#it was suppose to be the first week of school

[alsofoundinpeas]

Crossing the Line

Summary: Y/N never expected to fall for her roommate, Spencer, but when she becomes unexpectedly jealous of a girl flirting with him, she realizes she's in love with him. The problem is... how does she tell him that without ruining everything?

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI!! This fic is intended for adult audiences. Roommates/friends to lovers/two idiots in love trope. Jealous reader. Heavy making out. Dry humping (huge supporter of this I say bring it back!!). A small teensy bit of angst as reader struggles to accept her feelings. Insecure Spencer (sweet angel boy).

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader/afab!reader

Requested fic!! 🥳: I absolutely loved the fic you just wrote about Spencer and reader friends to lovers (and omg you write smut so well 😍) and I was wondering if you could write another one but maybe they’re roommates or something?

A/N: College!Spencer AU ahh!! Thank you so very much to the anon that requested this :’) <3 I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I know this isn't my usual, all-out smut buttt there will be a part two for these two, so stay tuned. :') As always, please tell me what you think! If you enjoy it, please like, reblog, and share it with your friends. <3 Thank you and I love you all!! :)

Y/N never imagined she'd be rooming with a man, let alone one as… peculiar as Spencer Reid. Not in a bad way, of course—just, well, peculiar. Spencer was the last person Y/N expected to respond to her ad for a roommate, but she was glad he did.

At barely twenty-one, he already had two bachelor’s degrees and was deep into his third PhD. He’d graduated high school at twelve (an IQ of 187 had a way of doing that, she supposed), skipping the years most kids spent developing their social skills. As a result, he was incredibly awkward and nerdy, but Y/N found this more endearing than off-putting.

As a roommate, he was exceptional: he kept things tidy, wasn’t obnoxiously loud (even with their paper-thin walls), never had people over (which meant Y/N spent more time with him, as she didn’t have guests either), and even helped her study, despite her insistence she could handle it on her own (they both knew better). As a friend, he was even better—always listening to her ramble about anything and everything, joining her for their now-regular movie nights, and offering a shoulder to cry on when needed (and she was always there for him in return).

In the six months they'd lived together, they'd grown incredibly close. Y/N was even smugly certain that they had avoided the classic 'falling for your roommate' scenario—until Spencer came home ranting about a girl in his class.

“I mean, seriously! How hard is it to grab a paper without touching someone?” Spencer huffed, plopping down onto the couch next to her and reaching for the popcorn bowl that sat securely in her lap.

It took about three months of living together before Spencer felt comfortable enough to do things like share snacks during their movie nights or indulge in the occasional moment of physical affection.

Y/N never took it personally, understanding his aversion to germs (one of the first things he’d said when they met was that kissing was safer than shaking hands, and she’d almost jokingly taken him up on it). Every time Spencer felt comfortable enough to share food with her (like he was doing now) or lean into her on the heavier days, letting her hold him until the world felt a little lighter, her chest swelled with pride. It made her happy to know he trusted her enough to let his guard down like that.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she listened to his rant. Apparently, a girl in the class he TA'd for had been getting on his nerves for weeks, but this was the first she’d heard about it. It didn’t surprise her—Spencer tended to bottle things up until they reached a breaking point, and then he'd unload it all at once, just like he was doing now.

"She’s always staring at me, too. Every time I glance up, there she is—staring and chewing on the end of her pen. It gives me the creeps," Spencer grumbled, a shiver running down his spine as he recalled it.

"Wait wait wait," Y/N stopped his rant with furrowed brows. "What did you say this girl's name was?"

"Her name’s Wren Davidson. You might know her—or at least know of her. I'm pretty sure she's in a few of the same classes as you," Spencer said, pausing to snack on some popcorn, though by now, their movie was all but forgotten as the starting menu looped on the screen. "She’s about 5'6", has dark brown hair with some highlights, and green eyes."

Y/N pressed her tongue to her cheek, thinking for a moment. The name sounded strangely familiar…

"Oh! I know who you mean—she's in my 8:00 AM lecture with Professor James on Tuesdays and Thursdays," Y/N said, snapping her fingers as she remembered. She popped a piece of popcorn into her mouth, then tilted her head. "So, just to recap—she's asking you questions instead of the professor, touching you whenever you hand out papers, staring at you… and what else?"

Spencer adjusted his glasses and leaned forward, clearly frustrated.

"She’s been bringing me coffee lately, even though I’ve told her a million times I don’t want it because you always make it just the way I like before I leave and I don't need more. And when she doesn’t bring coffee, it’s some kind of baked good. I don’t get it! If she’s looking for favoritism, why not try to suck up to the professor? I’m just the TA."

A sudden tightness gripped Y/N’s chest as she processed his words. It was clear now—Wren was flirting with him. But why did that thought send an unexpected wave of discomfort through her? Jealousy, maybe? No, that didn’t make sense... Why would she be jealous?

“She’s not looking for favoritism, Spence. She’s looking for a way to get into your pants,” Y/N snickered, ignoring yet another wave of unease that crashed into her at the mental image of Spencer actually having sex with Wren. Anyone would be uncomfortable thinking about their roommate having sex… right? That was a perfectly normal reaction.

Spencer suddenly choked on the popcorn he’d just popped into his mouth, coughing violently and startling Y/N. Without thinking, she leaned over, gently patting his back as concern flooded her expression. When the coughing finally subsided into a weak wheeze, she reached for his glass of water on the coffee table and handed it to him with a worried glance.

"Jesus, Spencer! Are you okay?"

"Why would you say that?"

Spencer's voice was unnervingly high, his face flushed from both the coughing fit and his growing embarrassment. He took a slow sip of water, trying to steady his racing heart. Setting the glass down with trembling hands, he adjusted his crooked glasses, his gaze avoiding hers. "For the record," he muttered, his voice tinged with insecurity, "I highly doubt she’s trying to… get in my pants."

Y/N's expression softened from concern to sympathy as her hand moved to rub his knee in comfort.

She remembered the first (and only) time she’d gotten Spencer to drink with her, how, in his tipsy state, he’d opened up about his painful past. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he’d shared how brutally he’d been bullied as a child prodigy, and how those experiences had led him to avoid romantic relationships for fear of humiliation and rejection. That night marked the turning point in their relationship, transforming them from roommates who got along to actual friends—a change she would forever be grateful for.

"You’re too hard on yourself," Y/N said gently. "Trust me on this one. As a woman, I can tell you with absolute certainty—she's flirting with you." She added, her tone matter-of-fact.

Spencer gave her a doubtful look, but after a moment, his shoulders slumped in reluctant acceptance as he began to entertain the possibility. "We’ll see," he muttered, grabbing the remote and finally starting their movie night.

It turned out Y/N had been right.

Three weeks had passed without a word from Spencer about it, and Y/N figured Wren had gotten the message and moved on. But then she began to notice Wren walking into class with a little extra bounce in her step, a shy, almost giddy smile lighting up her face as she sat down. Y/N shrugged it off… until she noticed Spencer doing the exact same thing.

Spencer began coming home later and later after class, a goofy grin on his face as he wandered through the apartment or headed to his room. Y/N didn’t ask any questions, knowing he’d share whatever was making him so happy when he was ready—though she had a pretty strong hunch about who it was. By the fourth week, he finally felt comfortable enough to confide in her.

"You won’t believe this, but I finally just asked Wren straight up if she was flirting with me… and she said yes!" Spencer said, his excitement clear as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/N cook. "We’ve been spending time together after class, and, uh… I asked her out on a date for this Friday!"

Y/N froze mid-stir, caught off guard by the sudden pang of sadness that hit her. Why did she feel this way? She should be happy for him—he was her closest friend, after all. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to keep stirring as she pushed the unsettling thoughts aside for the moment.

"That’s great, Spence!" Y/N said, though her voice came out a bit tighter than usual. "So… what do you have planned for your date?"

Spencer began to ramble excitedly about what he had planned for Friday, his hands moving animatedly as he spoke. All it did was seem to make the feeling of dread and hurt creeping up on her worse, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why Spencer talking about his date had her so bothered. Maybe it was because she hadn't been on a date in over a year, having avoided the dating scene after her last breakup. That had to be it.

Y/N nodded absentmindedly, her mind fixated on the uneasy feeling growing inside her rather than his words. It had been so long since she’d felt anything like this, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't make sense of why it was happening.

She wasn’t blind. She knew Spencer was ridiculously attractive (even if his wardrobe seemed to be straight out of an elderly man’s fashion catalog). And he was kind, thoughtful, and attentive—anyone would be lucky to date him. Yet, despite all that, she’d always seen him as nothing more than a friend. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself.

Fortunately, the timer went off, cutting Spencer off mid-sentence. He quickly shifted gears, helping her dish out their food. They moved to the living room, ready to enjoy their meal and unwind with TV, as they always did.

Spencer couldn’t help but notice that Y/N was quieter than usual. She didn’t join in with her usual banter during the show, instead taking absent-minded bites, taking bites between distant, unfocused stares at the screen. His brow furrowed as he put his fork down, observing her slowly push her food around without really eating.

"Y/N… are you alright?" Spencer asked, lowering the volume on the TV. "You’ve barely touched your food."

"Hm?" Y/N looked up, offering a faint smile as she shrugged. "Yeah… I’m fine, Spence. Just a little tired, I guess."

He didn’t fully buy it, but he decided not to push further. "How about a nap in my lap while I grade papers, then? After dinner, of course. I don’t want your head in my food," Spencer joked, pleased with himself. His lame humor had her rolling her eyes and grinning, stifling a laugh.

That had become normal for them: napping or cuddling, quick pecks on the cheek or top of the head when one of them left, cooking and eating together… the list went on. But the more Y/N thought about it, the more she realized it didn’t exactly align with typical roommate behavior. Or maybe it did, and she was just overanalyzing, letting the strange feeling she couldn’t shake make her paranoid.

"That sounds perfect," Y/N agreed, silently hoping the nap would help clear her mind.

They finished dinner, chatting between bites about their day. Spencer, ever the gentleman, told her to stay on the couch while he cleared their plates and rinsed them. After grabbing the stack of papers he needed to grade for Professor Hartman from his room, he returned, settling back onto the couch with a grin as he patted his lap.

Y/N eased into his lap, stretching her legs out across the couch as she nestled her head into the crook of his neck with a contented sigh. Spencer ran a hand down her back as she settled in, giving her hip a gentle pat before picking up the first paper to grade.

It didn't take long for Y/N to drift off in his arms, her breath warm against his skin as he graded papers. The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of her breathing, the rustling of the papers as he flipped through them, and the occasional hum of a car passing outside. Spencer paused his grading, his gaze drifting down to Y/N as she slept peacefully in his arms. A fond expression softened his features as he watched her, her calmness soothing him. Slowly, he reached up and caressed her cheek with his knuckles, then resumed his work, his gaze lingering for just a moment longer.

Spencer’s eyelids drooped as he made his way through the last few papers, small yawns escaping him between each one. When he finished, he quietly set the stack on the coffee table, taking care not to disturb Y/N. With a gentle shift, he settled back into the cushions, bringing one hand to cradle her head as he adjusted their position on the couch. He carefully maneuvered so he could stretch out before pulling her closer, tucking her into his side.

It was late enough that Spencer didn’t see the need to wake her; he knew if he did, she’d be up for hours. Reaching behind him, he turned off the lamp, letting the room fall into darkness. The soft rhythm of her breathing eased him, and soon, he drifted off, her warmth grounding him. In minutes, they were both asleep, entwined in the quiet comfort of each other’s arms.

As the week passed, Y/N found it increasingly difficult to cope with the thought of Spencer going on his date with Wren. Every time he brought it up, she quickly steered the conversation elsewhere or found an excuse to slip away, guilt gnawing at her with every evasive move. She hated herself for it—he was genuinely excited, and she didn’t want to ruin that. But every mention of the date made her stomach twist, and she couldn’t bring herself to face it without feeling like she was being torn apart.

Y/N finally understood why the idea of him going on a date was so devastating to her nervous system.

Late Tuesday night, as Y/N lay awake in bed, a sudden, jarring realization hit her: she had fallen in love with Spencer. Somewhere over the past seven months, amid shared laughs, quiet moments, and unexpected tenderness, she had fallen hopelessly for the brilliant, quirky man she had sworn she'd never fall for.

And now, because she was a spineless coward who was too afraid to risk their friendship by speaking up, she found herself helping Spencer get ready for his date.

"Spencer, seriously—hold still! I'm almost done," Y/N grumbled, her tongue poking from the corner of her mouth as she fixed his hair.

Spencer let out an exasperated sigh but stopped shifting, almost going cross-eyed as he tried to focus on her. She was so close now that he could almost taste the minty freshness of her gum, her breath brushing his face making him more flustered than he expected. He nervously twiddled his fingers in his lap, his curiosity piqued as he waited to see how she had tamed his unruly strands.

"There you go. What do you think?" Y/N grinned proudly, stepping back to give him space as he stood from where he was sitting on the toilet lid, turning to face the bathroom mirror.

Spencer turned his head from side to side, eyes lingering on his reflection. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he examined himself. For the first time, he felt it—he felt good. Like he could finally see what Y/N saw when she insisted he was handsome. Instead of his typical gelled, slicked-down look, she'd arranged his hair to accentuate his face, giving his features a more defined, natural appeal.

"I... Y/N, I love it. Thank you," Spencer breathed earnestly, turning to pull her into a warm hug.

Y/N smiled gently, wrapping her arms around him. The newfound confidence in his eyes was enough to ease the ache in her chest about his date. At least, she thought, he was finally seeing himself the way she always had—worthy and deserving of feeling this good.

“Of course, Spence. Anything for you,” she murmured, the words feeling heavier than she intended. She meant it, though. She would do anything for him—even if it meant shattering her own heart along the way.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N released a long, shaky breath, pressing her forehead against the cool wood for a moment before slowly making her way to Spencer's room. He had told her not to wait up, mentioning he planned on going to Wren’s afterward. So, she curled up in his blanket, clutching his pillow to her chest, trying to let the comfort of his familiar scent quiet her restless mind.

Less than five minutes passed before the tears began to fall, each one soaking into the fabric of his pillow as a sob broke free from her chest. She felt pathetic. There she was, crumpled in his bed while he was out on a date, all because she couldn’t find the courage to tell him how she felt—too afraid to admit the truth, convinced that he could never feel the same way about her.

The hours slipped by in a blur, her tears long gone as exhaustion weighed heavily on her. Too weary to move to her own bed, she simply tossed her pants to his floor, closed her eyes, and let sleep take over in the comfort of his sheets. She'd remake his bed in the morning before he got home, hoping he'd never know about the quiet, tearful night she'd spent there.

Spencer ran a hand through his hair, his fingers grazing his scalp as he quietly unlocked the door and stepped into the dark apartment. The date had gone fine, nothing awful… but there was a difference between nice and right. Wren was nice, but she wasn’t the one his heart had been quietly waiting for. That person was the other half of this apartment, likely fast asleep in her room, just as he’d told her to be—and he couldn’t shake the feeling she should’ve been the one he’d been out with tonight.

Spencer hung his jacket on the coat rack and slipped off his shoes, setting them neatly by the door. He headed toward his room, eager to leave the awkwardness of the evening behind and looking forward to starting the next day with the one person who truly made his world feel right. Though Y/N wasn’t his, there was a quiet comfort in knowing she was always the first face he’d see each morning. Maybe one day, he'd find the courage to tell her how he felt. But for now, he was content cherishing their friendship.

He couldn't shake the slight guilt he felt for Wren, a cringe running through him as he replayed the moment she'd tried to kiss him when he dropped her off. When she leaned in, he'd jerked back instinctively, his eyes wide in shock, leaving her face flushed with embarrassment. He’d apologized immediately, of course, and she’d been kind enough to accept it before hurriedly retreating into her house. Still, he couldn't help but feel the discomfort linger, knowing their interactions in class would be uncomfortable from here on out.

Spencer pushed open his door, too exhausted to bother with the light as he shrugged off his clothes, blindly stumbling toward the bed. He let out a sigh of relief as he collapsed onto the mattress—only to freeze when something beneath him let out a loud, panicked yelp. He scrambled back in shock, crashing to the floor in a clumsy heap, cursing loudly.

"What the fuck?" Spencer gasped, reaching for his lamp from the ground as he quickly sat up.

Y/N blinked at him in startled surprise, her brow furrowed and mouth slightly agape as she took in the sight of him sprawled on the floor. Spencer felt a wave of relief wash over him, his body sagging as he realized she wasn’t some weird, perverted burglar waiting for him. Still, as the shock wore off, confusion crept in. Why was she in his bed?

“Are you alright?” Y/N squeaked, instinctively reaching down to help Spencer back onto the bed. Her mind was still foggy with sleep, and her heart was racing from the jarring wake-up call.

Spencer quickly slid under the covers, suddenly self-conscious of his state of undress, his face flushing as he glanced at her. He cleared his throat and gave a small nod. "I'm good, just… uh, why are you in my bed?"

Y/N hesitated, her teeth gently catching her lower lip as she searched for an excuse that wouldn't sound ridiculous. But nothing came to mind. With a deep breath, she finally decided to just tell him the truth.

"I… I wasn't handling your date with Wren very well," Y/N confessed, her voice low. "I came in here hoping to get some peace because being near you usually makes me feel better. But instead, I just ended up crying myself to sleep in your bed. I'm really sorry," she added, her brows knitting together as she looked at him. "Wait—why are you here? I thought you were going to stay at Wren's."

Spencer’s expression softened as he took in her words. “I chose to come home,” he said quietly. “Wren’s nice, but tonight made me realize there’s really only one person I want across from me, or kissing me, or… anything else.” He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “But what do you mean you weren’t handling my date well? Why did you cry yourself to sleep, sweetheart?”

Y/N’s heart clenched at his words, a wave of worry washing over her as her fatigue made it harder to hold back what she was feeling. Who could he possibly be talking about? She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before she finally spoke.

“I’ve been trying to figure this out for a while,” she began, her voice soft but steady. “And, Spence… I think I’m in love with you. I’ve probably been in love with you for a long time, but I was too afraid to admit it to myself. Every time I thought about you with her, I felt so… sick. So jealous. Because I wanted to be the one you were with. I wanted to be the one you fell in love with.”

The words hung in the air between them, raw and unguarded. It was out in the open now. There was nothing left to hide.

To her surprise, Spencer let out a soft chuckle. Before she had a chance to take offense, he reached for her hands, holding them gently as he spoke.

"Y/N… you're already the one I've fallen in love with," Spencer confessed, his voice steady as his eyes held hers. "You're the reason I came back. As I sat across from her, it hit me—there’s no one else in this world that I’d rather be with than you."

Y/N blinked hard, ensuring that she wasn’t asleep and that this wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t. He was still there when she opened her eyes, sitting cross legged and vulnerable (and enticingly bare under the covers) before her as he waited for her to respond. He tilted his head at that, laughing softly as his face scrunched in confusion.

“What are you doing, silly girl? I confess my love to you and your response is to blink at me like an owl?” Spencer teased, his nose twitching as he grinned.

Y/N huffed out a laugh of her own, gently squeezing his hands as she shook her head. “I’m sorry! I just— I wanted to make sure this was real,” she murmured, her eyes falling to their hands in her lap.

“Would… would a kiss help to solidify that it’s real?” Spencer offered, a shy smile on his face.

Y/N’s eyes widened at that, baffled but pleased with his newfound confidence. Maybe she should do his hair more often. Without a word, she nodded eagerly, leaning forward to gently capture his lips with her own.

The press of his lips against hers sent her spinning, as though reality itself was slipping away and all that remained was the grounding warmth of his hands cradling her face. Spencer’s kiss was all-encompassing—like she was the very breath he needed to live. She craved more, desperate to fan the flames between them until the heat ignited, consuming them both from within.

Spencer’s lips never left hers as he gently tilted his head, deepening the kiss with a slow, deliberate movement. He carefully lowered her to the bed, his hands supporting her as he pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. "Feel real enough for you, yet?" he whispered, his breath warm against her skin, the faintest brush of his lips lingering as if he couldn’t bear to pull away for even a second.

Y/N rolled her eyes at his teasing, lacing her fingers into his hair to tug gently in retaliation. The whine he let out sent a sharp pang of desire up her spine, and she tugged harder just to hear it again.

“Mm, not yet. I think you’ll have to do it again to really convince me.”

The words barely filled the space between them before his lips were back on hers. She let out a soft exhale as his hips settled against hers, unable to help the giggles that slipped free when she felt his hard cock pressing against her through his boxers. She wasn’t laughing at him, not at all. She was just lost in pure, blissful joy, reveling in the realization that he was finally hers.

“Stop giggling and kiss me back,” Spencer muttered, his voice laced with playful frustration, but her laughter was contagious, and soon he was laughing too. Their lips remained pressed together, but it was more of a chaotic, shared moment than an actual kiss. As they pulled away, both of them breathless, the last of his nerves melted away, and they simply stared at each other, the connection now clearer than ever.

Spencer had imagined plenty of times what it would look like to have her splayed underneath him in his bed (thoughts that were shamefully fueled by her soft sounds of pleasure through their shared wall whenever she thought he was asleep). Nothing his imagination had dreamed up could ever compare to the sight before him. She looked utterly captivating, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly swollen from their kisses, eyes looking up at him with that familiar warmth. He always thought she was beautiful, without a doubt. But in this moment? She was a living, breathing work of art. A stunning, half-dressed masterpiece who was wrapping her legs around his waist with a shit-eating grin and��

“Oh—!”

Spencer squeaked as Y/N arched her hips into his again, grinding against him in a way that provided delicious friction against his aching cock. Spencer had never been more turned on than he was in this moment, the need thrumming through his veins driving him to rock gently against her in return.

Y/N’s grin faltered as her breath hitched, her brows pinching together as he began to thrust shakily against her through their underwear. Her mouth dropped open into a silent gasp as the head of his arousal brushed against her clit through the thin fabric, a helpless whine leaving her lips shortly after as he repeated the movement.

They were both too tired and too in love to rush their first time together (and Spencer’s first time in general), so they settled for this: the steady push and pull of their hips grinding together as their lips began to devour each other’s once more. The room quickly filled with their muffled noises of pleasure; soft moans and whimpers between passionate kisses and the rustling of his covers as they moved against each other creating an explicit symphony.

Spencer’s movements became more fervent as Y/N licked into his mouth, her nails dragging across his shoulder blades encouraging him to keep going. His body trembled as he felt her arousal dampening the front of his boxers, a guttural moan wrenching its way from his throat. She was soaked. All because of him.

Y/N’s head tipped back against his pillows, her eyes squeezed shut as she felt the pleasure coiling tightly in her lower stomach. His lips immediately moved to the crook of her neck, nipping and sucking gently at the skin there between whimpers of her name. It felt erotic, the both of them so turned on despite their exhaustion that they couldn’t help their movements, desperate to experience the other falling apart.

She’d make it up to him later, when she could actually take her time with him and make his first time something special, something memorable. But for now, she was perfectly content with this.

“Spence I’m—“ Y/N gasped, tangling her fingers into his hair as she began to writhe underneath him. “I’m about to—“

Her orgasm washed over her like a cold bucket of water, yanking the air from her lungs and making her body tense up as she cried out his name and clung to him. Spencer groaned alongside her, pulling his head from the crook of her neck so that he could watch her in awe. The sight alone almost had him cumming, his movements growing frantic as he chased his pleasure.

Her soft whines urged him closer and closer to the finish line as he rutted against her, and all he could manage was a soft shout of her name before his climax took hold of him, his cock throbbing against her as he spilled into his boxers. He collapsed against her, thrusting weakly with small whimpers to ride out both of their highs before his hips finally stilled.

Their chests heaved as they laid together, catching their breath. Y/N’s hands raked through Spencer’s hair, fighting to stay awake long enough so that they could clean up. When Spencer could finally move, he lifted up onto his forearms, pressing small, gentle kisses to her lips with murmured thank you’s before he climbed out of his bed to grab a towel from the bathroom. Once they were cleaned and stripped out of their cum-soaked clothes (to which Y/N and Spencer both giggled excessively about as they wriggled out of them), Spencer reached over to turn off his lamp.

Drained but happy, they collapsed into each other’s embrace, winding together in Spencer’s bed and surrendering to the pull of sleep. Just before sleep claimed him, Spencer pressed a gentle, lingering kiss to Y/N’s forehead, whispering, "I love you, my sweet girl."

A soft smile tugged at his lips when he heard her whisper back, "I love you too, my sweet boy."

REMINDER: I do NOT give permission for my work to be re-uploaded to any other platforms (c.ai, Tiktok, ao3, etc.) under any circumstances. If you'd like to translate my work, then please ask me before doing so. I know it sounds whiny, but I (as well as many other fanfic writers) spend so much time on these and it's genuinely not okay to take credit for work that isn't yours. It's insulting and completely unnecessary. If I do see my work uploaded anywhere without explicit permission, I WILL say something.

[rayshippouuchiha]

The Lone Wolf Dies

End-Class Princess: the Other Assassin

In which Takeshi looses the plot, Kurokawa Hana ends up dragging him along with it anyway, and a dog starts to revert to a wolf.

—

The first day of middle school, Takeshi hears some classmates sniggering about a prank they played on Sawada-Chan. They seem so pleased with themselves, at the reaction that Hibari-Senpai will have when she makes it to school tomorrow. Takeshi frowns slightly. Sawada-Chan is nice. She didn’t deserve that. He resolved to try and be extra nice to her when she came back.

—

Takeshi is restless. Sawada-Chan hasn’t been at school all week. They’d had a test already, and everyone had laughed about his low scores, saying that at least he had baseball. It stung worse than usual, turning his head slightly and not seeing a distressed pair of brown eyes and wringing hands. He hadn’t realized that he kept an eye out for her, or noticed that she worried about his grades. It’s been a week, surely she’s not sick? Hibari-Senpai has been rougher than usual too.

—

It’s a month into the new school year, and it feels like he’s the only one who’s noticed that Sawada-Chan hasn’t shown up. Everyone else seems to be forgetting about her altogether, except Kurokawa-San. She occasionally glances at a particular empty desk and frowns.

—

Takeshi squints his eyes shut to hide his irritation, flashing a toothy grin. To be honest, it feels more like he’s baring his teeth. The baseball team is getting on his nerves. Before, he’d been able to work it out on the diamond, the sheer physicality and camaraderie of the team pulling together soothing him. But as the weeks drag on, it works less and less. The team favors him as a star player, but they seem to be pulling less of their own weight.

He tells himself he’s just being overly sensitive. This year has just been unusually stressful. Once he adjusts to middle school, it’ll get better.

(He glances at an empty desk, than away. He accidentally locks eyes with Kurokawa-San doing the same. Maybe he should see if she wants to talk.)

—-

Kurokawa-San seems to be the only other person who’s noticed that Sawada-Chan hasn’t been to school once. Even Sasagawa-Chan just brushes it off with a vague, “who? Oh, Dame-Tsuna! Do you think she had to go to another school for extra tutoring?” She’s nice about it, at least.

Kurokawa-San is surprised when he points out no one has seen her in town either.

“I didn’t think you paid her that much attention,” she stated. “Huh. I suppose even a monkey like you can tell what would happen if you asked her out.”

It’s not that. It’s just. He didn’t realize how much the glimpses of her had settled him down before. Right now it just feels someone is rubbing sandpaper on the inside of his skin. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling, it always happens over the summer. Usually it goes away when school starts up and he can play baseball. But baseball isn’t working like it usually does. Sawada-chan’s mysterious disappearance gives him something to focus on so he doesn’t use his bat like a shinai and makes the second string players run faster.

His dad would be upset if he did that.

—-

Takeshi realizes intellectually that he should be proud to be playing an away game in his first year of middle school, even with his less than stellar grades. He’s more distracted by imaging all the ways he could really hurt people. Kurokawa is helping, a little, ever since she noticed his struggle to keep his smile up.

“Stop pushing yourself around me, like some sort of stupid monkey,” she said bluntly. “I know you’re a wolf, try not to go rabid.”

He’s pretty sure people are starting to think they’re dating, the way he seeks her out. She mostly doesn’t care, and uses it as an excuse to get away with physically grounding him. The desperate rasping inside him is growing worse.

If this keeps up, they’re both worried he’s going to kill someone. And not even Hibari-senpai is paying enough attention to notice.

(She would have.)

—-

Takeshi whips his head around as they’re escorted to the sports field. Had that been, Sawada-Chan? What would she be doing here?

—

After the game, the coach lets them wander around the market a bit, as a reward for winning. Takeshi takes him up on it, managing to shed the usual hangers-on that he has after a game. The sandpaper and chisels that have been steadily working away inside his skin are joined by anxious jangling bells. He can’t figure out what’s wrong with him.

“Yamamoto-kun?” A familiar voice rings out, puzzled.

He turns and the bells go silent, the chisels drop away from his bones, and the sandpaper pauses. Sawada-Chan is staring at him, pale amber eyes meeting his properly for once, a cloth bag slung over her shoulder. Takeshi beams at her. Oh. So this is why Kurokawa called him a wolf.

“Sawada-Chan! How have you been? Kurokawa and I have missed you,” he comes up to talk to her without hesitation. He’s almost dizzy as whatever has been clawing at him finally quiets down.

—

Eventually, he manages to convince her invite him back her place. She leads him to an apartment, tossing him concerned looks from the corner of her eye. Takeshi feels something in him preen in pleasure. He’d never noticed her do that before, but the feeling is very familiar. She has worried about him, and not because of his baseball skills.

She looks good, her shoulders held back and her gaze steady. He had never noticed her eyes were so light before, almost the same shade as fossilized amber. She’d always had her head down before. Takeshi likes it.

“I texted Rika-Chan, she said it was alright to lend you her slippers,” Sawada-Chan pulled out a pair of guest shoes for him.

They were still a little stiff, but he was too distracted by how many pairs of shoes were tidily tucked into the shelves of cubbies by the door. While she’d been gone, she’d become close enough to a lot of people, close enough to have guest slippers. He ruthlessly suppressed the urge to mess them up. What if she got mad at him and threw him out? He wasn’t ready to face the noise yet.

—

Her apartment was small, but cozy. There was a beat up old kotatsu where she was putting some tea for him, and a faded couch. There were little touches everywhere that called to mind comfort. (He liked the amateur ink painting of a puppy of some kind, tripping over its paws chasing a ball.) Takeshi was seized by the desire to roll around the whole place and never leave. A plate of dumplings, lopsided and mismatched, found themselves next to the tea.

—

Eventually, he has to go, but he managed to spend several hours talking to Sawada-Chan. She’s bolder than she used to be, but still doesn’t say much. Takeshi is pleased with himself when he manages to get her to forget to be wary and snark back at him. She even let him take a nap on her couch while she did homework leaning against it.

No wonder she’s in Kunugigaoka now. He doesn’t even know where to start, and she’s flying through the worksheets.

—-

There’s a slim hand nudging his shoulder. It’s not Kurokawa, and it’s not his otusan. His hand snaps up, snake quick, to latch onto the wrist. He misses. It’s so unusual, that he actually pauses before remembering where he was.

“Oh, sorry, Sawada-Chan!” He grins desperately. “I didn’t recognize you!” Please don’t send him away. He doesn’t want to have her shrink away from him again. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she flinched from him. Kurokawa is getting better at genuinely not flinching, even when she gets cut by the edges he can’t hide anymore.

“It’s fine,” he almost collapses as she waves it off. “But the buses are going to stop running for the night, your otousan has already called you.”

—

He gets her number before he lets himself be ushered out the door, nearly running into her neighbor who eyes him suspiciously. Not even Takeshi’s best sheepish grin erases the unfriendly look in the man’s eyes. It, probably didn’t help that he was disheveled, and still smelled a bit sweaty from the baseball game earlier. It didn’t look good, a teenage boy walking out of girl’s apartment looking like that.

Takeshi avoided his gaze and hurried to the bus depot. His otousan had been pleased that the reason he’d gone missing was running into a friend and loosing track of time, and not something, else. But he’s heard the warning to make it back tonight, and so had Sawada-Chan. She’d all but thrown him out the door, tugging on a worn pair of running shoes to lead him to the bus depot in time to catch the last bus to Namimori.

As the bus tumbled into the night, he wonders when he can make time to come back again, and how many times it will take before his shoes have a space in her entrance.

[sleepynoons]

SANTA TELL ME BY ARIANA GRANDE – sunday (hsr) x f!reader, guardian angel!au + college!au, sfw

genre – fluff, angst word count – ~2,700 warnings – explicit language synopsis – to put it quite simply, you have horrible taste in men. you're more than aware of it, so this year, you really, really, really want santa to hear you out because god definitely hasn't. but what you don't know is that someone does love you very dearly – you just can't see him.

Sunday ought to change positions. In fact, his sister, Robin, had notified him of an opening two weeks ago, no doubt confidential information that still somehow made its way through the Department, and he really should have brought it up with his manager. But more than likely, the position has already been taken, and even if it was not, no one gets to transfer at such a dire time in the year.

Holidays are what the Department calls “High Risk Periods.” In other words, during these trying times, humans are more prone to injuring themselves, usually from their own idiocy and recklessness, and that means Sunday and his guardian angel colleagues have to work overtime to prevent any major accidents or incidents, unless instructed otherwise in the Book of Fates. After all, humans seem to have found a plethora of ways to amuse themselves – getting drunk till they black out, doing parkour across the roofs of buildings dozens of floors tall, having disastrous sociopolitical conversations at the dinner table that devolve into screaming matches, the list goes on. Robin says she finds them entertaining, while Sunday constantly wonders why he was assigned to the Department in the first place.

Regardless, there is one truth about humans that Sunday wholly believes in. Out of all the humans he has been assigned to, you, especially, are stupid.

–

For the first time in weeks, your phone’s silent. No texts, no phone calls – not even a single email notification! Even your college seems to have decided to leave you alone when you least want it to. You lift your head, taking one last peek at your screen, and wail in disappointment and sadness despite knowing nothing will have changed within the second since your last glance.

Your girl friend grunts in response. She’s been sitting beside you in your room for the past few hours, having fallen victim to your post-breakup breakdown.

You yell into your pillow. “Why isn’t he reaching back out!”

“Because he’s a man,” she deadpans. 

You flip over so that you’re lying on your bed, face staring up at the ceiling, before letting out a pathetic moan again.

With teary eyes and trembling lips, you choke out, “I really thought he was the one.”

Bewildered, your friend drops her phone onto the floor. “What in the fuck are you saying, darling.”

“No, really! He’s so sweet and has this impish smile –“

“Sweetheart, you’ve been reading too many YA novels. No one fucking calls a smile ‘impish.’”

“– and he always bought me flowers when I least expected it.”

You release a dreamy sigh, with a slight undertone of frustration and envy. Since you started college three years ago, you haven’t really had any luck with long-lasting relationships. In your defense, first year’s meant to be spent frolicking, meeting different potential partners, and not really holding any expectations. Second year’s when you’re supposed to start settling down and finding an actual boyfriend, but sometimes, you just don’t meet someone who clicks. Unfortunately, even though you’re already halfway through your third year now, your misfortune seems to be nowhere near ending.

But you’re really trying! During the school year, you made sure to do your makeup and wear cute sets to class every day. You even got a new perfume – a little sweet, a lot more floral – to make sure your presence was known and committed to memory, and the new hair oil you rubbed through the ends of your hair had been giving you that extra healthy sheen and glow. And to your best judgment, your personality isn’t that bad either.

Your girl friend knows what you’re thinking by the downturn of your mouth. “It’s not you, love. You just don’t have the best… eye for men.”

“But aren’t you supposed to date men who can at least do the bare minimum?” The more you think about your now ex, the more you want to shrivel in a corner and question yourself. After all, you were hoping to spend all winter break long with your ex, but now you’re totally, completely, definitely alone for the holidays.

Your friend scooches over to the head of the bed and pats your arm with gentle thumps of her palm. “Yes, but they have to be consistent, too. Your ex may have been nice, but only sometimes. Remember how he forgot about your dates and always showed up late? Or that time you asked him to get painkillers, but he totally forgot because he went to the gym for four hours instead?”

You can only nod, unable to refute these instances of your ex’s incompetence. And by the knowing look on your girl friend’s face, it seems she has a laundry list more.

“I was just trying to give him the benefit of the doubt,” you mutter. You know you sound so naïve, but truly, you can’t help it. You don’t like it when others find fault in you, so you’re just doing the same for others – that’s the golden rule, right?

She gives you one final pat before standing up and stretching.

“Enough about this douche,” she says, with a sense of ultimatum to her tone. “Our Christmas party’s still happening, and who knows, maybe you’ll find a cute guy there.”

That’s true – at least there’s one good thing you can look forward to this winter break. You’re not returning home, so you’re celebrating Christmas with some other students who have also decided to stay on campus. You don’t know any of them, with the exception of your girl friend, well, so this party will be a good opportunity to meet someone new and outside of your usual circles.

Though you still feel sluggish, you do your best to follow your girl friend’s lead and drag yourself out of bed. When both of your feet are planted on the floor, you feel slightly more grounded. With a deep breath, you glance at your friend, and when the two of you lock eyes, for the first time since the breakup, you feel like there is a way up.

–

There’s another thing that humans do that Sunday finds incredibly odd: they never dress properly for the weather. Whether it be forgetting an umbrella or wearing shoes that’ll easily get soaked through by snow or dressing so bare and scantily in the dead of winter, Sunday simply cannot wrap his head around it.

He’s hovering above the edge of your bed as he watches you and your friend chatter about. He does not usually clock in at night out of respect for your privacy and space – which is, in reality, a moot point, since you do not know that he is there in the first place –, but you previously had a fiasco where you knocked over a glass cup in your drunken stupor and left a deep gash in your hand. That gash was not supposed to be there, and Sunday has learned his lesson to always supervise you when you are out and about, socializing and mingling and making out with strangers.

Sunday sighs as he watches you fidget with the end of your dress. As always, you seem to try to wear as little as possible when it is literally freezing outside. The ponds in your neighborhood have frozen over. The weather forecast reported an intense cold draft. Yet your jitters are not from the chill or wind – they are solely from your excitement. When your girl friend tells you to fold the dress up by another inch, to show off more of your arse, something in Sunday’s temple jumps unpleasantly. But of course, you nod enthusiastically in agreement, and he blocks his sight with his wings as you lean over your dresser in search of a safety pin.

Sunday knows your only singular goal tonight is to find another “catch of a guy” to satiate your needs. He wants to scream at you – to wear more? to keep it in your pants? something else? maybe all of the above? –, but guardian angels are forbidden from appearing or interacting with their humans. He also reminds himself that he is not your mother, so there is no need for him to worry over you when he does not need to. He should only be stressed if he has to intervene.

He sighs as he follows the two of you out of your apartment. He really hopes your idiotic antics will not cost too much of his patience, and if they do, he swears he will put in a transfer request next year.

It does not take long for you to find your prey for the night. You arrived at another student’s apartment where a small crowd had already gathered on the floor, all exchanging drinks in red plastic cups and hiccuping with veins full of vodka and whisky. You join, naturally finding a spot beside who you deem to be the cutest in the room, while Sunday miniaturizes himself so that he can sit on top of your head.

The room is so loud, and woody cologne, gingerbread, and hair spray do not go together. But what he hates most is the direction in which your conversation is headed.

“Never seen you around,” your prey comments with a flash of a toothy grin.

You hum and nod your head vigorously. “Yeah! That’s so odd, since we’re in the same year and all.”

“For sure,” he continues, tone already a little too bold for a pre-game, “I definitely wouldn’t forget a face as pretty as yours.”

Guardian angels are supposed to be ambivalent towards humans in general, but even that poor excuse of a pickup line wants Sunday to abort his job. But you still eat it up, and he feels his blood pressure rise.

The two of you continue to make small talk before the majority of the group decides to relocate to someone else’s unit, which is larger and has freshly baked brownies resting in the oven. But because this apartment is bigger, you and your partner manage to find yourselves a comfortable corner, distancing yourselves from everyone else to have more “privacy.”

You ask, “Why are you staying back on campus?”

With a shrug, he responds, “Flights are expensive. I was upset at first, but…”

You cock your head to the side, look up, and flutter your eyelashes. Sunday’s eyebrow quirks, but he is not sure if it is out of annoyance or something else. That is your signature move, your flawless routine to pull boys in, and he has seen it over and over again before.

“But… what?” you ask, voice shy yet tinged with coyness.

He shakes his head. He needs to remain calm, vigilant, and most importantly, neutral. As a result, he decides the best thing he can do is abandon his post as an eavesdropper and entertain himself with other matters. He stands up and flutters down to reach your shoulders. As he descends, he watches as one of your eyelashes falls to rest on the apple of your cheek. He would move it out of the way – obviously to assist your efforts in getting your prey, not that the guy has noticed it in the first place –, but he knows he cannot. He then observes your earrings. Although he tries, the metal does not reflect his person, and he does not understand why he reacts with a drop in his stomach.

Frustrated with all these questions and indeterminants, Sunday perches on your shoulder.

At some point, you excuse yourself for another drink. Sunday follows closely, occasionally intervening so that you do not bump into other crossed students and experience another catastrophe. However, once you get your cup of punch, instead of returning to your partner for the night, you head over to the bathroom. Sunday is not sure if he should join you, but there is a glint in your eyes, something that triggers his intuition that you are planning something reckless and most likely desperate, so he stays rooted to your shoulder.

And lo and behold, his intuition has never failed him, and it does not tonight either. You down the juice in one go, slap your cheeks with your hands quite forcefully, and look at yourself square in the mirror. Sunday wishes he could have slapped his hands over your mouth.

You say, with feverish determination and promise, “I will not screw up! I think he’s the one, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure we work out! It’s Christmas, too, so I should be extra lucky!”

Sunday cannot resist the urge to roll his eyes. It is more than obvious that that guy is only in for a good time, not a long time. This is why Sunday insists you are one of the stupidest humans he has ever had the misfortune to work with.

But whenever he explains how much of a lost cause you are to Robin, rather than believing him, his sister questions him instead.

“Are you sure, Brother?” she once asked.

“Yes, absolutely! How can one be so blind!” he proclaimed as the feathers of his wings ruffled with displeasure.

“Well, I think your human is just dense, and I find that quite adorable. Is it not?”

Sunday quieted immediately.

Even to this day, he chalks his failure to respond up to the sheer shock at his sister’s reaction. It is not surprising in that his sister finds a human adorable – many of his coworkers often express their never-ending fascination and curiosity towards human nature, behaviors, and quirks. Rather, it is unjustified to find your idiocy, your denseness, your ignorance cute, and that makes him seethe.

Now, though, he is not sure his original conclusion or feelings are right or appropriate. As you head back, a strong desire to prevent you from finding that man stirs within his gut. Of course, Sunday does not act on such unreasonable urges, but truly, he would be lying to himself if he said he was neutral when it came to matters concerning you. Again, perhaps he is just impatient, perhaps he does not want to deal with your grief-stricken self – especially when your state is caused by an inconsequential man’s actions –, perhaps he simply does not want to see you unhappy.

But neither of your wishes come true. 

You return to the living room, only to find your desired partner cozying up with another girl. Sunday can only watch, looking up as he sees tears, droplets so large relative to his miniature size, stream down the sides of your cheek and chin. When you are not looking, more occupied with scampering back to your apartment as quickly as possible, he catches one of your droplets in his hands, observing it as it hovers in front of him, still failing to show his reflection. He lets it go moments later, but how he wishes he could hold onto it for longer.

But more than that, he knows he would never make you cry like that. If only he was allowed, even one chance, to speak to you, knock some sense into you, demonstrate to you the treatment that you deserve. That way, you would learn your lesson, your true worth, and he would feel like he is actually doing his job as your guardian angel.

In the back of his mind, though, Sunday knows he would never actually feel satisfied – and that he will always worry over you, no matter what. After all, there is a reason why that rule is in place, and it is not to regulate humans. Indeed, humans are fickle creatures. Guardian angels, on the other hand, watch over a human from the time they are born to the day they die. This rule was created to keep the angels in check – to restrain their possession, greed, and lust from running amuck.

Robin is right. You are as downright adorable as you are clueless. But he did not want anyone else to find out, despite knowing there is nothing – nothing at all – that he can do about that.

winter event masterlist

[violenteconomics]

“so what?” ace says defensively. “mind your own business. deuce is his own person — it’s not like i’m forcing him to do this.”

riddle clenches his fist. reminds himself that it won’t be smart to get angry. “deuce said it was because he didn’t want to cause problems. whether you meant to or not, you coerced him into working himself to the bone because he didn’t want to bother you.”

“and? that was his choice.” ace steps back towards his room, face stone-cold. 

(for whatever reason, ace's frosty, unforgiving expression brings to mind a memory from what feels like years ago.

an image of ace, holding a hodgepodge of hedgehogs in his arms, laughing as the perfect day glimmers behind him, smiling at riddle in a rare moment of earnestness, flashes across riddle's eyes.

back then, riddle had thought: this is must be what true happiness feels like.)

“he’s still a child, ace.” riddle spits back through tight lips. “he’s impressionable. you can’t just pressure him into doing nothing but study and expect that to end well.”

“look, if he doesn’t get it up into high gear now, he might actually flunk out of school.” ace explains, crossing his arms. “i’m trying to help him out here. figured you of all people would understand “tough love”, housewarden.”

strawberry tarts glistening in the store window like forbidden jewels. books stacked all around him like the bars of a cage. the garden outside but a distant dream. the woman in the doorway, smiling down at her perfect trophy.

the boy standing in front of his housewarden, looking at him like he’s all that’s wrong with the world, just like riddle did in his first week at night raven college.

“he and i came here experiencing the same thing, y’know?” ace says, sneering. “we tried to indulge you because cater and trey told us it was the right thing to do. how is it my fault deuce hasn’t broken out of that mindset yet?”

riddle grits his teeth. “even still, that’s no excuse to exploit it.”

he loved you, he thinks. and you’ve used that love against him.

(much like he did with trey, he supposes.)

“maybe not.” ace concedes with a shrug of his shoulders. then, because he’s not done tormenting riddle, he puts on a snarky grin. “but hey. i’m a child. i’m impressionable. you can’t just put a collar on me and expect that to end well.”

and that burns. embarrassment and shame and frustration and misery — in equal measure, all at once.

and it all burns inside of riddle, flames lapping at the broken boy inside of him that screams for his mother to forgive him.

ace turns away and walks back into his bedroom with a two-fingered salute. “if that's all you have to say, i'm turning in. g’night, housewarden.”

I am in dire need of more of that AU that The First years get The upperclassmen toxic traits,i realy want more of It,like;

A way to include octavinelle and scarabia,maybe like,3 First years(Ace,deuce,Jack) get some of azul's toxic traits,other Three(epel,ortho and sebek) get Jamil toxic traits and yuu get both

Second thing

More reactings please,i NEED The staff,ALL The dorms and even the relatives seeing The First years developing those toxic traits,the overblots+Trey and cater for deuce getting their toxic traits right back at their face i beg you🙏🙏

anything 4 u, baby.

(but for real, though, this is an AMAZING idea, love you so much for tilling the ground for my brainwormies, mwah mwah 😘)

(also, this might get REALLY long, so hang tight!)

it was just a seed at first — a tiny idea that stuck around despite the first-years not even realizing it was there. but as the poison from their actual housewardens starts to develop into something truly deadly, so does that seed. it shows up later... but it makes itself known nevertheless.

ace, deuce, and jack have all worked for azul at the mostro lounge at one point, and though it was a very brief moment in time, it was just long enough to worm its way into their heads.

it starts with ace trappola, who's already pretty slippery with his words. but working at the mostro lounge, taking subconscious note of all the underhanded deals azul is making, he starts to pick up new... skills, let's say.

it starts small, with ace starting to give out certain favors to his fellow freshmen to earn some money. if you give him ten thaumarks, he'll do one of your everyday chores for you — dusting your room, cleaning your bathroom, making dinner, what have you. if you give him fifteen thaumarks, he'll do your homework if you don't feel like doing it, or take class notes for you if you don't feel like showing up. if you give him forty, he'll help you with something less-than-moral and definitely against the rules (he did it once back at the atlantica memorial museum — he can do it again).

there's an obvious power imbalance in all of these scenarios, but ace effortlessly words in a way that makes it seem like it's a win-win situation, when in reality, it's more like a zero-sum game.

it gets to the point where ace builds a black-market sort of reputation, and all of the freshmen know that if you need something done, ace is the person to go to.

...but then, something shifts.

at some point, ace starts a black-mailing campaign for the people who paid for the forty-thaumark favor. if you don't want your secret — one that might get you expelled, suspended, or worse — getting out, then you can pay for ace's silence with a favor or more money.

the worst part is: there's no way out. if you try attacking ace, it'll seem like you assaulted him for no reason, since if you try to explain he was blackmailing you, you'll have to tell them what he was blackmailing you with, which you obviously can't do — or else what was even the point? the same rule applies if you try tattling on him to one of the teachers or the housewardens or anybody else. and ace is a better liar than most people will ever be in their lifetime, so it's a losing battle even if you do manage to get someone to take your side.

so if you want to cross the bridge, my sweet, you've got to pay the toll.

(it's not even about the money anymore, really. riddle's thirst for control and azul's desire for recognition have clashed inside of ace in the most violent way, and now, it's all about the power it gives him over other people. and after how powerless he's felt this entire school year, being thrown left and right by overblot after overblot with no say at all, this is a power trip he never wants to come back down from.)

but ace realizes he's making quite a few enemies with his little money-making strategy, and he needs someone to help him just in case someone does come up with a plan to wipe him out. i mean, just look at azul — even with all of the loopholes and leverages in the world, even he was taken down eventually without outside help. if he wants this to last as long as possible, he needs... incentive for people to listen to him.

his own jade and floyd.

his own red-and-black collar.

using his riddle rosehearts-born dominance, and taking advantage of deuce's trey-and-cater-born passiveness, ace convinces deuce spade — one of the strongest people he knows — to help him in his economic ventures.

and deuce, seeing this as a way for ace to vent some frustration and unwilling to be on the other end of ace's ire, hesitantly agrees.

he doesn't piece together that ace is acting suspiciously like azul, but he still recognizes his own role in this whole scheme. ace is running a business, right? and deuce has only ever worked in one business before. he remembers what jade and floyd were like back when he worked under them, and so he uses that experience to inform his new position.

deuce becomes known as ace's right-hand man. he'll hunt you down if you don't pay, and he's not afraid to use force to "compel" you to. there have been stories about cat beastmen getting thrown up into trees and being left there for hours. about students getting forks "accidentally" thrown at them in the cafeteria with such precision, it doesn't really feel like an accident. about a student with a spade on his face who can throw back any attack sent his way with just as much force.

and there's nothing you can do about it, because he's in service to someone who has made himself pretty powerful. ace's silver-tongue gets deuce out of any and all trouble he inevitably finds himself in — and is ace is so brutally honest, why wouldn't people believe him? so even if you try to do something to deuce, ace has his back no matter what — and he'll win almost every time.

you mess with deuce, you mess with ace, which is already bad enough. but if you fuck around with ace, you better be prepared to find out with deuce.

they're a pair — that's always been true. but never before has that fact been so threatening.

jack howl comes next. we all know how much jack despises octavinelle's business model. but, begrudgingly, he will admit there are a lot of things he can learn from octavinelle. and more knowledge is never bad. as long as he doesn't actually use it, it should be fine.

(jack is more dangerous than ace and deuce, in a way — his toxicity is insidious in a way it just couldn't ever be with them.)

with excellent hearing, eyesight, and memory, he silently keeps note of every bribe he hears being taken. every lie he knows is being told. every mistake that gets swept under the rug. it's not long before he starts actively looking for it. it's not long before jack's uncovered dirt on almost every freshmen in school. it reminds him a bit of his time working at the mostro lounge. but instead of memorizing orders from customers, he's memorizing all their dirty secrets.

it's to protect himself, jack reasons. after all, it was only his input that put a stop to leona and ruggie's plans back during the spelldrive exhibition. he's just... preparing for another disastrous event, that's all. it's just precaution. insurance.

if it's not, then he'll have to accept that leona's overblot bothered him more than he thought. that he was weak enough to let it.

(and jack can't face that yet.)

and if, once in a while, ace comes to him looking for a little bit of information, then well, that's just lending a friend some advice. nothing wrong with that.

epel, ortho, and sebek don't have any direct ties to jamil, but they are certainly... impressionable, aren't they?

sebek zigvolt is a bit dense, certainly, but even he can see how well jamil takes care of his master. and with a master that's as ditzy and forgetful and all-over-the-place as kalim, that can't be easy. even if they are merely humans, and their experiences can't even begin to compare when it comes to serving a fae prince, sebek reckons that he can learn a thing or two by observing them. so that's exactly what he does.

one day, when kalim spills food on the floor in a hilariously ridiculous move, sebek notices something few others ever would. jamil gives the tiniest twitch of annoyance — the same way silver, in all his stoicism, often does when sebek gets too loud — but then he's back to being perfectly dutiful and polite and says "i'll go get a napkin."

it's... admirable, honestly. sebek doesn't put it into practice right away, but it stays in his mind long after he first sees it.

and then, after malleus's overblot, sebek's emotions feel like they're on fire. after being stuck in a world where it took just the tiniest crack to shatter a perfect illusion, he's wary of nearly everything that disrupts his day. now every single slight against him, no matter how unintentional it may be, feels like a personal attack on his very life. but sebek can't show these ugly emotions so outwardly — that would be dishonorable behavior that could damage malleus's reputation. instead, he resorts to subtle methods that can't be easily traced back to him like putting in frogs in schoolbags and setting brooms on fire or replacing shampoo bottles with tar.

but his repressed feelings of anger start to build to the point where he's now feeling unprecedented resentment towards... well, almost everybody.

when sebek has very first negative thought about malleus in history class — "reckless bastard" — he instantly hates himself for it and throws up then and there because how dare he.

he tries to shut them out, but the more he does, the more these intrusive thoughts start to bombard him with their uncharacteristic cynicism.

he looks at lilia from across the breakfast table, and his first thought is: heartless liar.

he spots leona lying in the botanical garden and he thinks: brainless cretin.

he even sees jamil, walking through the halls, and his mind screams: manipulative bitch.

but sebek shoves it all down because he's in no position to say that. it gets to the point where he's walking around as a silent, unfeeling husk, because to be anything else would be like inviting his inner demons to visit him on the outside. he pushes his emotions down as far as they'll go, and that's just going to have to be enough to get him through the day.

ortho shroud begins to follow a similar principle. his idia-inspired pessimism has led ortho to see others as less like people and more like characters. it's easier to think of every school day as a dungeon in an rpg. it's easier to convince himself that the other students are taunting him because they're programmed to be that way than face the reality that they just don't like him.

but the problem with seeing life as a video game is that you start seeing others as just ways to complete your objectives. like npcs or maps.

and when it comes to using people, jamil viper is king. or, for ortho's purposes, the ultimate survival guide.

ortho shapes himself into a model night raven college student — kind, charming, and sweet for the teachers, but just mischievous and rude enough to still fit in with the students.

he goes to housewarden meetings with idia to "gain leadership experience", taking notes and hearing out of every single little idea he can get his hands on (these are the people who have not just survived, but thrived. they must be doing something right). one time, riddle even pats his head and praises him for his proactiveness.

his classmates adore him for always been willing to help and being so calm about even the worst outcomes.

ortho makes himself as available as possible to the rest of ignihyde, brushing off homework or studying to help them with whatever they need — fixing game consoles, wiring in controllers, checking the internet connection, et cetera.

eventually, everyone believes in him almost as fiercely as scarabia believed in jamil, once upon a time.

ortho doesn't like telling all of these lies, but it's necessary to protect himself. it's like grinding to earn coins until you have enough money to buy that special armor in the shopkeeper's store.

...or maybe it's more like those cheesy dress-up flash games ortho used to play all the time — fleshing out the perfect outfit and hairstyle and makeup that'll earn you the most points.

if people feel like they need him, he'll be able to breeze through school without any more problems. he's put the whole system on easy mode! it feels a bit like cheating, almost.

it is like a game, isn't it? it's fun.

(at some point, ortho forgets how to stop.)

as for epel... well, he knows that his sudden snappish behavior towards the other pomefiore students won't go unnoticed for too long. but this is one of his only ways of venting, so he needs it to go under the radar long enough for him to... to squeeze out all of this sudden venom that's built up in him.

epel's not oblivious. he knows how sebek and ortho have changed over the weeks, and he knows why. but epel can't pull off "repressed" like sebek, and neither can he suddenly turn into the best person ever like ortho. but they do have the right idea about taking inspiration from jamil, so epel can fall back on what there is left: gaslighting.

every time kalim blacked out, jamil blamed it on him being sick. every time someone thought kalim was being awfully uncharacteristic, jamil called it a "mood swing". every time someone asked jamil about why kalim was acting so weird, jamil claimed ignorance.

at least, that's what yuu tells epel.

and it's perfect.

so now, every time someone confronts epel about his overly critical behavior, he lies and says he's doing it for their own good. you need pressure to make a diamond, after all. and besides — vil won't settle for anything less than absolutely perfect.

("i'm just trying to catch your mistakes before he does. and i think you and i can both agree that i'm a lot nicer than he is about it.")

every time vil confronts epel about all of the complaints he's been hearing from the other students about how epel's been tearing down their ideas for outfits and hairstyles with no mercy, and disregarding all of their achievements as "not good enough" to be proud over, epel dons a confused face.

("vil, between studying for tests and the crazy physical regiment you have me do, i barely have time for myself. you honestly think i have the energy to criticize other people?")

epel even starts turning people against each other so they won't focus on him. epel subtly threatens to take away the upperclassmen's position in the hierarchy, which sets up the other underclassmen as a threat, and epel grouses to the underclassmen that the upperclassmen look down on them for not living up to pomefiore standards, under the guise of regular teenage bitching.

but all of this, combined with their self-entitlement, leads to a mini-war in pomefiore. but since this is, well, pomefiore, where being perfect and poised is the standard, the others make sure never make it obvious in front of vil or rook.

epel plays everybody like a fiddle, and ensures that none of it can be traced back to him. it's a good way to get out his frustration. and hey — it seems like everybody's upped their game along the way. vil seems pretty happy that everybody's improving in their efforts so greatly, practically overnight!

epel wakes up with a feeling of accomplishment everyday. for once, it seems he did something right.

now if only rook could stop looking so somber...

then we come to yuu, whose inner darkness has been left to fester all year. if people think they can treat them like a ragdoll, it's only fair they do the same.

there's a lot yuu doesn't have, but one thing they're really lacking is a bit of respect. that's what it means to be magicless in an arcane academy. you're at the bottom of the food chain.

and look at what a bit of self-interest can do for you! yuu studies in the library until late into the night, burning the metaphorical candle at both ends, learning everything they can about magic until they're more well-versed in it than most students in the school. yuu starts making potions that aren't nearly as good as azul's, but they're cheap and work well enough. they start making study guides for others with their new-found knowledge, even if they do bristle with the fact that a damned study guide is what caught them in azul's tentacles in the first place. they start learning anything and everything, clinging to whatever scraps of knowledge they can write down.

with this, they successfully make their case for why they should join ace and deuce's business. eventually, they're just as feared as they are among the other first-years.

but that's not enough for yuu. the power of fear is nice, but the power of controlling other people would be much more cathartic.

so that's what they do. while ace is more focused on monetary gain, yuu uses their mountains of blackmail to convince others to do whatever they want.

if crowley throws another ridiculous task at them, yuu simply hoists it off to somebody else to do. if ramshackle dorm needs a few repairs, it's only a matter of contacting a few people before a whole construction crew paid off by somebody else comes knocking at their door. and they'll do it, if they don't want to get kicked out of the school or have their reputation ruined.

but somehow, even with all of this, yuu sets themself up as the nicest out of their little trio. they're willing to let payments slide from time to time. they listen to their clients' problems. they take constructive criticism and always seem to improve in their potions and study guides based on feedback. and if you do do yuu a favor, they'll give you certain favors right back.

so even when yuu is a covetous, greedy, all-consuming shark, the students still think they're so very, very nice. because compared to ace and deuce, what else is there to think?

but this can only go on for so long. and yuu knows that.

one day, they get called to the headmage's office. yuu is already going through their contact list — a list that's quadrupled ever since they joined forces with ace and deuce — to see who'd be willing to do them a teensy little favor for them, but when they step through the door, they pause.

inside the office are all the housewardens, their vices, the teachers, and everybody else yuu has grown to know over the past year.

yuu narrows their eyes as riddle steps forward.

"yuu," riddle starts sternly, "from one housewarden to another, i believe we need to talk."

^

(i will address everyone's reactions in a reblog, because this is honestly getting really, really long, lol. but don't worry, the reactions are coming! 🥺)

(but i should mention that there is already a good reblog of the original post by @thenumberhuntress which addresses the upperclassmen's reactions that you can find here. go read it. it's peak.)

(once again, thank you for the great ask! this was fun to make!)

[tired-xyra-urstruly]

Wait, They Don't Love You Like

I Love You

Ft. Rin Itoshi

Synopsis: Rin was made to tutor you much to his demise.

Warnings: I did not proofread this.

Genre: Fluff, Crack

A/N: Christmas gift for my friend 👅 it's low-key ass but it's fine

“Shit.” was the first word that came out of your mouth after processing what was right in front of you. Not only one but TWO grades below 80. But you weren't worried about your grade, you couldn't care less about it. It was your parents that worried you. You looked down at your grade avoiding the principals and your parents' gazes. If only the ground would swallow you whole right now to drown all of their complaints and expectations from you.

Of course it should've been expected as someone who constantly would get into trouble every other day, it's a miracle you haven't been expelled yet. One of the biggest catastrophes you've caused was planting tear gas into a classroom which got you more than a week of suspension.

“Well, Mr. And Mrs. [Last Name], if it would please you, we can assign your child a private tutor from the school.” The principal interrupted your parents' whines and complaints causing them to pause for a moment. You didn't even need to look at them to know that they were more than pleased with the idea. Not wanting to listen to the planning of tutoring you slipped away out of the office unnoticed.

〔❨✧✧❩〕

You sat alone in the classroom watching the door waiting for your supposed tutor to enter. A few minutes passed by until the door finally opened to reveal the next victim of your presence, Rin Itoshi. Well, he wasn't exactly new to your antics.

“Oh my GYATT. Rinnie Rinnn!!” You lit up seeing him and in return his face instantly shifted into one of annoyance once he heard you call him by that stupid nickname. He was so tempted to walk right out of the door and abandon you.

“Don't call me by that cursed name, lukewarm.” he replied coldly sitting across from you.

“Aw but it's so cute and it suits you.”

“Shut up it isn't.”

“Bbbut–” You got cut off.

“No buts. I was called here to tutor you not to play into your games or whatever you're scheming.”

You sighed pouting at him to no avail. He brought out a pen and paper from his own bag and gave you a look expecting you to do the same. Unfortunately, you didn't bring any, so you just looked at him with pleading eyes. He sighed heavily seeing that familiar look in your eyes you would do.

“Bring your own next time.” He gave you a pen and paper.

“On skibidi won't do it again Rin Rin.”

He flinched once he heard his name being butchered into one of your stupid nicknames again.

“I was called here because you're failing math and English.” he started trying to get to the point to get it over with while you were looking everywhere else in the room except at him to avoid actually getting any work done.

“Pish posh my parents are lying they just want me to be tutored to get my grades better.” That was by far the worst excuse he's ever heard in his entire life.

“Shut it Half-baked. I'm here tutoring you when I could be making better use of my time.”

You let out a loud exaggerated sigh out and picked up the pen and looked at him so you could get this over with.

“Yappity yap yap yap yap yap yap” went the academic boy. He didn't actually say that though that's all you heard. You naturally had to look at him since he was the one teaching after all and he'd probably scold you if he saw you distracted.

Your gaze trailed over his features, his jaw, his eyes, anything you could absorb about him.

…

“Do you understand?” Rin snapped you out of your trance dragging you back to reality. Have you been staring too long? Oh shit nothing was written on your paper.

Rin stared at you then your paper obviously Livid knowing you weren't listening and he wasted precious time on a stupid ass like you. You glanced at the clock seeing it's been around thirty minutes of staring and zoning out. In response you could only give a shit eating smirk.

“On gyatt I understand.” You didn't understand a single thing. All Rin could do was pinch the bridge of his nose and sigh in disappointment. “This is why you'll never pass high school.”

The next few minutes you had left that was allotted to this tutoring period passed with you and Rin exchanging banter and him occasionally giving you insults which you would never admit but you felt your heart being stabbed when he said those insults.

Regrettably, the session had to eventually come to an end. Walking home, you sighed, unable to annoy anyone with your presence anymore. Walking home you wondered how Rin was doing… Oh my god why are you thinking of him you bastard. WHY ARE YOU SO CONSCIOUS ABOUT IT?????

〔❨✧✧❩〕

It felt like no time passed at all, you were back in the same classroom waiting for Rin to arrive. You started fidgeting with your pen staring at the door and the clock above it counting the seconds before Rin would walk through.

You jolted up when the doorknob turned over revealing your as always beautiful tutor, Rin. He glanced at you and then the materials played out on your desk a little bit relieved to see you kept your promise of bringing your own materials.

“Heyyy Rinnie Rin!!” The feeling of relief was short lived and then replaced with the feeling of irritation again.

He ignores your stupid greeting and sits down across from you which receives a frown. “Are you really going to ignore my glorious greeting I bothered to say.” You asked him which in return made him flinch once again. He didn't like your cocky replies a bit.

“I won't if you stop using those shitty names, lukewarm.”

“You're no fun at all.”

He then proceeded to start the lecture again by tutoring you, this time you actually took notes. They were low effort but hey you did take notes. Occasionally you would get distracted… but Rin was way too determined to get this over with to allow you to zone out for too long.

Again, the session had to unfortunately end. The process repeated for a while now, the only difference was you were slowly worsening. Why? Well…

“You're too pretty.” Rin was dumbfounded for a moment, you saw it for a split second. He simply asked you why you weren't improving nor making an effort to.

“Even so, it's not an excuse.”

“But it's the truth.” Yeah gng you were just nonchalant like that. “Speaking of which, are you free anytime soon?”

“No.” You once again pouted.

“But you have no games coming up.”

“I use my time to get better.”

“Can you skip one training session for me pleaseeee.”

Rin let out an irritated sigh before responding, “Just one if it will make you stop nagging me.”

Your jaw dropped to the floor. You did NOT expect him to give up this easily, especially when you made him give up one of his training sessions which is something he treated like his fucking lifeline. Honestly, Rin didn't expect this either, he couldn't think straight when he was placed in the same room as you. Maybe your stupidness was contagious.

You felt like your heart would just crawl out of your mouth with it still being open from shock. When you finally regained your composure you still couldn't muster up to say anything.

“Sooooo it's a date then!!” You voiced, filling in the awkward silence.

“Wait what.” What the fuck did he just agree to? Next thing he knew, you weren't across him anymore but latching onto him like a parasite.

“Love you Rinnie Rin.” He wouldn't say it back. You looked up at him and you could see a pale pink rise In his cheeks, it served as a good enough answer to you.

End.

Tags: @tofumiarchives @yui2aku

[livi-in-digital-circus]

That one time when Ragatha (surprisingly) got jealous

For day 1 of Bunnydoll Week 2024 - Jealousy

It was the day a new character arrived at the circus. And unfortunately for Ragatha, it was a strangely cute pinkish rabbit. Dressed in pastels and ribbons, Mary Sue was the prettiest figure in the entire Digital Circus. But it was not her looks that the rag doll was jealous of.

After combining everything they remembered from their past lives, a conclusion was formed that Jax had in fact dated Sue in high school. Usually, girls lose their feelings for their boyfriends after they haven’t seen them for a few years, but this particular case was different. After being reunited with the ‘love of her life’, Sue wanted to make sure their relationship was still possible, but even though she seemed sweet and innocent, she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

The problem was that recently Jax was currently dating Ragatha and there was no way he was going to break up with her.

Right?

The first adventure Caine prepared for Sue also worked to Ragatha’s disadvantage. It was to be a treasure hunt throughout the circus, including the bedrooms. The team was divided into pairs and one trio, which was Ragatha, Gangle, and Kinger. All groups had about thirty minutes to find all the items to get a grand prize, which surprisingly wasn’t a feast.

Terror washed over Ragatha as she remembered something Jax had left in her room the night before. The thought of someone finding it under her bed made her dizzy, as their relationship was still a secret she shared only with Pomni. Mostly so as not to scare Gangle and not to make Zooble think badly of the rag doll.

Once the details of the adventure were explained, Caine snapped his fingers, and random valuable items spawned in various locations. There was no map or clues as to where to find them, which was to be expected from the ringmaster. His adventures weren’t supposed to be easy after all.

As they wandered through the main area, Ragatha heard a giggle coming from another side of the circus and she could swear it was Sue. Unfortunately, she was paired with Jax and was probably trying to convince him that they should continue their relationship. And that made Ragatha’s non-existent blood boil.

In all the years she was trapped in the circus, Ragatha never felt jealous of anyone. She had her own opinions about each character, which differed slightly from what she said she thought about them. But no matter how bad or good they were, jealousy was something unknown to her.

Until now.

Even though Jax had promised Ragatha a thousand times that he had no interest in cheating on her, Sue's presence made her anxious. She glanced again in the direction the sound was coming from, but saw nothing. That didn’t help at all, as Ragatha felt her fists clenching.

She didn‘t care about the girls Jax was talking to because they were their friends. But this was his former girlfriend and that was a problem.

“Ragatha, are you okay? You’re shaking all over.”

“Huh?” The rag doll was pulled out of her thoughts by Gangle, who looked at her with a worried expression. “Oh! Yeah, I’m fine! No need to worry!”

“You always say that when something is wrong…”

Ragatha let out a deep sigh and moved her non-button eye to the ground. What was she supposed to say? ‘Oh, I’m just pissed off because this Mary Sue turned out to be Jax’s girlfriend from the real world, and by the way, me and Jax have been dating for quite some time’? No way.

Instead, she just kept walking until they reached the bedroom area. The first room they decided to check was Pomni’s, but Ragatha quickly ran to hers. She had to calm herself down before she flew into a rage, grabbed Sue by her bunny ears, and threw her out of the circus.

She sat on the bed and thought about what to do. What if Jax had already broken his promise and cheated on her? Ragatha felt her eye water. She had to find out. But before she could do anything, the door opened and none other than Jax entered the room. The first thing he noticed, of course, was the rag doll.

“Quitting the adventure? That’s not your style, Raggy.” He sat down next to her, expecting to hear some sort of complaint from her, but all he saw was her tears and trembling. The smile faded from Jax’s face. “Alright Dollface, what’s going on?”

“I… don’t like you hanging out with another girl, especially if she’s your ex…”

Jax’s eyes widen at those words. He had never seen Ragatha jealous before, so it took him by surprise. But it was a sight to behold.

“Awww, you poor little thing. Remember what I promised you? [BEEP], Sue doesn’t even have romantic feelings for me anymore, she just spends a lot of time with me just because she wants to be friends again.”

Ragatha looked at him as if he had just said that he had drowned Caine in the Digital Lake. She felt a huge embarrassment and hid her face in Jax’s chest. She hadn’t even had a chance to get to know Sue better and was already making assumptions based on her and the rabbit’s past relationship.

Jax put a hand behind her head and slowly ran his fingers through her yarn curls. He wasn’t angry with her for being jealous. In fact, he found it quite impressive.

Ragatha also had no idea that her boyfriend had noticed her strange behavior and the way she gave Sue a death stare. What a cutie.

Yes, she should be jealous more often.

Thanks for reading!

[ladykailitha]

Howlin' For You Part 2

I love how that rhymes! What can I say I'm a dork!

Ah yes the little ficlet that got away from me. The first part is here. The main story is here.

I actually just love this verse in general. It's just a fun little world to play in.

Tomorrow there will be no WIP Wednesday due to the holiday. But I will be back next week with maybe a new fic for you to request. We'll see how far I get.

Sunday is also the beginning of my hiatus. Every once in awhile, I take a break from posting to relax, spend time with my family and fluff back up my backlog. I'm just not sure who long it's going to take. I said two weeks last time and I was ready to get back at it after a week. But we'll see.

~

Steve thought he looked ridiculous, like he stepped off the covers of some Harlequin romance. All he needed was a busty blonde trying to rip his clothes. Which he honestly didn’t know any. He was too well-bred to tug at his cravat even though he wanted to.

Not that it was too tight. It was impeccably tailored. That was the upside to having friends in every avenue of the supernatural community is that clothes were always made by the best tailors and seamstresses in the world. Saville Row in London wished they had the talent of the elves that made his attire tonight.

His outfit was based on the military attire of the period he was representing tonight. All of his pack were dressed similarly. Even his female alpha wore the white slacks and red coat, though hers was less resplendent then his. Her words, not his. But they cut the dashing pair.

Next to him, Chrissy was wearing a classic ballgown all in black and trimmed with red lace. But only a fool would think either of them weak.

There was no softness in her features. If Steve looked like he walked off the covers of a Harlequin romance, Chrissy looked like she walked off the cover of a gothic horror romance novel. Her eyes were cold and calculating. Though, her cover would absolutely have a pretty young woman in her clutches.

He looked up as Eddie and Wayne were announced and smiled. Now he knew why Robin was insistent on their looks. Now, Eddie and Steve would match. God, he loved his best friend.

Next to him, Chrissy bristled when Eddie’s friends came up to him as soon as he entered. Steve put his hand over hers.

“Now, now,” he murmured. “The silkie, sirens, and gwyllgi don’t owe the vampires any deference and don’t know Eddie and Wayne are supposed to greet you first. And they will. Just wait.”

Chrissy took a deep breath. “You’re right. My apologies. I’m not used to interacting with the supernatural community at large. Vampires tend to be very insular by nature. Comes with the whole needing to drink blood to survive.”

Steve nodded. Werewolves were the same. But that was the reason for this ball in the first place. To foster those connections with the supernatural beings they went to school with, worked with, lived along side of.

After the showdown that left the coven in tatters and the werewolf pack in chaos, both Chrissy and he thought this would be a good idea to have an occasion to celebrate the community that came together to rid this town of evil.

Halloween and New Year’s Eve had been floated around, but Steve thought the best night to have it would be the winter solstice. It wouldn’t be on the same day of the year and full moon excluded, it held a great significance for many members of the supernatural beings that made up their small town.

And so the Yuletide Ball was born.

It was going great so far. Well, mostly. There was that one incident...but no one was hurt and everything was fine. It was!

~

Eddie couldn’t take his eyes off Steve and Chrissy. They exuded power in a way that drove him wild. Wayne had that from years of experience, but these two were born to it. Eddie was so glad one was his best friend and the other was his boyfriend.

He was about to go over to them to greet them like he was supposed to, when Gareth and Brian came up to him with their dates. Barb looked stunning in a dress that looked like waves out on the water in various shades of green, while Brian was in a tux and feathered short cape. Gareth wore traditional hunter’s garb with a black fur cloak. His date was another gwyllgi from his pack, a young man named Darren, who was blushing next to Gareth.

“Hey!” Eddie said with a big grin. “You all look great!”

They chatted for a moment before Eddie finally made his way to the center of this and every universe, Steve.

“Hey, darlin’,” he greeted with a kiss and then bowed to Chrissy. “Your Dominus.”

“Eddie,” Chrissy said as they kissed cheeks. “I’m so nervous right now. A fight almost broke out between Jonathan Byers and Darren Driscoll.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”

“Apparently werewolf greeting and gwyllgi greeting are two separate things,” Steve said with a wince. “Only no one was told, so when Darren wouldn’t bare the back of his neck as per werewolf greeting, Jonathan got his hackles up thinking Darren was trying to slight him.”

Eddie blinked at them for a moment. “Oh shit. Yeah, gwyllgi only scent each other if they hadn’t been introduced first.”

“Yup,” Steve said pursing his lips and rocking back on his heels. “Thankfully Gareth dashed between them and explained things before either of them transformed.”

“Thank god for Gareth’s quick thinking, then,” Wayne said, coming up behind Eddie. “We should get Nancy to interview and catelogue all the different set of manners from everyone to avoid that next year.”

Steve smiled. His former female alpha had found herself at loose ends after Robin replaced her and this would help with that. “I think she’d like that a lot.”

Wayne bowed his head to Chrissy. “Your Dominus.”

“Your suggestion is elegant,” Chrissy said in lieu of a greeting. “Would you wish to inform her of it?”

“It would be my pleasure,” Wayne said with a smile. “I’ll go to see to it now.” He bowed his head again and then was gone.

“My apologies, Eddie dear,” Chrissy said, “but I don’t know how Billy tolerated your in his territory for as long as he did. That man is simply too powerful.”

Eddie smirked. “Because it’s not Billy who did the toleratin’, and by extension you. He tolerates you in his territory. He’s been here since the town was seventy settlers, nine vampires, and sixteen werewolves. And I think it’s best you remember that fact.”

Chrissy opened her mouth to protest but found that she couldn’t. She stared at Eddie in shock and then bowed her head.

“Whoever sired your uncle must have been powerful indeed,” she murmured.

Eddie licked his lips slowly and the look on his face sent a shiver down Steve’s spine. Eddie, of course new who his grandsire was. But whoever it was, the young, newly turned vampire wasn’t saying.

Eddie bowed and then turned to Steve. “May I have this dance?”

Steve nodded and let him take him by the hand to lead him out to the dance floor. Unlike the vampires here, he didn’t need to afford Chrissy any deference as he was her equal. They glided together as they moved across the dance floor.

“Is your pack still pressuring you to take a mate?” Eddie murmured into Steve’s ear.

“No,” Steve said fondly, “after the events with Murray and Billy they aren’t keen to see me reproduce. Too afraid that I would imprint my forward thinking views on the new pups.”

“Baby,” Eddie said morosely. “That’s not a good thing. They should be respecting you, instead of this backtalk again. Didn’t they learn anything?”

Steve snorted. “I guess not. I thought that having Robin as my female alpha would help, but it someways I think it’s made it worse. The two outsiders running things.” He shook his head ruefully.

“Especially after you had to expel Tommy from the pack as Keeper,” Eddie murmured. “Thankfully no one had the ill sense to take his side, especially since he went willingly. But the fact that a Keeper hated the alpha so much he turned traitor? Yeah, that’s not a good look.”

Steve pressed his cheek to Eddie and breathed, “They don’t like that I’m dancing with you, either. But somehow Lucas and Max are perfectly fine to be pressed cheek to cheek as they glitter like stars on the dance floor.”

“That’s because I was born to ruffle feathers, darlin’,” Eddie said with a sigh. “Or in their case fur. But you’ll have a long and prosperous reign as alpha and they will either change with the times or leave.”

“I wish I could follow through with my threat and make you my mate,” Steve murmured, “werewolf law be damned.”

“Um...” a voice said timidly behind them, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but there’s no law that says your mate has to be a werewolf.”

Eddie and Steve stopped dancing and turned around. Standing there was a spunky blonde girl with actual fucking ringlets.

“Who are you?”

The girl beamed up at him. “Hi! I’m Suzie Bingham! Dustin invited me.”

Eddie and Steve shared a look of surprise. Dustin had been sent to a science and math camp for werewolves the last part of the summer and had come back with a supposed girlfriend. A girlfriend no one thought existed.

Until now.

“Hello,” Steve murmured. “You’re from the Provo pack, correct?”

“You remembered!” Suzie said brightly. “But about the whole mate needed to be another werewolf is bull crap.”

“And how do you figure that?” Eddie asked eyeing her curiously.

“Mormon werewolves get a bad rap because of the whole polygamy thing,” she said with a wince, “but we’re really good at keeping records.”

Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “And what do your records say?”

She beamed up at him. “That the most famous pack in the Midwest had silkie for a mate in the 1840s.”

“Okay,” he hedged nodding with pursed lips. “But I doubt the silkie was male. The point of the alpha is to breed.”

Suzie wrinkled her face in disgust, pulling her chin down to her chest. “Gross. And I thought our family values were messed up.”

“Listen, Suzie was it?” Eddie asked with a feral smile. She nodded, her sunny attitude never dimming for a moment. “Would you please get to the point? Please!”

“Oh!” she said, eyes wide. “Shoot! Right. So the purpose of an alpha male isn’t to breed with the alpha female or any of the women of the pack to breed more werewolves. The point of the alpha is turn people into werewolves to prevent inbreeding. Which brings me to my point. The point of the alpha’s mate isn’t to bring pups into the world but to stand as his second in command.”

“But isn’t that the point of the female alpha?” Steve said, tilting his head in confusion.

Suzie shook her head. “The point of a female alpha is so that the women of the pack have someone to go about problems inherent in being...well female I guess.”

Eddie and Steve stared at her in shock and then glanced at each other.

“I don’t even know where the notion that the female alpha was supposed to be the second in command came from,” she continued to ramble. “Maybe someone looking at wolf packs would be my guess. But werewolves and wolves aren’t the same thing. Even the wolves we turn into tend to be bigger than any beast found in nature. I’m hoping my dad will let me study them so I can compare the two cultures.”

“And would you be willing to tell everyone that?” Steve asked innocently.

“Oh I already have been,” she said with a grin that belied the cute exterior. “Since I got here yesterday, in fact. But you’ve been so busy planning this wonderful party, that I haven’t gotten the chance to tell you that.”

Steve smiled at her. “And will you be joining us for the full moon celebrations on Monday?”

Suzie batted her big blue eyes up at him and smiled so sweet and innocently. “It would be my honor.”

She curtsied and then was off again, probably back to Dustin. Steve watched her go with growing fondness. He looked over at Eddie who was grinning at him.

“What?”

“Are you going to adopt every teenager you meet or just the werewolf ones?” Eddie asked sweetly, leaning into his space.

Steve’s jaw dropped and he nudged him out of his space with his elbow. “Excuse you! Mr. I-Must-Adopt-Every-Lost-Sheep-in-High-School!”

Eddie batted his eyelashes. “Darlin’ I don’t believe I implied that I wouldn’t co-parent with you, I was just wondering how big our brood was going to get is all.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. It was Eddie’s favorite laugh. Eyes screwed up tight, mouth open and wide, his shoulders shaking with genuine mirth.

“Not all of them,” he said when he could catch his breath. “Just that one. Because she’s right, vampires tend to be insular because they have to be, but werewolves shouldn’t be. By their very nature they have to be social.”

Eddie nodded, his lips pressed in a firm line. “And thanks to the former pack going to crazy with the whole killing humans and all and the aftermath of that, for the last fifteen years the former Harrington, now Roane pack have been isolated from other packs.”

“Thanks to Murray,” Steve said rubbing his chin. “But how to convince them that everything they know was fed to them by fucking Wormtongue.”

Eddie kissed him firmly on the lips in the most searing kiss.

“Wow,” Steve said blinking in shock. “What did I do to deserve that?”

“You talked nerdy to me,” Eddie growled. “You said Wormtongue and you got it right. That was so hot.”

Steve blushed.

Eddie tapped Steve’s forehead. “But enough about the pack and all that bullshit. I shouldn’t have brought it up, we’re here to party and not play politics.”

And then as if the musicians Chrissy hired had heard him, the music changed from a minuet to something more upbeat.

Suddenly the floor was flooded with people and they were dancing. Eddie twirled Steve around and Steve laughed as he gracelessly stumbled around in a circle. Even Chrissy and Wayne were out on the floor cutting loose. They made for an odd couple, but they were clearly having fun.

Then Steve spotted him. He was hiding in a corner, sipping on mulled wine and trying to look inconspicuous. Which probably would have worked on every other member of the party, but not Steve.

He whispered in Eddie’s ear that he’d be right back. He beelined it straight for the pillar he was hiding behind.

“Dr. Sam Owens,” he said smoothly, “I was starting to wonder if my invitation had gone awry.”

Sam choked on his wine and started coughing. Steve slapped him on the back until he got his breath back. He looked up at Steve with watery eyes and a half-hearted attempt at a glare.

“I forgot my magic doesn’t work on you.”

Steve chuckled. “Being a Van Helsing really does have its perks. Now why are you hiding here instead of dancing with Wayne instead of Chrissy?”

“I’m not immortal like he is,” Sam muttered, “and if he tried to turn me it would kill us both.”

“Ah.”

Because yeah, Steve got it. As werewolf, he would live a couple hundred years, but Eddie? Eddie would live forever unless someone killed him or he took his own life.

“And quitting the VHS won’t help?”

“No,” Sam said, his glare more effective this time now that he was no longer choking on his wine. “Because if we lost our protections when we left, that would leave us vulnerable to attacks from people who didn’t like us sticking our noses in their business.”

Steve barked out a laugh. “Fair enough. But from one hopeless romantic to another, it doesn’t matter how long you have, share it with him. After all nothing is promised.”

Sam nodded.

Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze. “And maybe make a grand entrance, yeah?”

Sam barked out a surprised laugh. “Yeah okay.”

Steve went back to dancing with Eddie, promising him to tell him later what all that was about. They laughed, danced, ate, and drank their way through the night until about halfway through when Sam suddenly appeared at the top of the grand staircase, resplendent in silver and blue. A perfect complement to Wayne’s outfit.

Eddie pointed up at the stairs to Wayne, whose smile took over his face. He walked over to the stairs and reached the base just as Sam did.

“Sam...” Wayne breathed. “You’re here.”

“For you,” Sam murmured, leaning over and kissing Wayne’s knuckles. “May I have this dance?”

And the music changed again to something softer, more tender and dear.

“I’d be honored.”

Steve took Eddie into his arms and sighed happily. “I think this is going to be the best Christmas I’ve had in my life.”

“Yeah baby, how’s that?” Eddie murmured, pressing his cheek against Steve’s.

“Suzie will help straighten out the pack so I can be with you,” he said softly, “Sam and Wayne are back together. Nancy will be writing that supernatural manners book. And the other members of the supernatural community in Hawkins no longer feel like second class to the werewolves and vampires. Really what more could I ask for?”

“That does sound like an amazing Christmas present, baby,” Eddie purred. “Happy Yuletide and Merry Christmas, Stevie.”

“Merry, Christmas, Eds.”

~

Tag List: COMPLETED

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @sadisticaltarts @dolphincliffs

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @cryptid-system @kultiras

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @dreamercec @blondie1006

5- @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @genderless-spoon @fearieshadow @thesecondfate

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

[bumbldee]

Gristol, Head of HR AU

Where Gristol bitched too much about how poorly ran the Psychonauts is, even citing his sources, and inexplicably gets hired as the Head of HR for his community service.

Some doodles before i go off for holiday, wont be back for like another week

Anyways ramble about this under the cut

Basically, before Gristol gets his verdict, Sasha's assigned to see what's up w him to figure out what's a good punishment.

Gristol spends like a long time ranting about how piss poor the Psychonauts is managed. As he was supposed to blend in, he researched EVERY ethic and code that the psychonauts were oblidged to as he wanted to fit in. His mother never wanted him to end up like his father, so she forced him to learn management and strategy as a kid, and he's DAMN well good at it, except for being a leader. As a stress reliever he'd written down everything wrong with management, and how he'd fix it, for the past 3 years of him working there. Employee's who constantly breached conduct, how shit the hiring security was, etc etc

Sasha sees his manifesto and is like, somewhat impressed with it. He sends it off to Truman, whose also surprised with it.

At first, Gristol tries to escape for like, a month. But then he realized this was the best he was going to get, seeing that he did not have any other skills than management and planning, or even a certified high school degree.

He's actually good at his job, improving employee wellfair and turnout by around 12%. He takes it extremely seriously but at the same time he doesn't want to be there, he's grumpy and it kinda puts everyone off.

Even though he's lived through the life of the common person and what they need, he still believes in Grulovia's dictatorship. His empathy and sudden want for change in management was a result of going through it himself, so he's mostly just serving what he would've wanted. Big ol hypocrite.

Managing a single department has kind of turned him off the idea of trying to be Gzar entirely. He realized the hard way he's not suited for leadership roles.

For like the first few months, he's forced to sit in a little desk next to Truman's with a shitty little typewriter. He's put there because Truman needs to see his performance + it's funny to him. Eventually though he gets really bad backpain from crouching over to type on his little typewriter, and does get his own little office.

Hollis NEVER agreed to hiring him, and was really pissed when Truman did it without her input. They spend a lot of their first interactions arguing, but they do eventually get along somewhat, sharing the same annoyance on dumb decisions Truman or Employees did. They're still hostile but like, they won't try to kill each other anymore.

Gristol has what he needs, he's provided simple accommodations (a small room with a shitty kitchen and a small bathroom) and an allowance (300-500 a month, it's mostly fun + food money).

Lori was originally going to give him a "Best Mail Clerk!" mug, but then the events of Psychonauts 2 happens and she never gets to give him his mug. When he gets hired as head of hr, she cancels out Mail Clerk from the mug and written down "head of HR"

One of Gristol's duties is to water Truman's plants in his office.

Gristol initially tried to have Raz fired, (everyone thought it was because he was salty Raz ruined his plans, nah it's because y'know he's 10) but with Truman's insistence he stayed on, Gristol had updated his contract. Raz is only permitted to go on less dangerous missions and more frequent mental health inspections. He might've had to forge some documents to be able to register Raz to work. Maybe.

[yall-batman-fanfic]

Wayne Family Holiday Traditions | Bruce Wayne/Batman x Reader!Magician

Synopsis: After years of struggling to find the perfect gift, Bruce and Vivian finally perfected gift-giving to one another, and it's something that became a tradition in the Wayne family.

What to give a man who has everything?

That was the question that Vivian Pryor pondered about as she roamed the stores in Gotham’s shopping district for the fifth time that week. She had done all of her Christmas shopping last weekend. Have secured the gifts for her colleagues, for her family in Liverpool, Alfred,  (she got him a really expensive bottle of good scotch), and Dick (she got him the video game that Alfred refuses to let the boy have until he completes a whole month of attendance at school). But Bruce…

She had no idea what to give someone who actually has everything, who can buy anything he wanted. He is a billionaire, so getting him something from the mall feels wrong for Vivian. Since she finished her shopping, Bruce’s name – which was at the very top of her shopping list – was the only one that wasn’t crossed out. At first she thought she could just get his gift somewhere in the week, just so she could have a good long think about it, but then that long thinking led to a rut that she can’t get out of.

One of her friends laughed at her saying: “How do you not know what to get your boyfriend?”

Her reply, “How about you get a gift for a billionaire.”

Her friend’s reply? “I’d wrap myself in a ribbon and wait for him at home.”

Vivian already had that idea but she didn’t want to look like someone shallow and narcissistic to think she was a gift already. Besides, holiday sex is different from holiday gifts. Yes, they come separately – well, to her they are. 

Now, here she was, roaming around the town looking for something to give him. 

Augh! She knew she should have held onto that Grey Ghost toy instead of buying it for him on the spot! But how was she supposed to know that they’ll still be dating until now? She got him that gift during the first few months into their relationship. And she really wanted to get him something that was from his childhood that brought him joy. 

Oh, the smile he had that day when he saw the Grey Ghost figurine, and how his eyes lit up when he told her times he would ask his father if he could stay up just to watch the show. She can’t not get him that toy. 

Food was the safest option, and she already gave him homemade brownies that he could bring for patrol (at that time, Bruce didn’t know she knew he was Batman and just packed the brownies in a way he can easily put in his utility belt). She can’t give him the same thing again. Right?

Well, after they got back together, she most certainly can’t. It’s gotta be something special. 

But what?

What can she give him? 

A vacation? Yeah, right—a workaholic like him won’t use that. 

Dinner out? They always have dinner out.

The sound of her phone ringing pulled Vivian from her reverie and stopped her from staring at the shop selling Batman merchandise. 

It was Bruce.

Great.

“Hello?” Vivian answered.

“Is everything okay, Viv?” Bruce asked, quite concerned with the lack of her usual jolly greeting.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. Just doing some last minute Holiday shopping.”

“You already left campus?”

“Yeah, sorry about not mentioning it. But I’m at the shopping district now, maybe we could meet there and have dinner here?”

“That’d be nice. Just send me a place for us to meet and I’ll meet you there.”

“Sure. See ya, Wayne.”

“See you, Pryor,” she was sure he was smiling then. 

Maybe she should just take a raincheck on that gift now and try again tomorrow.

Bruce arrived a couple of minutes later and they met at the restaurant that Vivian told him about. Unfortunately, the tables inside were already taken, so they opted for the ones outside, even if it meant being in the cold winter. 

“Are you sure you’re not freezing?” Bruce asked her as she held her hot coffee – not warm, hot – and drank it without burning her tongue. And the fact she had her bonnet, and her beige coat. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Vivian asked.

“Where’s your scarf?” 

“I… accidentally left it at home, and I was running late so I didn’t bother to go back for it,” she winced as she admitted the childish thing.

Without a word, Bruce got up and moved his seat to be beside her, then placed his own scarf over her neck. 

“Bruce, no – you’ll be freezing,” Vivian tried to give it back.

“Trust me, I’m used to this. Besides, I got all the warmth I need,” he wrapped an arm around her.

Vivian hid her blush by drinking her coffee. “You know, I should be used to this kind of weather, but for some reason I never really got used to the cold.”

Bruce smirked and whispered to her ear, “Maybe I could help you warm up a little when we get to the manor?”

Vivian blushed even more and she tried to hide it. “And what about patrol?”

“That could wait. I can’t let you freeze to death,” Bruce placed a kiss on her cheek. She was cold. Really cold. “Why don’t you use your magic?”

Vivian groaned and wanted to hit herself. She’s been so preoccupied with finding him a gift that she forgot about magic! Back then she can use her magic easily and doesn’t need to shut if off to warm her in the winter or cool her in the summer. But with her stopping using magic, it was hard to get those habits back again. Especially when she got the pleasures of air conditioning and a working heater to do the job.

Has she become lazy? Yes, she won’t lie about that. She is a lazy witch, but she’s trying to get back on her feet.

Seeing her reaction, he laughed and said: “That’s why we practice.”

“Oh shut it,” Vivian used a spell and spread warmth around her and Bruce. She was about to hand back his scarf but he told her: “No, keep it. I like seeing you wear my things.”

“Is that so?”

“If only we could have the manor to ourselves, I'd prefer if you walk around wearing my clothes.”

“Just your clothes?”

“Just like that morning where you greeted me good morning,” Bruce leaned down to kiss her. That morning he was mentioning it was one of the days she spent the night at Wayne Manor. Vivian had woken up earlier than Bruce on a weekend and decided to stay in the room and relax a bit. She opted to wear one of his shirts instead of her own, as she asked Alfred if she could have them washed along with the others he was throwing in the washing machine. When Bruce woke up he was greeted by the sight of her looking through his personal book collection in the room, only wearing his shirt and nothing underneath. He knew she had nothing because whenever she would get on her toes to reach up for something at the top shelf, he'd see her bare bottom as the shirt would hike up. They spent the entire day trapped his room that day and when they got out for a late lunch, Dick was bored out of his mind. 

“Maybe,” Vivian said back between their kisses. When she felt his hand on her thigh, Vivian placed a hand on his chest and told him that they were in a public place.

“We've done far risky things,” he kept kissing her.

But not out there. 

He was only teasing her, she knew, but the anticipation on the what could possibly happen made her heart beat faster. 

“Where's the bill? Why is it taking so long?” Vivian muttered when she pulled away but ke kept kissing her on the side of her lips, her cheek, her jawline. 

“Impatient?”

“You're making it hard for me to be patient, Wayne,” she laughed.

“Bruce?” A voice of a woman had Bruce stop in his kisses and turn his attention to the woman standing there. She was tall, slender, wore a fur coat, and very beautiful. 

“Hi, um…” Bruce began.

“Stacy,” she supplied.

“Right, Stacy. How are things?”

“Same thing, getting modeling gigs for bigger brands – what about you? I haven't heard from you in a while.”

Oh. Stacy is one of billionaire-playboy Bruce Wayne's former flings, Vivian realized.

“Yes, because I'm now with someone — Stacy, this Professor Vivian Pryor. She works at Gotham University. Viv, this is Stacy, she's a model,” Bruce introduced.

Vivian got up and held out her hand to the woman. “Pleasure to meet you.”

The woman looked at her for a moment, taking her in from head to toe, and then took her hand to shake. Did she just judge her right there? Vivian thought.

“I guess you are in a serious relationship,” Stacy said to Bruce. “You’re not really the type of girls he would bring around every night.”

Did she just say she's ugly without saying she's ugly? Vivian raised a brow. 

“Right,” Vivian muttered.

“Stacy –” Bruce began.

“Where is that bill? I'll just go pay for our meal,” Vivian got her purse, and when Bruce tried to stop her, she said to him, “I'll be right back. Just catch up with Stacy while I'm pay.”

“Viv –”

Vivian left and went inside where she met halfway with the waiter about to bring their bill and said she'll do the transaction at the counter itself. He didn't mind but it did give off the wrong impression to other customers. After getting their takeaways for Dick and Alfred, Vivian went back out and found Bruce waiting for her by the door.

“Where'd your friend go?” She asked.

“She's not my friend, Viv,” Bruce took the takeaway bag. “Listen, whatever she implied — she's just being mean about –”

“Bruce, I'm fine. Do you really think I'd cry about something like that? I'm an adult woman, I've dealt with people worse than Stacy. So, that won't make feel bad. What I did there was just me getting out of an awkward situation. Okay?”

Bruce wasn't convinced, she could see it in his eyes. He wrapped his arm around her and placed a long and loving kiss on her lips.

“I love you, Viv,” he whispered to her.

A smile crept on her face. It was only a couple of days ago when they finally said their first ‘I love you’ to one another. And it was Bruce who said it first, and since then he would always say it to her with sincerity.

“I love you too, Bruce,” she kissed him again. “Let's go home.”

~*~

As promised, Bruce spent the night with her before going to patrol. He only dropped off the food for Dick and Alfred to the butler before pulling her along up the stairs and to his room, and calling out to Dick that they'll go out for patrol in a few hours so he should eat his dinner now. Vivian wasn't someone who was that into a praise kink, but she did appreciate the way Bruce kissed her body and how he literally got on his knees and kiss her thighs and then ate her out.

God, that man knew how to use his tongue. 

After what felt like an hour of love-making and cuddling in bed, Vivian was left lying in bed as Bruce got out of the shower and equipped himself with his Batman suit. 

“You're not getting dressed?” Bruce asked.

“No. Why does it bother you?” Vivian sat up, teasingly dropping the blanket, showing him her nude chest.

Bruce walked up to her and leaned down to kiss her lips. “I need to focus, Viv.”

“Think of this as something to look forward to when you get back.”

“Then I better make sure this patrol goes smoothly.”

“Take care out there, Batman. And look out for Boy Wonder.”

Bruce kissed her again said, “Yes, Ma'am.”

The knock on the door had them fix themselves, with Bruce pulling up his cowl, and Vivian the blanket to hide her body from Dick who opened the door.

“Thought so,” he muttered when he saw Vivian waving at him then turned to Bruce. “How long are you going to make me wait?”

“I'm coming,” Bruce said, making Vivian laugh.

“You two are gross,” said Dick.

“Let's go, chum,” Bruce ushered him out.

“Good luck! And stay safe out there!” Vivian called out.

“We will! Night, Viv!” Dick replied before Bruce closed the door.

Alone in the bedroom, Vivian got dressed in her underwear but wore one of Bruce's shirts and her trousers so she could roam around the manor. Might as well get familiar with the place. In one of her ventures in the manor, she came across a wall where a sword was supposed to be, she'd know because that wall mount was made for holding swords, and the mantle below it looked like it used to hold something too.

“There once was a crossbow displayed there,” Alfred's voice startled Vivian.

“Alfred, you scared me,” Vivian took a breath.

“Apologies, Professor Pryor,” Alfred approached her. “I presume all is well? Are you in need of a Plan B, Ma'am? After the last time Master Bruce went out to get one, I have decided to have one on hand in case of unplanned occasions.”

Vivian blushed in embarrassment. She's known Alfred for two years now and she's not sure if she's that close with him to talk about those things. AKA, her sex-life with the man he raised as a son. 

“No, I — uh — I… we were — Bruce was wearing a… condom,” she whispered the last part. “But thank you for mentioning it – hold on, is that why the last time I slept over there were Plan B pills on the bedside, with a glass of water?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Alfred, we do not deserve you,” Vivian laughed.

“No, you don't,” he joked. But their laughter ceased when they turned to the empty holders on the mantle and the wall. “Up there, there used to be a sword too. Young Master Bruce would call it Zorro's Sword because of how similar it looked to the prop in the film.”

Zorro, Vivian remembered. The night his parents were shot in that alley, they were coming out of the cinema after watching Zorro. 

“I see,” Vivian said. “And the crossbow?”

Alfred sighed and gestured for her to follow. “When he was a boy, there is a myth that parents in Gotham would tell their children about a secret organization dating hundreds of years back in Gotham City, it was said that they were built by Gotham's elite and they are the ones that rule Gotham in the shadows.”

“The Court of Owls,” Vivian said.

“Yes.”

“I read about them when I took a course in Gotham history, and I wrote about them in a section of my book as part of Gotham's history too. They say they wear owl masks too, hence the name… others claim it's nothing but a cover for a sex cult.”

“People's imaginations are much wilder now.”

“How does that connect to the crossbow?”

“Well, after the death of his parents, Master Bruce believed the Court of Owls were behind it and began his investigation. He would escape his room and his home in the middle of the night to investigate, bringing with him the crossbow. The first time he used it was to shoot an owl in the attic, after that I took the thing away and hid it. The young man knew where to find it and stole it and went off with his investigation.

“One day his investigation got him trapped in an old building at Gotham. He was missing for three days. When we found him, he was unconscious, dehydrated and starving. He was in a comatose for three days and when he woke, he finally gave up in his search and said that the Court of Owls,” he sighed. “Do not exist…”

Vivian frowned as she imagined a young Bruce Wayne going through that. He was just a boy and…

They arrived at the study where Alfred opened one of the secret cabinets and showed the crossbow.

“The only place I knew he wouldn't find it, and is under lock and key,” said Alfred. “I never put it back because I thought it would just bring back bad memories.”

“Just like the sword,” Vivian sighed. “I also noticed something missing from there. A photograph?”

“A small portrait of his great-grandfather, Alan Wayne. There were suspicions that he too was a member of the Court but no evidence showed that he was. Master Bruce had it removed… I'm afraid that section of the manor is simply filled with bad memories that Master Bruce would prefer to not see again.”

“I can’ only imagine why,” Vivian frowned. “When I first came here I felt how heavy the manor was. The long history it holds and the tragedy that happened to Thomas and Martha Wayne and how it affected Bruce.” Her eyes went to the portrait in the study, it was of the Wayne family – Thomas, Martha, and a young Bruce.  “I could only imagine how lively this place was when Mrs. Wayne was alive and running the show.”

“It was. In fact, there were many of us staff here. But paranoia got to Master Bruce that he had everyone dismissed but me. His guardian, and the only one he trusted. It took him a long time before he opened the manor again to people, and not just for parties, but for someone to freely walk its halls again,” Alfred's gaze was on her, she could feel it. “May I speak freely, Professor Pryor?”

Vivian's brows furrowed. “Of course, what is it?”

“I do hope you do not take this badly but, ever since Master Bruce brought you to the Manor, and the days you spend here, this old girl started to feel like how it was when Martha Wayne was around. When both of them were here, and when young Master Bruce used to run around causing trouble, bringing laughter in its halls. And though I know that the young Master Bruce will never return after that night, you have brought back a ray of hope and happiness in him, and it makes this old man glad to see him smile again.”

Vivian looked away in embarrassment.

Seeing her reaction, Alfred thought he have overstepped his ground and made her feel awkward with that weight of information and tried to apologize, “I meant, your presence brings light in the manor as well – and Master Dick around, he too livens up the place. I'm not saying that it's just because of you — Master Bruce very much cares for you, Professor Pryor. He cares deeply.”

“I understand what you meant,” Vivian said. “I can imagine how the place would look like in the holidays. I bet the manor used to be its own Christmas village with everyone here.”

“You can say so. Thomas and Martha Wayne would always invite the families of the staff to join us for the Christmas dinners — if they wish the spend the holidays here — and Master Bruce would play with the other children. He was loved by all, Master Bruce, that in the morning of Christmas, the staff would leave trails of little presents for him to look around in the manor. His own little treasure hunt.”

Vivian laughed but an idea came to mind.

“You know, Alfred, you just saved me another trip aimlessly walking around Gotham's shopping district.”

~*~

On the day of Christmas, Bruce woke up later than the others. Nothing new. Oddly enough, neither Alfred, Dick, nor Vivian were in the sitting room, the dining area, nor the kitchen. But there was a note that stuck on the fridge written in Vivian's penmanship that they were having a late lunch at the solar in the East Wing of the manor. Then in Alfred's penmanship saying: I brought the coffee here, Sir. No need to work in the kitchen. Right, he was banned from using the kitchen.

Walking the familiar path to the solar, Bruce looked around his surroundings, to see if there was anything different in the manor. He noticed the new curtains that Alfred had installed for the holidays. It was in the shades of emerald and maroon; then there were the Christmas decorations. He wondered how many trees there were in the manor. There was one in the sitting room, but then there was another in this area but smaller. Have they always had that many in the place during the holidays? 

He made a mental note to tell Alfred to stop with the extra trees. They rarely go to the other parts of the manor anyway. 

Then he saw it. The mantle where the crossbow and the sword used to be, but then something was off. There were other things that took the place of the sword and crossbow. On the wall-mounted holder, instead of the old sword he used to play with as a kid (despite his parents telling him not to) were candy canes that form an ‘x’, the on the wall where he have removed Alan Wayne's photo, in its place was  a photo that he was sure he never saw before. 

It was a enlarged photo booth photo of Vivian, Dick, and Alfred, all wearing Santa hats and were holding a card that says: “Happy Holidays! Congratulations on finding the first clue! We're not in the Solar, but you can find us by solving that clue.”

Bruce looked down on the mantle and saw the Christmas card with a cheesy holiday photo, and inside was a note written with Vivian's penmanship. It was a riddle, a poorly made one and he answered easily, and then at the very bottom she made a post-script: sorry for the shitty riddle, but hurry up!

Laughing, Bruce brought the card with him and went to the next destination. It was to the West Wing gallery. He used to go there and look at the paintings his mother purchased. Now it was empty but for one frame pinned to the wall with a photo of Alfred wearing a Santa Claus getup and a note telling him to wear the the jumper and to answer the riddle.

What jumper? He thought. Then he saw the present on the console and opened the box. 

No.

It was an ugly Christmas jumper. 

He hated those, even when he was a kid.

Inside the box there was another note, this time it was Vivian's handwriting: it's a holiday thing, wear it. Then in Alfred's handwriting, it had cypher. No sweat, he solved it easily and went to the next destination, on the way he was changing into the jumper — it was emerald with Christmas balls going a cross this torso. The next place was at the Great Hall where he would host parties. When he was a boy his parents would host galas there, and he would watch from the top of the stairs.

This time it was Dick's photo he saw with a present. Dick was wearing an elf's hat and ears and was holding the note with the riddle of the next place. The sitting room, he answered, and inside the box was a Santa Hat for him to wear.

Venturing back to the sitting room, he expected them to be there but the place was empty and the same as he left it earlier but for the present that was placed on the table. Opening the box he was met by an old Grey Ghost merchandise and inside was the photo of Vivian holding the last note — he hoped it was.

Say: wohs sevlesrouy.

“Wohs sevlesrouy,” Bruce did what he was told to. Was that a spell? He thought, then one moment the sitting room was empty with just the tree and the small decorations, now there were food on the table, the tree filled with presents, and a fire lit to keep them warm. Looking behind him, he saw Alfred, Dick, and Vivian standing there, all wearing Christmas jumpers and Santa hats.

“Happy Holidays!” They greeted him.

Bruce smiled and let out a laugh. “You did all that so you can set this up?”

“Actually, we were already here when you first came,” Dick said.

“What do you…”

“I did a little spell to get you to do this little treasure hunt that I set up with Alfred and Dick's help,” Vivian answered. “I used a spell to hide us and only when you say the words in this card,” she showed the card he held. “Will the glamor be removed and appear ourselves to you. Merry Christmas, my love.”

“Is this your Christmas gift to me? A little treasure hunt?” Bruce wrapped his arms around her.

“Yes, and that Grey Ghost toy. Did you enjoy it?” Vivian asked.

Bruce leaned down and kissed her lips. “I did. Very much, especially the photos. I think I'll keep them up somewhere so we get to see them… but the jumper.”

“Every family has an ugly Christmas jumper, and since we are a family we should to. So, you cannot take that off, Wayne.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” he kissed her again and again and again –

“Ahem!” Dick called for their attention. “We're right here, and I am starving!”

“Alright, alright, kiddo,” Vivian laughed and released Bruce but took his hand to lead him to the couch to sit as she and Alfred handed over the plates for food and hot cocoa for everyone. “Also, there is another thing for the holidays,” Vivian conjured something from midair. It was an old-looking book. “When I was a girl my dad would always read to me and my Mom, and later my siblings A Christmas Carol, maybe we can read this together later?”

Bruce smiled and took her hand. “We can read it by the fire before heading to bed.”

As they had their holiday meal as a family, Bruce's smile never fell as he watched his family enjoy the holidays, and as new traditions take place.

~ Many Years Later ~

Mastering the art of gift-giving was a skill that Vivian had to learn gradually, especially when it comes to Bruce. Her first successful and real gift became their family tradition of a holiday treasure-hunt for the children around the manor, ugly holiday jumpers, and from reading classic Christmas stories to watching Christmas movies all bundled together by the fire. As the years progressed, her gifts to Bruce had one focal point: family. 

While he looks like a man who has everything with his riches, Bruce Wayne is one of the loneliest person in the world and Vivian realized that the best gift she could give him was something he will remember. Not material things but memories that he will cherish and that would always make him laugh.

And those holiday memories were frozen in time by photos they would take by the tree every year and were placed on the mantle where everyone’s stockings are. Before it was just the photo of Bruce, Vivian, Alfred, and Dick, with their respective stockings – which Alfred made – hanging by the fire; then came Jason and they got another photo the family with him and his own stocking, then Tim, the Cassandra, Stephanie and Damian, Duke, Kate would join occasionally, and the latest one was with Valerie in her holiday onesie and still a baby sleeping in her mother’s arms. 

This year, they plan to have another family photo with Valerie, now two-years-old  and can stay awake with them for a bit longer to get a photo. Also because she requested they take it again with Greg this time. How can they say no to that?

But holiday traditions don’t always go as planned. 

One of the new traditions of the Wayne family was to do volunteer work around Gotham a day before Christmas. With Vivian bringing with her Valerie, who she carried in a carrier on her back (the girl enjoys using that) they were with Dick and Damian at the petting zoo where they helped animals and the children visiting. Valerie enjoyed her time with the animals and the other kids who welcomed her in their circle. At first they were a little intimidated, she was a Wayne after all, but then Valerie fell on the snow and dirtied her clothes and they all realized that she was just like them. A kid who gets their clothes dirty too. 

It was a fun sight to see her daughter play with the other children of Gotham, especially those from the orphanage that Martha Wayne put up.

“The kid’s a natural in making friends,” Dick said while holding Haley in his arms. 

“She is,” Vivian laughed as she saw one of the children holding Valerie and bringing her back.

“Mrs. Wayne, I think she’s freezing now,” the children said.

One cue, Valerie sneezed and snot came out.

“Ew,” the children laughed.

“Okay, time to warm up,” Vivian took Valerie and hugged her tight in her jacket to give her warmth. Dick helped in wiping her nose clean and putting his bonnet on Valerie to keep her warm. “Did you have fun?”

Valerie nodded and pointed to the direction of the children watching her. “Play?”

“Sorry, Val, you gotta get warm or you’ll be sick on Christmas,” the children said.

Valerie pouted.

“Here, we made this for you,” one of the children held out a carved toy out of wood. It was one of the activities in the place for the children to enjoy. Simple wood carving where they can make toys of their own. “It was Peter who made it and he’s really good at carving wood.”

The toy was a nutcracker and Valerie happily accepted it and said thank you.

“She won’t let go of that tonight,” Vivian said. “Thank you. I hope everyone had fun.”

“We did. Thanks, Mrs. Wayne. If Val needs friends she can visit any time – we’ll be right there at the orphanage.”

Vivian smiled sadly and reached out to mess with their hair. “I hope everything is okay there. Is it warm in the orphanage?”

“Yeah! We got the new heaters and the blankets too! Mrs. Hall said we were going to have Christmas dinner too!”

At that moment, Jason and the others who knew how to cook were helping out in preparing the children’s Christmas dinner. An early start but nothing beats a good meal after a day of playing in the snow.

“Why don’t we head inside and have some hot chocolate. I got someone do a run so we can all get warm in there, besides I’m sure the animals are cold now too,” Vivian got up and ushered everyone inside the petting zoo. Inside they were greeted by the sight of Bruce waiting with the table of hot cocoa and snacks for everyone to enjoy, and presents that sat in a huge red sack in the corner.

“Thanks, Mr. Wayne!” The children said as they lined up to get their cocoa and snack.

After greeting the children and handing each of them presents, Bruce went to his family who sat at one of the tables with their own drink and snack.

“Did Val get sick?” Bruce asked when he noticed his daughter’s red nose.

“Nothing I can’t fix,” Vivian winked at him. “She was having so much fun that she didn’t realize she was freezing. The kids brought her back when they saw the snot coming down.”

“Dada!” Valerie reached for him.

Bruce happily took his daughter and let her sit on his lap while he cleaned her face.

“Jason said that the dinner for the children are almost done, we can head back to the orphanage after they finish their drinks and snacks,” said Bruce.

“Good, because that’s all they’ve been talking about. And tomorrow, I can’t wait for our little family holiday tradition,” Vivian kissed his cheek. “Got everything set in the manor?”

Bruce smirked. “Damian won’t find the clues that easily this time, and I made sure that Val can participate too.”

“The Wayne Family Holiday Treasure Hunt. And after that we could watch Polar Express or Klaus for the movies? Those were the top two picks for tonight.”

“We’ll see, let’s have them battle it out the old fashion way.”

“Rock-paper-scissors?”

“Exactly.”

The sound of his phone ringing had Bruce reaching for it to answer. It was Alfred. Upon answering, he was met by the worried voice of the man at the other line with disturbing news. Seeing the expression on his face, Vivian knew what it meant. 

“Understood, I’m heading back now,” Bruce ended the call. He then turned to his wife with an apologetic look on his face. “Something happened in Central Gotham, I need to go. I’ll take Damian with me. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll handle things here. Go and take Dick with you too.”

“No, Dick will stay with you. I won’t feel comfortable with leaving you both alone until you’re both at the manor,” Bruce leaned down to kiss her and then he kissed Val on top of her head. “I’ll be back.”

“Dada?” Val asked, feeling that her father was going to leave again.

“I’m sorry, Val, but Dada needs to take care of something.”

As if she understood, Val nodded and placed a sloppy and snotty kiss on his cheek. Bruce didn’t mind, he just wiped the snot off once his daughter wasn’t looking. Getting up, Bruce called for Damian and the two of them were running out of the place. Vivian had to make an excuse that it was some sort of emergency that they needed to see in the manor. 

~*~

Returning to the Manor, Dick, Jason, and the others had to head to the cave and get change so they can join Batman and Robin in the case, this left Vivian, Valerie, and Alfred in the house. As much as they would have wanted to wait for the others to return for dinner, Valerie was hungry and Alfred had medicine he needed to take for his ailments. After dinner, Vivian had Alfred rest for the night, reminding him that she can do the dishes while giving Valerie a bath (“Alfred, the best gift you can give me is seeing you relax,” Vivian joked, “Let me handle these.”).

“Dada?” Valerie asked while playing with her toys in the tub.

“Dada is at work with Damian and the others,” Vivian washed the soap off them both.

Valerie grabbed the Bat-duckie (a rubber-duck with Batcowl that Stephanie saw and bought) and showed it to her mother.

“Yup, Bat-duckie,” Vivian laughed. “Okay, duckie, time to get out.”

After draining the tub, Vivian took her daughter and brought her to the master bedroom’s bed. With Bruce still out, she decided to let Valerie sleep there with her until her father comes home. Besides, Bruce tends to take their daughter from her nursery and have her sleep between them every after his patrol.

Putting on the Batman onesie, Valerie started crawling towards the three books Vivian had put out for her to choose from for tonight’s reading, but Vivian pulled her back, making the girl laugh, so she could finish doing the buttons of the clothes.

“Alright, alright, go pick one for storytime,” Vivian took the chance to finish getting dressed as her daughter crawled towards the books and inspected each one, as if it were the first time she was reading them again. But with how the corners were creased and the pages have seen better days, that was the hundredth time they’ve read those books and Valerie doesn’t get tired of them.

When Valerie didn’t seem to find anything she liked, the toddler crawled down the bed, clutching on the comforter for leverage, and ran to her reading nook at her father’s bedside and choose from the handful of books they keep there.

“You miss, Dada, don’t you?” Vivian whispered as she watched the girl look closely at the Father-Daughter’s pile of books.

Valerie finally found the book she wanted to read and showed it to her mother. It was Disney's Treasure Planet Children's Storybook, one of their daughter’s favorite movies of all after watching it with Dick and Barbara. When she saw that in the bookstore, she immediately showed it to her father and asked him to read it to her. Bruce purchased the book – not caring of its expensive price since it’s one of the collectable items of the movie – and would read it to her every night she would ask him to.

“Let’s go,” Vivian pulled her daughter up to the bed and had them snuggle under the covers. “Where did you and Dada left off?”

Valerie turned the pages until they came across the part where Silver and Hawkins opened the gate of Treasure Planet. They began their story, with Vivian using different voices for each character and – to make it interesting – used her magic to pop-out the characters from the book and move around before them. Valerie listened and watched intensely as they read the story, following the words that would pop out of the pages for her to remember what they look like and sound like. Eventually – before they could make it to the end – Valerie fell asleep.

Yawning, Vivian checked the time –

It was that late already? She thought. Maybe this case was a little too much for Batman and his Robins.

Or not.

The bedroom door creaked open and in came Batman with his cowl pulled down and his gaze never leaving the sight of his wife and daughter in bed about to go to sleep. 

“You’re still awake?” Bruce asked.

“She just fell asleep,” Vivian answered and greeted him with a kiss. “How was the emergency.”

“Handled. It was Faust causing trouble, we handled it with the League. Harley Quinn was there.”

“To lend a hand or cause chaos?”

“Both,” Bruce let his cowl and cape drop, along with his gloves so he could pick up his daughter from the bed. “You finished the book without me?”

“No, we haven’t reached the ending yet. She misses you, that’s why she wanted to read it,” Vivian placed it back on his bedside. Watching him cradle their daughter would always bring a warmth in her chest that had Vivian fall in love all over for him. The look in his eyes as he watched their daughter spoke a thousand words of love; the way he held her looked like someone holding a porcelain doll and a cherished treasure. 

It was as if Valerie didn’t poop or puke on them both as she grew up. 

“I’ll take her back to her nursery,” Bruce said to her.

“What do you mean? Don’t you want her to sleep here beside us?”

“I do, she does every night, and I love it. But I feel like I haven’t been a husband to my wife for a while now,” Bruce turned to her with those blue eyes of his that would still make her blush.

“You haven’t neglected me, if that’s what you mean,” Vivian reassured him.

“I’ll be right back,” With that, he left, bringing with him Valerie who he placed in her crib, tucked in with Echo and Greg the Gargoyle around her. When he came back, he had with him the baby monitor, which he tossed at Vivian’s direction before heading to the shower. 

Hearing the water running and the door slightly ajar, Vivian thought for a moment and decided – fuck it, she can just dry her hair again with magic later. Getting up, she took off her clothes and knocked on the shower door.

“Is there something you need?” Bruce asked but he froze when he saw her standing here in the nude.

“Maybe you want some company?” Vivian shrugged.

He moved aside to let her in, and as soon as the shower door was shut, he caged his wife against the wall and captured her in a kiss. 

“I missed you,” Bruce whispered as he trailed kisses down her neck.

“I miss you too,” she wrapped her arms around him. When he pulled away from the kiss, Vivian thought he wanted something specific and was about to go down on her knees when but Bruce held her up.

“No. I just want you here with me,” He wrapped his arms around her and buries his face at the base of her neck. 

Smiling, Vivian turned off the shower and opened the door. “Okay,” she whispered and held him tight.

~*~

In bed, the couple laid in each others arms as they enjoyed each other's company in silence. It was one of the beauties of their relationship, they can just be there without saying a word or doing anything. Even the silence was enough for them, all that matters was they have each other's company.

“Our anniversary is coming,” Bruce suddenly spoke.

“Bruce, it won't be until April,” Vivian laughed. “You're way to advanced.”

“We didn't do much this year, so I was thinking we take a trip. Just the two of us.”

“Where?”

Bruce adjusted his hold on her, propping her leg over him and holding her even closer. “That's why I mentioned it now because I know it'll take us time to find the right place.”

“Kind of hard since we've gone to most of the cities around the world.”

“Not always for pleasure, most of the time it's because of work. Both our day jobs and the League. Do you have any place in mind you want to spend at least two days of vacation?”

She turned to her husband in disbelief. “You are initiating a two-day vacation? Ha! You are growing old, my love. Back then I can't even get you to agree to one night trip to New York.”

“We had our honeymoon that lasted for two weeks. And come on, it's New York, Viv.”

She rolled her eyes. “The New Jerseyan in you is coming out. What's gotten you to think like this, Batman?”

Bruce laughed and kissed her. 

He's avoiding the question.

Bruce never kept secrets from her, but he does tend to procrastinate when it was something that would make her worry or could possibly ruin the mood they were in.

“Bruce.”

Another kiss.

“My love, tell me,” she softly pushed him away.

Sighing, he admitted: “The other night, I was chasing a teenager who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And in the chase my knee…”

“Oh, Bruce,” Vivian sat up and had him lay on his back.

“Viv, come back.”

“I know, but let me see,” She pulled down the blanket and propped his heavy leg on her lap. The stitches from his multiple surgeries were the first thing she saw, along with the scars she got from being Batman. Seeing them, she leaned down and kissed the part where the biggest scar was. It was when she thought she might have to amputate his leg but Vivian healed him and held him together until they got him to a surgeon that fixed his injuries.

“Did it hurt tonight?” She asked him.

“No.”

She looked at him with a deadpan look.

“There was some slight feeling of discomfort.”

Placing a hand on his knee, Vivian began the spell that spread warmth throughout his veins and muscles and had Bruce sighing in relief.

She scoffed. “Not in pain, huh? Don't even think about sitting up.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“Who else knows about this?”

“Oracle.”

“Clark?”

There was a moment of silence before he admitted. “I asked him to use his x-ray vision to see the problem.”

“Good to know that you would go to your husband first before your wife,” she teased him, which earned a poke on the side, which tickled her. “Does it feel better now?”

“Yes. Can you, please, lay down with me?” Bruce pulled her to his side again. “If you're wondering about if I have thought about retiring, it has crossed my mind…”

“I just want you to still be you when you finally decide to pass on the cowl or hang it up in the cave. You're not getting any younger, you know, you're becoming an old man,” they laughed.

“An old man with a young wife.”

“Please, forties is not young.”

“You still look young.”

“I have white hair now, and I'm getting more wrinkles.”

“You're still beautiful, Viv.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t.”

Bruce laughed and kissed his wife. “There are times when I think that this is just a never ending battle. That I should just let it be because Batman can't save people from themselves. I cannot save Gotham from itself. The people here refuse change. This is the world they want.”

Vivian frowned as she remembered the night he said something similar and broke down, he did consider hanging up the cowl but then one night there were no violent crimes in Gotham. Just one night of it gave him hope that it was possible. But now…

“But whenever I see our daughter… I don't want to lose that light in her eyes. I want her to still have hope and to live in this city without fearing its streets.”

“I know,” Vivian held him tight. “It's difficult for you to accept defeat, but Bruce one man can only do so much, and I think Batman has done enough. He has brought not just fear to his enemies but hope to those he helps. To those he protects. I don't care what they say about Superman or Wonder Woman, you are a man, and you are able to do all of this. Batman is and will always be the greatest hero there is, and the lessons you passed down to everyone will be your legacy.

“And though I know it's hard to accept the truth, the truth is… this war you've been fighting won't end with you. And I have accepted that — and I know Val has her father's good and caring heart, she will be the Batman's legacy too along with her brothers and sisters.”

Bruce held her tight. “Would it be alright if you hold on to that watch for a while?”

Vivian smiled and kissed him. “I'll hold on to it until you're ready to hang up the cowl… or maybe I can pawn it for a while… get something for myself while I wait.”

“Smartass,” Bruce laughed and pulled her to lay on top of him. Their digital clock sounded a short and soft alarm. It was midnight now. “Merry Christmas, Viv.”

“Merry Christmas, Bruce,” Vivian leaned down and kissed him. In their kiss, Bruce let out a throaty groan as he felt her pressing down on him. When he pulled away to ask, Vivian answered him by taking off her shirt and her bottoms, then said, “Part one of my gift.”

“I thought holiday sex isn't a gift,” he smirked.

“It's not, but it is the holidays, so gotta have a theme.”

“Please don't tell me you have a Mrs. Claus lingerie with you.”

“No, but,” she reached under her pillow and placed a hat on Bruce's head. It was a Santa hat. “But that will do.”

Laughing, Bruce sat up and kissed his wife deeply and pulled her closer to him as she pulled down his underwear and ground herself on his growing erection. 

“Happy holidays, Mr. Pryor,” Vivian gasped as she sank down on him.

Bruce let out a sigh of pleasure to be in her warmth. “Happy holidays, Mrs. Wayne.”

~*~

When Damian saw his little sister climbing down her crib, he shrugged it off and simply watched as she carefully gripped the handles and took one step at a time until she was down, with the family cats and dogs, and Greg the Gargoyle. 

“Very good, Val,” Damian commended her.

“Dami! Mewwy ‘smas!” Valerie hugged his leg.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Val,” he picked her up. “Let's go brush your teeth then we can wake Mom and Father.”

To tease him, Valerie blew her morning breath at her brother and Damian hummed in displeasure. “Hmm.”

A quick trip to the bathroom to brush her teeth and Damian standing outside the bathroom with the door shut as she did her business, until she called out to him saying: “Done!” And he would go in and help her clean up. 

“Come on, let's surprise Mom with the jumpers she got us,” Damian changed her out of the pajamas and into the Christmas jumpers they would get every year for the family. This year, their theme was Super-Holiday Jumpers. It was Stephanie's idea when she and Tim found the whole set in the mall and bought one for everyone to wear. He was wearing a Robin jumper that had the insignia at the very middle incorporated to the design, and Val wore a red and gold one that had the Wonder Woman symbol at the front. 

“And the finishing touch,” he placed the mini-Santa hat on her head. Val laughed and started pulling him along.

Standing before their parents’ bedroom door, Damian had Valerie stand by the wall with her eyes closed as he knocked loud and called out, “I'm coming in!” then waited a few seconds before opening the door to check. Good, they were dressed in their holiday jumpers, but oddly enough the Santa hat was on the ground at this time of day.

“New wake up call?” Vivian said to him.

“It was my way to make sure Valerie does not have to go through that nightmare of seeing what we all saw then while at a young age,” said Damian. “Coast is clear, Val.”

From the door, Valerie walked into their parents’ bedroom and ran to her father who scooped her off the ground. “Good morning, Val,” Bruce greeted her.

“Mownee!” Valerie said, and right on time her stomach growled.

“Okay, time for breakfast, and once everyone is here, the Wayne Family Treasure Hunt will begin,” Vivian had Damian under her wing and led him out the room and to the kitchen.

With Jason staying at the manor for the holidays, he's taking the task in preparing the meals with Alfred helping in some way. For breakfast, he surprised everyone with a holiday themed meal, and Val's favorite which he served in her favorite plate too.

Not long after – with the dishes washing themselves – one by one everyone was arriving at the manor wearing their favorite super-holiday jumpers, bringing food for dinner, and a competitive look on their faces knowing what's to come.

Gathered in the sitting room, Vivian, Bruce, and Alfred stood before everyone else as they waited for the two teams to finalize each other. Dick's team got Barbara, Stephanie, and Cassandra; and Jason's team got Tim, Damian, and Duke. Val will be participating as a guide for both teams to accomplish all of the tasks. Bruce made some tasks that need both teams to work together so Valerie could play with all of them.

“I'm telling you now, it's not going to be easy this year,” Vivian told them.

“Please, you said that last year and we finished it before you can finish a bottle of scotch,” Jason teased.

“Trust me, this is harder, and you'll need these too,” Bruce tossed them back their coats and helped Valerie in hers. “The clues are not just in the manor, it spans all around the estate.”

All cockiness flew out the window as they realized how big Wayne Estate was.

“You're joking, right?” Barbara asked.

“This will be a test of physical and mental skill, and baby skills too. The living room will be your base for every treasure you find,” Vivian handed Valerie to Jason as she started to make grabbing motions at him. “We made sure to put a line as well,” she gestured the magically conjured line between the teams and the sides of the room. “So no one would go on a territory war. You got until three in the afternoon to finish the task.”

“So, it's that difficult, huh?” Stephanie laughed. “Okay, that's interesting.”

“Everyone starts here inside and around the manor, so Val can play too. But when it's time for the excavations, she'll be having her nap.”

“Gotta prepare for Christmas dinner and movie night, huh?” Tim took a photo of Val and Cassandra playing some clapping game.

Vivian then placed the two Christmas cards with the first riddle on the table. One red and the other blue. “Alfred, do the honors,” she gestured to the man.

“With this, the Wayne Family Holiday Treasure Hunt begins,” Alfred started the clock, and Dick and Jason grabbed the cards and started reading it silently with their teams. 

“Got it!” Tim and Stephanie exclaimed and were leading their teams to the direction of the attic, leaving a trail of laughter, competition, and the sound of Valerie giggling.

~*~

The treasure hunt went on for hours with each team solving puzzles that involved them using what they learned from Batman, and some that they needed Valerie to accomplish. They got five pieces of the piece they were going to build and set them on each of their tables in the living room where the timer was. When the next clue was leading them out to the vast estate, they had to give Val to Vivian, who was now asking for nap time. 

All the fun and excitement got her tired.

“Time's running out,” Vivian noted the clock that was fifteen minutes from the end.”

“They almost got it,” Bruce showed her the camera feed that showed Damian and Cassandra going against each other to get to their piece first. It was Cassandra who got it first and she jumped down for Jason to catch and the whole team ran back to the vehicle they used and head back to the manor, but Dick's team wasn't far off and they were racing back to the manor.

Vivian took the walkie talkie, which they gave to each team lead, and said to all of them, “You better not crash.”

They saw them laughing and stepped on it.

“I tell them to be careful and they push on the gas,” she sighed.

When the teams arrived at the teams arrived, they raced to the living room and were now building the piece that Bruce hid around the estate. 

“Come on, Grayson!” Damian said as they built whatever it was they were building. 

“Jason, get your stubby fingers out of the way!” Stephanie exclaimed and took over.

“DONE!” They all called out.

“And thirty seconds to spare,” Duke proudly said. “What is this, anyway?” 

They were all wondering what that does. It looked like a Christmal tree decor – red and blue.

“Not quite,” Vivian smirked.

Tim and Stephanie groaned and grabbed each of their ornament and ran to the tree, looking for that one piece that was missing in the pattern. 

That's why the tree looked a person with OCD made it! It was a missing piece for the tree!

“Hand it over, Drake!” Damian grabbed the ornament and hung it at the very top where the missing piece is suppose to be, just as Stephanie shoved hers at the bottom that was out of reach.

“HA!” They all declared they have won.

“With ten seconds to spare,” Bruce mused. “Congratulations.”

“What's the prize?” Barbara asked.

“Well, team Blue won,” Vivian got out an envelope for them. “Gift cards for shopping – special gift cards that you can use for anything you want.”

Dick's team cheered and howled in success, all taking an expensive gift card for their spending.

“Damnit!” Jason muttered. He was glaring at Dick as the eldest Robin gloated. “Oh, shut the fu--”

“Mowning!” Valerie entered the living room in her holiday pajamas and still rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out of them.

“Aw, good afternoon, Val!” Vivian scooped up her daughter. “Dick’s team won. Why don't you give Jay and the others a hug too cheer them up.”

Valerie reached out to Jason and snuggled in his arms and then fell asleep again. 

“I guess she's still sleepy,” Jason laughed and cradled her.

“Christmas Dinner isn't until later, so let her sleep,” said Bruce. “Is it alright if she stays with you? She looks comfortable there.”

“Yeah, she's good here,” Jason sat down on the couch. “I guess the presents can wait later when she wakes up.”

“I think we can hand out the other presents since Babs and Duke still have to go to their families,” Vivian shrugged.

They all agreed and gathered around to get their gifts. Vivian and Bruce handed out the gifts under the tree, skipping Valerie's gifts for the girl to open later. When they opened their gifts, everyone was happy to get what they always wanted. The gifts that Bruce got were more sentimental with Jason finally fixing Thomas Wayne's old broken watch and handing it as a gift after all this time, Dick giving him a framed photo from one of the early days of being just the four of them in the manor, and from Vivian was a photo album that collected their memories throughout the years, from their days when they were still dating until their life as a married couple, and now with their family.

The sight of their real wedding had Bruce smiling. Gotham doesn't know about that one, but it was the most intimate and most memorable one for him.

Taking his wife by her chin, Bruce had her face him to place a kiss on her lips. No words, but Vivian knew what he meant and pressed her forehead on his.

“From our first case to our last,” Bruce murmured.

“From our first case to our last,” she said back.

“Val's awake!” Cassandra helped the girl up and handed her a glass of water. “Presents?”

The word had the sleep disappear from her eyes and Valerie jumped down and ran to the tree, dragging Cassandra with her.

“From me,” Cassandra held out the present to Valerie.

As Valerie started to unwrap the presents, Barbara and the others started taking photos and videos of the moment for them to look back to. In their line of work, it's these little moments that they live for. It's also what reminds them of what they are fighting for.

[lionwitch]

Tim Drake Edits Reality

Hear me out. Tim Drake has always loved photography, that's wildly accepted and known. But what if he has powers too?

What if whatever Tim edits into his pictures becomes the truth?

The first time it happened, Tim was just starting his photography hobby. His parents bought him a camera and he was so exited! He took a picture of his mom's Rosebush, a single rose in the entire bush, half Withered.

Tim found the picture beautiful, and he started messing with photoshop, editing the withered flower back to the bright red it used to be. He decided it looked lonely and sad, the bush dry and the rose edited to be lively but alone in the middle. So he edited the dry areas of the bush back to the lively green and more roses in it. The picture looked very different from the original, but it was beautiful. Satisfied, he saved the end result.

That afternoon, when he walked through the garden, the very same dry rosebush he photographed looked just like his edited picture: lively, with rich colors and plenty of roses.

It made no sense, but he ignored it.

He kept taking pictures and editing them, though the changes were small, like the lighting and all that. Sometimes he made small changes, and he definitely noticed them and thought it was weird, but didn't quite connect the dots. He was kind of in denial. He couldn't be a meta or anything! Right?

And then his parents left for a few months and he was lonely, but he didn't want to admit it. And at school everyone was talking about their pets, and he messed up and lied. "I just adopted a Border Collie puppy!" he lied, thinking that would be it, people would forget, he would get out of the awkward situation (why did everyone have pets?) and nothing would happen. Well turns out, everyone wanted to see his puppy.

So Tim came home and prepared his camera, in his trusted tripod to look like it had been taken by someone else, and took pictures of himself, a whole photoshoot, with his arms stretched like carrying a dog, and then sitting like he was playing with it.

He searched for a perfect Border Collie puppy, one who had a whole photoshoot just for that one, so he could be sure the pictures were coherent and no one would question them. He carefully edited them and memorized every feature of his supposed dog in case anyone asked, to keep his story straight. Once satisfied, he sent them to those who asked for pictures, and received plenty of "cute dog!" compliments. It had taken him all day, so he went to bed almost immediately after, already past midnight.

He woke up to the very same blue eyed fluffy Border Collier puppy he edited into his pictures, licking his face, the same blue harness and leash hung on his door, and even the bed and bowls he put in the background were on the corner of his room now.

He freaked out, of course, but the small pup didn't seem all that worried. And apparently he now had a puppy? Well, he's always wanted one. He named her Frankie, because her multiple colors and patterns clashed like Frankenstein's monster, like she had been made for from mismatched parts.

He loved Frankie. She was so smart! And Frankie was quite loyal and enamored by him, too. He was her whole world, and she was his heart, his companion and confidant, his best friend and ally in his too-big house.

He did decide to experiment though. He needed more research.

When a boy at school picked on him, he edited his picture bald, and that same day his father shaved his hair. He tried again with another boy who picked on Jason (Jason doesn't know Tim exists yet, but Tim keeps an eye out for him), editing his hair bright barbie pink, and this time he added a date to the corner, writing the date of a week ago, two days before the pictures for his football team were taken.

When Tim saw the football team's pictures displayed at school, the boy had pink hair in them, that he didn't yesterday. He asked around, if the pictures looked different to anyone else.

"yeah, I don't know what persuaded him to dye his hair pink before picture day and the tournament."

"I asked him two days ago, he said he lost a bet."

Two days ago. Tim's mind was reeling. He asked the boy himself when he dyed his hair, and he replied with the date Tim edited on the corner of the picture.

Did Tim just... Edit reality?

He later uses this power to his advantage on patrol, and before that while watching the Bats.

Jason is surrounded? He takes a picture and edits a few goons out of it quickly. They aren't there when he looks up.

Shit Joker escaped? He doesn't have the energy to deal with it right now. He edits tonight's date on a picture of Joker sitting peacefully in his cell and a few more guards for good measure.

His family doesn't understand why he takes a small discreet camera on patrol in his utility belt

[orbweaverspidergirl]

Chapter 1: i was born waiting for that something

summary: Orbweaver, Gotham's one and only spidergirl. A hero for only a year, she's easily recognizable from her brown spider suit, and six-eyed mask. But, without the mask, she's Nicole Lawson, the "unwanted" daughter of Bruce Wayne. She didn't mind it, not too much, but after the death of her mother and the exposure of her identity, her life is in shambles.

tw: mentions of blood, mentions of a bruise, mentions of being bit by a spider, low self-esteem?

You always smell the blood first before you feel it. It rushes through your nose, as it splatters onto the ground. Then, you feel it. It squelches against your suit, making you wince. You take out Joker’s goons, right and left. A punch, a kick, a spin, repeat. There was no time to breathe through the blood and sweat, you could only fight, you could only protect. There was nothing in the moment except you. You are, Orbweaver, this world’s one and only Spiderwoman. 

You felt the aftermath of last night as you woke up. Your knuckles were still covered in blood, and you feel a big ass bruise covering half of your face. You groan as you sit up, and you heave, trying to breathe. Fuck, you might’ve broken your ribs. You try to shuffle to the bathroom, everything hurts, but you’re successful. Your hair was frizzy and unkept, and the plum curls lacked their original shape. 

You hastily open your cabinet and grab the makeup bag. It’s messy inside, its continents spilled. You sigh, digging through to grab your foundation and concealer. You pull them both out, but your hand is now caked with glitter and varying eyeshadows. You make a face in disgust and wash your hand away. Damn, you wish you had makeup wipes, but water will have to do. Soon after you conceal your face the best you can with the makeup. 

You close your eyes and breathe in, then out. Today’s Friday, the last day of the school week. You just have to get through today, and then go to work, and finally patrol. You’re tempted to skip, but you remember your truancy letter and push the thought aside. You walk out of your room and head to the kitchen. Your mother is crashed out on the couch, and you smile. She looks peaceful, you think, as you put a bagel in the toaster. 

Your thoughts take you to today’s assembly. Bruce Wayne and his kids are supposed to show up, and you feel a touch of jealousy. Bruce Wayne was your father, and he left your mother after a one-night stand. He takes care of you and your mom, more than you could ask for. But you can’t help but be envious when you see him with his other children. You’ve met some of them before, Dick and Jason, Damian as well. 

They’re alright people, but they aren’t your people. You pull the strawberry cream cheese out the fridge and smooth it onto your bagel halves. That’s what you remind yourself, that the Wayne family isn’t your family, and that’s okay. 

You were fifteen when you first got bit by the Butterfly Orbweaver. You were in the school’s gardens, skipping your math class. You were happier then, you think. You didn’t have to worry about the blood of innocents, not then. Butterfly Orbweavers are not known to have a strong bite, they’re harmless, and yet... 

You felt its poisons merge with your DNA. Your eye, a lovely shade of blue, now a corroded brown. You remember how much pain you were in, you felt as if you were on fire. You tried to leave the garden, but every damn thing stuck to you. Web came out of your hands, like it merged with your skin, and you couldn’t breathe. 

You remember calling out for help, but no one came. No one heard your pleas of desperation. You got up eventually, and you began to run. Your legs carried you faster than ever, and you felt as if you could hear everything, see everything. You felt changed, different than before, and yet, you still felt like nothing. It was never enough; it never would be enough.

But you felt like it was. For once in your life, you felt like you were worth something. People began to notice you. Maybe not Nicole, you, but Orbweaver. They began to notice her, and that was nice. It was nice to be seen, to be loved. You waited for so long to be good enough. For Bruce, for the press, for your mom. 

But nothing is for free. You suffered, too. Orbweaver became targeted. You became wanted by the worst villains in fucking Gotham. Joker, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Bane, you could go on. Hit after hit, blood and bruises, skin removed from scars. You were hollowed out when you learned to be Orbweaver. If you were lucky, the other vigilantes would be merciful. They’d watch out for you, and you them. But mercy was a privilege, and not one you often allowed, not anymore.

You saw him, Bruce. He nodded at you when entered the gym, and you nodded back. You felt weird because he was being weird. He never even looked at you before, so why now? Not just him, but Dick waved at you, Jason as well. You didn’t know them, not well enough anyways, so why are they being kind? You didn’t like it. Something was wrong, and you didn’t need your spider senses to tell you that.

“Nicole, I love you, but don’t you think you’re being extra? I mean, your family acknowledged you. Y’know, like families do.” Your friend, Katie, says with her mouth full of green beans from the school's lunch.

Nylah, your girlfriend, chimes in, “I understand where she’s coming from Nic. I mean, how long has Bruce been ignoring you and your mom? It’s about time he starts to care. Also, Katie stop, that’s nasty.” She glares at the ginger. 

You scoff, mushing your fork into the lasagna. “It’s just weird, he never cared before,” you sigh, “Also Katie, that is nasty.” You point your fork at her, smirking. 

She rolls her eyes, “What? Is it hate on Katie day or something?!” 

Nylah snorts, “Obviously.” You admire Ny. She’s pretty, you think. The sun shines off of her dark skin, and her studs go well with her larger nose. Her lips are full and pink, and you catch yourself staring at the girl. She catches you staring at her, and she smiles. Her pearly, white teeth, coming out. 

Katie looks between the two of you and rolls her eyes once more. “Oh my god. You two are so fucking gay.” You and Ny chuckle, and you lean your head on her shoulders. 

“Just because you are single and lonely, Kat, doesn’t mean we have to be.” You say, and then you press a kiss to your girlfriend’s cheek. 

“Boo, y'all hate just because I’m ginger.” Ny giggles, and you feel good again. This feeling won’t last forever, but you’re okay with that. 

A/N: Merry Christmas or happy holidays! Thank you all to those who have liked and followed! Also, the first divided (the one that separates the chapter and the first paragraph) should have a link for the song of the chapter.

[blueflamebimbo]

CHAPTER 2: SCRAPES

𓆩♡𓆪 ──"VITAMIN DARLING": KAMINARI DENKI X READER

A/N: Part 2 of "Vitamin Darling", my childhood friends to lovers drabble collection, all thanks to my love for Denki. In this chapter, we find out how Denki taught you more than one lesson, when you were seven years old.

Warnings: f!reader, mention of minor skateboard injuries.

Word count: 1,135

𓆩♡𓆪 ── back to Vitamin Darling masterlist

You're seven years old when Kaminari Denki takes you by the hand and drags you to the empty parking lot behind his house. It’s the summer of your first year of primary school, and although it is terrifying to start anew, the burden is lightened by your best friend; Denki is just as nervous, but he has been there to hold your hand the entire time. Such are the benefits of ending up in the same class together.

Ever since you met him in kindergarten, Denki has been somewhat of a constant in your life. Your mother and his have gotten so close that they've started going on shopping trips without the children being involved, your father and his have become permanent tennis buddies, and even your cat seems to like the yellow-haired boy more than he likes your brother. Granted, your brother is a bit of a butt-head, so that's not too surprising.

Denki places the skateboard down onto the concrete ground and beams at you expectantly. It’s impressive how much he has changed in three short years. No longer a blubbering mess, the boy has gained some confidence.

"It's because you're my friend," he explained as he was pushing you on the swings in his backyard, a few weeks ago. "Things aren't as scary when you've got good friends, ya know?"

Denki is half an inch shorter than you are, but sometimes even you have to admit that you look up to him. It’s like he has an infinite pool of positivity to draw from, these days, and it's contagious, like he's some type of happiness vitamin. Besides, Denki says he can feel a growing spurt coming. Supposedly, he can feel it in his toes. Personally, you think it's just another wart growing on his big toe, but you don't have the heart to tell him he should probably throw out his old shoes and get new ones. The bright blue converse sneakers on his feet have holes in them, but he says they're his lucky pair - they help him skate better.

He's still looking at you expectantly as his right foot rolls the skateboard back and forth, and he’s holding out a hand now.

"I can hold your hand while you try it out, if it's too scary," he offers.

With a petulant huff, you roll your eyes and confidently stride up to the board.

"Who says I'm scared?!"

Denki grins, as he usually does, and explains where to put your feet.

Skating is one of the only things you don't do together. There's a couple of boys in your class who are quite good at it, and they taught Denki how to do it after school at the beginning of the year. That was three months ago, and it's starting to gnaw at you how much you're feeling left out. It doesn't make sense to you, either. Surely, if you put your mind to it, you can master this and join them from time to time. After all, if boys can do it, how hard can it be?

As it turns out, it's not as easy as it looks. The wheels on the board are far too slippery. Are they even supposed to roll that fast? You've barely put your foot on when the board slides forward and puts you on your ass.

Denki is on you like lightning, and he's chewing his lip like he usually does when he's worried about something. He looks like he's about to ask you if you're okay, so you wave him off and mutter something along the lines of "stupid board" and "I just wasn't ready yet".

He explains how it's important to keep leaning forward instead of backwards, so the board can't get ahead of you. It helps, a little, but it still takes eight tries for you to successfully balance yourself. Once you've got it down, however, Denki looks at you with so much pride, you don't even care how much your tailbone is hurting right now.

His smile instils you with so much confidence that you kick forward with a matching grin stretched across your face, but the force of the kick and your sense of balance don't match up, and the board is kicked backwards while your body is catapulted forward. The salopette you're wearing does nothing to protect your knees as you skid across the concrete.

Back at Denki's house, the boy wastes no time to pull out a box from underneath the sink. He’s watched his mother do this countless times over the past few months. He has the battle scars across his knees, elbows and chin to prove it, so he knows what he's doing as he cleans the scrapes on your knees with antiseptic.

It stings. Whether your knees or your self-esteem have taken a bigger blow, you can't really tell. What you do know, is that it's unfair. It’s unfair because, of the two of you, you were the first to learn how to swim and the first to learn how to ride a bike. How is this any different? And why now, when your friendship with Denki is on the line? What if he ends up spending all of his time with the other kids, because they know how to skate and you don't? Your knees hurt, but the thought of losing your best friend hurts even more, and it's enough to make your bottom lip wobble.

Cool air hits your knees. Denki is blowing on the antiseptic that’s covering way more skin than just the scrapes. He's not entirely sure why he should blow on antiseptic, but he's seen his mom do it every time, so he's positive that it's absolutely, super-duper necessary.

"You were so cool today," he mutters as he meticulously sticks Pokemon themed band-aids to your knees. "Remember how I told you it took me a whole week before I was able to stand upright on a skateboard?" He continues, "Wait until I tell the others that you were able to do it in one day, they'll go nuts."

The wobbling of your lip stops, then, and you look up.

"You don't think I looked dumb?" you ask.

Denki's eyes grow wide.

"Dumb?!" he exclaims, and it's loud. He's always loud. But not in an annoying way, you think. He's Denki, so he's allowed to be loud.

The yellow-haired boy grins again, and suddenly your knees don't sting anymore.

"You could never be dumb," he states, as if it's something that he knows to be true. "You're my best friend," he continues, "And you're the coolest person I know."

When you're seven years old, Kaminari Denki teaches you how to master a skateboard. He also teaches you that the right people will always include you in what makes them happy.

[snazzi-strawberri]

The longer the days I go where I don't talk or interact with my friends the more I feel the rot and decay taking over me !! 😁😁

[hylianengineer]

Applying for jobs is REALLY fucking demoralizing. Every potential employer expects you to bend over backwards for them while juggling frogs, meanwhile they won't give you the time of day, or usually even the common courtesy of telling you they don't want you.

I feel very not-given-a-shit-about.

[actualjenna]

some pages from my comic HELLO, SOUPHEAD. which will be sold at the Massachusetts Independent Comic Expo this weekend!! if you have the chance to go, perhaps pick up a copy! if not, i might release it online sometime soon 👁

[lemmylemons]

Losing my shit I wish my parents would give a fuck about my health