trees.

“I just want to say hi to my friend,” Tommy protested. “Since it’s been so hard to talk to you since that fucking freak Munson started following you around,”

Steve said nothing, he simply dropped his head back.

The angle was severe enough that Tommy could see his smile.

“You think it’s funny?” Tommy demanded. “Everyone says it, they all say how weird it is that he sniffs around you like…like a fucking dog or something,”

Steve’s fave pinched slightly and he made a small noise.

“Yeah….” Steve breathed, lifting his head again.

“Yeah!” Tommy snapped. “It’s true! And-”

“Tommy fuck off, would you?” Steve said, sounding out of breath. “I told you I’m busy,”

“You’re…” Tommy spluttered. “Are you kidding me? You won’t even turn around to look at me!”

Steve didn’t answer.

“Steve fucking look at me!” Tommy yelled, echoing around the clearing.

Steve sighed and lifted the hand that had been in his lap.

Eddie appeared slowly, drifting up from the floor like smoke from a snuffed candle. “He told you to fuck off, Hagan,”

Tommy took a shocked step back. His drunken mind instantly sobered, catching up quickly. Eddie’s lips were red and puffy, his eyes wet at the corners. His hair was tangled like it had been gripped tight.

“Fuck,” Tommy said. He stumbled back again as Eddie rounded the table.

“Whats wrong?” Eddie mocked. “Don’t wanna stay and chat now that the, what was it? Fucking freak? Is here too?”

“You…you were….”

Tommy’s gaze darted over to Steve. He was still sitting in his spot, his head rolled over his shoulder to lazily observe their interaction.

“I was,” said Eddie. “And I’d like to continue, so how ‘bout you do like you were told,”

Tommy was still drunk enough to be bold.

“No,” he said, tilting his chin. “How do I know you’re not just gonna rob him? Huh? Trailer trash like you? I bet Steve’s the perfect bait,”

Eddie sighed. Tommy got no warning before Eddie lunged at him, pinning him to a tree and holding his forearm to his throat.

“Wanna say that again?” Eddie said in a low rumble. “Or maybe you wanna see what trailer trash like me can really do when I’ve got some bait on my hook?”

Tommy squirmed against his hold, feeling the pressure on his neck. Steve appeared over Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’m bored,” he said, running a finger down the side of Eddie’s neck. “Take me home?”

Eddie’s lip curled, not taking his eyes off Tommy.

Steve smiled and rubbed his cheek on the shoulder of Eddie’s leather jacket. “Down boy, let’s go,”

Eddie released Tommy at Steve’s word and stepped away from him.

Tommy leaned over to catch his breath and noticed Steve’s belt was still undone.

“Steve,” he said, breathless.

Steve raised his eyebrow at Tommy.

“You’re serious about this guy?” he asked. “Like this isn’t some sick joke?”

Eddie made a move towards Tommy again but Steve stilled him with a soft touch to his chest.

“I’m sorry Carol dumped you,” Steve told him without emotion. “Go find something better,”

“I don’t…” said Tommy. “Steve, man, I…I just want to talk to you. I want to hang out with a friend to feel better. You really won’t give me that?”

Steve regarded Tommy with a slow look

“No,” Steve said. “You called Eddie names, I don’t want to talk to you,”

Tommy baulked. “You’re…! Steve!”

“You’re a bully, Tommy,” said Steve matter of factly in a fake soothing voice. “That’s why Carols gone. I don’t wanna your friend,”

“You were a bully too!” said Tommy.

Steve smiled, took Eddie’s hand and leaned against him “And I make up for it every way I can,”

Tommy took a heavy step forward to follow them as they went to leave. Eddie turned back quickly and Tommy almost collided with his chest. “I thought we told you to fuck off,”

“Eddie,” Steve’s voice was firmer more. “Let’s go,”

No more asking. This was a command.

Eddie practically snarled as he moved away from Tommy once more and started to walk with Steve out of the clearing.

“I mean it Tommy,” Steve called over his shoulder in a light sing-song. “Go find better, than Carol I mean. Won’t be hard…”

His voice trailed off into a quiet laugh.

Tommy sank to the forest floor, crawling backwards to lean against the tree Eddie had pinned him to.

Tommy didn’t know if he’d ever find better than Carol. He didn’t know if he even wanted to look. It felt too overwhelming to think about finding someone new. He wanted to marry Carol. He couldn’t bear the idea of growing old with anyone else. Or at least thats how it felt.

But right now Tommy could barely even comprehend the last twenty minutes, never mind the rest of his life. Nothing made sense anymore.

The only thing Tommy knew for sure right now?

Steve Harrington sure had changed.

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 🎃

you prepare luke’s make-up for halloween night

warnings: just pure sexual tension 🫦

₊˚⊹♡

"You´ll be taking care of me, little Red Hood?" Luke asked, sitting down on the wooden chair placed in the middle of the room at cabin eleven.

Your silk red skirt brushed the back of your thighs as you turned around, cleaning the last bit of face paint from a thin brush. "I will, Mr. Castellan" you joked.

The cabin is packed, like most of the time, but today was for a different reason. A bunch of Hermes´ boys were getting their make up done by you and your sisters, the reason? Halloween night. It was kind of a tradition for the Aphrodite cabin to help out with the costumes for the big party. And as much as a pain it is to help all the campers, you couldn´t deny that it was fun to pick out what your friends should be dressing out as for tonight and then doing their makeup to match the costume, and right now, it was time to help the worst breed; the boys.

They were men, therefore, they were basic, they´ve all decided to dress up as skeletons.

Soft pop music was playing inside the cabin as you felt a faint smell of cherries and hot chocolate. It was a comforting yet fun place to be at right now, like a beauty salon, but chill and without the white lights and burning chemical smells. More of your sisters were currently taking care of some other boys´ make up, painting their faces in black and white scary features that would barely make them look human at night, and now, it was Luke´s turn.

Luke´s face was already quite chiseled, like those marble Greek statues. You stepped back a second to take a good look at his face; sharp features, big nose, small eyes, plushy lips. Good, this would be fun.

"Alright" you state, "Just stay still and let me do all the work"

You leaned in slightly, starting to draw the outline of Luke´s face with a white make-up pencil. You and Luke stood silent, unlike the rest of the campers who kept on chatting and screaming at each other due to failed skeleton features. You planned on doing the simple; a white or pale base with black features like eyes, nose, cheekbones and mouth, maybe even some shadows, just like you did with Connor and Travis, who specifically asked for you to prepare them.

"I didn´t know you were so good at this" Luke finally spoke, anticipating to break the ice a little.

"What can I say?" you smiled, "I have many hidden talents"

You continued on, working in the lines, making the transition between the white and his perfectetly tanned skin. He was such a lovely canvas, his skin was clean, and smooth. You were actually a little scared to end up making him look bad. "Your jawline´s perfect" you muttered as you dragged the pencil there, more to yourself than to him.

Luke chuckled, "Is it now?"

You only dart your eyes away from your work to look into his eyes for a second, then back to your progress. Your teeth barely show as you smile a little, glossy red lips only shining brighter. "Okay, don´t get all cocky now" you tease.

Luke was used to flirting with everyone he met, and of course, people flirting back. But seeing you so focused on his face, the pen working on his face with you so close to him, gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You felt so close. Luke could smell a faint scent of cherries coming from you, and the hairspray of your hair. He could almost feel the warmth of your body too, standing so close to him, your body leaning down towards his face, making him look upwards to take a look at your face. You hissed then, taking a soft grip of your lower back, "Shit" you whisper. You were uncomfortable, being hunched over for so long.

"You okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah" you reply, "Just-, my back´s killing me. I´ve been like this for an hour" you explain, you´ve been in the same position for the past other two boys you prepared.

Luke looked concerned for a second. So he shifted on his seat then, opening his thighs, basically welcoming you.

You stood speechless, pencil in hand as you chuckled softly, unable to react, or move.

"Come on" he urged you softly, his eyes locking on yours as he patted his thigh. You knew he wasn´t inviting you to sit there, —even though he wouldn´t complain if you did—, rather than in between them. "I don´t bite"

You scoff then, shaking your pencil in between your fingers. Your boots step into the tiny space then, back straightened as you only have to look down to Luke´s face, "Sure you don´t" you reply.

He lets out a short chuckle, tilting his face up to maintain eye contact. The air feels weirdly tense. Your fingers take a soft hold of his chin as you tilt his head a little more up, dragging the pencil over the lines once again; just in case. Luke´s eyes remain open, taking a look at your costume.

A deep scarlet skirt almost too short paired with tall, heeled backboots and a white button-up that hugged your figure just perfectly, and the black corset over it did just the rest of the magic, along with, of course, the red silk cape and hood.

"You look great" he muttered out, trying to get a reaction out of you.

You stop your movements for a second, looking at him dead in the eye again, but with a serious face, only to go back to your job as if he said nothing. "Great doesn´t cover it" you reply, tilting your head slightly.

He chuckled at that. You had no idea how right you were. You were gorgeous in that outfit and he could swear you looked like a damn goddess, a vision come to life just to taunt him.

"Cocky-" he muttered with a playful smile.

"Don´t move" you interrupt, leaning down a little bit more just for a second, the thin pencil brushing past the outline of his lips.

Your face was closer to his now, the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded.

Luke had that type of aura; the one that was always surrounded by a nice scent. The type that made you want to lean in closer, the type that was warm and comforting, yet he was no sweet pea, but a little more rough. Manly, with his legs spread open like that for you to stand in between, or for you to sit whenever you liked.

And with his face so close to you, you made and observation; Luke was handsome.

Very.

Just when you finished tracing the outlines of his eyes, lips, and cheekbones, you turned around to dip a pencil into some black face paint. Luke remained politely silent, lips closed and hands over his thighs as he followed your every movement. He was watching you intently as you worked. You looked so focused and careful, like it was an important and serious job, and for gods sake, it was Halloween makeup. He wondered if you were just doing it so perfectly to impress him, which was working, and Luke had to admit it was cute to see you so fixated on his face.

He could feel his heart pound in his chest. Sitting there, having you so close, all he could think of was touching you. How could he not when you were wearing such clothes that he loved?

Of course he wouldn´t. He was patient, and he was very much enjoying the game so far. But you were so close , it was so tempting. And he did have a very bad self-control.

You took your sweet time blending the black paint over Luke´s face with a small brush. He was being an obedient boy, sitting still, with no smart remarks coming from his mouth. How rare.

He enjoyed just watching you, watching your expression change slightly as you applied more and more paint on, watching the tip of your tongue dart out of your mouth every once in a while. It was so hard to keep his hands tucked into balled-up fists on his thighs.

But he wouldn´t stop staring at you, your face.

But you stepped back, pencil on your hand and a small smile growing on your glossy lips, but your brows furrow. You were slightly confused. Luke stared back, not a single expression on his face. His face was sharp looking, focused, stone. And the black paint was doing nothing but only making him look more-, attractive.

"Don´t look at me like that" you smile barely, more confused than actually chilled about what was happening.

"Like what?" He asked, the black paint only remarking the scary and sharp features on his now painted face.

You looked a bit flushed, your makeup and hair perfect. But he wanted to mess it up , ruin it a little. He kept staring at you, not bating an eye. "Like-," you cut yourself off, turning slightly to the side to grab a different pencil before dipping it in more black face paint, "Like you´re undressing me with your eyes or something" you say, too shy to say the words loudly, stepping in between the space of his thighs again, too afraid that somebody else would hear you.

Oh, but Luke heard you just right.

He hums quietly, a smirk pulling at his lips at your embarrassed expression.

You´re standing there, in between his thighs again, and he has to force himself to keep his hands in place. He looked up at you, eyes focused on you as you applied the paint on him. And you were so concetrated on the task in front of you, on his face, you didn´t realise how badly he wanted you.

He was hungry, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from touching you.

"Maybe I am" he responds quietly.

His voice is low, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. His eyes burn into your skin, like he´s daring you to respond, to say something, anything, back. And for the first time, you have nothing to say, no witty response. You just look back into his eyes.

And there is something in them, something that makes your heart beat faster.

He stares back, not moving, not speaking, and the tension is almost palpable. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, and you try to ignore the way your body is reacting. Luke has never had this effect on you before.

“Perv" is the only thing you manage to reply, not even a full sentence, not even speaking fully, just whispering into his face as you go back to your task, you only wanted this to be over now.

You can tell by the way his shoulders are tense that he´s struggling not to move. But he doesn´t, and his silence makes your stomach twist and turn. You know he´s enjoying this, and the fact that he knows what he´s doing to you is almost enough to make you snap.

Luke saw the way he made you blush and trip into your own thoughts, and that was enough for him.

You remained awfully silent for the rest of the time, with Luke´s eyes still piercing through your soul until you´re done. "There" you say as you finish touching up the last bits of shadows onto his lips, "All done" you say softly, walking back to the small table to start cleaning brushes again.

Luke stood up, turning around to face you. His face was completely covered in white and black, his skin was unrecognizable.

He walked over to you slowly, and the way he was moving was almost predatory, like he was stalking his prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rest of your sisters and his brothers didn´t seem to notice a thing or even try to look to your direction, too busy invested into their own conversations.

You grab a towel, and you feel it-, oh you feel it. Like when someone´s standing behind you, the cold feeling that drips down your spine, ready to attack. Luke places his hand on each side of the table, his chest so close to be pressing to your back, trapping you against the table; and you couldn´t even see him properly.

"Just a question-," he says, clearing his throat briefly, "How effective is the make-up remover?"

Your breathing hitches for a moment. His voice was ridiculously low and whispery against you. You swallow, and the room suddenly feels too hot.

“Um-" you reply, trying to focus on cleaning the brushes instead of the man standing right behind you. "Very. It´ll clean right away, don´t worry" you reply poorly.

"Oh-. no, I wasn´t asking because of me", he replies, and he leans in a little closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You can feel the heat of his breath and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body, "I was asking for you. I don´t wanna leave any mark on your face after you´ve worked so hard on yourself"

Well, who would´ve though this guy was a poet? Hiding meanings behind words?

"That´s very considerate of you" you reply, trying not to sound too eager, but the way your voice cracks tells him all he needs to know.

Luke nods once, a smirk on his lips, and you can practically hear it in his voice. He leans down, his lips grazing the skin of your neck and his nose ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"I´ll make sure you find me", he whispers.

And with that, he steps back, his presence gone as fast as it arrived to the scene. Your hands tremble slightly as you finish putting the last brushes away, and your face burns hot. He had suddenly left you wanting, a feeling you didn´t even have when you first started working on him.

But you had to head back to your cabin now, and fuck-, were you mad you couldn´t get what you wanted now.

Luke surely knew he had started some type of game, your pretty little self caught in between his webs… but the night was only starting, and soon enough, you would be the one trapping him.

[pineconepie]

Yan king???👀

I had a little fun with the worldbuilding because it gave me an excuse to use one of my old ideas.

I'll explain it briefly because I didn't do much explaining in the writing: there are five major kingdoms in the nation of Lepidoptra - Rosy Maple, Atlas, Luna, Death's Head, and the one where reader is from: Comet Kingdom. Everyone has wings that resemble a moth, along with antennae. (yes moths are a huge hyperfixation of mine)

Just thought I'd get that out of the way lol. Anyway, this is probably one of the most yandere characters I've written mwehehe.

TW: Attempted murder (kind of but not really), parental yandere, manipulation, implied gaslighting, infantilization

...

Ever since you could recall, your father had been very protective over you. He homeschooled you, didn't let you leave the house much, only allowed a few select friends, but those friends were also friends with your dad, and just getting paid to talk to you.

Your father would hold you as often as he could, making sure he was the first and last thing you'd see daily.

He had told you, ever since you were just a young mothling, your wings had been cut off by a robber who attempted to kidnap you, and thus, your father had to be extremely cautious in regards to keeping you safe at home.

You never left the house alone, and even if you did, you were monitored.

Sometimes, you'd get strange flashbacks. Almost like deja-vu, but these felt more vivid in your mind.

Once when you saw Castor, your father's, sword, you had a vision of yourself getting stabbed in the chest. Or when he'd look angry at you, you'd recall seeing that exact expression on his face before. But those thoughts went away as soon as they appeared.

Sometimes you'd get horrible nightmares of him. You dreamed he hurt you somehow. And yet, you'd always wake up feeling fine. Nothing hurt physically.

But mentally? Something just wasn't clicking right.

Recently you began sneaking out of the castle, not wanting to alert your father, and you began going to this little tavern at the edge of town to spend time with your village friends, ones you know for a fact your father would never dream of approving.

"Calliope, Osmond, hey," you greet warmly, walking over to their usual table in the corner, sitting down beside them.

"Hey," Calliope says, leaning her head against her hand. "How was escaping the palace? Almost got caught again?" Her bright golden wings flutter slightly as she grins.

"Nah, Dad doesn't suspect anything at all," you proudly state.

"Good, because he would have our heads," Osmond sighs. He shares an uneasy glance with Calliope, then glances back at you. "We wanted to speak to you about something unsettling we found. About your father."

You hesitate. "If this is about him and the Atlas Kingdom again, I told you already—"

"It's not about that," Calliope mutters. She pulls out a huge book from a satchel, one that barely even fits in it. "Okay, I'm about to warn you, this is weird as hell. Even Oz was weirded out."

"Well if he was unsettled by it, then I'm scared to see what it even is," you say with a breathless chuckle.

"We found it in the royal library," Osmond tells you quietly. "And well, this should explain it." He opens up the book and starts flipping through pages and pages until he lands on one in particular, pointing down at it for you to read.

It has your name and picture on it. Your full name, everything.

At first, you find it slightly strange, but think there may be some kind of explanation. Most of the pictures on the book show you when you were younger, being held on Castor's hip while he made speeches at ceremonies. He looks the same as he does now, except maybe with a bit longer hair.

Then you start seeing yourself getting older...

There's one of a memory you don't even recall, of a headline saying the "(Y/n), Child of King Castor of the Comet Kingdom, joins Arkema Mittrei, Academy" in which you're being handed over to the kingdom's most prestigious academy.

You were homeschooled, that never even happened!

Another one shows you using magic abilities, and you look older than you currently even are. And you have... wings?!

"That was our expression when we read it too," Calliope anxiously says. "We weren't supposed to be in the Royal Library since its always locked and guarded, but we managed to get in with Oz's magic. We were looking for more evidence to prove to you that your father is terrible, but instead we just stumbled upon this."

You don't know what to say. "This doesn't make any sense. I never went to any academy, and my wings..."

"And you look older in these photos," Osmond observes. "I don't know what is going on, but this is just further proof you can't trust him. I know he raised you and you love him, but he's controlling your life and clearly keeping things from you. I knew he caused a lot of meaningless wars and was incredibly paranoid about you, but this?"

"I'm at a loss for words, here," you murmur, shaking your head as you feel tears stinging in your eyes. "What the hell am I supposed to do?! Just confront my dad and hope for the best?"

Calliope puts a hand on your shoulder. "Run away with us," she proposes. "Oz's mom is in the Atlas Kingdom, we can find sanctuary there."

"No way am I just abandoning my dad with no warning," you argue. "Besides, he'd try burning down all of Atlas if he knew I was there! I'll just ask him for an explanation. I'm sure there is one."

"And risk letting him know you've been sneaking out of the kingdom?" Osmond scoffs. "Your death wish, not mine."

"Just give us at least a month or two," Calliope says. "Please. That way we can come up with a game plan."

You exhale quietly, your antennae twitching. "Okay. But no longer."

...

"Uhm, hey, Dad? I wanted to talk to you about something."

"Hm?" He peers his eyes away from the newspaper he's reading and smiles at you. "Of course! Come sit." You hesitate as he pats the seat next to him on the couch, and you reluctantly plop beside him. He hugs you closer to his chest. "So," he hums, kissing the side of your head, "what is it?"

"...have I ever went to Arkema Mittrei Academy?" You watch as his smile drops.

He glances off, contemplating a response before returning his gaze to you. "Oh, sweetheart, where did you hear that? Of course not! I think you'd remember something like that." His laugh sounds nervous. "Have you been having those scary dreams again?"

You bite your tongue. "No. I came across a book in the royal library. I know you don't like me going in there unsupervised, but I did. And I saw pictures of myself at the school, and another one where I'm older, and have my wings. Why do I have no recollection of those moments happening?"

His smile drops even more so, and now, his expression is unreadable. "Where did you get the book, baby?"

"I... uh, I got it in the royal library. I told you that," you stutter.

"How did you get in there unsupervised? There's always guards patrolling the library," Castor explains, narrowing his eyes. "Did someone help you sneak in?"

"What? No!" you lie. You start trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he holds you still.

"Baby," he soothes, almost condescendingly, "just tell Dad what he wants to know. I'm not mad."

He's lying. He's angry. You can't see the expression on his face because he's holding you so closely, but you can feel his rage boiling beneath his skin.

"No, I'm not lying. It was just left unlocked! But that's not my question, I wanna know what I saw in those! Why is there evidence of me doing and experiencing things I have zero memory of?!"

"I knew I should've burnt that damn book," he grumbles under his breath. "I thought you were doing so well this time."

"What do you mean 'this time'?!" you nearly cry, flailing so hard out of his grasp you fall to the floor.

"Oops!" Castor chuckles, standing over you with a cold grin. "Gosh, it feels like yesterday when you could hardly walk without tripping over your feet. Always so wobbly and unstable." He stands up and contemplates on something. "Alrighty, kiddo, since I'm so nice, you have two options. Bedtime and we'll forget about this, or you keep pushing me and we'll see where this takes us."

"What does that mean?" you rasp. "What will you do?"

Castor's bright wings spread out widely, as a show to intimidate you and make you feel smaller. "I really would rather we both just go to bed."

He's never hurt you in the past... "I just want to know what's going on."

"Well, for starters, all that information you think you know is irrelevant, it's been rewritten now," Castor replies nonchalantly, looking down at you. "All those things you saw happened, but you didn't experience them because that wasn't you. Not this you. The original you was too disobedient, so I had to reset and start all over again."

"Reset?!" you repeat incredulously. "What are you talking about?!"

Castor runs a hand through his hair. "Fine. Since you think an explanation is worth it. You can't die. You're immortal, just not in the same way I am. This is like..." He pauses. "...your nineteenth life or so, I believe? Once you die, you turn back into a baby. No injuries, no sickness, no memories. A clean slate. I try to avoid it, but whenever you start rebelling or growing too independent, it has to be done all over again."

"Nothing has to be done! You're killing me, just so you can what?! Watch me grow up again, exactly the same way?! What kind of twisted logic is that?!"

"Don't raise your voice at me," Castor scolds. "I'm not killing you, at least not technically. Besides, I love watching you grow, trying to find the perfect way to raise you. But it seems like no matter how I do so—whether I give you your freedom or make sure I'm the only face you see, you always end up leaving."

You shudder at his cryptic words. "Were you the one who cut off my wings?"

Castor waves a hand dismissively. "Only because you kept trying to run away with them. But they always regrow back once you're reborn." He pulls out a dagger, one you now understand why he always carries it with him.

"Dad, please..." you quietly plead, scrambling back in an attempt to stand up. "I'm sorry. We can let this go."

His eyes darken. "Not an option anymore, sweetie. You asked for answers, and you got them. Hey, maybe the twentieth time is the charm." He lunges for you, holding you down so he can lift his blade. "I'm so sorry, kiddo. I promise it'll just feel like a pinch, and then you'll wake up good as new!" His expression is sweet and adoring, but also crazed.

Just as he brings the blade down and you squeeze your eyes shut, all your hear is Castor's groan of pain.

"(Y/n)!" Calliope yells, grabbing onto your hand and yanking you up.

Castor wipes the blood running down his nose, glaring at the two of your friends. "(Y/n), you made some friends, huh? Must've been sneaking out behind my back for a while if they're jumping in their own graves for you." He gets back to his feet and starts approaching. "Step away from my child before you really regret it."

"Let's go!" Osmond demands, opening up a portal in front of Calliope after she pulled you to your feet.

The three of you tumble in, right before Castor tries attacking you as well.

Then suddenly, you're back outside, standing in the forest where your kingdom stood tall. You can hear him scream in frustration from all the way out here, likely calling for guards and barking out orders.

"He knows magic too," you whisper. "He won't be too far behind."

"I can only make portals so far," Osmond murmurs. "We need to run. Now."

[humpster35]

“My baby’s, having a baby.”

Chratt finding out you’re pregnant

based on this

|contains: fluff, anxiety, guilt, crying, soft!bf chris, soft!bf matt, slight angst and decison making.

It was around 3pm when Matt and Chris left to go pick up some groceries for the house. I stood here in one of Matt’s old oversized shirts, Chris had teased us about this—saying how much better I looked in his clothes instead.

I watched as Nick heads back upstairs to his room, this was my time. With a whisper of my feet—I grabbed the bag on the sofa and ran to the bathroom.

“Please, please please.”

My words came out muttered. I don’t know what exactly I was asking for, or wanted. The pregnancy test in my hand made the hairs on the back of my neck stand. This was all happening too fast—I know starting this relationship up with the two brothers would lead to other things, but I guess I didn’t think about if a child would be coming into this world or not.

I inhaled one more time before going to pee on the stick. Good thing Chris gave me his last two pepsi’s to drink today—I had been having so many weird cravings all week. I don’t even think the boys recognized it as anything else but me being close to my period.

After I finished peeing, I sat the test on the bathroom counter. My anxiety was starting to spike at this point—I heard Nicks footsteps coming back down the stairs and he was gonna get suspicious sooner or later.

‘we didn’t even tell him’ I thought as I imagined how Nick would react finding out that not only his brothers were dating the same girl, sleeping with her—but they could’ve potientally gotten her pregnant.

As ten minutes past—I could heard the voices of Chris and Matt talking to Nick. ‘shit.’ They were back and I haven’t even looked at the test yet. My shaky hand reached out slowly—I didn’t wanna make any noise, my breathing stopped for a moment as I brought it close to my face.

‘positive’

The test read positive. I didn’t even know I was hyperventilating until Chris knocked on the bathroom door.

“Y/n, you okay?”

My voice couldn’t make any sound—it felt as if all the words I wanted to say, ran away from me, from this. So instead, I closed my eyes. I grabbed the test—putting it behind my back, then I slowly opened the door.

Chris’s face was bright—he’s always so bright and beautiful. He looked at me with such love, I watched as he softly pulled my arm—he led me out of the bathroom. My feet didn’t wanna move as he obliviously held onto me.

“Chris—I think, I think i’m tired.”

I watched as he chuckled. He let go of my arm—I was now standing in the middle of the living room. Nick was on his phone, as Matt put away the rest of the groceries.

“You think you’re tired?” Matt turned to me, his eyes giving me a knowing look.

I knew that he knew—Matt knew me much better than anyone else did. He could catch onto my moods before I even know something was wrong with me. Chris pulled me out of my thoughts—he led me to the couch.

“Baby what’s wrong? Was it something I did?”

I watch as Matt continues looking over at us, Nick stops scrolling on his phone—secretly listening in.

“Chris…..” My voice comes out in a whisper as I show him the pregnancy test.

Chris’s face dropped. He took the rest from my hands and immediately ran to show Matt.

“Matt—MATT LOOK.”

Matt rolls his eyes and snatches the test from Chris’s hand. I get up and move away from Nick—heading to the kitchen area where the boys are.

“Guys it’s not a big deal.” I quietly state. My face began to redden.

Chris started to opens his mouth—smiling while doing so. Matt put the test down on the kitchen counter, his hands going to his sides as his eyes brighten.

They both smile at me for a minute—not saying anything until Nick speaks up.

“Why the fuck are you guys yelling?” He walks over to us and basically pushes Matt to grab the pregnancy test.

“Ohmygod.” Nick said more so to himself—than us.

I watched anxiously as Nick looked at Chris. I don’t know what he could possibly be thinking right now—but I know it wasn’t good.

“Why are you both so excited that Y/n is pregnant? Firstly who have you been sleeping with, you didn’t tell me about anyone—.”

Matt stopped Nick from talking, his hand slowly took the test from his brothers hand. Chris let out a low sigh as he walked to the sofa.

I followed after him, not wanting to be seen by Nick right now. Nick has always been so protective over me—so if he was going to find out this information I just knew that he was gonna need time—a lot of time to process this whole situation.

“Nick, let’s go to the sofa.” Matt softly spoke.

“Why am I going to the sofa? Why is everyone being so weird?” Nick started to speak with sass, his wrist being held in Matt’s hand.

Once they sat on the sofa next to us—Nick was sitting on my left side, Chris was on my right and Matt was sitting on Nicks left side.

“Nick…we’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

Nick rolled his eyes. He nodded and motioned with his hand to continue.

Chris rubbed my back softly as he spoke. I looked at his face in admiration.

“Three months ago Y/n and I kissed—this led to us confessing our feelings for eachother. But it wasn’t enough, she didn’t fully commit. Matt was still a factor in all of this.”

I watched as Chris glanced at me, then my lips. He licked his lips then gestured to Matt to speak.

“So when Chris told me about the kiss, I was pissed at first sure. I did always like Y/n, but—we both did.”

Chris smiled softly at me, his eyes were so kind. I felt Nick take my hand into his—he furrowed his eyebrows.

“Y/n, you’re dating—you’ve been with both of my brothers?”

I didn’t know how to respond to him. My head hang low as my hair covered any emotion that was starting to show on my face. Nick gently rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand.

“Nick I know—I know this can be a little weird.”

Nick cut my off my dropping my hand. He knew that what I just said, confirmed his suspicions. As he stood up he looked down at all three of us.

“You guys have been fucking behind my back!?”

He was speaking a bit louder now as Matt and Chris studied my reaction. They knew how easy it was for me to become anxious and, with me being pregnant—Nicks temper tantrum about a secret relationship, wasn’t helping.

“Nick shut the fuck up, you’re overreacting.” Chris’s voice was protective. He didn’t yell, simply spoke sternly.

Matt got up and placed his hands on Nicks shoulders. Nick started to tear up, feeling overwhelmed.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Y/n i’m your bestfriend. You guys are my brothers—we, we’re supposed to tell each other everything.”

Nicks blue eyes were glassy. He stared into my eyes—waiting for an answer. I couldn’t do anything but start crying, this day has been all too much for me. As I stood up, I started to walk away into the bathroom. But Nick stopped me.

“Y/n please, i’m sorry—i’m so sorry.”

He pulled me in for a hug. His hand would go up and down my back—which helped ease my nerves. His tears felt wet against my back, I didn’t care though. Nick was my bestfriend and we had hidden this for so long from him.

“Nick we’re sorry. We don’t even know why or how it got this far. We never intended on keeping you in the dark at all.” Matt spoke up, he wrapped his arms around both Nick and I.

Chris pouted, he also wrapped his arms around us. He wanted to make everyone go back to being happy—he hated whenever I would cry, especially his brother.

“I’m gonna be an uncle.” Nick chuckled as s tears spilled from his eyes.

He smiled down at me, hand on my belly. I nodded and hugged him even tighter.

“My baby’s, got a baby.” Chris laughed.

Matt sighed in annoyance at his corny joke. Once we all let each other go—Matt pulled me in for a hug.

“I love you so much baby.”

My lip couldn’t stop quivering, I felt so many emotions at once. It was so nerve racking to experience this—I was just so glad that I had these guys here with me.

“Heyy I love her more.” Chris whined which made me chuckle.

I looked at everyone, then starting talking.

“Guys, i’m really grateful for you. I uh—I wanted to say that because.” I placed a hand on my stomach and rubbed it.

“This is all so new for me…I don’t know if i’m gonna be a good mom—.”

Matt and Chris cut me off.

“You will. You’re gonna be a great mom.” They say in sync.

I laughed and nodded. Nick snapped a picture of us as they stood beside me. Chris smiled softly at me, his hand rubbing my stomach while Matt rubbed my back.

“Wait.” Nick pulled our attention back to him.

He was making a puzzled expression as he sat his phone down. He pulled my arm gently and stood me in front of him.

“So whose baby is it?”

My heart dropped. Nick saw my eyes widen in fear and anxiety. He quickly looked behind me to see what Matt and Chris’s expression was.

“It’s mine.” They both said.

Nick threw his head back—while closing his eyes and groaned. I sighed and then sat on the couch—cradling my knees to my chest. I was in my comfort position.

Chris walked up to me, he sat down.

“We didn’t use a condom.”

Nicks eyes shot open and he instantly stood up. He grabbed his phone.

“No no nope—talk about this when i’m out of the room.” Nick said as he walked upstairs—practically tripping.

“Chris I know we didn’t but—.”

Matt sat down on the side of me. He tucked some hair behind my ear. His voice cutting me off.

“—We didn’t use one either.”

Chris groaned. This was a discussion that none of us planned on having. I put my legs down and grabbed both of their hands.

“Guys we can just go to the hospital and get a dna test.”

Matt and Chris glanced at each other. They were communicating telepathically about something before they turned to me, then nodded.

1 Month later

After doing a dna test on finding out whose sperm actually reached my womb, today was the day we got the results in the mail.

Chris paced back and forth, Matt bit his fingernails even more—while I chewed on some oranges that Chris had bought me. My head rested on the living room pillow as Matt gave me Mr Wrinkleton to hold.

“Guys don’t be scared okay?”

Chris stopped pacing and looked at me. His body immediately became more calm—his eyes softened at his two favorite people on the couch.

Matt turned towards me and opened his mouth. I fed him an orange while Chris brought us the letter.

“Okay guys, remember it doesn’t matter whose actual kid it is—we’re gonna take care of it. Right Matt?”

Chris looked at Matt, who nodded and i smiled at the two boys.

“Okay im gonna open it.”

My hands took the letter from Chris’s—he sat next to me, while removing the orange peels. I then opened it. The paper was thin, it didn’t have many words on it just the usual scientific aspect of the dna test.

“The sperm that has reached the inside of Ms. Y/n L/N….”

I begin slowly. I look at Matt and Chris’s nervous reactions. Nick was at a space camp meeting, but he told me to tell him about it later on. I wish he was here right now.

“Belongs to….”

Chris squeezed my thigh, Matt stared intently at my lips as I spoke. The next words could change everything—every friendship and relationship we’ve built. They say they would raise the baby anyways but, how would they feel if it didn’t technically belong to them???

With a deep breath, I read the next words in my head. It left me shocked.

“—.”

Oh noo I wonder whose baby it is🙈🤭

tag list💌

@mattsweethart @mattspillowprincess @mattswrinkleton @angelcake-222 @chrissonnyangel @chrissleftshoe @chrisbratt333 @chrismalfoy @chrissfavgirlie @eeyoresturnz @eyesonmattyb @chrattvibe @chrattho1 @lyingonchris @liaisbroke @lezleeferguson-120 @passionfruitchris @lifecansmd @whore4chris @owensbabygirl @obsessedwiththesturniolos @theyluvivi @dolliraez @nickssidewitch @oopsiedaisydeer @csturnioloswifey @stvni0l0 @sturniolofruitloop @sturnispider

[jaxon-exe]

Happy Death Day

So I saw a fully dead au for Danny and got inspired and I’m about to make it y’all fucks problems.

If there was one thing the inter league agreed on, it was that they loved Phantom. Even though some would never admit it Batman the kid had a special place in all their hearts. He’d been there with them from the very formation of the team. The forever youngest amongst them always managed to cheer them up no matter what they were facing. That’s why when his death day rolled around again Flash had an idea. He wanted to do something special for the kid. Lord knowns he deserves it. The problem was what to do.

They had already learnt from a lengthy lecture from Constantine that u don’t gift ghost presents on their death days. It was seem as rude. So that ruled that out but it wasn’t the only option.

“Best thing you can do is pay respects at his grave.” John grumbled half awake after Barry finally managed to track the fucker down. “A big thing with ghost is being remembered and all that. So leave some flowers or some shit.”

“Sweet!! Thanks John.” And in a flash he was gone… and in another flash he was right back. “Wait do you know where his grave is?”

John looked at him flatly. “No idea.” Then slammed the door in his face.

Whelp, so much for this being easy. It didn’t matter to much however for the very next day was a league meeting. One Danny was off world for and so would miss. A meeting that was being held by the one man that knows everything! He’d surely know where Danny’s buried!

“I don’t know.”

The room went quiet as they all turned to the Bat. All in various states of shock over the fact he even knew those words.

Flash took a second to reboot his brain. “W-what do you mean you don’t know?!” Because surely not! Batman knows everything! How does he not know where the grave of one of his teammates are?

The man sighed, typing away at his computer before pulling up a file onto the larger screen for everyone to see. “Danny Fenton went missing in the 80’s at 14 years old.” A photo of the kid was enlarged. It was weird seeing him like this. With black hair and blue eyes. A healthy red flush on his face. He looked so alive. “A week later was the first sightings of Phantom. Years after, it was ruled a cold case.”

“And you just let it go?” Diana walked up beside them, glaring into the back of Batman’s head. “You knew that boy was probably kidnapped, most likely murdered and you let it go?”

“No.” As ever he didn’t seemed bothered by the accusation. “I asked Phantom. He didn’t say much but did assure me it wasn’t a murder. It was an accident and no one was at fault.” The silence that took over the room this time was different. Full of melancholy. They all knew Danny died. Dead young at that. It was another thing to hear this. One by one each of them coming to haunting realisation that if his death was never report, he most likely died alone.

“So what else have you found?” For the first time in this whole conversation, Bruce turned to glare at Clark. “Oh come on Bats. Your, you! You wouldn’t leave it at that. So what else did you find?”

For most the sigh he gave would have sounded the same as the others but to those in the room, those that knew him so long, they could hear slight embarrassment at getting called out. He turned back to the screen, pulling up a list of names and a map. “Nothing much. I’ve searched the area around Amity Park and couldn’t find anything. I have a list of family members and friends to question but.” He trailed off.

“But Batman can’t look into this.” Canary continued for him. “If you were to start poking around a 30 year old cold case people might figure the connection back to Phantom.” Batman nodded with a grunt.

Seemed they reached another dead end. Maybe he would have to think of a different way to celebrate Phantom’s death day after all.

“Well,” Flash turned his attention when Supers spoke up again. “Batman might not be able to. But Clark Kent can.” Everyone’s eyes turned to him. “I mean I am a reporter. I can say I’m doing a passion project on old cold cases or something.”

“Oh yeah!” Hope filled Barry’s smile. “I can help to!”

“But your a chemist?” Diana cut in.

“A forensic chemist! Who better to help with cold cases than a guy that works in criminology?” The others were reluctant to admit he had a point.

They all knew Bruce enough to know his next sigh as one of exhaustion. Without a word he printed the list of names and contacts for the two, knowing there was no stopping them now.

“Sweet!! Thanks bats!! Let’s go!” The page was pulled from Barry’s hands before he could make a run for it.

“Hold on.” Clark stopped him while looking over the list. “It’d probably be a good idea to give them a call first. Ask if they’re even willing to answer questions.”

He deflated. Annoyed by how much sense that make. “Alright then.” He grumbled.

It didn’t take as long as he expected to get a response. The first two were from Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, only hours after Clark sent them an email. They were Danny’s best friends and the last people to see him alive. Unfortunate, the response was ‘no’. One using a lot more colourful language than the other but a no all the same. It was a two days later they got another response. This one from Dr Jasmine Fenton, Danny’s older sister. This time it wasn’t a no.

That what lead them here. In the waiting area of Dr Feton’s office. “You think the long wait is to psych us out?” Barry asked as it approached the hour mark.

Clark didn’t look up from his magazine as he responded. “Don’t think so little of her. She’s really busy.”

“Oh no, that’s not me thinking little of her.” He picked up one of the fidget toys on the table next to him. “She’s a psychologist, a top psychologist. This is totally her trying to psych us out.”

“Mr Clark, Mr Allen.” They looked over to the door that opened to their right. A tall, red haired woman stood with half a foot in the doorway. “Sorry for the wait. Come on through.” 

The office was really not what they expected. Rather than the clean, professional look that Canary has this office had a more welcoming feeling. It’s large armchairs and sofa paired with a light green rug made it look more like a seating room if you ignore the desk in the corner. “I apologise for having this meeting at my office. It was the only time I could fit you in.” Jasmine sat on the armchair closest to her desk, inviting the others to seat where they please with a wave at the over chairs. “Now, you wanted to talk about Danny?”

“Yes,” Clark sat up. “We have been wanting to look into cold cases for a while, as a passion project. Seeing if we can find out more and maybe even get some answers. When we saw Danny’s case it seemed like a good one to start with.”

She gave a hum of acknowledgement. “And why would that be? I understand that some people have a fascination with old cases but Danny disappeared over 30 years ago. Plus there has been nothing found since then. If your goal is to solve the case then I’m sorry but I don’t really think that would be possible.” 

“Well you never know until you try.” Clark smiled back. “And we plan to publish our findings as well. So even if we don’t solve it someone, perhaps who knows more information or can find new information, can.”

His words really didn’t seem to have the effect they were hoping for. Rather than looking hopeful at the idea of finding out what happened to her brother, Dr Fenton face took on a stone cold look.

“Mr Clark.” Barry was really happy he stayed quiet in this. Even without the dead tone turned at him, he still felt weirdly intimidated. “I am here talking with you in my free time, as myself not a psychologist. So I’m gonna to drop all pretenses and be blunt.” She learnt forward on her chair. Despite the fact that she was still seated, the two heroes were suddenly reminded of the fact that Jasmine was 7’1. They also learnt that the intimidation was intentional. “Why should I tell you anything if you have not said a single honest word since you stepped through my door?”

Barry looked at Clark for answers but got non. It was quite shocking to see the seasoned journalist and part time superhero at a loss for words. In fact Barry had never seen it before at all. He turned back to Jasmine’s cold gaze as she stared them down before shaking her head. “If that’s all. Ill have to ask you to-“

“We want him to be remembered.” Clark looked over as Barry said the words before he could even think them. “You’re right. This case is cold. There’s no way we could solve it but that doesn’t mean he should be forgotten.” He took a breath as his eyes met hers. Her face was still blank but in a less cold way. More neutral than silent rage.

“Danny was a kid. A good kid. A kid that most likely died alone and scared and…” he looked down the hide the tears in his eyes. He didn’t like thinking about how Phantom died. Didn’t like to think about how the happy, brave, strong kid just died. Alone, hurt and scared. It broke his heart. “He deserves to be remembered.”

For a moment all that was heard was the ticking of the wall clock. Clark glanced between the two, Barry stilling looking down whereas Dr Fenton looked off to the side. A moment more passed before Jazz sighed in defeat. “Our parents were scientist. Though, no one took them seriously.” She leant back in her chair, pulling her glasses off to rest them on her head. “It made sense, I mean. They studied ghost. Even if their inventions were amazing, especially for the times, no one took them seriously.”

Barry looked up, giving her his full attention as she sighed again. “They thought that if they could just get proof. Physically proof that ghost were real, that they lived in the dimension right next to ours, that people would finally believe them.” She looked over to a small cabaret, tucked into the corner of the room. “So, they tried to build a machine. One that would give them proof. They built a portal to that world.”

Clark was stunned. Inter dimensional travel was something the leagues still struggled with today. If they had been successful, way back in the 80’s they really must have been ahead of the times.

“It didn’t work though, not at first.” Barry was enraptured by the tale as his mind went faster that his feet did most days. What did this have to do with Danny? Why was she telling them this? The more he thought the more he started not likely the conclusions he reached. “Then one day, about 2 weeks after the failure, Danny’s friends were over and wanted to have a look. We lived in a small town, you see. The crazy scientists were the most interesting thing that towns seen in years.” She huffed out a bitter laugh.

“Danny went with them. While our parents  were never the best at lab safety, we did still know the basics.” A cold dread washed over Barry. Images of a different lab, of different lacks safety regiments came to mind. “When they wanted to have a look in the portal, he said he wanted to check it out first. Make sure it was safe. So put on a hazmat suit and went in.”

He felt sick. He always found it kind of weird that Danny wore a strange suit. Had assumed that because ghosts can alter their appearance that Danny had simply chose to wear a suit like them. It never really fit though. The suit didn’t look like theirs. To loose fitting. Made of rubber instead of spandex or Kevlar.

“Then he tipped… and it turned on.” Clark’s breath hitched in his throat. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this. “I ran down when I heard Sam and Tuck screaming. They were hysterical. Took about an hour to calm them down enough to understand what happened.” She sniffed as tears pooled at her eyelids.

“We thought maybe he was just somewhere else. I mean it was a portal, there had to be another side. Somewhere Danny ended up. I guess we were right in a way. Just not the way we wanted.” Jazz sighed as she looked down at her lap. “We didn’t want to get in trouble, didn’t want Danny getting in trouble when he got back. So we said he just disappeared. Hoping he’d show up again and it be fine.” She voice cracking as her lip trembled. “Then Phantom showed up and I just knew. I knew that was Danny.”

She looked up at the two, a pleading look mixed with her grief. “Then mom and dad attacked him. They thought ghost were evil and I… I was scared. I didn’t know what they would do if they knew it was Danny. I didn’t know.”

Clark leant forward to place a hand on the woman’s knee. “You were a kid too. You were just doing what you thought was right.” His soft words seemed to calm her as she wiped her tears.

“I know. I know that now but sometimes.” She sighed again. “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if they knew. If Danny could have gotten the send off he deserved.”

The three sat there for a moment. Sorting through their emotions when one thought resurfaced in Barry’s mind. “Did you ever… find his body. You said it was a portal right? Does that mean?”

Jazz shook her head. “No. Maybe if he had just walked through it or died next to it but.” She looked over to the cabinet again. “The portal opened on top of him. Through him. There was nothing left to find…”

The three sat in the silence for a moment. Barry didn’t know what to think other than just absolute heart brake. What he had learnt from John about ghost came to mind, how important graves were, how important being remembered was. All these things that Danny never got.

“Did he ever have a funeral?” The info Bat’s gave them didn’t mention one but there was still a chance. Whatever small hope Barry had was shattered as Jazz shook her head. She sighed, before standing and walking over to the cabinet.

“Mom and Dad refused to believe he was gone. They thought a ghost took him for some reason.” She scoffed. “We did the best we could for him. Sam, Tucker and I.” She opened the cabinet to show a shrine of sorts. Danny’s photo sitting next to a small vase of flowers, a toy rocket ship sitting between them. “It never felt like enough though.”

Barry walked up beside her and placed a hand on her shoulder. An idea beginning to form. “Well, we can change that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was good to be back. Don’t get him wrong, Danny loved going on space missions. I mean, it was space!! But earth would always be his home. Plus, he managed to make it just in time to. Letting out a happy chip, he flew through the walls of the watch tower into the main meeting room.

“Happy death da- where is everyone?” They should be here. For years now, ever since the league learnt of death days, they made it a priority to be at the watch tower to celebrate with him. So where was everyone?

“Just in time Danny!” Looking off to the side he saw flash. Well, Barry he guessed, as the man was out of uniform. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.”

“Late for what?” He asked as the speedster grabbed his hand and lead him to the Zata tubes.

“A surprise! Just for you.” Barry smiled, really hopping Danny did like this and he hadn’t made the wrong decision. A bright flash later and they were stepping out into the streets of Amity. A car waiting for them just ahead that Barry coaxed Phantom into.

Danny had no clue what was going on but just decided to enjoy the ride. Looking out the window at his haunt. The closer they got to the destination the more people he spotted. Dash and Paulina, Wes and Mikey even Mr Lancer were all there. Dressed in black and heading to the same place.

“It’s alright if you want to stay invisible for this.” Barry’s voice pulled his eyes way from the window. “Or if you want to reveal yourself, that’s fine to.” He smiled at the kid.

“I still don’t know what ‘this’ is.” He gestured as the car parked.

“You’ll see.” Was the only response he got. Deciding to be safe, he turned invisible as he followed Barry out of the car and into the graveyard. A small flicker of hope building in his chest.

It was a hope he had given up on a long time ago. When it became clear his parents would never accept the truth. He tried to push it away. Not wanting to face the hurt and disappointment again. Part of his wanted to leave, not wanting to sit through someone else getting what he never did. Just as he was thinking that however, they came up to the gathering of people and he saw it.

A closed coffin above an empty grave. Flowers adorning every part of the lid around a single photo frame. A frame with his face on it. Tears weld in his eyes as he looked at the photo, then to the people around him. There was so many of them. His old classmates, grown with some of them having their children standing beside them. His neighbours stood off to the side next to a woman he recognised as the owner of the corner shop near his school. The now retired directive he followed years ago when the man investigated his ‘disappearance’. A man, which he now recognised as one of the kids Jazz used to babysit, stood with his wife. All of them mingling amongst each other and various league members. A icy breath drew his eyes up, revealing hundreds of ghost, hidden from human eyes. Old enemies and friends alike all gathered around. Johnny and Kitty, boxy and lunch lady, even Skulker was there.

As he fought to hold back his sobs a voice cleared from beside the coffin. Looking over he saw his sister standing at the head of it in a black dress suit. Sam to her right, looking right at home in her gothic inspired funeral gown and Tucker on her left, tugging at his uncomfortable tie. A hush fell over the crowed as everyone turned to Jazz as she began to speak.

She spoke of him. Of his life. Tears weld in her eyes as a bitter sweet smile graced her face. She spoke of the boy who wished to see the stars. Of the brother she lost to soon. The one she will always hold in her heart and memories for the rest of her days.

Danny sat on the coffin, His coffin, as he listened. A wobbly smile on his lips and tears ran down his face as he listened to her. He sat and listened as Sam stepped forward and spoke as well, then as Tucker did the same. A sense of peace, one he didn’t know he was missing, came over him as he heard their goodbyes.

He looked over the crowd as the speeches came to an end. His eyes finding Bruce, tucked away in the back with sunglasses on. They must have had thermal vision as Bruce was able to meet his eyes. A small nod was given to the young man. While Bruce wouldn’t reveal someone else secret, he trusted Danny to make his own choice.

Look back at his sister and friends. He knew the choice he had to make. With barely a thought he dropped his invisibility. Hushed gasped was heard throughout the crowd as the thing they all suspected was confirmed. The ghost child that had save all of them more times than they could count was the very child all of them had knew. The boy so many of them felt they had failed was the same as the boy that had protected them for decades.

Their hero was their Danny.

Jazz smiled through her tears at her brother. Her arms lifted in a silent invitation that he quickly accepted. Flying into his sister’s arms as his core sung out in joy. A breeze chilled the air as snow began to fall.

Pulling away from his sister, he caught sight of a covered stone behind her. Seeing what had got his attention, Jazz stood to the side as Sam removed the black cloth draped over it.

It was beautiful. Black stone polished to a shine with white flecks scattered about it in a way they reflected the night sky. On the face of it, caved with the utmost care was his name, along with a simple message.

‘Gone but never forgotten.

Fly high, Danny.’