#maybe it’s because i had a bad pain day so this is just insult to injury

[mothiir]

writing proper fic still eluding me so here is a list of how i think the primarchs would respond to their sons trying to romance human women:

Sanguinius - he isn’t thrilled about the idea, not because he thinks that love and romance is a bad thing — quite the opposite — but because he knows the tragic fate many of his sons will suffer. What human woman can survive the tribulations of the red thirst? How many of his boys will end up tearful and repentant after their control slipped, and they hurt the human they love? Mortals are so fragile — it is better to act as their guardian than their lover. Still, if he were to find out that one of his sons was seeing a mortal, he would simply gently suggest that the son in question take every proper precaution — ultimately, the choice must belong to them.

Vulkan - yes! great idea! Please do have relationships with humans - have children, rear families. When the time comes for them to pass, mourn them, but celebrate the life you were blessed to share with them. You cannot call yourself the protectors of humanity if you do not partake in it. Salamanders live amongst their human families, and relish in the kinship and love this brings them. Vulkan has given away many a Salamander in marriage.

Ferrus Manus - sex is self-indulgent nonsense. Be better. He is not the sort of man to give his sons relationship advice — nor are they the type to ask it — so he never makes an official proclamation against having mortal lovers, because Iron Hands are far too sensible to even consider it (rumours that they replace their dicks with ceramite remain unaddressed).

Horus - The Luna Wolves are — uh — enthusiastic about their involvement with humanity. Unlike Vulkan, Horus discourages lengthy attachments — have a fling if you must, have several (don’t let those flings find out about each other), but don’t try and settle down. Luna Wolves are soldiers, designed to conquer distant stars in their father’s name. One day, they will be able to plant roots in rich earth, and rear sons of their own. But not now. Not yet.

Leman Russ — Humanity is a beautiful thing, and its daughters are more beautiful yet. Leman doesn’t begrudge his sons their dalliances, nor does he discourage them from wedding — he just asks that they remember that their first duty is to the Allfather, and the pack. As long as they don’t get any ideas about sneaking off somewhere to retire, everything is fine. Russ welcomes his son’s wives to his fires — and, if they’re amenable, to his furs.

Fulgrim — much like Sanguinius, Fulgrim has complicated feelings about human women. He’s been married four times, loved each wife dearly, and had to watch them die of one ailment or another. He wants to spare his sons the torment he felt, but he also doesn’t want to deny them the full range of human experience. He ends up encouraging them to cultivate an artistic appreciation for romance — a sort of courtly love, where they paint pictures of the woman they like, and write poetry, but never actually engage in anything too direct. If he keeps their love aesthetic and sterile and distant then maybe they can avoid the heart-deep pain that comes from watching your lover perish.

The Lion - are you kidding me? His sons don’t even want to admit that they know what a woman is, just in case he somehow takes it as an insult and they end up banished.

[thetorturedbolter]

my mum forgot about my existence and left me out in the rain (literally) earlier tonight and then she got mad at me for being upset about it? like girl what

[amazinglyashy]

Hello, can you do LADS men's reaction to MC/reader working too hard, to the point that she looks tired and drained? She also easily gets sick because of stress. And yes, it's based on me; right now, I'm so tired because of work, and I have dance practice almost every day for our departmental performance while I'm sick with the flu. Thank you 💜

Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to do this one justice as best as I could, because oh man did I feel this personally! Not the same at all, but I get heavy duty chronic pain, and I overwork myself often by choice or not, all the time. Feel better anon <3 I hope you enjoy, and make sure to get some Pedialyte or sports drinks, and rest whenever you can. Your health is extremely important!

Love and Deepspace Li's reactions to you being overworked and sick

Zayne -

He's a doctor, you can't even get into the realm of hoping to hide it from him for long, and you'll want to hide it from him if you're actually wanting to be doing whatever it is that's causing you to be overworked to the point of illness.

He will take a single look at you the first time he sees you once you've reached this point- routine examination, stopping by work to see you or vice versa, running something by your place he borrowed, even just you making the mistake of taking an offered ride home from him due to how tired you are. It was a lapse in judgement on your part in trying to keep this from him, but your beyond exhausted brain didn't process it at the time.

But you sure are processing it now that you've been 'kidnapped' and taken back to his place.

He has already filled out a formal doctors note- benefits of being your primary physician- and sent it over to your bosses and managers. There's no arguing.

"Zayne, I'm-" "If you are about to try a weak attempt at convincing me you are alright, I will accept it as you insulting my intelligence as a doctor."

You're in his bed, under his blankets, probably in his pajamas since he wouldn't let you escape home, and drinking the warm drink he made for you to have after taking medicine he had given you to help with your illness. He'll order food that will be good for you to eat as well, and if it's too late for takeout, he'll definitely be cooking for you as well.

Once you're done eating, he'll make sure you're properly cared for by massaging any tired or pained muscles. If that's your entire body, then so be it. Close your eyes, tilt hour head back, and relax even though it hurts in a good way sometimes, because he's not letting up.

Not until you feel better. No matter how long that takes.

Rafayel -

Genuinely, he's offended and hurt that you've overworked yourself this hard and haven't told him. And boy, is he going to let you know it.

He's carrying you gently from wherever he had found you looking so tired- no it does not matter if you were in the middle of working- while actively scolding you in his arms.

"Maybe I should just leave you there all day, come see you in the evening when you get a bad case of amnesia. Would you like that? Huh? No? Well, then stop being stupid."

He doesn't even want to dare set foot in your place right now. He's not in the mood to clean, and he knows if this is the state you're in, your apartment is probably so much worse due to just how busy and exhausted you've been.

He'll go clean it later, but right now he's just grumpy.

There is something about the fresh, oceanside air that helps your headache though- or maybe it's the light linen on his bed that he would have dropped you on had you not looked like the most frail thing he had seen all week.

He's muttering snarky remarks to you, but they're devoid of any bite due to his actions as he speaks them-

Getting you a fluffy robe to change into, putting something simple in the oven while you get comfortable, working special lotion into your muscles, making you lemon and honey tea, making it more humid so any sinus problems clear and help you breathe- he's being vocal through it all, but spoiling you as much as he can nonetheless.

"I don't care if you have a lot to do. Just- ask for help next time. And if I can't help with your work, at least let me help you relax once you're home. I don't mind you staying over either, so that I can make you feel better. Just promise me you'll do better next time, so I can help you before you get this bad."

Xavier -

He probably stopped by your apartment to return something he borrowed, and you made the mistake of answering the door directly after coming home. You were at your peak of tired, and your head had started pounding for some reason... and didn't you feel a bit hot...?

"Oh- You look- You don't look very good. Is everything alright?"

You can't even answer before he's reaching out a hand to hover in front of you, trying to decide between touching you and not, before deciding on the former. He can feel you're just the slightest bit unsteady from working so you're being scooped up in an instant and taken to the bed you had already been planning to go to.

"What have they been having you do...? Never mind. That's- not important right now."

Takes off your shoes and socks, murmurs something about giving you a massage in a bit, before tugging blankets and plushies around you. He'll leave to let you change into pajamas or something more comfortable, and he'll keep himself busy by making you something to eat or clean up your apartment for you.

He tries to cook you something, he really does try. But he definitely has more talent at talking on the phone to the restaurant he's ordering you takeout from. The pan he tried to use does not survive the attempt.

The takeout is good when it comes, though, and it helps that he gave you some medicine prior to help keep it down. Even if you're not currently nauseous, he's pretty worried about your state worsening quickly.

You won't notice until it's too late, but he's already finding out how to transfer some of your workload to himself. By 'some', it's definitely 'all'.

"No, I won't change my mind. Not until you're better. You're so tired, let me do this for you. You can make it up to me by getting me something in the claw machine later."

Sylus -

"I'm just going to go-"

"Go where, kitten?"

You had made the mistake of nearly falling over under the watchful gaze of Mephisto, who had decided it would be absolutely wonderful to relay the information about it and your current state back to Sylus as quickly as he could.

Which is how you had ended up stuck in the hallway the led to your apartment, practically pinned to the wall with Sylus's hands on either side of you.

That is also how you ended up slung over Sylus's shoulder as he unlocked your apartment door for you and went inside, carrying you like it was nothing.

To be fair, you couldn't do much to fight him off this time except utilize a few choice words. You were so beyond exhausted, and starting to feel pretty ill, to boot.

He's got you to bed as soon as the door is shut. You're allowed a hot shower if you promise him a few dozen times that you'll get straight to bed after. He makes sure to promise you that he'll come and make you get in bed if you go against that promise. For once, you don't want to call his bluff.

You're in bed soon enough, with a cool rag pressed on your forehead, some pain medication long since down your throat, and food already on the way courtesy of Luke and Kieran's special henchmen delivery service.

Lying in bed is like heaven on your sore muscles and aching joints, not to mention the pounding headache you've had since starting to feel sick and missing out on sleep. But what somehow feels even better is Sylus's hands on you.

They're just gentle touches, his fingertips ghosting over your skin to leave goosebumps at how nice it feels, and sometimes his whole hands moving slowly and lightly across your body. He'll massage your muscles later, but for now, he's just focused on getting you to sleep, even if just for a little bit until the food gets here.

He knows you need it.

[phas3d]

Crushing on You || Slytherin Boys

type :: fluff

tw/cw :: none

contains :: draco malfoy, tom riddle, mattheo riddle, theodore nott, lorenzo berkshire

summary :: cute little loser things they do because they’re so down bad for you. inspired by the fucking masterpiece that is ONE DAY ONE NIGHTTTT AHHHHHH by bts ofc. some of these might be creepy but I think they’re cute

DRACO MALFOY

It’s always an enemies to lovers for him, he literally cannot get crushes on someone unless he hates their guts

Probably cause he got daddy issue but meh, we’re not solving that today

He HATED your guts, he has literally thought of getting a hit-man on you before

You’re his rival in every single aspect, even more than Harry is

Academics, you’re better

Athletics, you’re better

Clubs and community, you’re WAY better

He hates you and makes fun of you every single day and time he gets the chance

Even worse, Harry, Hermione, and Ron all come to defend you which makes him even more mad

But overtime, his aggressive staring and cursing under his breath turned into admiration

It all started when one day during Quidditch practice, some annoying 3rd year thought it would funny to mess with Draco’s broom

He ended up malfunctioning during practice, almost speeding into the walls of the school at astounding speeds

But luckily, you came just in time and yanked him off his broom, letting his broon get destroyed into the castle. But he was unharmed and was wrapped securely in your arms

From then on, he’s had a huge crush on you and all of his hatred turned into admiration

His aggressive stares were a bit softer and his insults had a hidden compliment in it

Everyone thinks that maybe he just feels bad and is finally regretting how rude he’s been to you, which is kinda true

He’s always watching over you, kinda like a stalker (because he is one)

He learns your daily routine, your favorite foods, clothing brands, makeup products, skincare routine, everything

Goes as far to hire and pay different students to watch after you if he’s busy

Somehow, you never notice and just think that people are nosy

He takes his research really far though, like straight up creepy

Draco gets his hands on all of your medical history, every single thing about you

He learns what your allergic too, what your rising sign is, how much you weigh at every check up

When he finds out that you’re anemic, he crushes up pills and sneakily adds it to your food to make sure you’re healthy

Does this with other things too, like Vitamin C, iron pills, etc etc etc

But in the end, it helps you a lot and makes you feel much better

And it makes him happy to know that you’re better because of him

One day, you get asked out by none other than Harry Potter

Instantly, Draco is enraged and everything in his sight is going to die a painful death

He feels betrayed by you despite treating you like utter shit for so many years

Not the mention he’s also gotten with maybe two or three other girls

He plans to ruin your date and he succeed

He burns Harry’s outfit, posses someone to spill hot tea on you, and even goes as far to sneak food you’re allergic to into your food

The date ends with you crying back to your dorm and Harry beating himself up

From this, Draco is happy and prepares to come and play knight-in-shining armor for you

But once again, he sees Harry comforting you and giving you a tight hug

Draco is literally about to kill Harry for this, cause ain’t no way he just did ALL of that for Harry to swoop in again

“You can’t take her! I loved her first! I love her more than your stupid four-eyed could ever!” He shouts at Harry

So yeah…. He just confessed out of rage

TOM RIDDLE

Never ever EVER will he get caught lacking for someone

This man keeps all of his lovey dovey feelings to himself, bro literally got a diary 😭

But when he saw you, and just like all of those dumb movies he’s seen, he was instantly love struck by you

He never knew that this was possible, he’s instantly disgusted with himself and does his best to the diminish the crush

But it won’t go away… you’re just perfect in every way

He’s so frustrated that he genuinely thinks of just killing you

But, thank GOD, he decides to not kill you and just become a stalker 😊

He finds out your entire schedule and walking path just so he can get small glimpses of you

Whenever you see him or make eye contact with him, he looks at you like you killed his entire family and he’s coming for revenge

But he’s actually drooling and hearing the most beautiful classical piano in the background

He sees you as a god/goddess that blessed him with your presence

Tom has always seen himself as the chosen one, the one given enough power to destroy and fix the world

And he sees you as his future Queen to the brand new world he will make :) kinda romanticccc

Finds all of your social media and stalks it for hours

He makes one of those fake burner accounts that looks like a bot

So when he follows you, you think nothing of it

But in reality, he’s watching you in depth

Bro finds your SPOTIFY and YOUR AO3 ACCOUNT… That’s how crazy he is

He made an entire playlist of every song you’ve ever posted and mentioned

He listens to it daily :)

Honestly, he’s just like me fr

He’s just a lil crazy and wants to know EVERYTHING about you

If you ever come up to him or are assigned partners, oh my god he’s gonna act so cold

Acts like he hates your guts and despises your existence

But in reality, he’s gonna thank every single religious figure out there for blessing him with allowing him to be in your space

MATTHEO RIDDLE

When he first saw you, he thought you were fine as hell

He was just trying to get into your pants

But when he tried to make a move, you scoffed and shoved him away

Instantly, he was attracted to you

He’s only been rejected like twice, and both times it ended with them begging on their knees for him

He was about to do the exact same thing to you

Unlike the others, he’s the only one that shows it and actively makes a move

Constantly flirts with you, no matter the time or day

Kinda like Filipino courtingggg 🤭

Finds all of your classes and walks you to all of them

Even though you want to walk with your friends, he won’t let you and always pulls you away from them

He skips his classes constantly just so he can be with you and flirt with you more

Even if you keep rejecting him or even slap him, he won’t stop. He loves when girls play hard to get

Sends you flowers, they’re a little bit ugly, but it’s the thought that counts

Sends you chocolates and stuffed animals to the point where a whole section of your dorm is dedicated to the pile of 65 stuffed animals you’ve received

He can’t really write poems or love songs, but he sends you little drawings that are barely readable

He makes little stick figures to represent you guys, one that’s super tall with abs (him) and another one that has hair and a triangle body (you)

Although you can barely understand his chicken scratch drawings, it makes you giggle from how stupid they are

Sometimes it’s him fighting off dragons, or you drowning and he saves you, or him being a rich king and you’re his queen

Never ever gives up on you, no matter what

Will fight off every single competition he has, he doesn’t care if they end up paralyzed

One time, someone older than you guys by one year tried to ask you out

Because he was a grade above you guys, he thought Mattheo wouldn’t fight him

But nopppeeee he was dead wrong, Mattheo sent him to the hospital wing repeatedly for a whole month

Even though the poor guy learned his lesson, Mattheo was mad that not only did he have the balls to ask you out but to also doubt Mattheo’s strength

Surprisingly, he cares a lot towards your friends as well and never leaves him out of the picture which is sweet

If you get a 100 roses from him (an almost daily occurrence), then he’ll get your best friends a small bouquet of 10-12 roses in return

If you get a huge chocolate box of the most expensive chocolates, then your friends get a small little wrapped box of a few chocolates

It’s really sweet and it makes your friends see that he’s actually pretty cool and sweet

Definitely goes around and lies to people by saying you two are dating

Eventually, everyone is fucking tired of you guys and basically sees you as a couple

One day, your friends say they’re gonna have a girls day and ask you to meet them at this nice restaurant

But surprise! The girls lied, you got all dressed up for nothing :(

But surprise again! Mattheo pops up. Your friends set you up with him to help you two to finally start dating

THEODORE NOTT

He’s had plenty of one night stands, weird situation-ships, and more but with you, he’s never had that

You’ve been his friend for ages, before he got hot and ripped

And he appreciated you a lot for that, he felt like he could finally be himself with someone

Over the years, he’s slowly gotten more and more comfortable with you

When he was going to bed, he thought to himself “I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)”

He smiled as he said that, about to sleep until his eyes shot wide open as he repeated what he said

“I wouldn’t mind marrying (y/n)??!???!!?”

When he realized he likes you, he’s a complete idiot

Normally with girls, he’s super smooth and charismatic - but that’s only because he’s trying to get into their pants

With you, you knew all his tactics and how awful of a person he can and HAS been over the years

You’ve seen him cheat, yell, and sometimes be borderline abusive to his past girlfriends

He starts to worry about how you perceive him and wants to make sure he seems like a good option

He becomes so awkward around you, it’s painful

Starts to be way nicer to you than he ever has been and becomes a lot more chivalrous

He takes off his jacket and shields you from rain, if anyone teases you he’ll get really defensive, he spoon feeds you at times, always pays for your lunch and dinner

Even goes as far as to take you on shopping sprees with no limit - even if you say no he’ll just keep track of everything you look at and buy it for you

Gets you flowers every week and always excuses it as “this is what best friends always do”

You two are basically dating… just without an official title

He’s TERRIFIEDDDD to ask, he’s literally had break downs over his fear of you rejecting him

Please just confess to him yourself, I’m not sure when he’ll get the balls and confidence to do it

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

He’s the most sane out of all of them all 😭

Literally the one line from Taylor Swift, “in a world of boys he’s a gentleman” AHAAAAHHHHH

He gets a crush on you after you two are partnered for a long term project

Loves how smart and dedicated you are, it inspires him to be the same way

Sometimes he purposely acts dumb just so that you’ll help him

Always pays attention to the small details and everything you do

Spoils you ROTTEN omg

Will take you out to go shopping with him and he whips out his black card and casually drops 25k just on clothes and makeup for you

He loves the feeling of spoiling you, makes him feel like your future husband

Praises you for everything, even the bare minimum

“Woah! I like your outfit!” And you’re literally wearing the required school uniform

He wants to date you and call you his own, but he knows he’s a fuck boy deep down

Every time he’s dated a girl, he’s ended up breaking up with them because he can’t commit or just straight up cheating on them

He’s very confident that he could change and be better, but he wants to be perfect before he dares you

Because he sees you as perfect :”) and you only deserve the best

You help motivate him to become better, even though you didn’t know you did

Starts going to the gym, works harder in school, tries to be more nice to everyone

Eventually, he’ll get the guts to ask you out for the Yule ball but he’ll keep saying you’re going as “friends”

But one day you’ll overhear him and his group talking about how fat of a crush he has on you

They all tease him and call him a simp, loverboy, everything

But when he sees that you’ve been listening the entire time, he’s so reddddd

Tries to hide his face and runs away, he avoids you for a little bit

He’s so so so scared of not being good enough or even ruining his relationship with you

He’d genuinely be okay with just being your best friend for all his life whilst loving you, even though it would hurt him so badly

Please just accept this boy 🙏 tell this man he’s enough and that you love him

read more here! :D

[diejager]

Nooo but there is something about the monster au where there is a casual mention from her that she won't live as long as them (I assume monsters/hybrids are longer lived plus she is a lot more likely to die on mission), like she probably just jokes about it offhandedly and it sends all of them feral because... no? Absolutely not? Insulting. Ridiculous. Not happening.

Cue ultimate clinginess, all rushing to be more intimate because the thought of her not being around is abhorrent. Soap maybe losing it a bit going off on a line of thought about how he could mate her right? Would it be awful if there was a way for her to be a wolf shifter?

I AM GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

Change cw: mention of turning, mention of death, joking about death, tell me if I missed any.

All options are on the table at this point, death had always been something that loomed over them like a shadow, the veil and sickle of death following you wherever you went. You’ve had more than one reminder of your short life, your vulnerability as a human, weak and tender skin, short lives and a delicate body. There were so many things in the world that could pose a possible danger to you and they hated that.

You lived shorter lives than most monsters or hybrids, you grew sick and frail whereas hybrids could fight any viral infections or diseases, you didn’t have thicker skin despite all the extra layers of protective gear and you were a target of many for your choice of career. They were reminded of you mortality whenever you get hurt, blood painting your skin with a strong, metallic odour.

And it didn’t help that you’d often joke about it, throwing offhanded comments that made their hackles raise, body tense and mind brewing with what ifs scenario that has them tearing their hair from the root. While some monsters were more solitary than others, all of them were possessive of what they deemed their family —pack.

Ghost and König stuck closer during training, a tall, imposing figure behind you that acted as a guard dog to ward away anyone they deemed a danger. Soap and Horangi hung around you in the rec room, either laying on you or clinging to you, putting a show of ownership over you. Rudy and Alejandro, the ever active couple, were always finding you around the base, striking up a conversation and wrapping their arms around you. Gaz would was the cuddliest of the group, finding time outside of his busy to snuggle up against you and cover you with his wings, pulling you to sleep on his shoulder. Price, the man with the most authority in the TF made sure that you were always with someone on every Op, having someone to back you up in the most dire situation.

Every visit to the medic made them wild, it brought them closer to desperate measures. Would it be so bad to turn you in one? Would it be so bad to let Soap bite you during the full moon, his bite infecting you with his power: thicker skin, sturdier build, longer lifespan and better sense? The only draw backs were the higher wildness, near feral during full moons and a competitive mindset over the possessiveness and brattiness of a young werewolf.

Would it be so bad to make you return as a wraith? While Ghost learned to control his powers alone, the pain and emotions building up in his body without any way of letting it out, you had him, you wouldn’t be alone with the resurrection. He didn’t want you to feel the terror and agony by yourself —he didn’t want you to know how it felt to die and come back.

Would it be so bad to have a vampire turn you into one without becoming a thrall? You couldn’t walk in the sun, something you told them you enjoyed, you’d be restrained to specific activities and you wouldn’t like that, being limited by the sun. Granted, there were solutions to that, but none very comfortable.

They knew you were aware of your mortality, made fun of it and laughed as it this was your last day, but you didn’t fear death, you only feared leaving them. You were open to their thoughts, listening to their ideas and options with a neutral expression, but you didn’t reject the idea of turning you. That was a good thing, a step forward in their mind.

Now all that needed to do was to let you decide which path you wanted to walk.

tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[yanchive]

Tsundere turned Yandere?

Listen, I reaaallly don't like tsunderes, I find the concept to be annoying, having someone essentially treat you like shit because they can't grow a pair and accept their feelings for you.

But, the concept of a tsun going yandere sounds pretty interesting.

Surely, after dealing with so many snarky comments and polarizing experiences, not knowing if they genuinely enjoy your presence/friendship or if their just tolerating you because you two share an overlapping social circle. There's only so much you can take recieving gifts from them only for them to turn around act like it was burden to go all the way to the store to buy you it even though you never asked. Like, who does that? Gets mad at YOU for giving YOU gifts...?

It makes you stressed. The contradiction of verbal abuse and caring, affectionate actions leave you confused and annoyed. Eventually, the only right thing to do for your sanity is drop them as a friend. Yeah, you'd probably have to drop the other couple friends that are part of each of your social circle, but if it meant not being overwhelmed with gifts, affection, and berating comments, then so be it.

You break the news to them after another encounter. They had called you stupid for being cold one day(it was the middle of winter, why tf wouldn't you be cold!?). They began dragging you to the nearest café for a cup of hot chocolate, but you pulled away and confessed how your feeling. You wanted to do it as cordial as possible, but that uneeded insult had you being a little harsher than you liked it to be.

To be honest, it made you feel bad for a second, when you saw their resting bitch face melt away, their eyes going wide as they flinched away from you when you raised your voice. A look crossed their face that you couldn't quite discern, but you can tell it fell under the line of surprise and sadness. Heartbreak, maybe? But why would they be heartbroken? They've been nothing but a pain in the ass to you.

You fled before they could shake themselves from their shock and respond. They called after you, but you can tell by their fading calls, they were not following after you.

You blocked them on everything, and explained the situation to your friends before leaving all groupchats that had the little brat in them, and took the week off to settle your nerves and hide away. Not because you thought anything bad would happen, but just to hope whatever possible attempts at contact would wash over when they'll eventually(hopefully) give up. You knew a few times you got them coming to your door, but you never bothered to respond.

Once the week ended, and you decided to enter back into society, the first few days went by smoothly. Only to be awoken one morning to barrage of texts and missed phone calls from an unknown number.

The texts started off tame. A wave of apologies and begs of forgiveness. Confessions of love and compliments, telling you how they never meant to hurt you. How they were terrified of you finding out they were in love. The fear of rejection was so bad that they completely overlooked how their actions would affect you. It got more and more incoherent and unhinged until it was nothing but a massive load of photos taken of you throughout the past few days. Distant photos. You're in a grocery store in the first few photos. Going down multiple aisles. You're getting milk and eggs in one, chips and soda in another, deodorant, and body wash in these one. At the checkout lane in the last.

You're at a gas station in the next. Someone was taken the photos from within their car. You're stepping out of your own. Heading into the station. They're zoomed into the window, getting your blurry silhouette at the register. And dozens of you just standing at the pump filling your car.

They have you at your workplace, on a walk, at a restaurant, and a coffee shop. They put little quips of how amazing you looked in the photos, how you made them feel. They talked about wanting to snap the neck of the waiter who took your order when they made you laugh.

Voicemails were them alternating from having straight up mental breakdowns, sobbing uncontrollably as they tried to plead for forgiveness between each gasp of air. Others were just straight rambles, detailing their stalking and reiterating the same affectionate compliments found in the texts. They went on about how they dream of dates with you, how your wedding would look. It was such a 180 from how they used to be. Did that one argument seriously have them snap this bad?

You told them off before blocking their number, attempting to continue your day, albeit so much more paranoid that you liked it to be.

It was terrifying. No matter how much you looked over your shoulder, studied every single person in your vicinity, and tried to blend yourself in the crowds, you could never catch a glimpse of their face, nor shake the unnerving feeling of eyes burning into your body.

Gifts would start showing up at your doorsteps and workplace. Almost every day you were continuously blocking new numbers to try and get them to stop sending you messages and photos of you with no such luck.

You were at your wits end. None of your friends could help. Hell, several of them just seemed to disappear. They just quit contacting you. Police were only minor help, actually taking it a little bit seriously until they came back and told you they talked to your alleged stalker and determined it couldn't possibly be them and that you should contact them when this alleged stalker began getting aggressive. (Hello?? You have voicemails of their fucking voice what do you mean its not them!? You knew this town was shit...)

Though, one good thing came out of contacting the police. It seemed to have scared them enough to halt their harassment. All phone calls and texts came to an end. No more gifts. You could finally breathe.

This continued for a couple weeks. Life returned back to normal. So normal, in fact, that you finally felt safe enough to attend a bar party with a few coworkers one night, just to celebrate what you thought was your new found freedom.

Its just... such a coincidence you weren't the only one invited. Not that you knew. No, not until the next morning after a horrendous hangover. A hangover you weren't expecting. You had one drink, didn't you? Why does it feel so much worse than a hangover? And why can't you move your body? When did you have so many photos of yourself in your room?

And why is their a familiar face looking down at you with that unsettling grin?

[jd07201990]

I shouldn't have opened my mouth. All I had to do was just walk away, and I'd have been fine. Now, It takes 3 showers a day, and a can of Axe a week, just to control the apocalyptic funk of athlete that pours from my pits... and feet... ok, ok I just stink, ok?! And its all because I tried to stop Pops, a local Gym Owner, from bullying one of his regulars.

The massive man was absolutely raging, as he berated a Jock for skipping sessions, despite the young man explaining desperately that he couldn't miss any more assignments or he'd lose his scholarship. It didn't seem to quell Pops's anger, as I watched the man drag the boy to a bench, and force him to lift rep after rep, until the Jock was panting, begging for a break, promising not to miss any more sessions. 

I'd been walking on the treadmill the whole time, and decided to get involved. My first mistake. Walking up to Pops, I cleared my throat, and told him to lay off, that clearly the Jock was exhausted. Pops grabbed my collar and hoisted me up off the ground, before I could react, his face nearly against mine as he went off, first about my nosing about, then about how ridiculously thin I am. I stammered, my legs dangling, until Pops put me down, and smirked.

"You know, a little meat on those bones wouldn't hurt. Maybe with a few pounds, those big, sweaty dawgs you've got wouldn't look so clownish!"

My jaw dropped, a squirmed under his gaze, as a shiver went down my spine, and a dull, warm itch began in my feet. I don't know where he'd gotten the idea that my feet were clownish, I'm 5'7" with size 9.5s! But suddenly, my sneakers felt cramped, warm, with a dull humid dampness making it feel as if I'd stuffed my foot into a wet towel.

Then, I groaned, as a sharp pain shot down my ankles, and my sneakers burst open, revealing wide, reeking Jock-feet, at least size 13. A dense funk rose, and I gagged, the intense reek of Athlete poured from my torn shoes. Pops laughed heartily, then sneered. 

"And those pits! You'd think with hairy, sweaty pits like those, you'd be top of the roster! Not even Big Billy has pits as bad as yours! There's a bull inside you, just waiting to come out!"

Again, that cold shiver ran down my back, and my armpits felt as if fire ants were biting them. Hundreds of itchy bumps formed, then, hair sprouted, filling in and dampening until the stink of the locker room oozed out from them. I whimpered as I caught the scent. Looking up at Pops, I begged.

"Please! Don't do this! You gotta undo this! I'm not a Jock!"

Pops laughed, taking both my shoulders in his massive rough hands, and pushed me down onto a bench, taking my arms and forcing them up onto the bar. My pits were fully on display as he growled.

"Lift. Don't stop until I come back, or those pits and feet will be the least of your worries."

I believed him, and tried to pull the bar down, barely moving the weights. Pops facepalmed, moved to a backpack next to a mountainous young brute lifting what had to be the weight of a small car. He fished out a protein shake, pressed the nozzle to my lips, and forced me to guzzle a few mouthfuls, pulling it away as I heard my stomach gurgle. 

I hiccuped, then burped, as my body seemed to warm, sweat forming, soaking down my shirt. Then, muscle began to swell under my skin, not huge, round bulk, but enough to look as if I'd been hitting the gym for several months, not days. When it settled, I must've gained 10 lbs, all of it hard muscle. When I pulled the bar down this time, it wasn't easy, but I wasn't lifted off the seat this time. Again and again I tested my new size, and Pops grinned. giving my thicker shoulder a punch. 

"I'll make an athlete out of you yet. Like it or not, you're gonna be one of Pops's boys! No one mouth's off to pop, unless they've earned it here at my gym! got it!"

I wanted to be defiant, to insult him, or run, but the look in his eye told me if I so much as thought about leaving, I'd be waddling out of here, sideways through the door, looking like the Behemoth that Pops had taken the shake from! I gulped, looked down, and forced myself to lift. Maybe if Pops is happy, he'll at least tone down the absolute fog of stink that screams, "Big Dumb Jock" from a mile away!

[zara-renata]

Sylus's guide to hiring, or Wine time with Sylus: his POV | ao3

I think at this point this story may be hard to understand as a standalone and can be considered part of a series. Links to the previous installments can be found here.

Sylus x gn reader, Sylus x mc, Sylus's POV, second person POV

Synopsis: Sylus mulls over all the data he has managed to collect regarding his sweet little hunter so far, and spends some time considering mistakes he's made and his plans for the future. He also hires a new employee and is required to teach the twins to mind their manners in front of guests he's trying to intimidate.

This story contains: Sylus being a worshipful simp for mc and harboring definitively NSFW thoughts, the apprehension of a thief, an interrogation, an indecent proposal, a job offer, and one HR manager who gets goosebumps from being able to sense a disturbance in the social safety of Onychinus's workforce while not even being in the same building as the HR disaster waiting to happen.

Additional context: I've seen some theories floating around the fandom about Sylus and mc being children together in the lab where mc received the aether core, which i think would be amazing to explore and also would explain why Sylus has memories of mc when they first meet. However, I also got the sense from his little villain speech about "From your past to your future and all the crimes you have yet to commit," that Sylus knows mc from more than just memories as kids experimented on in the lab. So I've been writing him like he has memories of his own and mc's past or future lives. Hence his little rumination at the beginning of this story. It's maybe lazy romance writing but I hope it's enjoyable anyway.

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Sylus may rarely have good luck, but he would much rather have consistent bad luck than a skill issue.

He may not be able to control the luck that fate has given him, but the same cannot be said about the skills he has spent his entire life honing in order to render luck and fate irrelevant. As a result, it has been quite a long time since one of his skillfully laid plans has ended up with such a ridiculous outcome instead of unadulterated success.

But he’s learning that he shouldn’t be surprised by how often he is surprised when it comes to you. In fact, he’s irritated with himself that he didn’t learn that lesson after just the first three days he had you at his mercy when you first dangled yourself as bait for him and came plunging back into his life.

He recalls your fury, clenched teeth and clenched fists, as he crushed your hand in his, over and over. You couldn’t have possibly known, the way you were looking at him like a mere, terrifying stranger, how the faint, pitiful resonance between you flayed open his chest, exposing a heart he had long thought invincible, if only for the fact that he had thought it long dead. And along with the pain, came the fury. The dead should stay dead, and enjoy the only gift of the dead—freedom from the kind of despair he felt as you closed your eyes and refused him, again and again, the hate and terror clear in them when you would open them again. Yes, he recalls how you closed your eyes and refused to let your tears of terror fall, how you spit insults and sneered in his face despite that terror. He recalls how you took every sliver of opportunity to make a run for it each time he let go of you and dropped you back onto your knees—even though you knew it was doomed, but trying anyway, only to be dragged back by his evol every single time.

Your determination in the face of fear, your spite and defiance. None of these things surprised him, because these were all parts of the you he knew and remembered, parts carved under his skin with the same permanence and cruelty you used to carve your knives into anyone who stood against you.

He vividly remembers your rage, your cold ruthlessness, your indomitable will—the determination to survive anything, and if you somehow, inconceivably failed, despite all of your strength and intricate plans, you’d drag everyone in your reach down with you out of pure spite. Despite, and because of your razor edges, during your ‘first’ meeting—as you were kneeling at his feet, as he was relishing in the fury of your misplaced hatred towards him as he drew out your darkest wishes from the deepest parts of you—he was prepared to love you again, in all of your cruel, malicious glory.

However, he should have known that this version of you is not exactly the same as those he has been carrying with him long before you learned his name in this life. He should have learned it from that very first day that he finally had you under his watchful eyes again. When you tried to run from him, instead of trying to kill him. And there is no doubt, you did want to kill him—he saw that clearly with his aether core, and in every furious line of your beautiful body. But you resisted that urge, despite everything in you whispering through your being to devour him, to consume him, to feed yourself with the satisfaction of revenge and with all the strength he has to offer, and then discard his carcass.

But no. You had only tried to escape.

He should have learned it after the third day, when you refused to pull the trigger, and he had to do it for you.

He should have learned it when the twins woke you up, and they walked away unscathed. You hadn’t even tried to punish them for being accomplices to your long days of suffering and fear at Sylus’s hands. He had ordered them to use whatever force was necessary in order to protect themselves against any retribution from you, short of actually killing you. But you didn’t try to hurt them at all—you simply, and cleverly, he thinks with pride, arranged to be released  from the room in which you were being held with no confrontation at all.

He lifts you in his mind’s eye and, like the consummate judge of fine jewellery that he is, examines all the facets that he has managed to collect about you, in an attempt to truly see the whole of your magnificence, in this life—this version of you, without the layers of his expectations and memories that you don’t share obscuring the make and quality of the diamond that comprises the you in this life.

Yes, he sees the overlap between the other versions of you and the you of here and now, but there are such significant changes that learning you all over again could take another lifetime—one he’s already eager to dedicate to learning you, because from all the other previous versions of you through to the one who woke up in his arms the other morning, he can already tell that the core of you remains the same. Yes, he loves you not only because you are you and Sylus is Sylus, and he refuses to conceive of a world with one but not the other. But he loves you because of who are you, in every lifetime. Strong. Stubborn. Smart. A survivor. And soft, so deliciously soft, but only for him. And he’s going to make sure that you stay that way, despite all of the experiences of this life that have dented your armor and seem to have made you turn your innate razor edge inward, instead of against those actually responsible for the suffering you’ve been forced to undergo for so long, alone.

He had spent those many weeks purging his organization and cleaning up the shitshow that Sherman had left behind collecting the reports that Mephisto and the twins would bring him regarding the reckless way you would launch yourself into battle, often outmatched, and only just manage to emerge in one piece. All to protect, what—he snorts—clueless tourists? He has never seen a version of you that is so… selfless. Through hacked security footage and Mephisto’s eyes, he has since watched you suppress the reflexive urge to inflict pain on others when you’re in pain yourself. He’s watched you come to the aid of not only the elderly and children—those who society has deemed should be treated with the utmost care—but also ordinary people, idiots and criminals, ungrateful citizens who take it for granted that people like you risk their lives every day to protect people like them. And you help them with such patience that if it were anyone other than you, Sylus would probably feel a little nauseated and be convinced that it was just a show, some elaborate long-con. No one can be that consistently, disgustingly kind despite their worst urges.

But you are.

However, he has noticed that your selflessness goes beyond simply kindness towards others. He has watched you refuse to get medical aid when you clearly, desperately need it. He has watched you keep people at arms’ length, refusing to talk about what is happening to you emotionally. He has watched you go without sleep, and food, and breaks, through fight after fight. And he has watched you try to slap yourself, when you think that you’re having a stupid thought. He has watched you make a fist and hit yourself, hard, when you thought that he hadn’t actually been aching to wake up with you in his arms, lips along your skin, ever since he found you again.

It appears to Sylus like you’re still wielding the sharp blade of your will from all of his memories of you, but the difference now is that you’re holding it to your own neck instead of to the world’s.

He can accept that in this life, you are kind. And altruistic—although he gags a little thinking it. Everyone has flaws, and yours just happen to be of the sunshine and rainbows variety this time around. He will love you, not despite, but because these traits are all still you. His belligerent, funny, charming equal, in all things. But he will not accept that you continue to hurt yourself, instead of the people and institutions who don’t even deserve the honor of your blade, but have it coming to them anyway.

You may be holding your knife to your own throat instead of the world’s, but Sylus would destroy planets for you, and he has no qualms about doing everything absolutely necessary to destroy your impulse to hurt his favorite thing in this world, and any other.

However, he recognizes that such a challenge will require long-term, careful effort. He will need to spend more time plotting how to accomplish that goal. Currently, he has a more urgent matter that needs his attention.

Your inability to believe that he wants you. All of you. How can he help you overcome your cruelty to yourself if you’re convinced that he harbors a similar cruelty toward you? He is already certain that you want him, at least physically. He’d have to be blind not see how your eyes follow the movement of his hands, or remain fixated on his chest. As they should, considering how much effort he puts into maintaining his physical fitness, he sniffs. He has watched with pleasure as you swallow, and turn your head, forcing yourself to look anywhere but at him when he catches your gaze lingering on his body. In any other circumstances he’d rest assured that he could keep your eyes on him with less effort—although why would he not put every effort possible into providing you with maximal viewing pleasure?—Except for some reason the universe has deemed it necessary to fill your life with uncommonly good-looking people in this life. Sylus’s face may serve as an invitation to most venues, but your primary care physician's, professional partner's, and even that strange dandy artist friend's faces are … conceivably handsome enough to possibly draw your attention away from where it should be. Which is on Sylus.

He sees now that how he went about giving you what you needed when he first met you may have had… unaccounted for, lasting consequences. He was thrilled with how quickly you seemed to come around from hating his guts and wanting to murder him, to allowing him into your space, into your home, into your bed, even. Every single one of his ruses, no matter how transparent, have been successful thus far in both allowing him to get close to you, and to force you to take care of yourself a little better, even if it’s only while he’s with you.

But he may have miscalculated in not considering every possible consequence of the cruelty with which he first treated you. He did not foresee that because he played your villain so well, you would be unable to overcome your distrust of his intentions in approaching you despite him essentially wearing a sign that could light up even the N109 zone's gloom that says “I want to make you mine in every sense of the word.” Sylus has always been a firm believer that talk is cheap, and he is not a cheap man. Actions speak far louder than words, and he is determined to show you through his actions that he will always put his money where his mouth is when it comes to you. And now that he’s thinking about his mouth…

He does have things he wants to do with you, besides caring for you and simply basking in the pleasure of being with you. Badly. But he was sloppy, by staying the night last time. All of his carefully laid plans require the height of self-control, but no matter his steel grip on himself when he’s awake, even he can’t control his deepest impulses when he’s asleep. In his dream, you had your arms around him, holding him tight, your lithe, strong body wrapped around him like a second skin, your warm, mouth-watering scent filling his lungs. He needed to taste you, devour you, swallow you whole. But he can tell that you do not trust him yet, and he hadn’t been planning to give in to his feral lust for you like he did that morning until he is assured that you will believe him when he says he not only wants your body, but every other piece of you.

He knows why he had the dream. How could he not have dreamt of you, after enduring the entire evening with his self control fraying like a poor quality garrote as he resisted the urge to put not just his hands but his mouth all over you?

If he’s honest with himself, and he always is, staying the night was not the only miscalculation he made the other night. First, bringing you his clothes. He had fully expected you to thank him in confusion for the bag of clothes and then toss them into your closet to eventually be forgotten under the pile of laundry that inevitably stacks up during the weeks you’re working so hard. He had not anticipated that you would obediently take the bag of clothes and immediately change into them. Looking up to finding you standing in front of him, his sweater engulfing your gorgeous frame, the little sleep shorts that he imagined hugging your delicious ass hidden under the sweater’s hem, your powerful legs and cute fucking feet bare for him—and his scent combined with yours wafting toward him from across the kitchen island. He barely controlled the urge to sweep every single fucking thing off the counter and drag you onto it, to make a meal of you instead of the charcuterie board he had been carefully arranging for your pleasure.

And the way you ate the food from said board… watching you eat has risen in the ranks of his favorite things about you, on par with seeing the look on your face when you’re mad at him and about to say something mean and the soft way you nuzzle into him when you’re fast asleep.

In all his life, through all the fine things he has been able to experience due to his ever-growing wealth, all of the world’s pleasures at his fingertips if he so much as snapped them, he never would have imagined that he’d ever find himself desperately wishing to be someone’s finger. Or a puff pastry. Or that fucking strawberry between your teeth, its juices sliding over your plush lip and down your chin. Lick him, eat him, chew him with your sharp teeth and swallow him, for fuck’s sake he wanted to fill your mouth and crawl inside your skin and never leave. He may pride himself on having the willpower of protocore reinforced steel but it was probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, standing there motionless, as you moaned your pleasure from the pastry, as your pink tongue ran along your skillful, honey-sticky fingers. Your wholehearted, singularly focused, carnal enjoyment of something so simple as a savory tart was hotter than anything he’s ever seen his life. He wanted to record it and set a projector on a running loop aimed at an altar in his bedroom for his own personal worship. But Sylus is greedy. He will not settle for the pale replication of a recorded memory of the other night. He wants to feed you every single meal you require to keep living, with his own hands, so he can watch your face as you savor its flavors, as what he provides you nourishes your gorgeous body. No, Sylus is a greedy man. Instead of a projector as a permanent fixture in his bedroom, he intends to install you instead.

He shifts on his seat, these memories affecting him in a way that threaten to make his trousers uncomfortable. He needs to refocus, now. He needs to solve the problem at hand, and not let himself get distracted with the future if he wants to make his vision of the future a reality.

Your selflessness, and frankly, lack of self-esteem—despite all evidence pointing to the fact that you’re effortlessly and wildly desirable to most people who meet you—is proving to be the biggest cock-blocker he could have conceived of at the outset of his campaign to make you his in every way.

He has successfully gotten you used to him touching you, and being in your home. You let him caress you, hold you while you sleep. But again, he’s a greedy man, and that’s not nearly enough for him. He runs his thumb along his chin, mind racing.

Now it’s time to take this game to the next level: how to take you on a date, without it causing you to slam down your defenses, or worse, having it backfire like the wine tasting? Ah yes, the wine tasting. He had been curious: would you drop your guard, if you were tipsy? What kind of drunk are you? Would he be able to tease truths out of you that you still keep hidden, despite his convoluted ploys to draw them out of you? In this respect, his plan was a success. He now knows that you don’t drop your guard even with wine coursing through you, and are prone to being even more skittish than when you’re sober. A possibility he hadn't considered, however, was that as you sipped from the wine glass with your soft, soft lips, filling your mouth with wine, he had to restrain himself from knocking it from your hand so that he could tongue his own mouthful directly between your lips, his hand on your throat, feeling you swallow everything he gave you. He had wanted to take and fill your mouth, drag you to him from your stool to his lap, run his hands down your sides, slip his fingers under his sweater on your body, dip them under the band of those silk shorts—

He has to stop thinking about this. He puts his head in his hands. He's going to lose his mind if he keeps thinking about this, and now is not the time or place.  

Instead, he forces himself to recall the discovery that the look on your face is hilarious when you’re accused of being an unsophisticated heathen when it comes to the finer things in life. Granted, he had wanted to ensure that he wouldn’t have to worry about you blowing your cover if you ever have to go undercover and are expected to be a wine connoisseur, but he knew that you only served him wine in a mug that read CUNT just to be petty and spiteful, and not because you weren’t aware that wine glasses exist.

He laughs softly at the thought. You’re so fucking cute when you’re mean to him. Shit, he's going to have the same trouser problem again if he keeps thinking about you being mean to him.

He hadn’t meant to stay the full night. He was a busy man, after all, and the night was his time to conduct business. But you were so warm against him, so lovely with your soft hair brushing across his skin, frowning a little as if you were having a bad dream. And he had also had some of that excellent wine, so although he wasn’t anywhere near tipsy, he was so relaxed and comfortable that the idea of leaving you alone in your bed was more excruciating than usual. And so he just… let himself drift off after confirming that this particular chain of casinos are indeed the one he will be purchasing next.

Only to have the best dream he can remember having in a long while, and waking up with his teeth in your sexy as fuck body. Just one taste was not enough, and you had the gall to ask him if he was satisfied. He knows that Xavier is your partner and your friend, and he knows that you need people like that in your life. But Sylus feels like he is entitled to a big fucking reward for suppressing his urge to eviscerate that little sleepy shit for interrupting the conversation Sylus clearly needed to have with you to clear up any ridiculous thought that you might have that Sylus would want to sink his teeth into anyone else but you, in any lifetime.

He clenches his fist and tries to reassert control over the frustration building at the thought of this ongoing misunderstanding.

“Uh, boss?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you ... okay?”

Sylus comes back from the racing thoughts that he realizes he’s been having over the past few minutes, completely distracted from the current situation he finds himself in.

He’s lounging on a black leather booth, a low black-lacquered table stretching before him, an expansive one-way mirror stretching behind him. Kieran and Luke are both lounging on similar booths on either side of the closed black door, set in the crimson walls of one of the VIP lounges of one of the clubs Sylus owns. Amnesia. He snorts. If only he had been on the joke when he bought the place. But that’s neither here nor there. Suspended in front of him is a young woman. Hardly more than a girl, really, despite her best attempts to age herself through the skillful use of impeccable makeup.

She’s currently glaring at him, despite being wrapped in Sylus’s evol, which puts most other people into a state of catatonic terror. He likes her grit.

But it’s a testament to how distracted you’ve been making him lately that he has let his mind wander, even now, when he has business to attend to.

“Boss?” Kieran repeats, snapping his fingers.

“Is there a dog in here?” Sylus asks, examining his fingernails. He has been fastidious about keeping them trimmed short and smooth, ever since you nose-dived back into his life. Sylus is nothing if not prepared.

“Uh,” the twins look at each other, after looking around the room. “No?”

“No, there is not. Do I look like a dog to you, then?” Sylus asks, enjoying watching his henchmen start to shift uncomfortably when they finally catch on to this line of questioning.

“No, boss. Of course not!” they chorus in unison, as if Luke had also made the mistake at snapping his fingers at Sylus like an owner getting his pet’s attention.

“There will be consequences for displaying that level of disrespect to me in front of … our guest,” Sylus warns, and both young men’s shoulders slump. Sylus turns his attention back to the aforementioned guest.

She had been dragged in by the twins, kicking and shouting about suing them for assault and battery, abduction, and unlawful imprisonment. Her mascara had smudged a bit in the struggle, but her carefully braided hair and expensive looking, business professional pantsuit were still neat, and she looked beautifully put together. But she had fallen silent and her eyes had widened comically after the twins had dropped her into the middle of the room when she noticed Sylus sprawled across the couch at the back of the dimly lit space. She had immediately dropped to her knees.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. For whatever I did, just, please don’t hurt me,” she had begged, her tear-filled voice filling the room.

Sylus stood and approached her.

“I’ll do anything, just let me go. Tell me what I did, I’ll never do it again,” she sniffled. “I have children, please think of my children!”

“Look at me.”

When she did, he realized just how young she was. Younger than Kieran and Luke, probably. Practically a baby. He let the aether core in his eye flare to life, the pain streaking through him, the pressure in his head growing, as always, but he could see.

After a timeless moment, he was done and she sagged a little. She dared to timidly peek up at him. He twitched a finger and she was immediately lifted into the air by the tendrils of his evol. He plopped back down on the couch. And then, seeing the person before him suspended by the dark force of his evol, he had gotten distracted, thinking about you the other night, held aloft by the same tendrils. How you had been prepared to hurt yourself trying to break down your door to get away from the perceived threat. About how you had thought that he would take advantage of your vulnerability and drink his fill of your bare body, once you realized the threat was actually him. He scowls—he has no interest in savoring the naked lines of your perfect body until you eagerly strip for his pleasure, of your own volition.

Damn it, he's getting distracted again.

“Hey! Put me the fuck down! How dare you treat a woman like this?” The girl demands, all pretense of pathetic fear evaporating.

“I’m a feminist,” he responds. “You get the same treatment as anyone else who steals my motorcycle and then plans to stab me with that syringe in your pocket once you've lured me within reach with this... little innocent act.” He considers her for a moment. “Really convincing acting though. Apart from the bit about kids. I doubt you’ve barely graduated high school.”

“Don’t be a dick, I could be a teen mom,” she scowls. “And that is a freaky fucking power, dude.”

“Freaky, but useful.” Sylus flicks his gaze to Kieran and Luke. “How’d she do it?”

“Quick hands, electrical skills, and some really slick hacking. It took us so long to catch her because her driving is almost as good as yours.”

Sylus looks back to the girl. “How old are you?”

A calculating look crosses her face, but disappears so quickly that if Sylus wasn’t so attuned to micro expressions to keep himself and his people alive, he would have missed it. “Old enough for you, big man. I’m legal,” she purrs. “I can show you just how illegal I can be though, if you let me go. You caught me, you can play with me—you have your bike back, no harm, no foul. We then go our separate ways.” She looks at him steadily, her tongue flicking out over her deep red lipstick.

There is a long moment of silence so deep in the room that Luke and Kieran’s raucous laughter lands in it like a whale being dropped into a pond from a great height.

“Oh man,” Luke gasps, holding onto Kieran’s shoulder for support as they’re both bent over from laughing so hard.

“You’re wildly mistaken if you think this is a deal boss would make,” Kieran tries to wipe his eye while maintaining the position of his mask, which makes Luke giggle louder.

“Totally barking up the wrong tree,” Luke manages.

“Unfortunately, we must inform you that our boss is currently taken,” Kieran finally gives up, and the tears just continue streaming down his neck into his collar.

“I mean, not that being taken would prevent a slimeball from accepting your offer, but he’s not a slimeball, and he’s also taken.” Luke pauses, still trying to catch his breath. “Well, he’s not actually taken, yet. Doesn’t that require like, an offer, and acceptance? I don’t think he’s even managed to offer yet, right?” Luke tilts his head, considering.

“Oh, that’s a good point, Luke. Our boss is currently nourishing a one-sided obsession.”

“Oooh, obsession, that’s a good word. I would have said a crush, but you’re totally right, ‘crush’ doesn’t really cover this whole…” Luke continues, waving a hand at Sylus, as if to highlight the whole sad mess the man finds himself in regarding his love interest.

“Have you even opened the thesaurus I got you a couple weeks ago?” Kieran asks, putting his hands on his hips. "How can you properly compete with me in Scrabble if you don't work on expanding your vocabulary?"

“We’ve been really busy!” Luke protests, managing to radiate a pout through his mask.

“True. We’ve been quite occupied with stalking a certain hunter…” Kieran mumbles, glancing back to Sylus, who has been pinching the bridge of his formidable nose during this entire exchange. He learned long ago that he should just let Luke and Kieran do their bits, or he’ll never hear the end of their whining about him interrupting their comedic genius.

“What the fuck is this circus?” the girl finally asks, a look of disgust on her face as she glances between Sylus and his henchmen.

“I believe my subordinates are trying to thank you for the kind offer, but are emphasizing that I’m more interested in your vehicle theft and driving skills than… anything else, you might be willing to offer in exchange for me not harvesting your organs for re-sale and dumping your weighted corpse off the docks for stealing my motorcycle tonight, and thereby complicating my plans with my partner.”

The girl's eyes widen, just a little.

"Now, don't make me repeat myself again: how old are you?"

She stares at him for a second, and then mumbles, "Twenty."

"Excellent. You're hired." Sylus leans back in his seat, checking his watch and pulling out his phone. He expected you here by now. "On a few conditions."

“So she passed the test?” Luke asks, straightening on the couch.

“What test?” the girl asks.

Kieran gestures to his the mask where his eye would be under it. “The freaky test. To see if you’re trustworthy or not. Despite all evidence clearly pointing to a definitive ‘no.’” His voice sounds uncertain as he turns to look at Sylus.

The girl scowls, trying to turn and glare at Kieran. “I’m so trustworthy,” she promises, trying her best to look earnest and not like the compulsive little liar Sylus knows her to be after looking deep into her soul.

Sylus lets her squirm for a few beats because it’s kind of fun to see the mercurial expressions flit across her calculating face. Not anywhere near as fun as watching your face, but still entertaining. “I know,” he finally says, satisfied that she’s marinated long enough in uncertain fear to not forget that feeling anytime soon.

“So you’re not gonna kill me?” She perks up. Sylus just sighs and shakes his head. “And you don’t wanna fuck me?”

“Ugh, no,” Sylus grimaces like he just bit into something foul. “Please never say anything remotely like that again.”

“Deal!” She grins. “You’re not my type anyway. I mean, you're old, and like, it's bad enough that I have to endure Yaoi hands in manga." She grimaces. "I like roleplay, and things that come in pairs a lot, lot more.” Somehow, she manages to twist while still in the evol’s hold and leers at the twins, who both freeze, both masks turned towards her somehow radiating fear.

Sylus glances down at his hands. You seem to like them well enough, so he's not worried about her opinion, even if he were the type to suffer from insecurity. They're just proportional to the rest of him. He tries to control his smirk, but the thought of the noise you made when he bit you, and how you squirmed against him as he was waking up, makes it really hard to control his face. He shakes his head. Business.  “If I’m going to employ you, I need to be able to trust that you will follow two rules.” Sylus intones, interrupting whatever predator-prey themed nature documentary is currently playing out in front of him.

The girl turns back to him, looking wary again.

“Are you listening?” he asks.

She nods, and suddenly looks her age. A little afraid. A little curious.

“Rule number one. Do not sexually harass your colleagues,” he gives her a stern look.

“Aww,” she sulks, but at his Look, she nods. “And rule number two?”

“I have someone very important to me that I may need to ask you to help. By being available as a driver, anytime, anywhere. The kind of driver that may need to steal conveniently parked vehicles, and to outrun my competitors who will have dangerous intentions. Or worse: law enforcement. And you are not allowed to reveal this person’s existence to anyone, or the importance of this person to me. No matter what you learn in the course of your duties, either about this person, or me, you will. Keep. Your. Mouth. Shut. Do you think you can accept these rules?”

She looks at Sylus thoughtfully. “What are you going to punish your men with for snapping their fingers at you like you were a dog?” she finally asks.

He gazes steadily back at her. “I’m going to tell our chef that there will be no cheese on the menu for a week.”

The girl smiles radiantly as Kieran and Luke squawk their protests: “That is a horrendously unjust punishment!” (Kieran) “What the fuck boss?! Not cool!” (Luke).

“Okay, I can do that. But that’s three.”

“Excuse me?” Sylus can hardly think over the noise the twins are making.

“That’s three rules, not two. I can’t hit on the cosplay twins, I have to drive your unrequited crush whenever, and I can’t talk about what you two do.. or don’t have going on.” She shrugs. “Three rules.”

Sylus sighs, letting his evol set her back on her sensible heels. Why does he seem to attract the most unruly of employees in the entirety of both Linkon City and the N109 zone?

She strides over to him and pumps his hand vigorously. “Name’s Noah. What’s the salary for this gig, anyway?”

Sylus accepts her handshake, his own engulfing her tiny one. He intends to make great use of her skilled hands when he isn’t available to make sure you have a getaway car when you’re in danger, or to simply chauffeur you around Linkon City on errands that he thinks are too far for you to walk. And finally, to bring you to him, in the N109 zone, on the nights you’re too tired for it to be safe to drive yourself.

You just don’t know it yet.

“You assume I’m paying you, when I have already generously let you walk out of here with all of the organs with which you entered?”

“Well, speaking of organs, a girl's got to eat. Do I get to come to your chef’s dinners? If they don’t get any cheese, can I still have some?” Noah asks, flicking her braids over her shoulder and jerking a thumb at the twins. They shine silkily under the soft lights of the room.

“Boss, no,” Kieran and Luke beg.

“Yes I’m paying you, no you’re not coming to the base for meals unless your job requires you to be there around normal dining hours.” Noah pouts a little at this. “Kieran, Luke, stick around with Noah for a little while downstairs." Noah perks up, but then deflates when he continues, "But do not let her drink. When I've collected my kitten, you can take her to get set up with Linda. For now, send in Aidan, and the wine distributor who is probably getting impatient waiting for our meeting.” Sylus checks his watch again. He expected you here at eleven, and it’s already a quarter past already.

“Who’s Linda?” Noah asks, trailing Kieran and Luke out of the room.

“Our Human Resources manager,” Kieran answers.

Noah makes an impressed sound. “You guys have an HR manager?”

“Yeah, for like the employment agreement and insurance and benefits and stuff,” Luke answers.

“What kind of shady criminal outfit has fucking benefits?”

“Not those kind of benefits!” Kieran gasps, scandalized.

"Not fucking benefits, Kieran, but like... expletive, and then the noun," Luke tries to correct his brother's misunderstanding.

"Ooh," Kieran says. "Hey, I didn't know you knew the word 'expletive.'"

"Yeah, so, maybe next time think twice before accusing me of not even opening your gift," Luke grumbles.

Noah looks assessingly between the two of them. "You guys are actually pretty sweet." Luke and Kieran look at each other, and then look back at her.

"May I ask you a question?" Kieran asks, after an awkward silence.

"Sure," she shrugs.

"Why are you dressed like a real estate agent in her forties?" Luke asks.

"Uh," Noah glances between them again. "Is this a party trick? Like, you act like one person all the time in front of other people?"

"Act?" Kieran asks. Luke just stares at her.

"Okay, whatever. Keep your secrets, you little weirdos," she says affectionately, as if she hasn't just met them. "And I dress like this because who are you more likely to finger in a lineup for grand theft auto? Karen from accounting or the ripped-leather goth-bitch from the wrong side of the Linkon City-N109 zone border?"

"Aah," both twins nod sagely, and the door closes on their chatter with a soft whoosh of air.

Sylus unlocks his phone, and prepares to text you. Not knowing where you are is making him uncomfortable. He decides that he's going to put Mephisto on permanent kitten duty, starting tomorrow.

Time to move to the next state of play: discovering how long it takes to convince a certain hunter that Sylus is sincerely all in, and not just hunting you for sport. Let the wooing games begin.

[yolli-es]

Please, I'm really sorry

Tags: NO spoilers for season 2, sadness, rude treatment, mentions of death

I doubt this is in character, so treat it as a silly sketch. Writing text is harder than headcanons..

MY ENGLISH IS BAD AND THERE MAY BE MEANING ERRORS

You adore Jinx; you love and tolerate her. Your acquaintance was unexpected, and your subsequent friendship was spontaneous. You were choking with tears after losing your mother when she found you. This girl saved you so easily, as if it were so easy. Jinx never told you about the past, but when the voices in her head became too loud, you didn't need an explanation. You saw how bad she becomes and what consequences it can bring. Afterwards, you promise yourself to always be there so that you can prevent the irreparable. This was not always successful.

After Silco died, things got really bad. Jinx tried to continue his work, to be strong and collected. But this is Jinx. Your Jinx. And she never was and never will be like this. Maybe that's why she's been so rude to you, taking it out on you because she's under so much stress. Sooner or later it will all end, and she will be able to look at you again without irritation.

You forgive Jinx for everything: the harsh words, the insults, the hits. Because she always apologizes after. And you don't care that it's not sincere at all. You love her; she is the only thing you have.

The day started out quite normally. You and Jinx were sitting in Silko's office, which is still called that way to this day, on the initiative of Jinx herself. It was all quite nice: she decided to share with you many thoughts about the future, which happened quite rarely. But then Sevika came in. And with her came terrible news. Shimmer production had been disrupted again. The enforcers blew up the plant, dealing with the guards there without any particular problems. And she just walked out after saying that. Just one look from Jinx made it clear how bad she was feeling right now,

"It's not your fault, and..." — you're interrupted by a rude "shut up." Jinx, who had been sitting on the table quite relaxed, now clutched her head, her eyes closed, and her breathing quickened. Just a few moments ago she was vulnerable, and now she's rude to you again. "You don't understand me at all," Jinx said in a breaking voice, hiding her face in her knees. It was painful to hear. We have been through a lot together. But she's worse off, and you step over yourself again: "I love you, Jinx. What do you want me to do?". You tell her this so often, so sincerely and naively. Her reaction to your words is always different; you can never guess, and now she again hits you: "I want you to stop being so useless and just help me." Jinx whispered, still struggling with her emotions. She hadn't let herself get angry, panicked, or sad that easily since Silco died. No tears. She kept herself under control. And is that what she thought all along? It's your fault; you're just doing a shitty job. Obviously, sitting here with her is not what she wanted. It looks so painful for you. The girl you love is suffering so much; why don't you just make it easier? That day you stayed, having endured many insults and a couple of blows.

Usually you stayed by Jinx's side, always supporting her and helping her with many tasks. For example, maintaining her authority in the city, keeping an eye out for possible rats nearby, and always saving your love from nervous breakdowns. But now you're by Sevika's side, at a shimmer production plant. You didn't tell Jinx anything; you didn't even think she would ask and worry. You need to act more decisively, as she wanted it. The task was simple: wait until the enforcers come here and destroy them. You were never a good fighter, just a decent shot. Your skills were enough to protect yourself on the streets of Zaun, but they were nothing against well-trained law enforcement officers. That's why you stayed on the sidelines, watching from above and covering Sevika.

You realized how much you screwed up with this shit when you found yourself in the middle of a shootout. Things didn't go according to plan when Sevika was shot, and now you had to save her. Letting the woman lean on you, you ran upstairs. The sounds of gunshots, explosions, and screams confirmed your fears: this plant is finished. Neither the shimmer nor the people were saved. Adrenaline was pumping through you, and you didn't notice anything except the cherished goal.

You reached a safe place and fell. The rest was like a dream. Sevika sat next to you, trying to close the open wound. She tied it with a rag, shouting something about the presence of shimmer nearby. The wound seems to be on your legs, chest, and head. It was painful and cold. Severe weakness. How the hell did enforcers get you? You couldn't think, let alone remember. This woman was shaking you, trying to make you think, but you had already given up. You had lost, and you had screwed up so badly, Jinx would never forgive you. Sevika shouted something, and you didn't really listen; you just couldn't. And then your gaze focused on a blue spot... Jinx? You wanted to look at her one last time. She may be disappointed in you, angry, or simply empty towards you, but all this will not matter as long as she is here. Your eyes closed for just a moment.

" ...orr..."—You can't see, only distantly hear. Such a nice sound; you've heard it before. The noise makes you open your eyes again. A flash of light disorientated you. Straining your eyes, you managed to make out a silhouette in front of you. It was Jinx, and... she was crying. She was in complete disarray, desperately holding your face. She bit her lips every time she wanted to swallow the lump in her throat and continue talking. She was talking to you. What was she saying? Your damn body is so weak. "Hold on, just breathe. Please, I'm really sorry. I love you, I love you, I love you...",-She repeated it over and over while you felt the shimmer being injected into your body. You wanted to calm her down, to say "I love you" back. And all you did was watch silently. Your eyelids were so heavy, and your body suddenly seemed too weightless. You were being yelled at, shaken, and pricked with a shimmer stabbed over and over. And you were too weak to respond to it, closing your eyes one last time.

Jinx sincerely apologizes this time. It's a pity that your mind was too weak to realize this.

it was short, unclear and stupid 🥴 Wrote this in a hurry while I'm taking a break from studying and writing other things.

[euno11a]

Tattooed Hearts

Genre: No one to someone Tattoo artist! Jungkook X Reader

Summary: What happened to us? Why did we end up like this? It was only a one time thing. Now it’s ruined us both.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut, mentions of hookups, insults, arguing, blood, mentions of period

Edit: Hey guys, I got this idea for some reason and was thinking of making it into a series, so let me know if you enjoy it and want a part two :)

Pt II • Pt III • Pt IV • Pt V • Pt VI • Pt VII • Pt VIII

*** You weren’t one to put out, always waiting for the one person who made you feel special. But you never seemed to feel that, except for when you were with Jungkook. He made you special, he made you happy, he made you feel loved. Maybe giving yourself to him was your mistake, but how could you not? He looked so handsome with his piercings and tattoos. That’s where you should’ve known what you did was a mistake. Sleeping with him was never on your bucket list, sure you’d thought about it before, but you never intended for anything to actually happen. It felt good, it always did, but the pain of being pushed out always pained you after. Mistakes get made, but this one hurt too much.

Sobbing on the bathroom floor was something you’d never wanted to do when it came to a guy. But seeing him with that girl hurt, way too much. Why weren’t you used to this yet? It’s happened before, get used to it. “He doesn’t deserve your tears, Y/N, please stop crying…” Lindsay, your friend, pleaded. She’d been here when it first happened, the other hundred times it had happened, and now. Maybe you were the stupid one for never taking her advice. Now, you hated calling anything stupid, nothing was stupid. There was always reason for something being one way and not the other, but you were just stupid for how many times you’d fallen for his tricks. Tattoos make a story when on your skin, most of the time. The story behind your tattoo was that you’d fallen for a handsome tattoo artist, letting him sweep you off your feet, wine and dine you and then fuck you. Big mistake. It’s almost funny how many mistakes you’ve made with him. Going the day after to get your tattoo finished was not the happy ending you were expecting, instead finding a woman walk out of his office looking drunk off of sex. Just like you did. He apologized, wine and dined you, then fucked you again. The same thing happened. Something wasn’t clicking, stay away from him; he’s bad for you; he’s using you; all things you should’ve listened to, but didn’t. That was on you, you decided to keep going back and keep getting your heart broken. That was until now, countless nights of crying about him, going back to him, waiting for him to call and use you again, you were done.

Wiping your tears for the last time, you wouldn’t let this man or any man make you cry like that ever again. That was a promise. ***

“Are you ever gonna get that tattoo finished?” Lindsay asked as she placed the bowl of popcorn between you two. It was Wednesday night, your scheduled movie night. “I think it would look really cool actually completed.”

You placed some popcorn in your mouth, thinking for a moment, “I don’t know…I think it looks kinda cool now!” Placing the blanket over your legs, you looked at your shoulder, a half finished tattoo of a skeleton hand holding a rose.

“Girl, don’t lie, you need to get it finished. Please? I’ve been looking at it for so long, I can’t stand it anymore! How are you not annoyed it’s only half done?!” She was adamant about making you get it finished, partially because she wanted you to go back to rub it in Jungkook’s face how amazing you were and what he lost when he slummed it with those other women.

“Fine! Fine! I’ll get it finished, but you need to get me tteokbokki after, got it?” It was something you’d dreaded, but having the feeling inside that you’d let him win by not seeing him again was eating at you from the inside.

Lindsay squealed in joy, clapping her hands, “ I’m gonna make you so hot! He’s gonna regret sleeping with those other bitches!”

“Whoa, whoa, I’m going to get my tattoo finished, not see him. And don’t call them bitches! Women stick up for women, no matter how fucked up some might be.” Secretly, you were hoping to make him jealous or upset with how he left you. He deserved to feel like shit.

“Okay, okay, sorry…I’M GONNA GET MY HEELS!!” Lindsay yelled as she ran out of the living room to grab her heels from her room. I sighed, knowing that I couldn’t stop her.

***

A week later, you walked into the shop, seeing the familiar face of RM. He was one of the piercers that worked in the parlour, “Y/N, hey, it’s been a while!” He spoke with a big smile, happy to see you again. With the time you’d spent there before everything, you’d befriended his friends. It felt unfair leaving them behind after it all.

“Yeah, hi, how’ve you been?” Even though Jungkook was nowhere to be seen, you couldn’t help but feel a lump growing in your throat.

RM had a bright smile on his face, one that he’d always had that always managed to make your day better. “Good! I’ve been good, uh, how can I help you today?” He asked, standing up from behind the front desk.

“I want to get my tattoo finished. I think it’s finally time.” You gave him a small smile, he’d known about what happened between you and Jungkook. It was hard not to know, he was friends with him after all.

“Alright, we can do that! Let me see…V could take you.” He looked up from the computer, seeing what was open now. You nodded your head, willing to take anyone who wasn’t Jungkook.

They’d gotten you situated at a station, instructing you to take off your sweater. Your half finished tattoo was now on display, waiting to be finished. V was nice, making small talk here and there, making sure you were comfortable with everything and that nothing was too painful. Pain wasn’t your thing, yes, you had to go through a period every month and maybe one day give birth, but you had a low pain tolerance. He used to squeeze your thigh, kiss your neck, finger you to keep you calm…stop it! Don’t think about him! He’s not in your life anymore, don’t waste precious thinking space on him! Not thinking about the needle piercing your skin was abruptly stopped when you felt a prick, yelping, you moved your shoulder away. V looked at you with wide eyes, “ I’m sorry! Was that painful? Oh god, are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you!”

“No, no! It’s okay! I’m fine, just startled! Sorry, I zoned out for a moment…” You gave him a sheepish smile, relaxing in the chair again.

“That’s fine, just let me know if you need a break or anything, okay? Maybe I can sneak you a juice if you really want, too.” He gave you his signature boxy smile, instantly warming your heart.

You giggled, nodding your head, “That would be nice…” Smiling up at him, it felt nice to still be friendly with them even though you were nowhere close to being friendly with Jungkook.

V stood up, walking away to get you a juice from the break room. He left you in the chair, leaving you alone to listen to the music playing softly through the speakers. Quietly humming along, your thoughts were halted by hearing two voices. “Hey, RM, when’s my next client?”

“She should be here soon, it’s a touch up.” I could hear RM talk to the person. The other guy hummed, shuffling around a little.

You sat up, being faced with Jungkook. Everything seemed to go fuzzy, your thoughts, the sounds around you, even your eyesight. The lump in your throat returned, making it hard for you to breathe, V returned with your juice, “ I got you watermelon! You know? Since it’s your favourite!”

You were startled out of your trance, looking up at V who was holding your favourite juice. They still had it…? “Thanks…how do you-?”

You were cut off by V smiling sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck. “We all thought you’d show up again…but when you didn’t, we kept the fridge stocked for whenever you decided to show up again.”

Heat rushed up to your cheeks, they’d waited for you? Why? His boxy smile came back again, looking over to Jungkook, waving “Hey, JK, lunch was good?”

“Yeah, it was fine. Pussy would’ve been better though.” Jungkook replied as if it were nothing, finally looking over to you. He faltered a little bit, quickly recovering by giving you a cocky smirk, “Glad to see you back, Y/N.”

Without another word, he walked away, back into his office. Biting the inside of your cheek, you knew this wasn’t the last time you’d see him. He was like a parasite, once you had it, it would never go away.

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlight prompt: Danny and Duke being childhood friends, but Danny tells Duke the moment the accident happens and such cause he trusts him, only for Danny to go radio silent when giw decide to block the town communications in senior year.

So Duke-does he tell Danny he's Signal or not? Up to you-gets worried the longer no contact goes by.

Maybe the away game thing seen in other posts where the sports team still does away games and Danny gets enough good will with star or dash maybe and they send a message to Duke that's some coded phrase and Duke knows shits going down?

(yourlocalcorviddad, it's a side blog so didn't want to send from main sorry)

Danny is not someone who is on his mind a lot, these days. It’s to be expected, considering how distance and their double lives eat up all the time they have to talk. Really, it’s a miracle that they were able to speak enough to learn about their own individual vigilante work, especially with Duke bouncing around foster homes for a good portion of that time. 

They haven’t spoke in months but that’s normal for them.

Duke thinks he can be forgiven for not knowing something was wrong. He still won’t forgive himself for it.

“Danny’s gone?” he repeats, feeling numb. There’s static ringing in his ears, his entire world hollowing out.

The guy in front of him looks grim, unable to meet Duke’s eyes. Did he introduce himself? Duke can’t remember, can’t keep his spiraling thoughts straight in his head. “He’s gone. His entire family is gone and we haven’t been able to call for help because… well…”

“It’s those guys, right? The ones in white?”

“You know about them?”

“Danny told me. Danny told me a lot about what he did in Amity Park.”

The guy lets out a slow, relieved breath. “Good, then I don’t have to explain. Sorry, it’s just that it’s not something we talk about, especially out in the open. After the last few months, things got really bad. We know the GIW took the Fentons, but we can’t find out how or why and they’ve got us on a tight lockdown.”

“Then how did you get out?” Duke asks. Another arguably more important question pops into his mind a second later. “Actually, how do you know about Danny and… you know. The other things.”

The grimness on the guy’s expression fades away some beneath the sudden shame and embarrassment. “Oh, that. Well, I dunno how much he told you about his, like, daily life, but, um. I’m Dash. Baxter. I bullied him?”

Dash. 

Dash. That’s a name he recognizes. 

Danny’s complained about Dash a lot in the past. Since they were in middle school, really. Duke would always get mad on Danny’s behalf about how terribly he’s being treated, how no one would stop such obvious bullying. And every time, Danny would laugh it off and say in that soft voice of his, It’s alright, Duke, really. Having you care is more than enough for me.

It never stopped the bullying, though, but the way Danny talked about Dash changed when they both entered high school. He was still annoyed about everything Dash did, but there were less insults about him, less venting about every little thing that pissed Danny off about him, as if he just didn’t care anymore.

And there is, of course, the most memorable time Danny called Duke about Dash over the summer.

Hey, Danny, Duke had began, only to be cut off by Danny yelling, I kissed Dash?! Or he kissed me?! What am I supposed to do now!

And Duke, despite the jealousy he felt at hearing that Danny and Dash kissed, laughed so hard he cried while Danny yelled at him to be helpful. 

There wasn’t any discussion on Dash since, beyond a comment here and there about a funny fanboying thing Dash had said about Phantom. The focus of their conversations shifted towards how hard it was to be heroes or vigilantes, quiet reassurances that they’re both doing the best they can, tips traded about best ways to patch themselves up and get through the night. Sometimes, it felt like Danny was the only person in the world to really know Duke; all his pain and promises, his dreams, everything he was Before and who he became in the After.

He’s missed Danny, but the last message Danny sent him told him that things were getting rough in Amity Park, and to not call or contact him until he reached out first.

So Duke trusted in Danny and focused his attention in Gotham, putting his all into becoming a better hero, someone people can rely on. 

He thinks that maybe he should have fallen into the Bats’ bad habits of invading privacy to make sure Danny’s okay. 

Too late for that now, though.

“I know you,” Duke says after a long moment. “He talked about you sometimes. Come with me, we have a lot to discuss.”

Dash looks appropriately nervous, but he doesn’t argue. 

It’s a tense, quiet walk to the library where Barbara works. She’s stationed at the front desk when he arrives and greets him with a smile, eyes flicking towards Dash in question.

“Hey, Babs, got a private study room open?”

Her gaze sharpens and Duke can’t help the feeling of relief that flows through him, knowing that Oracle is ready to look out for him. “Let me check,” she says, turning towards the computer to click around a few pages. “Study room 8 is open.”

That’s the study room with a working lock and soundproofing. It also has cameras and a mic inside, but all the other study rooms have one too, just for safety purposes. Things could always go terribly wrong when people are locked together in a small room, and having video and audio evidence of what happened has assisted in more than a few cases. 

He leads them up to the second floor, past the students studying and the group of young children in the back corner of the library listening intently to a read aloud. 

The only occupied study rooms are those up front, closer to the stairs. The back rooms are empty and quiet, the perfect place for a little impromptu interrogation.

“So,” Duke says as he closes the door to study room 8 behind them. Dash sits down as if this is just a casual conversation, but the way his foot taps against the floor betrays his nerves. “Danny’s gone. And somehow, that lead you to me.”

Dash glance around, then leans closer to drop his voice into a harsh whisper. “The Guys In White got some insane upgrades a few months ago and forced every citizen of Amity Park into a surveillance state. The entire Fenton family is gone, but we all know it’s really because they want Danny.”

“Explain the situation in Amity Park some more.”

“Well. It’s like this: we didn’t take them seriously, so they upped their moves and got us trapped. No one goes in or out of Amity Park without good, verifiable reason. We have a curfew and we can be randomly stopped and searched for ectoplasm or exposure to ghosts. Most of the ghosts have left, but a few of the stronger ones hang around to cause trouble to get the GIW off our backs for a bit.”

“So how did you end up in Gotham?”

“I was invited to tour the college. And since outsiders were expecting me, the GIW let me go. But there’s definitely some that tailed me to Gotham, but I can’t find them at all. Even talking to you now is a huge risk for me.”

Which means they don’t have much time to talk before someone comes looking for Dash. His words, paired with everything Duke’s heard from Danny, paint a deeply unpleasant picture in his mind. “Are you going to be in trouble?”

“Nah, I’ll be fine. It’s Danny we’re all worried about. He told me before he got caught that if anything happened to him, I should find you. Tucker helped us narrow down where exactly you are and sent you that text to get you to where we met.”

“What do you think I can do?”

“I don’t know,” Dash admits. “But Danny trusts you, and he needs your help.”

Duke was never going to say no to this request to begin with, but damn if those words don’t make him want to run to Amity Park without waiting for anyone else.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’ll help rescue him and bring down the GIW. You should go now, before they get too suspicious.”

“What are you planning?”

“I got a couple of friends who are good at destroying government property. Trust me, you’ll see what we’re up, we’re pretty noticeable if we’re pissed off enough.”

“Don’t take too long then,” Dash says, standing up, “I expect a good show from you. See you around, man.”

And with that, Dash pats Duke’s shoulder and leaves the study room. Duke doesn’t follow after him.  He’s got a rescue to start planning, and the less time he wastes, the better.

In the end, it’s pretty simple. It’s not a hard mission at all when the time comes for them to act, but the amount of data they gather and have to shift through is daunting. But that’s more Tim and Barbara’s forte, so he trusts them to handle it. 

Together with Red Robin, Spoiler, and Black Bat, they hit Amity Park hard and fast. 

One night was spent learning the lay of the land and every station and lab set up by the GIW. The second night was spent burning it all down and tossing open cages full of green blob ghosts and a few transparent, weakly glowing human ghosts. Stronger ghosts, glowing brightly, joined them in a few places with battle cries and maniacal laughter.

They split up and took down all the bases and patrol stations on their own, sweeping through the city like vengeful shadows. 

By dawn, the GIW were in shambles, without any bases or equipment, and rounded up for arrest. 

Cass was the one to find Danny and his family; his parents were forced to create weapons for the GIW under threat of Danny and Jazz’s torture. Danny was locked up like an animal and studied. Jazz had restraints on, including a muzzle, and a bloodthirsty rage in her eyes. Apparently, she had put up the most fight and, while being studied for repeated exposure to ectoplasm and radiation, started biting people.

The Fentons are big names in this conflict. Tim makes the executive decision to burn one of his out-of-state safehouses so they can hide and recover in peace, then promptly moves them into it as soon as the EMTs give them the all clear. They’re gone by the time the sun is rising over the horizon, and the curious Amity Parkers that have gathered behind the blockade of police cars have to be reassured that the Fentons have been taken away for their protection, not for further abuses. Even then, tensions are high and the locals are clearly prepared to start rioting now that they have a chance to fight back.

As vigilantes, they’re not meant to interact with cops much. Perhaps it’s simply their experiences in Gotham that keep them at a distance, disappearing into the neighborhood the moment attention shifts off of them. Either way, Duke is hurrying out of Amity Park with the rest of the team on his heels, eager to return to Gotham and follow up on their own leads to make sure the GIW is properly gutted and dismantled. 

Duke heads off for the Hatch as soon as they reach Gotham, hoping to shed the suit and finally be able to call Danny. The guilt of not noticing how bad things had gotten rolls through his stomach, and more than that, he’s missed hearing Danny’s voice. 

The first few calls go straight to voicemail. Duke leaves a quick message asking Danny to let him know how he’s doing as soon as he can talk. 

Then he goes for a shower and to change into civilian clothes, prepared to make his way to Wayne Manor to let Bruce know how everything went. And hopefully distract him from his Disappointed Father/Leader Lecture about taking on missions behind his back, as if Duke can’t handle himself. And also because Bruce has no leg to stand on when it comes to this. He’s fully prepared to throw that entire lecture back into his face at a moment’s notice.

The post-mission exhaustion is hitting him hard and fast. Duke has to brace himself against the wall once he’s out of the shower, resisting the urge to just lie on the floor and sleep there until he starts feeling more human. 

Somehow, he gets himself into some sweatpants and a plain shirt, pulls on a pair of mismatched socks, and begins gathering his things so he can get to the Batcave. 

He’s in no state to be driving. Maybe someone would be willing to take him there?

Just as he reaches for his phone to thumb through his contacts and see who he can bother, it buzzes in his hand. Duke blames the way he jumps on his exhaustion, then blinks his tired eyes to squint at the name that pops up onto the screen.

Danny.

All at once, his exhaustion fades away. A rush of adrenaline runs through him as he scrambles to accept the call, already pacing around the room so he doesn’t fall asleep. 

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence, then the exhale of a breath that turns to static over the call. “Duke,” Danny’s tired voice says. “Duke…”

“You doing okay? I couldn’t get to you before you and your family had to leave and go into hiding, but I’ve been worried about you, man.”

“I’m good. We’re all fine, now. Fentons are strong, you know? We’ll bounce back in no time.”

From what he’s heard about Danny’s family, that’s most definitely true. He’s seen the pictures of walls Jack Fenton has burst through with his body. It’ still hard to believe that no one in the family is a meta, outside of Danny.

“You need anything? I can get it to you, just say the word. Anything at all.”

Danny hums, then asks with a playful note in his voice, “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“I need you. How fast can you come meet me? I’ll even pay for express delivery.”

Duke laughs, so relieved at hearing the lightness return to Danny’s voice that he feels weak in the knees. “It’ll be at least two days. I gotta sleep and debrief with Batman before I can see you. It’s gonna take some time to get out of Gotham again.”

“Maybe I can go to you, instead,” Danny suggests. “Fly over and be there is less than an hour.”

“Are you in any shape to be flying right now?”

“I’m fine! Already healing and everything,” Danny insists.

“It might be dangerous if any rogue GIW agents go after you.”

“Well,” Danny says, “That’s why I need to get to my knight in shining armor sooner rather than later, right?”

Duke bites his lip to fight back a smile, blinking his eyes forcefully to keep them from closing under the heavy weight of exhaustion. “Does that make you a damsel in distress?”

“I mean, I did need rescuing, so I guess? I’m not much of a damsel, but I could put on a pretty dress for you. It’ll be like playing pretend when we were kids.”

“Oh, man, I kinda miss those poofy dresses. I think I could still rock on, put it on top of the armor when I go out for patrol.”

Danny snickers. “Signal: the most well dressed vigilante in Gotham.”

“That’s me, baby!”

The last of the agonizing fear that’s choked him since he first talked to Dash finally melts away. Danny’s fine now. Everything’s okay; the GIW are done for and there’s plenty of people willing to look out for the Fentons. This will never happen again.

“Hey,” Danny says, voice suddenly turing more serious. “Send me your location. I wasn’t joking when I said I could fly over to you. And before you say anything! I do need it; Jazz and my parents are smothering me and I just need to get away from everything and pretend all of this never happened.”

The admission softens Duke, makes him shove away everything that tells him this is a bad idea, that Danny needs more rest first, that having Danny fly over alone and without warning any of the Bats fills Duke with anxiety. 

He does miss Danny. More than he can put into words.

“Yeah, okay,” he says at last. “Come meet me, Danny.”

He texts Danny the location of the Hatch before common sense tells him to be more careful with his base of operations. Not that it matters, anyways; if there’s anyone in the world he trusts with everything, it’s Danny. 

Then he sends the Bats a quick text saying he’s crashing in the Hatch and to not bother him until the sun is fully up two days from now. Oracle gives him a thumbs up emoji, which is a good guarantee that she will personally see to it that no non-emergency messages interrupt his rest and recovery time.

Duke has no idea how long it will take Danny to get to the Hatch, so he putters around, cleaning up the space and straightening it out in an attempt to keep busy enough that he doesn’t crash. Travel really takes it out of him. It’s one of the cons of being born and raised in Gotham: he doesn’t have the stamina to travel outside of it, especially when they were there and back in less than three days.

Thank god for Tim’s many motorcycles and his tendency to see the speed limit as a weak suggestion that can be ignored while on a mission.

Ultimately, the call of sleep is too strong to resist. 

One moment, Duke is sorting through files on the Hatch’s computer, and the next moment, he’s face down on a bed with his face shoved into a pillow. 

Blearly, he manages to pull his phone out of his pocket and send Danny a typo-ridden text that hopefully gets across the message of might be asleep so just come in, don’t wait for me to answer the door.

He’s out like a light as soon as it sends. The last thing Duke registers is his phone dropping out of his hand and falling against the mattress with a little bounce.

When he begins to wake up, something’s changed. As much as he wants to go back to sleep, awareness comes back to him slowly and Duke forces himself to claw his way out of unconsciousness to figure out what, exactly, is bothering him so much. Until he figures out what’s changed in the room, he won’t be able to sleep because he’ll be worried about someone breaking in.

His mind comes back online long before his body does. It’s only when he tries to move that Duke realizes he’s no longer alone on the bed; there’s someone wrapped up in his arms, body temperature a little too cool to be a normal human.

Blinking open his eyes, Duke looks down at the head of messy black hair and feels Danny’s soft breath ghost across his chest. 

“Danny?” he manages to say, voice rough with sleep. 

Danny hums and doesn’t move.

“Hey, look up. Let me see if you’re really alright.”

“Mmm, no,” Danny mumbles, burrowing his face into Duke’s chest some more. “‘m sleepy.”

A good argument. Duke is also sleepy. 

“Fine,” he says, “Check in the morning, then. G’night, Danny.”

“Night, Duke. Thanks for saving me.”

He tightens his grip on Danny, contentment burning warm in his chest. “Always, Danny. I’ll always save you.”

That’s why he’s a hero, after all. To save others, to reach a hand out to everyone the way he needed when he was younger. To keep the people he loves safe. To make sure Danny always finds a way back to him. 

This is what makes all the pain of this lifestyle worth it.

Danny makes everything worth it.

(@yourlocalcorviddad tagging to make sure you see this!)

[kyoghurts]

atsumu never not thinks about you.

he doesn’t think about the ways in which you charm him that it pisses him off in an inexplicably good way or that he finds you attractive and annoying when you do not tolerate his scathing remarks and stupid fucking condescending attitude and he doesn’t think of how you don’t look at his way when he wants you to and he doesn’t think of you all that bad to the point that a singular message from you makes him jump as his mind blows up the moon, that he’d send a reply much too quickly so the conversation could flow seamlessly as if time is irrelevant. because it is, when it comes to you.

no, he doesn’t think that he’d want to rip the guy’s skin who have touched you when you looked uncomfortable and no, he doesn’t think that he’s fairly certain he’s not your type. he’s all scrawny and bones and nothing— an awful mismatching colours combined as he watches from a distance and you looked so … bewitching, so fucking beautiful compared to that loser nobody— no, fuck, why’s his hand twitching and itching to grab yours right now and leave the place together?

he doesn’t think of the consequences as he bites a handful of insults and ‘fuck-offs’ to that nobody as he drags you away and he doesn’t care if you yell at him for being so rude despite the guy driving you up the wall. atsumu forgets that he's holding your hand so firm and that you've been walking towards absolutely nowhere in particular that his mind shuts off completely once everything sinks in, once he finds your silence too loud and overbearing that he'd rather listen to you babble about your weird facts of the world that are useless but nonetheless a noise that fills the space like a reassuring blanket draped over your relationship telling him you're fine. he's fine. everything is fine for the both of you to be like this.

but you're not talking, he's not looking at you, and he's squeezing your hand as if you'll run away far from him if he lets you go. he doesn't think about what he's going to say but he's too far gone to back out now, "go out with me." because he can't stand anyone getting close to you, he can't stand to watch you while you're being pretty and amazing without him by your side, he can't stand that you do not understand of his wants but it's more achingly painful to admit that he wants to be yours. in perfect absolution.

when he does turn back to face you upfront, it's like he's going get dizzy just by the sight of you smiling so smug but there's also a glowing, tiny little specks of adoration twinkling in your curled eyes and maybe even stunned amusement weaving on your grinning lips thrown into him and he can't take it well. he doesn't think your low, silvery "okay" could make his heart drop at the bottom of a well and into the bed where he wakes his cooked up feelings sizzling to life like a fire but then it does and there's no reason to hold back anymore so—

his hands immediately curl around your neck as his forehead connects with yours, he whispers against your lips "i'm gonna kiss ya now." he doesn't think how utterly soft you are more than he anticipated, and all the things you've made him into this melting and desperate dipshit flashed beneath his closed eyes like a film on replay.

he doesn't think about the time you complimented him that you like his hair after your band practice and you're wearing system of a down graphic tee with a tamed hunger in your movements, the same way after he's had really good matches and the adrenaline subdues. it's—wow. holy shit. he finds himself in awe that your compliment kind of pierces through his consciousness too hard that it never left him for days, it travels to the unconscious world in the form of him carding his fingers through his hair when he's around you, your voice in that gruff and exhausted tone as you voiced out "hey. i actually like your hair, asshole." haunting him until his ears are painted pink.

he doesn't think that it's really nice when you talk or when you don't until he's gotten close enough to be able to sit next to you without any expectations afterwards. he likes the silence, but he likes it more when you talk of none-sense, and he adds a pile of them even more until it prolongs after class to midnight calls. he doesn't think he'd feel annoyed whenever you watch a series without him, he doesn't think that osamu would notice his mood swings whenever you're elsewhere until he calls him out literally as you're done with your practice.

he doesn't think of it now. he's kissing you and your hands find their place in his hair, easing your fingers around to where it belongs. even as he parts, even as you remove your hand he still doesn't think. but he grabs it to make you comb his hair more. like it's not enough. keep going.

he doesn't think. he doesn't. no, he doesn't. but he's head over heels for you. truly, he doesn't think it'd matter anymore if he likes or hates how you mess with his head and heart. with that stupid smug smile of yours. with that awful and criminally attractive aura you carry. with the searing tongue but sweet lips and everything that you are.

(quit it, though, or he's never ever going to leave you alone now. maybe he won't. or maybe he can't with the way your arms pulling him closer in a warm and fulfilling hug at the moment. maybe you don't want him to leave you alone. maybe he doesn't think about you, or maybe he doesn't like you all that much.)

(oh. wait. he actually does. fuck.)

hello atsumu enjoyers it is i <3

[taffycandyqt]

hey so how do you think the 2003 tmnt would deal with having a s/o who they’ve not seen all month. They’ve only been texting. The turtles ask about it. And s/o messages that s/o has been injured all month and the turtles can come over if they want too. S/o forgot to mention they were injured. When they get to s/o place, s/o is moving around but they’re slow and struggling to do stuff, in a lot of pain, but is able to do it, but s/o is sick of laying down cuz that’s what they have been doing all month. They’re stubborn about not staying in bed, but they are not going to over exert themselves either. They are half way through healing clearly?

I haven't gotten many requests for the turtles and I love this prompt so much. All the boys are such worry warts it's honestly kinda funny. In my personal opinion there aren't enough 03' fics in the world so thank you!

Your Broken?!

TMNT 2003 turtles x gn reader

You got injured and haven't been able to see your boyfriend for a while. You tell them that they can come over for a visit but forget to mention a very tiny oh so important detail about your... injury.

Leo:

DID YOU BREAK YOUR SPINE??!

Oh he is so concerned, like WHAT DID YOU DO!?

Will not let you do literally anything.

You want water? No. Stay put I'll get it for you

Want a book from your shelf across the room. LAY THE FRICK BACK DOWN!

Now which one do you want?

If you tell him that your tired of doing nothing and you want to be able to at least walk around, he will still be very hesitant.

Of course he wants you to be happy but your still healing and he just doesn't want you to get hurt again.

Your making him nervous.

You'll compromise on him basically spotting you while walking around or do anything.

Bro is literally watching you like your life depends on it because in his eyes, it kinda does.

When you said Leo could come over to see you he wasn't expecting you to have a cast around your torso with a walker in your hands. For context, you had been hanging out with your friends when you made a small 'oopsie'. Now your back feels like someone hammered a nail into each one of your vertebrae. Then to add insult to injury, the walker makes you look like an old lady.

Regardless, you've been alone for a while now and figured your boyfriend would be some good company. He entered through your bedroom window right as you were coming back from the kitchen with a snack.

"Oh, hey!"

Leo walked to you quickly as he spoke, "What happened to you?"

You were quick to respond as he looked like he wanted to continue his questioning.

"I was just reckless with some friends a little while back, nothing to worry about." You smiled up at him hoping to distract Leo from your injury.

"If your hurt that bad you shouldn't be standing up come on."

He led you back to your bed and layed you down while he placed your snack on your nightstand.

"Leo please, the doctor said I'm fine to walk as long as I'm careful and use the walker."

"Just because you can walk doesn't mean it's good for you to be walking around."

"Oh, so your a doctor now?" You snarked jokingly.

"Y/n." Leo looked at you as to say, don't push it you know I'm right. You thought it was sweet how much he cared but you've been 'resting' for weeks. Your allowed to walk to the kitchen. And you told him so.

"PUH-leeeease, I'm so tired of laying in my bed and doing nothing. I want to walk around at least a little bit."

Leo sighed, "I-I don't know y/n, your hurt-"

"Leo, how bout' you walk with me to make sure nothing goes wrong? I get to do something and you get to mother me. Everybody's happy!"

"I'm not mothering you." Leo retorted while folding his arms like a pouty toddler.

"Of course not." You smiled back at him. He looked back at you and sighed, he then went and held your hand for a little bit. Maybe you you could walk around, just a little bit, with his help.

Raph:

When he sees you in pain his heart breaks, how could he let this happen to you?!

Spends the rest of the day hovering you.

On the inside is is just as panicked and convinced you could die as Leo.

On the outside however he's sitting and talking with you like normal.

If you want to get up and walk around he'll act like he's okay with it but you can tell by the look on his face that bro is cringing on the inside watching you move.

You so much as stutter on a step and he is right next to you, balancing you, and checking you like your broken all over.

He knows you can handle yourself its just, do you gotta walk around a do stuff when your still healing?

What if you do something and make it worse?!

Highkey dying on the inside.

However, because he feels the need to hide his real feelings about the situation, he inadvertently starts a fight with you instead.

He really didn't want to, YOU'RE JUST SO GOSH DARN FRIGGIN STUBBORN! GO TO BED!!

Please just let him mother hen you, he's legit so scared for you.

He'll do whatever you want just please stay in bed.

"So... how'd this happen again?"

You were cleaning up your room a bit when Raph payed you a visit. You had been living in your bed for a good month at this point and your bedroom was starting to feel more like a cave. Raph sat on your desk chair as he watched you like a hawk and tapped his foot on the floor.

"Fell down the stairs and fractured my hip. Just a hairline fracture though, nothing too serious" as you said that you ended up bending your body the wrong way and irritated your wound resulting in you grunting at the pain.

Raph hopped off the chair in seconds flat and quickly made his way over to you.

"Hey, don't over do it, jeez. Don't wanna make it worse than it already is."

"Thanks, just bent the wrong way is all. I'll be fine."

"Right." His response sounded strained and his lips formed a thin line as he pretended to be calm about this.

"Maybe you should lay down for a bit. Ya know, just to rest your hip and all."

"No that's okay, I my doctor said as long as I'm careful it should be fine for me to be up for a bit." With that you continued to walk around your room and tidy up.

"Well you did just tweak your hip just then didn't you? You don't seem to be being very careful to me." He folded his arms.

"Well lucky for you, you're not me and I know I'm being careful."

"Right, cuz being careful gets you falling down the stairs."

"Are we gonna have a problem Raph? Cuz you can go if you don't wanna be here."

"Wh- well maybe I will then!"

"There's your exit!" You gestured to the window were your boyfriend entered. Just then you tweaked your hip real bad and almost fell if it weren't for Raph's fast reflexes. He led you to your bed to sit you down as the pain subsided.

"This is stupid." He sighed, "listen, I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I j-just wanted to. Uuuug."

He put his face in his hands as he tried to piece together what it was that he wanted to say.

"Hey," you gently grabbed his wrist and moved his hands from his face, "I'm sorry too. I should have heard you out better."

"N-No! I shouldn't have gotten snappy with ya, I just want you to be careful. I don't know what I would do with myself if you got worse."

This made you smile. Though it may not always be obvious, Raph really did care about you and wanted the best for you.

"You know what? I have been up and about for a while now. I'm probably due for a break anyways. What do you think about ice cream?"

"I'll grab it for ya."

Donny:

Dude is legit gonna look over your injuries himself.

He's gonna act like a professional doctor didn't already look this over and patch you up the best they could.

You got a cast? SUCKS cuz he's got all the materials to take it off and get you a new one so he is looking at that injury to make EXTRA sure your okay.

For your sake you better pray it doesn't look that bad cuz bro will put you on a healing regimen.

If you're already doing physical therapy he won't want you to over do it. He also wont try to get you to do it if it's not that type of injury.

But if you need physical therapy and for some reason you can't get it? He will have you doing it religiously.

He will bring you foods that will help with the healing process and do whatever he can to make you happy.

Afterall, studies have shown that the chemical reaction of happiness helps support the healing process both external and internal.

No other reason.

On the other side of it though he just really wants to spoil you.

He loves spending time with you, and if he can make you happy while your bored and in pain he gladly will.

Donny had told you that he was going to leave and be right back. You said "okay" and didn't think much of it. That is till he came back with a whole freaking duffle bag full of medical tools and supplies.

"whatcha got there Don?" You sweat dropped. You had just gotten back from the bathroom to find Donny setting up a five year olds worst nightmare of medical tools in your bedside table.

"Oh, I got you a smoothie!" He smiled at you, "Here come sit down."

You made your way to you bed and placed your crutches to lean against the wall as Donny helped you lay in bed and handed you your smoothie.

"Thank you D but I was actually referring to the evil scientist starter pack you've graciously organized right next to me."

Donny laughed at that, "You're funny y/n. I'm just gonna to take a look at you leg and see if your okay."

"Don I've already been to the doctor. It's broken but it was a clean break and if I'm careful it should heal up quickly."

"That's good, but I'll believe it when I see it." With that he held a mini buzz saw in his hand and faced you, "Do you mind?"

"UM YES! I MIND VERY MUCH IN FACT!"

"This is all standard procedure y/n, I promise you won't get hurt. As for the cast, I have that covered too so there really isn't anything to worry about."

"How about I just show you my X-rays? You can see exactly what happened without having to go through all the trouble of taking off my cast yeah?" You spoke quickly, hoping to convince him of the alternative. You didn't think he would actually hurt you but having him stand over you with a saw was a bit intimidating. On top of that you'd prefer to keep your cast on.

"Hm... okay. Where are they?" He set the mini buzz saw down with the rest of the supplies and looked around to where they might be.

"Here I can get them for you." You began to reach for your crutches again. Donny, however, stopped you.

"That's okay, just tell me where they are and I can take it from there."

After he looked over the X-rays and concluded that you were actually fine he began to make you some food. It was supposed to "accelerate the healing process" but it was good food so you didn't care. Donny then spent the rest of the night talking and taking care of you. He got you any snacks you wanted and watched any show you wanted to turn on. Even ones you couldn't previously convince him to watch.

Whenever you moved to get up Donny was quick to try and coerce you back to bed with cuddles and kisses. The only times he couldn't was when you had to go to the bathroom. He couldn't really stop you then, so he would walk you there and back.

Mikey:

Mikey will panic, it's unavoidable.

However, unlike his brothers, his panic isn't helpful in the slightest.

Remember his iconic girly scream? Yeah. That happens

Instead of trying to get you to take care of yourself better or helping you himself bro will just scream you ear off.

"What happened?! Why are you standing?! Are you okay?!... Ect"

You legit have to pretend to fall over so bro will catch you and stop talking long enough for your to tell him your fine.

It takes a little bit to convince him that you are okay, and that you just healing.

When he does believe you he'll get a bunch of his favorite movies and just binge with you all day.

If you don't like horror you better tell him fast because Mikey is a horror fanatic and more than have the flicks in his collection are horror.

If you don't tell him you're in for a nightmare.

If you do like them however, y'all are gonna have a TIME.

You guys have so much fun ngl

Honestly he's the most chill out of all of them.

Just wants you to vibe while you heal.

"AAAH!"

"Okay."

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU ARE YOU OKAY SHOULD YOU BE STAND-"

And with that you were going down. Could you stand just fine? Yes. Was the only way to get Mikey to shut up long enough for you to explain by taking a nose dive to your bedroom floor? Also yes.

Lucky for you he was quick enough to catch you but not without a another short scream as he moved to do so.

Right as he was about to start speaking again you covered his mouth with your hand.

"I'm fine Mikey. I twisted my ankle but I would be right as rain in a couple more weeks."

"You just fell."

"You were just screaming."

"So you fell over?!"

"It's the only method I know that works." You shrugged.

He gave you a face that could only be described as 'wtf' but ultimately helped you over to you bed to sit down. And by 'helped' I mean, picked you up bridal style and dropped you like a ragdoll.

You looked at him confused and a little displeased with how he basically manhandled you. Mikey however was inspecting you ankle as carefully as he could manage.

"Are you sure your okay. You've got a cast and everything. How do I know your not downplaying your injury like you always do?"

He got you there. You don't like causing people stress so when you get hurt you tend to play it off like it's not as bad as it is, to your own detriment usually. Since dating Mikey however, he has been trying to get you out of that mindset. Honestly, it's been working. Especially since he has a tendency to worry more after finding out the truth than he would have if you had told it to him from the start. And Mikey always finds out.

"Mikey, I promise, it's not bad. I've been on bed rest for like a month. I may not be completely healed but I'm getting there."

He got close to you and stared you down with a scrunched up face trying to see if you were lying. When he decided he'd seen enough he stood up.

"I believe you, but even though your doing fine you should still stay off that ankle."

"Okay, but I do actually need to grab my laptop. I have some things to work on. I'll stay off of it for a while after that."

You moved to get up and grab your crutches only to be pushed back on the mattress.

"No no no," he wiggled his finger at you, "you can work on your own time. Now though, your being treated to the Mikey super awesome boyfriend entertainment special!"

"The Mikey super awesome boyfriend entertainment special?"

"Yup! Stay right there, don't move. I'll be back faster then you can say Silver Sentry!"

When he came back his hands were full of microwave popcorn, a large assortment of candy, and his whole movie collection.

He put the candy on your bed next to you and placed the box of movies in your lap.

"You pick our first flick, I'll go pop us some of this popcorn!"

"I'm sorry, our first?"

"Well yeah, you may be hurt but it's still not fair for you to choose all the movies during a marathon."

And with that Mikey left the room to head to the kitchen. You chuckled, what were you gonna do with that boy.

_______________________________________________Before you kill me, it's actually cannon that Donny's nickname in 2003 is spelled with a 'y'. I will not be spelling it that way with any of the others unless it is canonized. That being said, you can put your spears down.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 6

Yay! Another Boy with a Bat! In this we have Steve and the rest of the seniors finding out if they graduate and Steve getting squicked at his own pool.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

****

Things began to improve between Steve and Nancy but Eddie was still keeping an eye on her. His hackles were up now, and he had no intentions of dropping them any time soon.

Steve was glad that swim season was up and that the basketball team had done so badly their losses far outweighed their wins. And while he was upset he wasn’t starting spring training with the baseball team, it was nice to spend his afternoons with Eddie.

He could see that Eddie was really struggling with his homework, but whenever Steve asked, his boyfriend would blow him off. He was fine. They would graduate together. Just Steve wait and see.

During that last free period of the day, Steve began work on his next comic. He kept it short like he did the other one. Just the part about the junkyard and the dogs. Maybe the next comic would deal with the tunnels, but not this one.

Steve sketched out the RV, changing it from the bus it actually was. He actually enjoying find out ways to hide the details of his experiences into the comic.

What was even better was that he was pretty sure it would even take the smartest members of the Party a couple of pages to figure it out. He had taken out his pen to start inking the page when he felt someone knock into his elbow just as he was about to put his pen to the paper.

He looked up to see a couple of members of the junior varsity team, walking past, snickering.

It had been awhile since he had been a target of someone’s bullying and wondered where the hell it had com from. The idiots were wearing their letterman jackets allowing Steve to read their names. Carver, McKinney, and a couple of others.

Steve shook his head. Billy was a bad influence on the team, and maybe now the coach would see that. Considering how badly they lost this season with the asshole as team captain.

He looked back up at the retreating backs of the juniors as they laughed and whispered insults about Steve as they made their way out of the library.

He knew all too well how they treat people like them, verses outsiders. And now that Steve had thrown his lot in willingly with the outsiders, the other members of the team were going to be trouble.

Billy could call them off, but Eddie’s status as drug dealer wouldn’t faze that lot. They were the church boys. The sanctimonious assholes who would be straight edgers if they liked the violence, but were too soft to get their hands actually dirty.

He looked down at his drawing and sighed. These assholes didn’t know what pain actually looked liked. Still in their ivory towers, looking down on the masses and turning up their noses.

Steve flicked back to an earlier page of the hero and his little brother walking down the railway tracks and ran his fingers over the two figures. He hadn’t colored it yet, but he knew the trucker hat would be red. For the bond the boys shared.

The bell rang and Steve gathered up his stuff. He shouldered his backpack. Just then there was a tap on his shoulder.

It was the librarian, Mrs. Locke.

“Next time, you’ll be meeting with Mr. Cole and handful of other students to know if you have the credits to graduate,” she said, handing him a paper with the information he would need.

“It’ll be here at the library,” she continued. “But be sure to get here in plenty of time because the tables will fill up fast.”

Steve nodded. “Thank you, Mrs. Locke. I’ll try to get here as soon as I can.”

She nodded and let him go. Steve hefted his backpack again and made for the parking lot, a sense of dread pooling in his stomach.

****

Steve sat at the same table as Eddie, Janice and Marty. They all greeted him with quiet murmuring. The whole room vibrated with nervous tension. Mr. Cole was going to tell them their future and fuck if that wasn’t the most terrifying thing in their young lives.

Steve envied them.

For Eddie though, this was his second go round and that fear of failure radiating off the older teen in waves.

Mr. Cole walked into the library and whispered something to the librarian. She nodded curtly and walked back to her desk.

He sat on an empty table and pulled out three stacks of folders. A large stack of about twenty or so, a much smaller stack of about five, and a stack of two.

Eddie gulped and Steve took his hand under the table.

“Thank you all for being here,” Mr. Cole began. He hovered his hand over the first stack. “These are all of you who are graduating without a shadow of a doubt. You have the credits as of now to graduate. Congrats.” His hand moved over to the next pile. “This is those that as long as they pass their classes by May 15th, will graduate. But it is dependent on you passing those classes.” His hand landed on the final two folders.

“These two aren’t passing,” he continued grimly. “Do not pass go, do not collect your diploma. For those two, you have three options. Repeat your senior year. Take your GED that will at least be equal to a high school diploma. Or you flunk out of high school. Walk away from formal education for good.”

Steve stared at the second pile with a growing pit of dread pooling in his stomach.

“I will call each of you by name,” Mr. Cole said, “and will talk to you away from your peers. I’m not here to name and shame and if you really want to know you can wait until graduation.”

There was a little bit of grumbling, but mostly from the assholes no one liked anyway.

“Steve Harrington.”

Steve gave Eddie’s hand a squeeze and got up. He followed Mr. Cole to what the students called the Stacks. They weren’t really stacks of books, but it was a set of tables for study that were surrounded by bookshelves to make it secluded. Guys liked to take their girlfriends back here for a little alone time.

“Hey, Steve,” Mr. Cole greeted. “I was happy to see your grade climb back up after your concussion made them take a nose dive.”

Steve nodded, keeping his fingers crossed behind his back. “I tried as hard as I could.”

“Well it really paid off,” Mr. Cole said. “Because you have more than enough credits to graduate.”

Steve stared at him in shock as his guidance counselor handed him his file. He flipped through it and sure enough, he already had all the credits he needed. In fact, he could have graduated early if it wasn’t for Mrs. Hall.

“Thanks to you,” he breathed.

“They aren’t the best grades,” Mr. Cole admonished. “But they are good enough to get you across that stage.”

Steve nodded and handed the file back to him. He walked back to his table.

One by one all the kids were called and while there were happy kids and wailing tears, it was hard to tell the graduating from those that weren’t.

After everyone had been called and told that they could go home, the four of them sat at the table, waiting for everyone else to file out.

“Valedictorian!” Janice crowed. “I made it, baby!”

“I’m graduating too,” Marty said. “Barely. I just have to make sure I don’t fail Mrs. McDonald’s final and I’m good to go.”

“Eddie?” Steve asked instead of giving his own news. Because his didn’t matter. Not when his boyfriend, the best and brightest person Steve had ever met, (and yes that did include Nancy Wheeler) was curled up on himself, staring at the table.

“No, man,” Marty said, “not again...”

Eddie just nodded. “I was doing the work. I was turning it in. I thought the grades I was getting back were enough, but they weren’t.”

Steve wrapped his arms around him and just let Eddie’s tears soak into the collar of his shirt.

His poor beautiful Eddie. He wished he had done more to make sure he graduated.

But now it was too late.

****

Steve threw Eddie a pool party to make him feel better about not graduating again. Something that Steve really shouldn’t have done if he wanted to avoid the question.

“Come on, Stevie!” Eddie called from the side of the pool. “The water is fine. Stop being the babysitter for two seconds and enjoy your pool, babe.”

The kids still didn’t know they were a couple, but they had gotten used to the endearments that Eddie threw out on a regular basis. They all got nicknames and endearments. Max was Red, Dustin was Dusty, Lucas was Strider and so on. So they didn’t even bat an eyelash at his use of ‘babe’ to describe Steve.

Mike rolled his eyes and scoffed. “Steve never gets in the pool. If he wasn’t on the swim team, I would have had assumed that he can’t.”

Eddie got out of the pool and Steve’s eyes trailed down his torso, following each drop of water as they ran for his waistband. Eddie smirked as he got really close. Steve closed his eyes to block out the dirty thoughts that went off in his head like church bells, loud and deep.

Vaguely behind him he could hear Nancy hissing at Mike, but he couldn’t hear what she said over the rushing in his ears of the blood traveling southward the closer Eddie got. He gulped heavily. Eddie cupped Steve’s cheek tenderly and Steve leaned into the touch. He didn’t care who noticed their casual affection. He was starting to shake like a leaf and not just from the way his boyfriend looked like sex on legs, either.

Quietly as though it was a secret between them Eddie said, “Is this about the comic?”

Steve’s lips quivered as he nodded, his eyes still closed. “They all know except...” he waved vaguely at the Corroded Coffin boys.

“Do you want me to kill Mike?” Eddie asked with a grin.

Steve fought to tamp down on his answering smile, but it broke through anyway. “I think one death is enough.”

He paused with a frown and looked behind Eddie where apparently everyone had gathered. In that brief moment, their silence had made Steve’s answer as loud as if it had been had been a shout.

“Shit, man,” Mike mumbled. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Steve’s shoulders slumped. “It’s not a big deal. I still swim. Just not here. And I act as lifeguard for everyone. It’s fine. Honest.”

Nancy chewed on her lip, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist.

Jeff winced. “Yeah, I think we all forgot that Barb vanished from here. Not that we forgot about her,” he added waving his hands at Nancy’s dark glare. “It’s just so easy to forget it impacted more people then you’d think.”

Nancy nodded and let herself be comforted by Jonathan.

Steve pushed Mike into the pool causing a large splash and suddenly the tension was gone. The laughter and fun returned. He breathed a sigh of relief and Eddie wrapped his arm around Steve’s waist.

He leaned in close, “You gonna be okay, babe?”

Steve smiled. “Yeah, I guess it’s good they know,” he said, indicating the Corroded Coffin boys. “So I don’t get freaked out and hurt someone.”

“You’d never,” Eddie soothed.

Steve smiled warmly at Eddie and Jonathan and Nancy shared a knowing smile. He bumped Eddie’s shoulder with his own.

“Where did you learn to swim?” Steve asked turning back to sit sit on his lounge chair.

Eddie grinned. “Wayne taught me the first time we went camping up at Lover’s Lake.”

He sat down in the V of Steve’s legs and lifted one so that it was on his lap.

“How old were you?” Steve asked, basking in the attention Eddie was giving him despite the two of them not being out to Steve’s ducklings.

Eddie hummed for a moment as he thought. “I guess I was about seven or eight. My dad was in jail for the first time and my mom needed the weekend to recoup after an especially long week at work. So Wayne offered to take me camping for the weekend. Back when was he was young, wild and free.”

Steve bumped him with his knee. “Which he doesn’t regret exchanging for you a second.”

Eddie blushed. “No, but with me it meant taking a responsibility he never planned. He could have found someone, settled down, had a family of his own. I could have had nieces or nephews if I hadn’t been dumped on his doorstep.”

Steve sat up and turned Eddie’s chin toward him. “And you would have been lost in the system and hurt far worse then if he hadn’t taken you in.”

Eddie smiled. “You just want Uncle Wayne all to yourself.”

Steve laughed. “You caught me!” He began to tickle Eddie’s sides, causing the other boy to jump and squeal.

“Fiend!” Eddie cried as he scrambled off the lounger to get away. He leapt to his feet and then grabbed the lounger and flipped it.

Steve let out a squawk of surprise and landed on the cement with a thud and a laugh.

Dustin swam over to Gareth, figuring him to be the least scary of Eddie’s friends and whispered. “Are they always like this?”

Gareth scoffed. “No.”

Dustin sighed. “Oh thank go–”

“Sometimes they’re worse,” Gareth bit out, before wading back into deeper waters.

Dustin looked over at the pair of them, cocking his head thoughtfully to the side. There was something more to their friendship, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. Then Max splashed him and suddenly the thought was gone.

****

Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

As for why it doesn't bother Nancy? That's because it's not her pool. She can go home while the sun is still out. While Steve has to hear the lapping of the water day in and day out. Has to see it in the dead of night, like the night Barb disappeared.

Tag List:

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666

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@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690

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@birbsauce @acingthecounts @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @kultiras

[wittywallflower]

DBDA pre-Catwin one-shot (4k)

Edwin is in quite a sorry state after a (literally) messy case. The Cat King shows up and is actually surprisingly helpful.

(rated G, canon-compliant up through Edwin and the Cat King's last meeting. Everything is basically the same as in the show except they just haven't left Port Townsend and gone back to London just yet (maybe they had to hang around to wrap up some other cases first))

🔎

Edwin’s appearance had always been important. First to his parents, who insisted he always be clean and put-together to reflect well on the family. Then in boarding school, any flaw to his uniform was scrutinized by teachers looking for dress code infractions and fellow students looking for something to snitch about. Edwin was not interested in being one of the boys who got a ruler across their knuckles for the sin of having holes in his socks, or scuffed shoes so he kept himself looking rigidly neat. Deviating from that structured appearance never turned out well. Even the new cap he had liked so well had just become a target for Simon.

Then there were the 70 years in Hell. Nothing but dirty blood-stained undergarments for decades and decades. Until they no longer felt like clothing. Just soiled scraps atop a heap of dismembered viscera that used to be a boy. 

Since Hell Edwin preferred to be neatly and somewhat formally dressed. He could look down at himself for an instant reminder that he was no longer there, that he would not be going back. It helped settle the memories, the ones that would surely be nightmares if ghosts ever slept. He stuck to a simple hairstyle because it was easy to tidy without being able to see it.

It was very important to feel tidy and presentable. Thankfully that was usually quite easy for a non-living body that didn’t sweat, or excrete any sort of fluids, actually.

One day he hoped he could look in a mirror again without seeing in his mind his own face reflected in that mirror in Hell, his features drenched in blood, eyes wild and full of panic, terror, pain. That was the freshest memory he had of his own appearance in the last 100 years. 

Rest assured it was not ego that made Edwin’s looks important to him.

So when a case went slightly sideways and Edwin was thrown into a dirty brackish pool, he was not pleased.

Charles’ cricket bat had been forbidden as it was not their intent to injure the restless spirit, the ghost of a young man who died while under the influence of hallucinogens. It was not his fault that, between the drugs and the bewildering experience that becoming a ghost can be, he had lost hold of reality. The goal was to subdue without harm, and allow Crystal to calm his mind so he would be coherent and able to move on. They did achieve that in the end, but not before being thrown around a bit by the former rugby lad who thought he was only defending himself. It was only Edwin's bad luck that he had ended up in the water instead of Charles.

Edwin couldn't enjoy the satisfaction of a job well jobbed in his current state and his agitation only increased when he was left behind by the others, Charles opting to ride along with Crystal who refused to invite Edwin to join them because “how am i supposed to explain the smell of rotting fish and pond scum to the Uber driver?”

His skin couldn’t actually feel the filth he was covered in but that didn’t stop it from crawling.

To add insult to injury, there was a sudden burst of purple flames in the night, immediately followed by a low chuckle.

“Well,” the Cat King drawled with a smirk, “I certainly didn’t expect-”

Edwin’s hand shot up, palm out, and the look on his face must have been a hard glare indeed because the Cat King immediately shut up and schooled the amused grin off his face.

Edwin started marching away from the scene of their case. He was so… furious and uncomfortable that he couldn't even begin to try to remember where the nearest mirror might be. 

The Cat King fell into step beside him, watching his face closely but not speaking. After a few long moments of silence, he put a hand on Edwin’s forearm. Lightly, ready to be removed, but it was enough to make Edwin stop and face him.

“Are you okay?” the Cat King asked.

“I am perfectly unharmed,' Edwin answered, curt and abrupt.

Unharmed didn't necessarily mean okay, he knew that and so did his companion judging by the way the Cat King narrowed his eyes at Edwin. But he didn’t press further. 

“Glad to hear it.” The king ran his tongue along his teeth as contemplated Edwin. The ghost was about to huff and turn away when he caught the beginnings of a feline smile.

“What?” he demanded, voice testy.

“No, it's just… I’m sorry,” The Cat King let himself smile, but it wasn't mocking or even leering. It was almost apologetic. “You have, what is that, seaweed?... in your hair.” 

A sharp, polished fingernail pointed towards his head.

Edwin stiffened and reached to run his hand through his hair. He squirmed in distaste when his hand came away green with algae and god knows what else. He tried to wipe it off with his other hand only for those fingers to end up similarly soiled. There was no sense in wiping them on his trousers, his clothing was in no better state. 

His wet hair chose that moment to flop forward, sending a small trickle of water down his cheek. He was about to wipe it away before he remembered the state of his hands. Obviously his face would be just as bad but he still couldn't bring himself to touch himself with dirty hands. His mouth twisted in disgust and he tried again to brush his fingers clean, the knowledge that it was useless only making him more agitated. 

Unable to watch his distress, the Cat King stepped forward. Right into Edwin’s personal space, close enough to be a distraction but hopefully a pleasant one. Edwin seemed like he could use one at the moment. 

“Hey, it's okay, I got you,” the king crooned softly. A flash of purple fire and a handkerchief appeared in his hand.

The Cat King gently swiped at Edwin's cheeks in slow, gentle upward strokes, following the trail of water until he could push the offending hank of hair back from Edwin’s forehead. He guided the cloth over the furrows in Edwin’s forehead, as if he could physically smooth away the ghost's inner turmoil. On the next stroke he followed one of Edwin’s eyebrows outward, smoothed over his temple, trailed the soft fabric over the shell of his ear... letting himself be the one to get distracted. Just for a moment.

Then his finger brushed against something that was definitely not a strand of Edwin’s hair, and he paused to extract a tiny branch of some aquatic plant. Edwin grimaced at the sight of it, making an aborted motion to run his fingers through his hair, ensure for himself that there was nothing else in it. The Cat King cleared his throat, setting back to his task quickly before Edwin could focus on the mess on his hands again.

The magic he imbued in the handkerchief allowed him to wipe down Edwin’s face and neck without ever growing damp or dirty. Then the Cat King took Edwin's hands in his one by on, exploring every inch of his palm and his fingers as they were gently wiped them clean.

Edwin clearly wasn’t any happier when the Cat King finished, for all that he was less green and dripping. His hands now fidgeted constantly with his clothing where it was clinging to his body, and when he shifted his weight there was a wet squelch from within his shoes that made him wince so hard his shoulders went nearly up to his ears. 

Edwin may not be able to actually feel his sodden socks, and his toes couldn't prune from the moisture, but apparently there were some sensations one never forgets no matter how long they’ve been dead.

“You need to get out of those clothes.”

Edwin raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him and the Cat King held up his hands in placation.

“Not how I meant it.” He couldn’t help it though, “Well…”

The Cat King grinned. 

It had no effect on Edwin whatsoever.

“Relax.” He risked lowering a hand to take one of Edwin’s. When the ghost didn’t pull away, the king decided that would be permission enough for the moment. 

With a tilt of his head and soft smile Edwin’s way, his magic transported the both of them to his private space in the cannery. Edwin clocked their surroundings and opened his mouth to no doubt object, but the Cat King dropped Edwin’s hand to hold up his own again.

“If you really prefer to go back to the little apartment above the butcher shop where your loud and annoying friends are, I can do that. But I promise you, I can make this place much more comfortable than you think.” 

He stepped back and snapped his fingers with a flourish.

A warm glow of light drew Edwin’s eye and he turned to spy a very luxurious bathing chamber looking very out of place in one corner of this derelict warehouse. The marble tiles were a stark contrast next to the rather ordinary and dusty industrial floor. Edwin’s curiosity couldn’t prevent him from walking over to investigate. An elegant claw-foot tub in a burnished bronze sat filled with steaming water. A surprisingly modest chandelier with actual candles made the atmosphere cozier and more intimate than seemed possible for the industrial setting.

Edwin nearly jumped when the Cat King appeared without warning right at his side, silent footsteps unnoticed as he crossed the room, true to his feline nature even in human form. Edwin's eyes followed the Cat King as rolled up his sleeves and dabbled a hand in the water to test the temperature, nodding in satisfaction. 

A ghost couldn’t feel the temperature of the bathwater. There was really no need for such consideration. For some reason the thoughtfulness put Edwin on the defensive. 

“I know you don’t expect me to bathe in front of you," he said tartly.

Sure, Edwin had done so in front of other people at boarding school, there was no choice as everything was communal: eating, sleeping, bathing. But that was quite literally a century ago, and it had never been a particularly positive experience for him.

At least now he understood why he’d been so nervous around the other boys at the time. 

The Cat King looked him in the eye. 

“I don’t expect anything from you, ghostie.” He held Edwin’s eye with a serious expression long enough for the ghost to get the point, then dropped into an easy smile and winked. “Can’t stop a cat from hoping though.” 

It was exactly the sort of thing Edwin expected to hear from the Cat King so he didn’t bristle in response. He didn't react at all actually, which made it surprising when the Cat King rushed to offer reassurance. 

“No ulterior motives tonight, I promise." He drew an X over his heart with his finger, which made Edwin roll his eyes. "I just want you to be more comfortable.” 

Edwin could have launched into an explanation of how little physical discomfort a ghost was capable of, how he couldn’t feel chilled from the cold water, or chafed by the damp clothing. He was not about to explain that his distress was mostly mental, emotional. How it is was irrational and possibly some sin of vanity that being such a mess reminded him of Hell.

He didn’t need to explain anything though. With another purple blaze, the Cat King summoned some helpful items.

 In one hand appeared a strangely shaped glass bottle of shimmering liquid that was upended into the tub. The water turned opaque and milky and a barely-there shade of pale pink. 

“There," the Cat King said, "can’t see a thing through the water now. I hope you don't mind i took the liberty of choosing for you. I know you ghosts don't have the same sense of smell anymore, but we’re going to need something fragrant.”

His nose wrinkled slightly in a way that was frankly (unfortunately) endearing. Edwin wondered how offensive the odor was to sharper feline senses. He considered apologizing for it, but it certainly wasn’t his own fault that he smelled like this. And seeing as they were about to fix the situation, it didn't seem worth the effort.  

“What’s the scent?” Edwin asked instead. 

“Rose.” 

Edwin’s eyebrow raised in mild surprise and the Cat King smiled back with a shrug. 

“Options are limited for bath products made from flowers that aren't toxic to cats. At least its a scent you were probably familiar with when you were alive, for whatever that's worth.”

The bottle disappeared and the Cat King pulled a length of folded cloth from where it had been draped over his arm. It unfurled to reveal a dark blue old fashioned bathing unitard from the era when Edwin was still alive. He’d only worn something like it a few times as an older boy, not being the type to do a lot of swimming.

“For your modesty,” the Cat King said. Again, his smile wasn’t mocking or suggestive. He circled Edwin for a moment, looking him up and down (correction: the smile was a little suggestive now), then held the bathing costume up in front of the ghost’s torso. “And look, I even got the size right.” 

Perhaps he had been tempted to make it a little on the snug side, just to see what the ghost was packing. Curiosity, cats, etc. etc.

Edwin took the garment from him but didn't make eye contact, oddly distracted for a man who was being flirted with. Edwin’s gaze was aimed over the king's shoulder, but his eyes were a bit too vacant to really be looking at anything. Whatever it was, it absorbed him thoroughly; he didn’t speak as the seconds stretched. 

With a subtle shift of weight, the Cat King moved to the side, just enough to step into the path of Edwin’s stare. Blocking his view of whatever made him space out for a minute there. 

Edwin blinked a few times then cleared his throat, turning to the side. He looked down at the bathing suit.

“I definitely will not be undressing while you watch," he said flatly.

If not for that little exchange in the alley, the Cat King might suspect Edwin was allergic to saying thank you.

“I can close my eyes. I promise not to peek.” He winked at Edwin, but didn’t give the boy time to get riled up before he conceded. “I’ll step out and give you your privacy.”

“Unnecessary,” Edwin said, much to both of their surprise. “It will only take a moment. I will insist you turn your back, however. And keep it turned.” 

Unsure how to react to being invited to stay, the Cat King actually gaped at him for a moment. Edwin began to undo his bowtie but when he noticed his companion was staring (the exact opposite of his request), Edwin frowned and made a very condescending shooing motion with one hand.

Rather than take issue with that bit of disrespect, the Cat King decided to respect the boy’s boundaries. The magical being pivoted 180 degrees and put his back fully to the Edwardian ghost, taking a few steps away to give him space . 

If it were anyone else, the Cat King would be very advantageously positioned. The mirror he now faced reflected everything behind him, except for one invisible ghost who was in fact the only thing the Cat King would have wanted to look at. 

Examining the mirror now he realized it was the only thing that could have been in Edwin’s line of sight when he’d gone into that worrisome moment of dissociation. 

The Cat King didn’t know why such a thing would upset him. Being a major mode of ghostly transportation, Edwin wasn’t exactly lacking for mirrors in his life. And with no reflection he wouldn't be able to see it if he truly did look ghastly. (Which of course he didn’t. Even dripping and bedraggled, Edwin was so oddly handsome. The Cat King didn’t usually go for the clean cut Boy Scout look but, here they were.) 

He didn’t need to know why the mirror had bothered Edwin to grasp the fact that it made him uncomfortable. The Cat King could vanish it away entirely of course. But removing an escape route likely wouldn't put Edwin any more at ease. As a compromise the king summoned his magic again.

There was a gasp behind his back when the purple flared between them with a puff of smoke. He could picture a startled Edwin, hugging whatever garment he had just removed close to his body to cover himself.

The Cat King’s view in the mirror’s reflection was now blocked by an elegant folding screen positioned to separate the tub, and Edwin, from the rest of the room. The Cat King didn't move though. Edwin said to keep his back turned, so he waited and listened to the almost imperceptible rustle of fabric. The slosh as the water in the tub was disturbed.

He stood there, and he waited. 

“As nice as the privacy is,” Edwin’s voice came from behind the screen, “it doesn’t actually make me less anxious that I can’t keep an eye on what you’re up to.”

The Cat King smiled to himself. 

“Sounds like you’re asking for my company,” he replied lightly.

“I’m not asking for anything from you.”

Edwin had composed himself enough for a bit of the old hostility to seep in to his tone. But he’d had an extremely aggravating night, so the king decided that was easy enough to overlook. 

“Guess you get this one for free, then,” he said.

With a saunter he stepped around the folding screen as Edwin watched him warily. When the Cat King approached the tub, Edwin tensed further, sinking down into the water up to his neck and folding his arms protectively over his chest. No that there was a need to. The only thing visible below his chin was two knees poking a few inches above the cloudy water. 

“Easy,” the king crooned reassurance. “I’m not going to touch you, not gonna use any spells on you. I’ll just be here to… I don't know, pass you the soap, I guess.” A bar of soap appeared in his hand and he held it out to Edwin before he frowned thoughtfully. “Do ghosts even need to use soap?”

Edwin’s eyes darted between the king’s face, the soap in his hand, and back.

“No,” he said, but nonetheless reached out to grab it.

Edwin had to sit up to properly clean himself; he tried to hunch in on himself to avoid being Seen. The Cat King decided not to make it any harder for Edwin by staring. He folded his limbs with feline grace and sat on the floor, his back against the tub and his eyes respectfully turned away. 

He was glad he wasnt watching after a moment. By the sound of it Edwin wasn’t going easy with the scrubbing. The king was glad he hadn’t offered a loofah as well. At least, being a ghost, Edwin couldn't actually damage his skin with too much abrasion.

The Cat King hoped the ritual of washing would cleanse the ghost’s mind, at least. 

The smell of roses grew thicker as the lather added its own fragrant note, just slightly different but undeniably the same floral.

There were long minutes of quiet splashing. Eventually the Cat King asked hopefully,

“Need a hand to wash your back?”

“No,” the word was not so tensely gritted out this time, “but… um, my hair, is it clean enough? I can’t tell.”

The Cat King turned, and through some damned impressive willpower, kept his eyeline above Edwin’s neck. The boy’s face wasn’t so pinched now. He didn't seem like he wanted to tear his skin off anymore. The king had never actually seen Edwin relaxed so he had no basis for comparison, but this looked like a step in the right direction. 

Dutifully he examined Edwin’s hair. The ghost had to duck his head for the shorter being to see all of it. The cat king hummed quietly, a small smile hidden from Edwin’s lowered face.

“Missed a bit of lather just here.”

A swirl of his wrist summoned a cup that the Cat King dipped into the water and raised above Edwin’s head, waiting for the ghost to close his eyes before pouring the water over his hair. He’d love nothing more than to run his fingers through those damp strands, but he’d promised Edwin he wouldn’t touch. 

Another cascade of water and Edwin’s hair was as clean as the rest of him. 

“There we go.” The Cat King’s voice was oddly tender, and after a second he seemed to realize that for himself, because he cleared his throat and stood from where he’d been kneeling beside the bath. “I’ll, uh, take care of your clothes while you finish up.” 

Magicking the non-corporeal clothing clean and dry wouldn’t take more than a click of his fingers but he still took the time to gather up the sodden garments and dripping shoes to carry them off.

 Leaving Edwin alone behind the screen. In a tub full of water that would never dirty or grow cold, next to it a stack of the fluffiest towels in existence, thoughtfully warmed for a ghost who couldn’t even feel it.

The Cat King shook his head in dismay at himself as he left the room. He was being such a fucking simp. 

Edwin had no idea how it worked, what enchantments the king had used on the items to get the timing so correct (maybe he was spying after all?), but the moment Edwin finished toweling himself dry, a robe appeared. Luxurious fabric but muted colors, no ornamentation. Nothing garish, but long and thick and elegant. When he belted it on it covered him nicely from collarbone to calves. The moment that the robe was secured, the bathing chambers melted out of existence: the tub, the chandelier, the wet towels, the folding screen. 

Everything except the mirror. 

Obviously the mirror stayed. It was the most logical and convenient way for Edwin to go home.

Well, not home, but to their current headquarters anyway.

His fingers brushed his side and he fingered the fabric he was wrapped in, wondering what he must look like in it. He’d never worn anything similar, had never even seen another person wearing such a rich, hedonistic garment while he was living. Did it look strange on him? Did he look like he was playing dress-up? Or maybe it suited him. Maybe, if he had lived, he would have come to own a similar dressing gown one day. Wrapped himself in it in the morning while he made coffee, worn it while he sat with a book in his own library in his own home late into the evening before he retired to a bed that would be useless to him in his current state of being.

Edwin got a bit lost in the wondering, the hypotheticals, staring at the mirror that didn’t reflect anything of note, not himself and not the robe belt he was fiddling with. The Cat King’s return pulled him back into the moment. 

A folded pile of familiar clothing was handed to him, shoes dry and polished to a shine stacked on top.

“All ready for you.” The king’s smile turned a bit sad. “I imagine you want to get back to your friends now.”

Edwin really should. Ordinarily he would have made it back via mirror much quicker than Crystal’s rideshare, so they would be wondering where he was. He hadn’t made note of the time when he arrived, couldn't say how long he’d been here. He could feel the weight of his pocket watch within his folded jacket, but he didn’t fish it out to check it. The answer wouldn’t really change anything. 

Edwin didn’t know what to say to the Cat King. ‘Goodbye’ perhaps. ‘Thank you’, probably. Before he could decide, the other man seemed to startle. 

“Oh! Almost forgot.” 

From a pocket The Cat King pulled out a comb. It was beautiful, carved from what must be mother-of-pearl, and it looked the priceless sort of old. 

The Cat King reached up to run the comb through Edwin’s hair, but stopped, pulling back and offering the comb to him instead. 

Edwin looked at it for a long moment. Unsure what was possessing him, instead of taking it he bent forward, Edwin lowered his head to put it in easy reach of the shorter man. 

Edwin's eyes dropped and he missed the pleased grin that split the feline monarch’s face. 

The Cat King wasn’t going to give Edwin a chance to change his mind. With infinite care he gently guided the comb through Edwin’s dark hair. Thankfully it was free of tangles; if the Cat King was going to pull Edwin’s hair, he wanted it to be in a sexy context.

 It only took a few passes to settle the damp hair into the simple style Edwin favored. The Cat King let his hand fall away when he was finished despite the temptation to linger, to take another pass through those strands with his fingers instead. 

Before he stood up straight once more, Edwin dipped his head even lower, leaning in to brush his lips to the Cat King’s cheek, a mirror of where he’d kissed him before. The Cat King’s eyes fluttered shut, just like last time. 

“Thank you.” Edwin didn’t whisper. His voice, though quiet, was firm. 

And importantly, it was wasn’t tense anymore, not laced with anxious agitation as it was before the bath.  

The Cat King inhaled, smelling the fragrance of roses, and opened his eyes again. 

There was nothing to see except the last ripple of the mirror’s surface marking the ghost’s exit.

[hoo, boy, 4k is too long for tumblr, i shoulda taken this straight to ao3 but then I'd have to think of a title for it.]

[hey. what should be the title for it?]

NOW ON AO3

[nrdmssgs]

You weren't supposed to laugh

Masterlist

My submission to @glitterypirateduck 's Alex Keller Challenge November 10-19 Promt used: №27 You weren't supposed to laugh Pairing: Alex Keller x Reader TWs: no Friends to lovers, fluff, confession.

"You're an egoist, Alex Keller," he mutters irritated to himself, fastening his pace, almost running, ignoring cold heavy water drops landing on his head.

How long did he knew her? Five years? Or seven? How long does he have this hopeless crush? Five years? Or... Yes, he was done for from day one. She had this certain warmth surrounding her, a serenity that contrasted sharply with the intensity of Alex's work. The world could descend deeper into a chaos, but she remained a constant in his life, a pillar of support, he selfishly was afraid to lose. So Alex Keller, the devoid of fear Echo 3-1, kept his mouth shut, just holding on to her, even as a friend only.

"A coward!" His insults are spilled through gritted teeth. Alex was ready to risk his life again and again, but didn't have the courage to confess his feelings. The stakes seemed too high, his chances - almost non-existent. Why would ever decide, he was the right guy for her after all?

He was almost never there, when something bad happened to her. Alex didn't hold her, when she had to put down her old dog - he was on the other part of globe, fighting. He didn't distract her with a movie night and snacks, when she had to wait for a result of a quite serious medical test - he was sleeping in a transport between two missions. He wasn't even there to cheer her up, after her project, she worked on so hard, got rejected - he has just taken the car to a service station and was walking out of it on his two. She didn't specify in the first place, when would the presentation take place, but Alex feels terrible for not asking her every week, every day, if necessary, when is the D-day for her project. And because of that, he found out the bad news per phone call.

She sounded exhausted. She was never a whiny type, but this time Alex heard tears in her voice. Too much effort was put into this work, too many sleepless nights. It broke his heart to hear her like that, and he panicked.

"...Useless dumbfuck." He stops for a moment, replaying their call in his mind.

For some reason he decided, he needs to make her laugh at any cost. Maybe it was the pain in how her 'hey, can you please talk to me for a few minutes?' sounded. But Alex was lost. At first, he tried his stupid jokes. As many as he could remember. When it didn't help - he switched to imaginary scenarios.

"Hey, you know, what would be funny? If you brought a soldier on your presentation! So that every time, your clients interrupted you or paid more attention to a view outside their windows - the soldier would harshly snap at them. 'Following every single letter of this debriefing could save your life, private!' or something like that..." Alex doesn't really control the words leaving his mouth as long as they make her laugh. And he actually succeeds, because in a few moments she starts to chuckle. So he goes on, telling her, how would her day would go, if she was followed by a military guy in a full gear and a death stare ready for anyone, who is about to cross her path.

"He would scare others off, you know?"

"With his glare or with his guns?"

"With his bizarre hairstyle. You know how your hair start looking after a week of constant sandstorms?"

Her laughter is a light, tinkling melody to his ears, reminiscent of wind chimes on a breezy day - light and refreshing. In reality, its the only thing on his mind every time, he has to endure through another sandstorm on deployment.

"... and at the end of the day he would escort you home and salute you."

"Wait, and a payment? I wonder, how much would it cost to hire such a guy for the day."

"Payment? Don't turn a beautiful act of an altruism into some banal deal! Dunno, maybe a forehead kiss?"

For the next ten minutes they discuss military payment strategies, barely containing laughter. When they say goodbye, a random phrase escapes his lips.

"Love you so much."

She laughs once again. Something deep inside Alex shrinks. He doesn't even hear her saying 'bye' - every other voice around him get silenced by a sinister noise - a symphony of shattered hopes and distant echoes.

He's an egoist to keep her in the dark, not shoving her his true feelings for ages. A coward, who could never open his mouth, even when the moment was right. A fool, who just blurted this confession out of nowhere in the middle of a joke. She didn't understand, he meant it, and Alex can't blame her honestly.

And now he runs to her place like a dog, running after a car carrying away his favorite person. He is desperate to the point, that he can't even start thinking, what would he tell her, once she opens the door.

So when he sees her tired, yet surprised face, his first phrase comes out as awkward as the confession itself.

"You weren't supposed to laugh."

She looks at him startled and confused for a few painfully long moments. As Alex understands, how puzzling that sounded without the whole context from his mind, he runs his hand through his wet hair and shakes his head.

"Alex? You're ok? I-I wasn't expecting you!" She drags him in her house and takes off his wet jacket, so calmly, as if he hasn't just said some complete nonsense.

And at that moment Alex understands: for two long he stayed in his very own trail of thoughts, his own context. She definitely deserved to know more about what was going on in his head. He no longer had the right to keep everything quiet for years and then dump such strange conversations on her.

So he touches her shoulder softly.

"Hey, don't bother hanging up my jacket. I might need it in a moment, if I sre-"

"Alex, you're scaring me! What is happening, why are like this?" A worry in her voice stings him with guilt. But he proceeds, ignoring raindrops still rolling down his face and under the collar.

"I know, we were playing around on the phone today. And I was incredibly happy to cheer you up. But the last thing I told you... You weren't supposed to laugh. Because I meant it. And before you slap my face for being such a mess - I know, it sounded as a part of a joke. But it wasn't. It wasn't for the last I-don't-even-know-how-many years. And if you give me a chance - I am ready to confess it properly. But if there's no need - I'd better just take my jacket and see myself out."

As he fell silent, the world around them seemed still. His eyes, always so attentive and kind, when she was around, looked deeply worried. Alex felt vulnerable, everything in him screamed to keep her by his side at any cost, to turn this all into yet another joke, so that she calms down and stays his friend at least. But Alex didn't let these feeling get better of him. He waited patiently and obediently, not daring even to breathe in.

She turned away, and hung his jacket on a hanger.

"You won't be needing this anytime soon, Alex."