#never posted the link to this fic on here since i first posted before making this account but finally updated so here we go <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[suguwu]

last light on: part one

Years after your break up, Itoshi Sae returns to Japan.

He finds he left more than just you behind.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

pairing: itoshi sae x f!reader, one-sided itoshi rin x f!reader

wc: 4k

cw: aged up characters/pro-footballer au, sae and reader have a named daughter together that reader hid from him, exes to lovers, complicated relationships.

notes: i couldn't contain myself any more. after several false starts (aka me posting and deleting while having a meltdown), here is the real thing. i owe my life to @lorelune for their input and advice on this fic—i cannot even begin to explain. anyway, i hope you enjoy this first part! please note this will have slow updates - please be patient with me, thank you!

Japan is a haunted place for Sae.

He forgets that, most days. He spends most of his time as far away as he can get. And Sae is not a man who lives in the past; he is focused on the future, on the endless horizon of upcoming days. 

Then he steps onto Japanese soil and remembers you. 

You live at the edge of his memory, gone wispy with the passing years. These days, you’re just the tilt of your lips; you’re the elegant slope of your shoulder. An outline of yourself, an imprint left behind on a foggy window. 

You’re a ghost of the worst kind: one of his own making. 

And Japan is your territory. You linger in the very air; he breathes in sea salt and thinks of the taste of your tears. It stirs something inside of him that he’s quick to ignore.

This trip is no different.

The plane lands at the first bloom of dawn, pink streaking across the sky like petals. Sae’s been up for a while, reviewing game footage on his iPad. He makes another note before he puts it away; there will be plenty of time to review more.

By the time he slides into the car, the sun is starting to peek over the horizon. The light is sweetly golden, soft and warm, and to his surprise, your smile flashes through his mind. It’s one of the things he’s never forgotten, but he keeps it tucked away, under the melon rind curve of the bitter smile you gave him when he left. 

He shakes off the memory. He starts the game footage again, his teal eyes sharp, a scalpel’s edge. He watches for a few more minutes before he sighs. He pauses it and takes out his phone, ignoring the notification from his manager. Instead, he navigates to Instagram.

It’s a relic of his past life. He’s never updated it since going pro; he can’t be bothered. He can’t even remember the last time he opened the app. Maybe to see what his PR team had posted on his official one. 

He clicks into his profile. The most recent post is almost as old as the account itself; it's the beach at twilight, the waves eating at the shore.

Right.

He'd deleted all his photos of you.

With a sigh, he navigates back to his feed. He scrolls a bit, flicking through most of the photos without a second glance. It’s all tepid, glimpses into tedious lives that he doesn’t care about. He’s just about to close the app down when something catches his eye.

It’s you.

Older now, but undoubtedly you. You’re facing away from the camera, but he knows the line of your neck, the swan’s wing curve of it. He swipes to the next photo in the set; you’re still in the background, but you’re in profile this time, lips tilted sweetly, wine-kissed. 

He swipes again, but you’re not in the next picture. When he glances at the caption, it doesn’t tell him anything, but you’ve commented. He clicks the link to your profile, but it doesn’t take him anywhere. His lips thin; he tries again and gets the same result. 

When he tries to search by your username, nothing comes up.

You’ve blocked him.

His brow furrows. It’s not entirely unexpected, but he had thought that the years might have softened you towards him. He sighs and tosses his phone onto the seat next to him before starting the game footage once more.

It’s for the best.

—

Sae does not dream often.

Or if he does dream, he simply doesn’t remember. He wakes in the morning and nothing lingers. There are only the cobwebs of sleep, which he blinks away with ease.

But tonight—his second night in Japan—he dreams of you. 

It’s hazy in that way that dreams often are. He knows it’s your first apartment, the one with the flickering porch light you always left on for him, but he can’t make sense of the rest. It fades into the background, leaving him with only the starglow of your eyes peeking over the horizon of your shoulder as you disappear from room to room. 

You weave through the apartment with easy grace. He follows until he doesn’t, watching you vanish into the kitchen—a tiny, cramped thing with plants stuck wherever they can fit. You glance back at him, half-devoured by shadows. There are tears shining on your cheeks. Your lips part, and as you start to speak—

He blinks awake. 

Sae stares up at the ceiling. He runs a hand through his sleep-ruffled hair and sits up. The hotel room is dim, the rising sun held at bay by the thick curtains. If he were someone else, he might think of the shadows that you peered out from, but he doesn’t. The dream is already fading. 

He gets out of bed. The curtains part under his hand; the sudden gleam of the sun makes him squint.

He opens the window, as he always does. The breath he takes is deep; it fills his lungs with the fresh bite of the morning air. It washes away all but the dregs of the dream. He takes another breath and buries those dregs deep.

He buries you.

—

Like all ghosts, you refuse to stay buried. 

By his fifth day in Japan, Sae has thought of you more than he has in years. He’s not sure what it is about this trip in particular; you’ve always returned to mind when he’s back, but never to this extent. 

It’s annoying.

With a sigh, he taps his pen against his notebook. He glances out the window and sees the hydrangeas waving in the breeze, tiny puffy clouds. He thinks of you, petal-bodied, and sighs again. He pulls out his phone and starts a text to his manager.

Sae has always been a man of action. 

He’ll exorcise you himself.

—

Your neighborhood reminds Sae of Kamakura. 

It’s nicer than he expected; a family neighborhood, based on the parents walking by with children perched on their hips like little birds. The houses are a mosaic of architecture, a few odd styles standing out, just like his childhood. It’s only missing the kiss of salt in the air, the sea’s eternal presence. Instead, there’s the earthiness of the park that cuts through it, pungent and grassy after the morning’s rain. 

He crosses the street as the light turns; according to Navitime, your house should be on the other side of the park. The foliage swallows him down, a verdant throat, before it spits him back out into a manicured playground. Children are laughing, bright peals of sound like summer windchimes. 

He glances at the parents lining the sides of the playground and blinks.

Sae thinks of the Instagram post from just a few days ago. He hadn’t paid much attention to who posted the pictures, but if he were to pull it up again, he knows exactly who it would be.

Rin.

Rin, who is currently staring at him from his spot next to you. 

It can only be you. There’s a ghost of the girl you were just under your skin, blooming like a spring bud. It’s in the way that you move; it’s in the way that your eyes gleam. The imprint of you that’s haunted him given new life. Made real again. 

You still haven’t noticed his brother’s early onset rigor-mortis, because your attention—your attention is on the little girl snuffling on your lap. 

She’s a tiny thing, no older than three. Her hair gleams cherry-dark in the sunlight, the faintest sheen of red shimmering through it, and when she blinks, her long clusters of lashes sweep across her cheek like clouds. She blinks again, slow and sleepy, and it’s all sunlit stained glass, her eyes a familiar shade of brilliant teal.

His shade of teal.

The world narrows. Sae takes a step forward without thinking about it. 

The little girl yawns. Her nose crinkles with it, twitching like a bunny’s. You lean down to nuzzle your nose against hers, a little smile unfurling on your lips, a night-blooming flower. She bats at you with a tiny hand before rubbing at her eyes.

Sae watches, entranced.

A shadow falls over him; a hand pushes against his chest. He glances up into burning turquoise eyes. 

“Rin,” he says. “It’s been a while.”

Rin steps closer. His lean muscles are coiled tight; his lip curls back in a snarl. He’s blocked Sae’s view of you and the girl, a sheepdog circling his lambs. 

“Stay away from them,” he spits out.

Sae blinks. “Hello to you too.”

“I’m not here to say hello. Stay away from them.” 

He’d known. Sae has always had a quick mind; on the field, he needs only the smallest glimpse of information to put together the puzzle pieces, to build his strategy. He’d known as soon as he’d seen his daughter, but this—Rin and his bared fangs, Rin and the fear trembling just beneath his fiery tone—it confirms everything. 

He has a child.

“Them,” Sae muses. “So the kid is hers. Mine, too.”

Rin’s hand flexes at his side, his long fingers twitching. “Go away.”

Sae raises a brow. “It’s a public park,” he points out.

Rin scowls, moving fluidly with Sae as his brother tries to step around him. “She doesn’t want to see you,” he says. 

“She can tell me that herself.”

“Not telling you should speak for itself.”

Sae lets out a breath. “You can’t stop me, Rin.”

“You don’t deserve them,” Rin says, his turquoise eyes aflame, flaring like the auroras in the night sky. 

Sae realizes that he is not the only one you haunt.

“And you do?”

Rin goes stiff. 

Sae hums. “Does she know you’re still sniffing after her?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s a no.”

“At least I’ve been there. At least she wanted me there.”

Sae’s jaw flexes. “But she still doesn’t notice you.”

“You—”

“Sae?” you say. Your voice warbles, delicate birdsong, his name sweet on your tongue. 

Rin flinches. 

A little smirk flickers to life on Sae’s lips. Rin’s fingers flex, his glare deepening, but he wavers as you step closer. It gives Sae an opening. He claps a hand on his brother’s shoulder as he pushes past him. 

Rin makes a sharp noise, but Sae ignores him.

You're his focus now.

There was a time that your eyes lit up when you saw Sae, but as he draws closer, he sees only wariness. A wolf with its lips drawn back, giving a glimpse of teeth. Not yet bared, but the promise of a bite. 

“Sae.”

That airy warble is gone; your voice has settled into something cooler, the first kiss of winter on an autumn day. There’s a slight furrow to your brow, but Sae still knows you. There’s a tremble to your lower lip; there’s sorrow tucked up secret in the corner of your mouth.

He says your name. Watches the way you cup your daughter (his daughter) closer to you, her little face burrowed in the gentle curve of your neck. You have one hand cradling the back of her head, as delicate as a dove’s wing, your fingers splayed like feathers.

“What are you doing here?” you ask. 

“Looking for you.”

Something flickers across your face, a fleeting summer storm. 

“Japan, Sae. Why are you in Japan.”

He shrugs. “It’s still my home, you know.”

“Is it?”

Your daughter makes a small, musical noise, shifting in your arms. You hush her, humming softly until she falls still again, lulled back into sleep. Sae watches the way her little hand curls into your sweater, tiny fingers anchoring her to you. 

(He wonders, briefly, if she would hold onto him in the same way.)

"What's her name?" he asks.

"Why do you care?"

He sighs. "Games don't suit you," he says. "Tell me my daughter's name."

Something in you hardens, frost spiraling across a river's surface.

"Rin," you say quietly, and his brother steps in front of him again, blocking his view of you and his daughter. He flexes his fingers as Rin scoops up the little girl; she mumbles quietly before settling against his lean shoulder. It's easy, born of familiarity, and something in Sae grows teeth.

"One brother wasn't enough for you?" he asks.

Rin whips around, fury lining him like a cloak, splitting through him like a thunderclap. Your hand comes up to rest on his other shoulder, restraining him with the most delicate of touches. An owner pulling her dog's collar.

"It's fine," you tell Rin. "Can you settle her in the stroller, please?"

Rin's turquoise eyes are aflame, burning like a comet's tail through the velvet sky. He stares down Sae for another breath before he turns back to you.

He leans in close; too close for Sae to hear what he says to you.

You nod, and Rin sends Sae one last glare before he walks away, carefully cradling the little girl in his arms. Sae's gaze catches on her small form; he thinks of the sea foam that washes up onto the shore, too delicate to last.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asks, turning back to you.

You meet his gaze steadily. "You wouldn't have stayed."

Sae shoves his hands in his pockets; he stays quiet. You watch him, your lips curling down at the edges, like wilting leaves.

"What do you want, Sae?"

"My daughter."

"You can't have her," you say. "You'll break her heart."

"Like I broke yours?"

"You didn't break my heart, Sae."

He watches you for a moment. You meet his gaze steadily, but he sees the cracks in you. The ghost of who you were before he left you behind. The girl you’ve grown out of, her skin too small for the woman you’ve become. 

"Yes," he says. "I did."

You sigh. "Go home, Sae."

"I will," he says easily. "But not without her."

You stiffen. "You'd take her from me?"

"No," he says. "You're coming too."

"Fuck off."

He steps in close, until he can feel your body heat, until he can hear the soft breath you suck in. Longing cuts across your face, a wound torn open. It’s gone in a breath, but Sae sees it.

"You miss me," he says. "Don't you?"

"Fuck off, Sae."

"That's not a no."

Your hand comes up as he pushes closer; you splay it across his chest. The heat of it sinks through his shirt, like spring sunlight, gentle and warm. He waits, but you don't shove him away. He wraps a hand around your wrist, stroking his thumb over the tender underside. Your eyelashes flutter, a butterfly’s wing.

"You miss me," he says. "Say it."

"I miss you," you breathe.

The words are delicate, spider’s silk. They linger in the space between you, a gleaming web spun from your trembling lips.

Sae leans closer, until he can smell the honeysuckle-kiss of your shampoo. 

"Then let me in."

You let out a shaky breath. Your fingers flex against his chest, wrinkling the fabric of his shirt.  "Sae—"

"Yeah?"

"No," you say, finally shoving him away. He steps back gracefully, his face impassive. “Don’t do this to me. You won’t stay.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes,” you whisper. “I do.”

Sae studies you. Your eyelashes are damp; one of them has caught on your cheek, a dandelion seed. There’s an urge to reach out and sweep it away with his thumb. He shoves his hands in his pockets instead.

“Do you give Rin this hard a time about leaving?” he asks.

“That’s different.”

“Not really.”

“Sae.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying.”

You purse your lips, a flower bud pinching shut. “This isn’t about Rin.”

He glances past you. At the edge of the playground, his brother is rocking the stroller with long, practiced movements. It’s a strange picture, this snapshot of Rin; his ease speaks of a life already lived. 

Rin leans down; he’s reaching for the girl’s foot, kicked over the side of the stroller. Sae stares at that tiny foot, cupped carefully in the palm of Rin’s hand.

“You’re right,” he says. “It’s not.”

He returns his gaze to you. 

“It’s about my daughter.”

Something flashes across your face; Sae thinks of the last days of summer, the slow swallow of them.

“You mean my daughter,” you say. “She’s not yours.” 

He sighs. “We both know she is.”

“No,” you say. “Not in any way that matters.” 

Sae was stung by a sea urchin, once. He’d stepped on it in the shallows, its prickly body hidden amid the shadowed, worn rocks of the tidepool. The spine had pierced through the bottom of his foot; he’d bled. He hadn’t been able to play soccer for a week.

But he hadn’t held it against the sea urchin. 

It was just protecting itself.

“I would say helping create her matters rather significantly.”

(Okay. He had held it against the urchin. A week was a long time to be banned from soccer.)

“It doesn’t,” you say. 

Sae tilts his head. “If that was true, you wouldn’t be so scared right now.”

You flinch.

“I’m not—”

“You are.” 

Quiet falls between you. Your eyes flash in the sunlight; Sae thinks of heat lightning, how it never touches the ground. 

“You’re right,” you say, so softly that it’s almost lost to the wind. “I’m scared.”

He waits. 

“Tell me I don’t have to be.”

Sae glances past you again. He wishes he could see into the stroller, that he could see his daughter’s face again.

“I can’t.”

Your face crumples, delicate origami crushed in a fist. 

(You have always reminded Sae of the lacquered origami that’s scattered around your bedroom like stars. Like them, you’re tough enough to protect yourself against the elements, but underneath it all, you’re still paper.) 

The creased paper edges of your devastation slice through Sae, scoring the tender underbelly of him, the part he’d thought had long hardened against such cuts. He thinks of roshambo; perhaps he should have known.

Paper always beats rock. 

But if he’s cut, you’re wounded, a deep, terrible thing. You’re curling in on yourself, just slightly, as if that can staunch the sorrow seeping from you. Your lower lip trembles, but Sae can see the anger starting to filter in, a sunset bleeding across the horizon. 

You blink away your unshed tears; the remnants of them leave your lashes glistening, the sunlight catching in them like a prism. Sae watches you piece yourself back together, your anger the glue, glowing through you in kintsugi gold. 

You take a deep breath.

“You’re such an asshole,” you murmur. 

He doesn’t bother to refute it. He knows this is where most people would apologize, but he won’t. Not for telling you the truth. 

“I want to see her,” he says instead. “Can I come over tomorrow?”

You go stiff, a marionette pulled upright by its strings. He wonders if you’re thinking of what you both know: Sae does not ask for things. He does them, consequences be damned. It’s an olive branch, one barely blooming, a twig of a thing. But it’s there. 

“No.”

Sae doesn’t flinch, but he feels his jaw go tight, his teeth clicking together, bone against bone. He flexes his fingers at his side.

“You—” he starts, voice chilled, a blade of ice. 

“You can’t just walk into her life,” you say, cutting him off sharply.  

It stops him in his tracks. He’s not used to that, not anymore. People tend to listen when he talks. The surprise keeps him from responding, giving you enough time to add: 

“And you can’t just walk back into mine.”

He doesn’t need long to recover, though. “Even though you miss me.”

Your expression twists, souring at the edges, the first hint of rot in overripe fruit. “That doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does.”

“I don’t care what you think, Sae.”

“Yes,” he says, “You do.”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, denting the plush flesh. “You’re such an asshole,” you tell him again. 

“I know.”

The wind picks up; it catches at your clothing, plucking at it with playful fingers. You smooth the fluttering fabric back down with a trembling hand. 

“You can’t see her,” you say softly. “She won’t understand.”

“Won’t understand what?”

“Why you have to leave again.”

“You don’t know that.”

You sigh. “I do,” you say. “It’s hard enough with—” 

You pause, clamping your mouth shut before you can finish your sentence. Something cold curls through Sae, a winter river that snakes between the banks of his ribs. 

“With Rin, right?” he asks. “It’s hard enough with Rin.”

You watch him for a moment, your eyes wary, a rabbit peeking out from the brush. You nod.

Sae exhales through his nose. “I see,” he says coldly.

You wince. “Sae—”

“Don’t.”

It’s not his usual calm tone. It’s shatterglass, keen-edged and ready to cut. He hates it. 

Your eyes widen. There’s something in your expression that Sae doesn’t want to name. It catches beneath his skin like a burr, sharp and unrelenting. 

“Sae,” you say softly. “I—”

A piercing cry rents the air, splits it apart like a blade. Sae blinks, but you’re already whirling around, heading for the tree Rin has settled under with the stroller. His brother is hefting the screaming girl into his arms, his big hand stroking along the slip of her spine, but she’s still wailing, a high, animal keen. She reaches for you as soon as she sees you, her chubby hands grasping at air.

She buries her face in your neck as you cradle her. Sae’s too far to hear what you’re murmuring, but her wailing starts to trail off. Your hand settles at the back of her head, cupping her close, a gentle promise. 

Sae steps forward just as Rin shifts, curling around you like a shield. There’s a flash of turquoise heat; Rin’s expression is a dare.

He should know better. Sae has never been one to back down. 

He ignores Rin and comes closer, until your voice floats to him. It’s softer now, but it’s steady. Sure. 

“It was a scary dream, huh?” you say, pressing a kiss to the crown of the girl’s head. “It’s okay. You’re awake now. Let’s go home, yeah?”

The girl’s answer is lost in the salt of your skin, her face still glued into the curve of your neck. You seem to understand the squashed words perfectly, though. You hum an agreement and adjust her in your arms. She finally peels away from the cradle of your neck. There’s silvery tear tracks mapped across her chubby cheeks. From under her wet eyelashes, there’s a peek of teal, a crescent moon of familiar color. She sobs again, low and wrenching.

Something twists through Sae, a tender bruise being pressed. He takes another step forward, but before he gets close enough to garner your attention, Rin slinks forward, blocking him.

Sae gives him a sharp look, but Rin’s thundercloud scowl only darkens. 

“Not now,” his brother hisses. “Are you stupid, you shitty brother?”

Sae glances past him. His daughter has buried her face in your neck again; only the sunset sheen of her hair is visible. You’re curled protectively around her even as you search the stroller for something. 

Sae is not one to back down, but he also knows how to pick his battles. 

He nods to Rin; his brother blinks, his scowl softening in his surprise. Rin watches him for a moment before clicking his tongue. He doesn’t nod back, but Sae doesn’t need him to. 

Sae watches as Rin turns back to you and coaxes the stroller out of your grip. 

“Let’s go,” he says gruffly.

“Okay,” you say, hushing the girl as she whimpers softly. “Got everything?”

“Yeah.”

You glance back at Sae. It’s only for a breath. For a moment, he thinks you’ll say something, but you don’t. You turn around and start down the park’s path, Rin pushing the stroller at your side.

Sae watches until the verdant throat of the park swallows the three of you up.

You don’t look back again.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Reading Rooms

Inspired by some other gorgeous individuals, I thought I'd try and compile some of my weekly reading into some kind of list. Since throwing myself into the Marvel fandom and actually writing for these characters rather than just reading, I've followed - and been followed by (cue fangirl shriek) - some epic blogs, and I want to be able to throw as many new readers and followers their way as I can.

Always remember to heed the warnings posted by the individual authors. What I'm happy to read may not be what you're happy to read, so I take no responsibility if you find something you're not into.

And finally, Tumblr is a community. Reblog, gush like you've never gushed before - I promise you, the authors below will love it, and love you for it! We write because we love to, but we share our work because we love the community of it. If you read something you like, let the world know! 💕

The List

Lessons in Love-Making by @artficlly. I've only read the first chapter so far, but this already has me totally hooked! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Not a Fairy Tale Kiss (no names for this exist) by @azriona . This is the very definition of EPIC. A staggering word count, an absolute feat of storytelling. I've barely scratched the surface of this so far, but I'm loving every second. Posted on AO3, so head over there for your fix! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

@mrs-elsie-barnes , the writer that you are! I have a whole heap of recommendations here. First up, Policy & Procedure - if you like your Bucky Congressman shaped, this Bucky Barnes x Reader fic has your name on it. Then we have the little (slightly spoilery) Thunderbolts* drabble - Home Time - Bucky Barnes x Reader. Finally, we have the super hot - I've got to let you know (I need you tonight) featuring Joaquin Torres x Reader.

The 2k Drabble Challenge by @marvelstoriesepic is bananas. The dedication, the range, the heartbreak, and longing... ugh, these are all incredible, but my personal highlights are Misfire, Where We Were When The Stars Came Out, What the Mirror Doesn't Say & Tattoo Me In Flowers. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Put Your Hands In Mine by @buck-star is so moving and vitally important. I loved it so much. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Oil & Water by @flowersforbucky was so insanely hot it had me squealing. It is literally perfect if you would like to sit on that man's face. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Charm and Claim by @ramp-it-up were both so excellent and super hot! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

@aquaticmercy is a genius and the writing is impeccable and when I tell you I RUN to every post... I've so much to catch up on, but Interstate Love Song was gorgeous. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Let Me Hurt a Little Longer by @daxisyzz was so good! I loved the slightly manipulative POV, who wouldn't want Bucky's hands on them?! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

The Dog Tags series by @marvelwitchergilmore is brilliant! Part 1 is linked, be sure to check out the rest, and what a masterlist to get stuck into - especially for my Slow Horses babes because there's some River Cartwright in there, too! (cc. @cillmequick @dreamer-98 @annaelizabethhenry1 @liquid-confidenc3 💕)

Then we have @navybrat817 , who is pure genius and her post Thunderbolts* fic Not Exactly A Secret. Navy's setting up a Tower Shenanigans list, so expect more from the Thunderbolts*. As well as this, I read the excellent Late Night and Late Night Recap. Bucky Barnes x Reader.

I came across @jobean12-blog 's This Is Love this week, an oldie but a very goodie! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

If you haven't read Security Clearance by @societyfolklore yet, why?! This was soooo hot! Bucky Barnes x Reader.

And lastly, I'm sharing this little New Dad Bucky Headcannon by @sunday-bug , and lemme tell ya, it will not be the last thing I share of Sunny's! I can't wait to get stuck into her Masterlist because it's going to take over my life in the best possible way!

This covers everything I've read this week 🙌

God, I hope the links all work cos that took forever 🤣. Apologies for sharing via my own slightly unhinged reblogs. Next time, I'll try and make sure I share original links where possible!

💕

pressing post and hoping all the tags work 🫡

[dandylovesturtles]

so this is not technically something I wrote fresh, but something I've never posted publicly. this grew out of some "AU within an AU' talks about what would have happened if Donnie and Leo had a "twin sense" during the events of the room fic.

I'm posting this today for @whumpay 's first supernatural prompt, "Psychic Link"

cw: starvation and kidnapping mentioned

---

When Leo’s connection first disappeared, Donnie hadn’t been too worried. Sometimes, especially times like these, when he felt like the world was against him, Leo portaled somewhere far away, where their “twin sense” (as he insisted on calling it) didn’t reach. In ways, the quiet was nice, and Donnie got some work done.

And then he didn’t come back. And the quiet was no longer nice.

———

It comes back at the same time the Rockies come into view on the horizon.

It starts as a faint pulse, the vague suggestion of someone’s else’s feelings. The way it used to be back before they fully awakened their powers, when Donnie still denied the “twin sense” even existed. But it grows, slow at first, then increasing exponentially, until it cracks through into full, startling clarity.

Donnie gasps, and the wheel in his hands jerks.

In hindsight, he should have stopped driving the moment he felt it.

“Dee!” yells April, and then someone is hitting something, and “AUTOPILOT” flashes bright red on screen, and he can barely register what it means because he can’t focus on anything right now but

cold

hungry

exhausted

scared

exposed

alone alone alone 

“No!” he shouts. Hands grab him and pull him out of the chair and away from the dash. “No! I’m here, Leo, we’re here!”

People are talking and shouting around him. The tank slows and stops and no no no, they have to keep going, they have to get there right now-

“Here, Donnie.”

Someone is holding something out to him. He takes it in his hands, belatedly recognizing it as his hoodie. Cold, so cold his teeth keep chattering. Exposed, they’re looking at him, watching him.

He yanks the hoodie on and wraps his arms tight around himself. He’s sitting on the floor and he rocks back and forth.

“Donnie, talk to us,” says a voice. Raph’s voice? “What’s wrong?”

Donnie laughs once, high and hysterical. What isn’t wrong?

“Come on, Dee. We’re here, just talk to us.”

Donnie scrubs at his eyes. He’s crying. He doesn’t know whose tears they are.

“H-he’s cold,” Donnie explains. “Leo.”

“Okay,” says Mikey’s voice somewhere above him. “What else?”

Donnie swallows hard. “Scared. H-hungry. Really hungry.”

“…Do you think,” says Mikey softly, tinged with hope, “he got out? And he’s lost in the mountains somewhere?”

“No,” says Donnie quickly, shaking his head. “Watching him, watching me, exposed, trapped-“

“He’s still trapped,” Raph repeats. “They still have him.”

Donnie nods quickly. It’s not an actual thought, that’s not how it works, they can’t talk to each other. But he knows that if Leo had escaped, these feelings would be different.

“Okay.” Raph lets out a deeply held breath, then asks, “Would eating help? We can get you a snack.”

Donnie nods again, sharp. It won’t fix things for Leo, won’t nourish his body. But it might bring him some relief, if only for a little while.

They move him to the bench seat. Wrap a blanket around him. Press a big bag of trail mix into his hands. He eats it fast and greedy - he hasn’t been keeping up with three meals a day since Leo went missing, but now he makes up for it, now he’ll eat as much as he can if it helps Leo feel better for even one minute.

And he presses these feelings back through the connection.

warm

full

safe 

covered

together together together

He doesn’t know if it gets through. Leo’s misery is a deep abyss, trying to pull them both down. But he reaches through it to take Leo’s hand, and pulls.

[allthefoolishdreams]

you are strange, my love

fandom: skz

pairing: minlix

rating: t

chapters: (incomplete)

summary:

“That doesn’t belong to you.” He shuts his eyes and holds back the groan because there’s only one person it could be. He tilts his head as he turns away from where he’d been making progress on bypassing the security that’s protecting the frame. There’s dread pooling in his stomach as he sees Spider-Man hanging upside down from a web, his head cocked to the side as if he’s an overgrown human puppy rather than the menace he really is. “It doesn’t belong to the museum either,” he retorts, glaring in return as Spider-Man lowers himself to the ground.

or it's a spider-man and black cat au

read it on ao3!

[highdramas]

okay hear me out… a jack abbott inspired by imgonnagetyouback… the angst? the lust? i fear you would eat this up

never not mine | dr. jack abbot

pairing: jack abbot x f!resident!reader warnings: language, angst with a happy ending, age gap (unspecified, but reader is late 20s/early 30s and jack is mid/late 40s), reader slaps a man hehe (not jack), power imbalance (reader is a resident and jack is her attending), drug use (weed), sexual content (brief but there), jack absolutely grovels and it's a vibe word count: 3.2k summary: jack attempts to walk away. you attempt to reel him back in. it leaves you both raw and vulnerable. notes: if you are under 18 do not interact with my work or this fic. imgonnagetyouback, back to me by the marias, and honeymoon by lana all helped inspire this fic! i'm a little worried i wrote jack ooc, but then i remembered that man is a canonized yapper. this exists within the ring of fire universe, but that does not have to be read first. it is linked here if you would like to, though! i took some liberties with this so i apologize if it's not exactly how you imagined it! but i had a great time writing this! i hope you enjoy it <3 not proofread, apologies for errors!

you know exactly what it is that you’re doing. and if jack feels tortured– fine. let him. this is all his fault, anyway.

the whole time you’d been with him, whatever that even meant, you’ve felt this sense of… waiting for the other shoe to drop. you tried to tell yourself that you were crazy, that jack was good and honest and that he wasn’t going to get cold feet. that the fact that you were his resident and he was your attending didn’t bother him. that he wasn’t irrevocably haunted by demons from his past, a dead wife and an endless war that runs on a replay in his head, pain in a limb that he doesn’t even have anymore.

it’s not that you expect him to forget all of that. you just want him to be real with you.

and when he falls right into the trope, the trap that was laid by fate, you decide that you’re not going to be resentful. you’re just going to prove to him– and maybe yourself– that you’re not so easily forgotten. that you can’t be left.

it sounds both arrogant and pathetic when you think about it like that. but you don’t care. you’re going to get him back.

maybe it is cruel that you started flirting with donnie in front of him. maybe it’s evil, the way that when you all gather for your post-shift beer, it’s donnie’s bench that you settle at. when you meet abbot’s gaze from across the walkway, his eyes are always at a level of stony that make you a little bit nervous. but then you remember that he iced you out and you lift your chin up and turn your face back to donnie.

he’ll pick his poison, you decide.

when you enter lefty’s at 11pm after getting wind that the day shift– which was jack, conveniently, since he uttered the words this is a bad idea, kid. god, you want to shake his shoulders, you want to call him a coward and scream from the top of your lungs: do you need see how good it could be if you let it?

a delicate lilac top clings to your skin. you push your hair over your shoulder as santos crosses the bar to greet you with a big hug, laughter on her lips. “jesus christ, who are you trying to give a heart attack?”

your hand splays on her back and you find abbot looking at you from across the bar. you shrug your shoulders and pull back, pushing back pieces of santos’s hair. “i don’t know. maybe someone new?”

trinity’s eyebrows shoot up. “wow. spicy. i like it.”

you don’t know how much time passes. you feel a bit silly: overdressed, a beer in your hand, nothing on your mind except the man that you want to lure back in to you. your outfit is a siren song and all you can wonder is if abbot is a sailor who is as desperate as you’ve pinned him as.

if he’s as desperate as you are.

every time you look at him, he’s either already looking, or feels your gaze on him. there will be a beat of eye contact before you look away and laugh at something garcia said or engage, rapt, in a conversation with samira about the first date that she went on last week. suddenly, it’s been hours, and you’re closing out your tab when you feel a presence beside you.

it’s not the presence that you want. it’s one that’s unknown and makes you feel uncertain. it’s not abbot’s easy, calm, present demeanor beside you. the one that tells you don’t worry, i’m here, i got this. the one that washes over you like a delicious wave. the one that smells woody and warm and delicious. the man next to you is a little too clean cut, a little too polished–  he smells like laundry and looks like he’s never been through a bad thing in his life.

he takes a drink of the last of his beer. “i’ve been watching you all night.”

you didn’t notice. faintly, you think that if you were twenty three, this man next to you would have been the apple of your eye, instantly. you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off of him. but when you look at him and you see deep dimples and dark hair, all you see are dimples that are a little too deep, and hair that isn’t streaked with silver.

that pick up line strikes you as unimpressive. your finger tip circles your glass. “oh, am i supposed to say thank you?” you ask, but you manage what you try to play off as a coy smirk. absentmindedly, you look around, instinctively looking for jack. and not even because you want to see if he’s jealous. not because you want to see the look on his face, to feel that sick sense of satisfaction at the fact that you’re getting to him.

no. you want your friend. you want to give a bleak eye roll and make him smirk. you want to go back to him and say what a prick and carry on with your life. you want to go back to the normal that you’ve gotten used to– the one that, maybe, you took for granted.

if you can’t have jack as your whatever he was, you’d take him as your friend. any day.

but when your eyes scan the bar… he’s not there. the spot that he occupied next to robby is vacant. and all you’re left with is this sick sense of shame, embarrassment, and something else that you can’t quite articulate. longing, if someone put a gun to your head and forced you to put a name to it.

the man next to you says something. you don’t hear it. static rattles in your ears and suddenly all you want to do is go home, tear those lilac clothes off, wash your face, and cry. in bed.

and maybe smoke a joint on your patio, too.

he says something again. you, once again, don’t respond. you look at the bartender and answer their questions with one word answers. yes, you want to close. no, you don’t want a copy of your receipt.

“are you ignoring me, or are you just a stupid fucking bitch who can’t hear?”

at the level of shut down you’re at already, you don’t even care what he’s said. but he’s gotten the attention of the others. robby is already on his feet.

and abbot is walking down the hall from the restroom.

“i’m ignoring you,” you turn to him, spitting the words out, loud and clear. “but if calling me a stupid fucking bitch makes the rejection hurt less, knock yourself out.”

he screws his entire face up, and abbot is approaching quicker now, with that lethal anger on his face. robby isn’t far behind… or santos, either, for that matter.

“you are a stupid fucking bitch,” he says, taking a step closer to you, shrinking himself in size to be on your level. “and you’re not pretty enough to get away with an attitude like–”

abbot makes a move to lunge, and robby has to physically pull him back. the man lets out an ugly laugh and all you see is red, bright red. “oh, what’s your fuckin’ grandpa going to do?”

the crack that rings out when your palm hits his cheek could be heard around the world. it opens up a cacophony of mayhem– between you and him, the bartenders, abbot, robby, santos getting ready to throw in a punch of her own… but it all culminates with the lot of you being told to get the fuck out, this isn’t philly.

with your jaw set and your head held high, you are the first one to storm out of the bar. and maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the fact that a stranger just called you a bitch, but all you feel is an unsettled sort of anger.

you hear abbot say your name behind you.

you stop. the pittsburgh early spring still has a bite to it, especially when it’s nearing midnight. the wind makes your eyes sting, tears trailing down your cheeks. it’s the wind. it’s just the wind. “no,” you say lowly, pointing a finger in his direction. “fuck you.”

“fuck me?”

“yeah. fuck you.” you tug your jacket closer to yourself and wipe the tears away with the back of your hand. “you ignore me, you tell me this isn’t going to work, and then want to play protective… yeah. fuck you.” you go quiet, go to turn, but you can’t. you’re frozen in place. “no, it’s not even that. not really. i shouldn’t be mad at you. i should be mad at myself. i’ve been doing things, this whole time, trying to earn your affection back. trying to get you to see what you were missing, see why it was so silly to pretend that we’re not good. but… i’ve felt like shit every day, doing that. i’ve felt small.”

jack doesn’t say anything. robby has ushered all of your coworkers down the street and far away, bless him. when you assess jack’s face, there’s a myriad of things you see. you think you see regret. you know you see hurt. you want to believe you see love.

“and i don’t want to feel small,” you sniffle and wipe a fat, real tear away. “i don’t want to wear a cute outfit because you might see it. i don’t want to flirt with donnie to watch your knuckles go white. i want– i want to sit on your fucking couch. i want to watch some stupid show with you. i want to lay in bed and listen to the police scanner after sex. i want you to want me. and if you don’t, if this is all too much for you, then…” you look him up and down. the body you know intimately, the person you’d be with forever if he let you.

“then no hard feelings.”

you don’t give jack the opportunity to respond. maybe that’s its own special brand of self preservation. you turn, and you walk away from him, towards an empty apartment.

–

when you get home, you do exactly as you cited. you rid yourself of your clothes. you furiously wash your face and then go through the rest of your skin care. you roll yourself a joint, and you bring it out to your patio, and the small table, chair, and ashtray that sit out there.

your apartment isn’t as high up as jack’s. you live in an old building on the third floor, one of the world war two types, with the radiators and beautiful hardwood floors and all of the character in the world. in exchange, you get no dishwasher and a patio that probably isn’t up to city code.

lighting the joint with one hand, you take in a long, nice, inhale. you lean your head back against the wall. you grab your phone and put the marias on and let those big tears roll down your cheeks freely.

the low rumble of a truck pulling up gets your attention. you lift your head up and watch as the vehicle that you’d sat in countless times goes into park. you hear the door open. you watch jack round it, and his eyes are instantly drawn to your patio. he holds his hand up in a wave.

you flip him off.

the chuckle that gets out of him should infuriate you. but it doesn’t.

“yeah, i deserve that.”

“you’re a dick,” you reply, marijuana leaving you honest. you stand up and lean on the railing, looking down at him.

“i am.”

his hands are in his pockets and you can see a war going on in his mind, but then he starts talking. “i’m not good at this part. the… communication, part. i’m not good at this part at all.”

you raise your eyebrows. he continues. “when annie died, i was content to not be with anyone. ever again. a random fuck there and again, just to get it out of my system, sure. but i was content with not opening myself up to that. i always just thought… i thought i was already so fucked up, and since annie knew me before i was so fucked up. i told myself that she was the only one that was going to get it. get me.” he stares up at you. “now, i know that i was wrong in that. obviously.”

you give a slow nod of your head. “but i lived in that reality for so long. that i wasn’t going to be open to that again. and then we started hanging out, and at first, i was able to convince myself it was innocent. i’m your mentor. no lines would get blurred. and then, obviously, they did. but i told myself it was all casual. and when i told myself that, i felt like… yeah, i could do that. i could be good to someone in that capacity. but then,i felt greedy with you. i felt like i wasn’t going to be able to let myself walk away if i stayed any longer. so i forced myself. thought i was doing you a favor.” he rubs the back of his neck. “thought i was doing right by myself. like, the safest option. and then i talked to my therapist.”

you smirk. “the age old solution.”

“yeah, right?” he smirks back at you. “and i told him all of this, yesterday. and you know what he said?” he waits a beat. “he told me i’m a fucking idiot. and i responded, and said that i know i was. because deep down… deep down, i knew it was all bullshit. a defense mechanism.”

he walks closer and puts his hands on the railing of the first floor patio, staring right up at you, you staring down at him. “i should never have made you feel small. and all i want is to show you that i mean it.”

nodding your head slowly, you mull over his every word. you open and close your mouth a couple of times. “i want to tell you to fuck off,” you say honestly. “i want to think you’re just bullshitting me. but…” you meet his eyes. “that’s probably my defense mechanism.”

the quiet overtakes the two of you. all there is is the lull of traffic and the faint whistle of the wind. “it wasn’t about you,” you say. “i knew why you were pushing me away. i understood. i just wanted you to see why those things weren’t real. and i thought that i could control that. and then i just left myself feeling disappointed, and desperate, and messy.”

the two of you watch each other like feral cats, unblinking and unwavering. maybe that’s what you are.

“i’m sorry,” he says, voice softened. “i was a dick. and you were right.”

you nod your head. “come inside before you catch a cold.”

most of the time, you went over to his place. when he steps over the threshold into your apartment, you think that it feels good to have him in your space. to watch him set his shoes by the door, hang his coat up on the little rack. there’s this awkward sort of tension that simmers between the two of you. he must sense it, because he gives you a sideways look. “that wasn’t all i had to say.”

“yeah?” you ask with a playful smile, filling up a glass of water and taking a big gulp from it.

his hands pin you in at your kitchen counter. all of the air is sucked right out of the room. “you told me that you wanted me to want you. right?” you give a nod of your head. “i wanted to be face to face with you when i said this part.” he ghosts his fingertips over your cheeks. “i want every fucking part of you. your wild, messy parts included. especially, even.” his eyes darken a shade. “do you know how crazy you’ve made me? flirting with donnie, that purple you wore tonight?”

you roll your eyes, mostly at yourself. “that was sort of the plan.”

“it worked.” his thumbs brush your hipbones. “every day, i went home to an apartment that had you all over it. a coffee mug on the counter with a lipgloss mark. the blanket that you love and curl into almost every single night. your book on my coffee table. i felt stupid. i felt small, too. i felt like a coward. i was a coward. and i just–”

you raise up your hand, pressing it against his chest. not pressing him away, just… there. his brows furrow. you say, “you ramble when you’re nervous and when you want someone to feel better.” your hand slides up his chest. “i forgive you.”

the relief that washes over him is a visible, tangible thing. you feel it in the way he grips your hips as a result, the way his face falls into the crook of your neck. you close your eyes and run your hand through the silver streak you love so much. he pulls back and there’s a little tear shining in his eye. and he says three words that are simple but profound, that strike you where you stand. “i love you.” he nods. that steady, stable, self-assured version of himself is there again. “i know that now. i knew it then, too.”

you nod your head slowly. “i know you do,” you say, because you do, you really do. “and i love you too.”

those dimples shine at you. not too deep. just right. he pulls your body in flush with his and it’s like you melt away into nothing but a glowing ball of light. fuzzy and warm.

a switch is flipped. your hands go hungry and your lips find his. jack leads you to your bedroom. he lays you down and he spreads you out. he takes off each article of clothing, slowly. he lowers himself until his head is between your thighs and apologizes with his tongue, until you arch off your bed. he climbs up and he sinks inside of you in one satisfying motion. you’re all nails down his back and relentless eye contact, and you’re the kind of desperate and messy that you want to be. he’s just the same– his pace is consistent, deep, and each thrust tells you just how sorry he really is.

you finish with an explosion behind your eyes, and he tumbles over off that cliff after you. he rolls off of you and you lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling. your hand goes to rest on his chest. he takes it and presses a kiss to it before he raises, comes back with a damp cloth and cleans you up with care. love. he leans down and presses a kiss to your lips, tender and right.

he starts messing with the covers, brows all screwed up. “what could you possibly be looking for right now?” you ask, chest still heaving.

“this,” he says, locating his phone. he stares down at it until he puts it between you. a faint static emits from it.

“what the hell is–”

“3B60, the subject is fleeing on foot.”

you between him and his phone, police scanner coming from the speaker, incredulously. he just grunts as he settles back into bed, pulling you into him. “i’m just listening to what you want, kid.”

[darkwitchoferie]

My Master lists

Decided to put together a masterlist of my writing, divided by fandom. I dunno, it's partly for my own benefit too actually. So I can find what I'm looking for when I want it. There's not much, but I'm also gonna include the link to my AO3 for the stuff I never cross-posted.

Stray Kids

First things first - this is just a blanket disclaimer for my Stray Kids fics. These stories are just for fun and not meant to accurately depict the real life individuals portrayed in them.

Jealousy - You’ve been dating Chan for a while and he takes you as his date to a JYPE party. There, he notices how close you are to Felix and jumps to some conclusions.

Train Ride - You start off as just Chan’s beloved girlfriend and end up in bed with all the members. **Now cross posted to ao3**

Original Oneshot Chapter One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten

The Moment He Knew You Were The One - You're dating Chan and start to notice some odd behavior from the guys

Best Friends to Lovers - This is a series of unconnected, smutty oneshots in which the fem!reader has been best friends with the various members since childhood/teen years. Most are idol!skz, but Hyunjin and Felix’s are college!aus. All have happy endings. Minho and Seungmin have two stories, the first is a threesome story (Minho&Jisung and Seungmin&Changbin) while the second is a solo story.

Chan Minho (Solo) Changbin Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin (Solo) Jeongin

Fic Recs: Chan Minho Changbin Hyunjin Jisung Felix Seungmin Jeongin OT8 Multi-members

Stranger Things (Steddie)

Accidentally In Love - Steve and Eddie have been dating for months, but neither of them have noticed until Robin and Nancy confront them about it.

Rosary - Eddie’s in the hospital after his heroics in the Upside Down. Steve and Wayne sit together, waiting for him to wake up.

Too Much - Steve knows he’s too much, he always has been. And he knows it’s the main reason he can’t make a relationship last, so he tries pulling away from Eddie before it’s too late and he loses him too.

Larkspur and Lily of the Valley - Steve has a cough and thinks it's allergies, until a blue petal comes up. (Happy ending Hanahaki au)

I may one day link my fic recs here for Steddie, but I didn't tag them when I reblogged them, so probably not.

[misfitgirlwrites]

Lucifer Having A Crush On You/How Would He React?

I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'm not biased, I'M NOT--

It's time for my fictional love and life and all I hold dear in my daydreams. Bitches, bros, nonbinary hoes, and genderfluid fucks, I present to you the Big Dick in Charge

I may reference works that I've read and when I do I'll drop their @ and link to their story it is law that you read it if you read mine, I don't make the rules

CW: none, slightly angsty but nothing too intense!

Alright, doves, this is post-season one. Lucifer now resides in the hotel with everyone and is slowly adjusting to being graced with Alejandro's Alastor's presence every day.

Let's be honest, our baby pays attention but puts in minimal effort. Saying that the days went by in a blur would be an understatement. Even conversations would be forgotten after a few short moments. On to the next task. Full focus on this thing. Once that's done? Well onto the next task! No tasks? Free time to spend with Charlie!

Things would start slow, and to really interact, you'd most likely start to approach him first. Maybe you've spent long enough watching the blond anxiously bounce around the hotel and graciously give himself a bit too much for even the Big Boss of Hell.

A timid approach from you, offering to help with whatever he's currently doing. Maybe you make snacks for everyone in the hotel and hand him his personally :)

And so it begins! A greeting here, a greeting there, slightly awkward conversations that slowly start to feel less forced with the little information you learn about each other along the way.

It's...nice! Refreshing! Lucifer would be more excited than anything and talking to you would become a part of his regular routine without much thought on the matter. You'd occasionally be on his mind just a little more, and he'd start to seek you out himself too.

I know you're already seeking him out. Bitch I'M seeking him out.

Helping with chores around the hotel quickly turns into simply enjoying the other's company.

One day you gift him his very own ceramic duck! You could have paid for it from somewhere or made it yourself.

Either way, he'd fucking LOVE it! Honestly, if you decide to try your hand at making it, he'd love it even more with all the rough edges and little bumps (it was made out of love for my babies who never touched clay in their lives)

In response, please expect many gifts in return. I like to think it's been a while since he's gotten a genuine gift like this

(Bonus headcanon: Charlie will see this and will come to you the next day with a list of things she wants to gift him and you two are unofficially officially the Buy Lucifer Anything Duck-Themed duo)

Lucifer loves how you react when he gifts you your very own rubber duck. Your smile and happiness always seemed contagious to him. It only led to him making/getting you more things.

You will have a rubber duck collection by the end of this, but what can you really say? Each one of them is based on something you mentioned before. A movie character, a book character, a cartoon character, even friends or family members if they were mentioned. The gesture is way too sweet for you to turn down, even if it is the 30th duck you've received.

Now prepare for what I like to call the "get along t-shirt" phase but both parties are willing LMAO.

Lucifer will be by your side as long as you'll accept the company and if you're reading this and we brain the same, that will be all the time.

I love the GenZ!Reader memes and fics. Someone show this man bacon pancakes and if it was already done, SHOW ME.

Between his relationship with Charlie and with you, Lucifer actually feels the need and wants to be a little more present bit by bit. He notices that he is spending less time in his head, but he continues on in fear of fucking it up if he thinks too hard about it.

So instead he'll 100% focus on the little familiarity of happiness, as small as those moments may be sometimes. This is EXACTLY why the thought of him potentially feeling romantic interest again goes right over his head.

Who notices first, you ask? Charlie, of course. You slowly but surely became one of his main topics in conversation, it wasn't hard for her to pick up on it and ask.

Baby boy would straight up deny it at first. Him?? Liking someone else??? LMAO, am I right? Of course, after he does this, he'll have the time to actually pay attention to his actions.

So then he'll notice how excited he is every morning knowing that you'll be the first face he sees. He'll notice how he managed to fit you into any task he had to do. When he'd get lunch for himself and Charlie he'd have the automatic thought of making something for you as well. Even when the day was over, he'd be thinking about spending the next day with you. To be frank, you were constantly on his mind. 

Once he notices it's a big mental "fuck". Nothing about you is wrong of course, it's him, or so he thinks.

Let's start with the elephant in the room, or shall I say the ring on his finger lmao

In Lucifer's mind, he's still married technically. Even thinking about it in a technical term was a new development and it made him feel absolutely horrible. Lilith left, sure, but who knows what happened? Regardless of how he felt, he didn't want to hurt her.

But at the same time what about him? Lucifer hasn't been happy in a long time and he's finally building that again, not just with Charlie, but with you as well. He didn't want to just cut you out, he didn't want to hurt you either.

Plus, did you even like him? How would he even approach you? If he wanted to, even after thinking about everything.

Who was he kidding, of course, he still wanted you!

@liveontelevision *drops to my knees and bows* they worded it extremely well here and if you're reading this but you haven't read this already or you clicked the link then clicked back here, go back and read it. I don't care how long it is. Do the thing then come back.

Welcome back. It was good, wasn't it? I know.

The only awkward period for you two is the week-long contemplation of everything (half him attempting not to do what he always does when stressed but by the time he realizes he already made like 30 ducks--)

He would clearly go out of his way to either try and talk to you or avoid you. Or a cute mixture of both where he makes a scene approaching you, realizes he's not ready yet, then makes a scene so he can disappear *finger guns*

A little crisis here, a few little rubber ducks there, and a looooonnnggg conversation with Charlie and Maggie Vaggie.

Those are the ingredients to a semi-stable Lucifer with enough bravado to talk to you normally again.

He'd apologize for the times he basically pulled a Houdini in your face and he'd explain himself fully, all while also confessing his love for you.

It's choppy, it's fast-paced in some areas, and the poor blond was ready to disappear at any given moment, but that's what made it so real for you.

The weight that's lifted off of him couldn't be described, and neither could the joy that welled in him the moment he saw your beautiful smile and heard nothing but your acceptance and love.

What an emotional roller-coaster, am I right?

Lucifer Taglist: @alastorssimp @saints-wrapped-in-plastic @heart-of-the-morningstar

Requests are open! If you'd like to be tagged in future Lucifer or Hazbin Hotel content, please let me know! My asks and DMs are open to all!

[ihavenoideawhatiamdoinganymore]

Some (bad) art I made for my series on Ao3: Hail, the Conquering Hero, under the name Akulreas. This account is actually a side blog (not even it’s own blog, just a side one) because my main account is followed by my sister and I’m sorry, but I am not letting her see the art I made for a Percy Jackson/Epic the Musical fanfic that I wrote. Here’s the link, by the way, since this makes little to no sense without the context of the AU:

Basic summary: ghost Odysseus and Perseus end up haunting Percy and become his New Dads™️ (Poseidon fucking DESPISES them)

Do I know how anatomy works? No. Am I going to learn it all? Maybe. Am I going to learn it all for some silly little sketches I made for my fic? Of course not. People who actually know how to draw anatomy (or just draw in general), I sincerely apologize.

This one was because of a Tumblr post I saw at 11:00 PM and I thought ‘oh, this fits them perfectly’ and then spent thirty minutes drawing this before immediately going to sleep. First time I ever drew Percy. Never again. (The first guy’s Perseus, by the way. Second guy is Odysseus.)

This happened because I was talking with someone who was commenting on Like A Victorious Hero and they mentioned a scenario where Zeus attempts to hug Perseus and Perseus immediately starts cursing him out and telling him to go away. It tormented me for about a week before I gave in and drew it since I didn’t feel like writing it out. I chose Neal Illustrator’s Zeus design for it and if you look at Perseus for like, two seconds, you’ll see some minor similarities (mostly the hair).

Maybe I’ll add some more another day. Not now, though, because it’s late and I’m tired. Please don’t kill me, I know I’m not Good At Art.

Edit: this is my hundredth post on this side blog. Oh my gods, I don’t remember reblogging that many things??

[puckbunnyera]

Just Friends | Luke Hughes

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

pairing: luke hughes x reader genre: fluff word count: 2.3k warnings: none summary: maybe you were never really just friends

notes: it's been less than 24 hours since i posted my first fic and i've already received a few asks for a part 2 so here it is. i'll link the first part here. thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read it, like it, reblog it, etc. i'm always really nervous to post my own writing so any type of interaction with it feels good to see.

also, i know the timelines of the games played in both fics don't align with the actual events in real time but we are just going to ignore that for the sake of the plot.

• ──────────────♡────────────── •

I sigh as I stand in front of my bedroom mirror, doing one last fit check before Luke arrives. I'm nervous. I come to this realization as I smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles in my shirt. Why? I couldn't tell you. It's been almost two months since the night I met Luke, and we've talked and texted almost every day since. We've even hung out multiple times since then, but I always seem to get all nervous and jittery anytime he presents the offer. My thoughts start to consume me to the point that I'm almost tempted to text him and ask for a rain check, but before I can fall too deeply into them, my attention is stolen by the two girls lying on my bed behind me.

"I still can't believe you're dating The Luke Hughes." One of my friends says causing me to turn my back towards the mirror to look at her.

"We aren't dating." I scoff. "We're-"

"Right, you're 'just friends'." My other friend interrupts, rolling her eyes and using her fingers to make air quotes as she says the words.

"We are." I shrug, moving to sit in my vanity chair so I can put on my shoes.

"You don't have to believe us if you don't want to, but he totally has the hots for you."

"It's so obvious. Any time he has the chance to get away from his job, he's calling, texting, or coming to see you. Even if it's only for a short amount of time. Those aren't typical behaviors of a guy who wants to be 'just friends'."

They continue to go on and on as if they're trying to convince a jury that they're innocent of a crime. The sound of my phone dinging from beside me on the table finally brings their rambling to an end. I pick up to find a text from Luke.

From Luke🏒: i'm here

To Luke🏒: omw

"I would love to stay and continue this conversation," I smile sarcastically as I stand up, "But my friend is waiting for me downstairs." I make sure to add extra emphasis on the word friend.

They both giggle and bid their goodbyes as I walk out of the room. When I make it downstairs to the lobby of my apartment building, Luke, in all of his handsome glory, is waiting patiently by the door.

"Ready to go?" He questions once I'm standing in front of him. I nod in confirmation and he opens the door for us, placing a gentle hand on my back to lead me out.

"What's the plan for today?" I ask once we're settled into the car.

"I need to drop off a couple of things at the dry cleaners since my brother forgot to do it," He gestures to the items in his backseat. "But then I figured we could go to dinner, catch a movie, and then maybe grab some dessert before I take you home."

"Sounds good!" I reply with a smile, with which he returns one of his own before putting the car in drive and pulling away from my apartment building.

Things are going well today. Really well. We're having fun and Luke is being as sweet as always. However, that's the only problem. Despite the stance I took in the argument with my friends, I can't help but let their words get to me. The whole evening, I've been reading too deeply into every little thing he does. Every door he holds open for me, every chair he pulls out for me, every accidental brush of our hands when we walk side-by-side. I'm trying not to let it show, but when Luke's voice rattles my thoughts and pulls me back down to Earth, I know I'm failing.

"Are you okay?" He asks as we sit in the car, waiting for the red light to turn green. "You've been pretty quiet today."

"Really?" I ask, genuinely confused because I hadn't noticed that change in my behavior. When he responds with a solemn nod, guilt rises in my chest. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was. It has nothing to do with you." Yet it has everything to do with him.

"Did something happen?" He pushes further.

"No, just have a lot on my mind with work and all, but I'm okay. Promise." I give him a soft smile in hopes that it will give him enough reassurance to drop the conversation. Thankfully he does, but the look in his eyes shows clearly that he doesn't believe me. "So my friends were telling me that you have a home game coming up in a couple of days against your oldest brother's team. Are you excited?" I change the subject quickly.

"Yeah," He nods, a smile gracing his features. "My parents are gonna be in town to watch us face off against each other. All three Hughes brothers on the same ice. I'm hoping it will be as exciting as everyone and the media are making it seem." He chuckles. "I'm also just really excited to see Quinn. We haven't gotten to see each other much since I moved out to Jersey and the season started. I think it'll be nice to have us all back together again, even if it's just for a couple of days."

"I bet it will be."

"I'm glad you brought this up because I've been meaning to ask you something."

"What is it?"

"Would you maybe want to come to the game?"

"Do you want me to come?" I'm praying the hopeful look in my eyes isn't obvious.

"Yeah," He nods. "I really do."

"Then I'll be there." I assure him. "The girls were talking about purchasing tickets anyways, so I'll tell them to make it three tickets instead of just the two."

"Don't worry about it. I got it covered."

"Luke, you don't have to do that." I shake my head, readying myself to argue.

"I know I don't have to, but I want to." The look he gives me makes me forget any rebuttal I had previously prepared. "Plus, I already got the tickets and the seating arrangements set up."

"And you just knew I was gonna say yes?" I reply, crossing my arms.

"No, but I was hoping you would."

"I guess some dreams really do come true." I joke.

"I guess so."

We continue to talk and joke around for the remainder of the drive. It goes by a little too quickly though, because before I know it, he's putting the car in park in front of my building. Being the gentleman that he is, he walks me all the way up to my apartment door. It's not until I have unlocked and opened the door that he finally says goodnight, placing a soft peck on my cheek before walking away. Once he has disappeared into the elevator and I'm sure he's gone, I close and lock the door.

As I'm getting ready for bed, I become aware of the slight ache in my cheeks from smiling so much. As soon as my head hits my pillow, the realization dawns on me. I am in love with Luke Hughes.

• ───────────────────────────── •

I'm still in shock at the fact that he really went all out with the tickets. My friends seem to be as well considering that they still haven't managed to pick their jaws up off the floor yet. Never in my life would I have ever expected to be seated in one of the arena's luxury suites. I feel a little bad the more I dwell on it. There are more deserving fans that could be sitting here, yet some girl who knew nothing about the sport two months ago had them handed to her at no cost.

"Hi, you must be Y/N." An unfamiliar woman's voice pulls me from my pity-party.

"Oh, hi." I greet her as I turn in her direction.

"I'm Luke's mom, Ellen." She smiles and pulls me into a quick but gentle embrace. "And this is my husband, Jim." She gestures to the man beside her.

"Nice to meet you, Y/N." He offers a hand for me to shake.

"You as well." I accept it before introducing them to my two friends, who are not-so-discreetly eavesdropping on the conversation.

We all find a seat and fall into casual conversation. Just getting to know each other and talking about this, that, and the other. Once the teams begin to make their way onto the ice, our attentions shift away from each other and onto the players.

Having admitted to my lack of knowledge of the sport before the game started, Jim and Ellen kindly explained the game to me so I would know what is going on. By the end of the first period, I'm clued in enough that I don't need it anymore and eventually, I become just as immersed in the game as the rest of them are.

It's in the second period that Luke scores a goal and we all stand up, cheering loudly with the crowd. The excitement is so high that I don't even shy away when Ellen happily pulls me into a tight hug before pulling away and continuing to cheer for her youngest son. Third period seems to go by in a flash and then the game is ending with a 6-5 win for the Devils, both Jack and Luke having contributed to the score with goals of their own.

Once the final buzzer goes off, my friends bid their farewells before heading out to go home. However, I hang back with Ellen and Jim upon the request of Luke. I follow the two down from the suite until we make it to where the locker rooms are located, waiting in the hall for the three brothers to emerge. We stand around conversing for about ten or so minutes before the men finally make their appearances.

They all embrace and greet each other as I stand back and watch with a smile. They really are a beautiful family. Once they all break away, Luke turns his attention towards me. He steps forward and reaches for me, pulling me into his arms.

"Congratulations." I speak softly as I wrap my arms around his broad shoulders, his wrapped around my waist.

"Thank you." I can hear the smile in his voice.

Time escapes me as I stand in his arms. I'm not even sure how long we've been holding onto each other. It's his brother's voice that finally has us separating.

"You must be the infamous Y/N." Quinn steps up, a smug grin on his face. "I've heard so much about you."

"I've heard a lot about you as well," I respond politely, despite the blush I'm sure I'm sporting due to his teasing tone. "It's nice to finally meet you."

"Will you be joining us for dinner?" Ellen asks from where she stands, now next to Quinn.

"Oh, um," I look to Luke for an answer. He nods, a pleading look in his eyes. "Yes, I would love to." I finally reply.

With that being said, we all begin to exit the arena and head to the parking lot. We're almost to the vehicles when Luke gently grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop. Once his family is out of earshot, he begins to speak.

"This might seem random and sudden, but I've been thinking about it for a while." He starts, looking away nervously and lifting a hand to scratch the back of his neck. "And feel free to say no because I don't want you to feel like you have to say yes just because I'm asking. Or if you feel like you need time to think it over, feel free to take all of the time you need. Actually, maybe I-"

"Luke," I say his name softly, placing my hands on his reddening cheeks and forcing his gaze back to mine. His rambling comes to a halt. "Breathe."

"Sorry." He inhales deeply before releasing his breath. "I was wondering, would you be my girlfriend?"

It's my turn to take a deep breath. Out of all the things he could have said, I was not expecting this. I take a moment to gather my thoughts as a smile begins to pull at my lips.

"I would love to." I nod, my smile growing larger resulting in his own.

"Well," He takes a step closer to me. "Since you're my girlfriend now, does that mean I can kiss you?" His question flusters me but I try hard not to show it.

"Do you want to kiss me?"

"Really fucking badly."

"Then kiss me, Luke."

And so he does. His lips crash into mine in a soft but passionate kiss. As if he has waited a lifetime to do it. It's gentle yet desperate. As we finally part, he pecks my lips a few more times before pulling away completely. He opens his mouth to say something but is stopped by Jack shouting from where his family is waiting by the cars, surely having seen the whole display.

"If you two lovebirds are done sucking faces in the middle of the parking lot, I would like to leave now. I'm fucking starving." He teases.

We both turn our gazes in time to see Quinn smack the middle brother in the back of the head and both parents shaking their heads at their son's antics. Luke chuckles at the scene as he intertwines his hand with mine and begins to walk to the car. My heart flutters as I finally admit the obvious to myself. Maybe we weren't ever just friends. I mentally roll my eyes as I climb into the back seat, already picturing the two squealing girls in my head and the endless amounts of I told you so's that I'm sure to hear when I fill them in. However, when Luke slides into the car next to me and interlocks our hands once again, I can't bring myself to care. I think I like this little life.

[ihave3verything]

During the day you are a journalist, but at night you record your voice for the enjoyment of anyone in need of some 'nightly help'. When a piece about the band Ghost and it's ministry brings you to Copia's world, he suffers. You are his favorite content maker of the voice and ASMR kind, and now you are there for who knows how long. Speaking to him in your lovely voice.

18+. MDNI

AO3 Chapters: I || Characters: F!Reader, Original Female and Male Character(s) Papa Emeritus IV Copia, Papa Emeritus The I Primo, Papa Emeritus the II Secondo, Papa Emeritus Emeritus III Terzo, Papa Emeritus 0 Nihil, Sister Imperator, Ghoulette(s), Ghoul(s), all is listed and updated on AO3 as we go along Pairings: Reader/Copia, Reader/Ghouls, Copia/Ghouls, OC/Primo, Terzo/Omega, Nihil/Sister Imperator, Fic Contents in general (Will be updated): Meet-Cute, Fluff, Smut, humor, Mutual Pining, Teasing, Sub!Copia, Needy!Copia, Switch!Copia, Voice Kink, praise kink, porn watching/listening, Journalism, Older Man/Younger Woman, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, masturbation, all is listed and updated on AO3 as we go along

Current Chapter Contents: Meet-Cute, pining, flirting, suggestive dialogue, Content: 3.5k words Author's Notes: Hello, I haven't posted a fic on tumblr for a long while now, but especially like this. It was usually just between me and friends so there wasn't much to put before the fic itself lol But there are a lot of fans here who may not be perusing AO3, so I thought I'd post this here :) DEFINITELY since I removed all my Tumblr links and any social media ones too with the current climate of the US and AO3 mods warning us too for our safety. But Anyways! Don't expect timely updates, I am busy with work, suffering my usual ADHD, and have many other fics being written on the side (Ghost ones in particular too and a character/reader or two from those WIPs may just make a guest appearance here :)c ). I also am not too sure yet how this whole thing will play out or how long, but we'll see! I hope you all enjoy <3 besitos all around!!

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"Do you know that sister's name?"

"Hmm?"

"The one, over there with her lips painted the dark-red?"

"Mmmm — no, I believe she may be one of the newer followers."

Copia could not tear his eyes off of you even if he wanted to and he stood there in a mix of emotions fighting over what he should take the time to feel first. Amongst the awe and excitement, the two that hit hardest when he first became aware of you was embarrassment and fear. An odd cocktail never felt before in all his years; and to top it all off, he still felt the lust coiling within, tightening between his thighs.

His ghoulette was by his side, all six-inches taller than him and dubbed 'Cirrus' by their fans. As she sipped away at a juice-box, her own masked eyes examined you, curiously trying to find what had obtained her summoner's attention. You were as average as they came for the clergy's disciples. She could see the parts that usually called out to any of the papas: thick hips, plump ass, beautiful smile, and an atmosphere of something dark misted about your form. Many siblings were like that though, something bringing you all to a dark following that was kinder than whatever else the secular world accepted…So what could have her beloved Copia so hypnotized by you? And could she join in first before the other ghouls did?

"Do you know her?" Cirrus gives a gentle nudge to his shoulder, lowering her eyes to him. He looks worse than she thought when he first spoke up. Eyes slightly wide though she knows he is doing his best to keep them from getting any bigger; lips parted, so stunned by just seeing you; and his pale cheeks are dusted red in the way she loves when he gets flustered. Dare she say it, Copia looks like he's just seen the reaper themselves, clad in a tempting form, beckoning him over with the curl of a finger.

With a little shake of his head, Copia licks his lips then presses them together. "No…No, I've never…"

Cirrus doesn't believe him one bit, she can feel it in their bond as Ghoul and Papa, though she won't say so. He looks like he's suffering enough.

Copia can hear the voice from where he stands so far away. He's heard it before and that is enough to make dread fall in the pit of his stomach. It sounds just like it always does, perhaps not as purposeful, yet the same low tone nonetheless. And like a Pavlovian effect he was never aware of being created, he feels a hot rush of pleasure race up his body to make all the small hairs stand-up, then back down to cause a twitch in his pants. You hadn't said anything enticing in the slightest, he had heard your laugh first then something about taxes, nothing else. Regardless, the memories, his fantasies, fill his head all at once and he must force back his cringing.

He knows you voice because he hears it at night when he needs to relax — when he does not have the time or desire to find a night time partner. Constantly he is driven to you, no time wasted as he knows exactly where you are. And when he closes his eyes, enveloped by you soft voice dripping with sex, he succumbs to the provocative words guiding him to sweet release.

Papa Emeritus The Fourth, Copia, knows your voice from the erotic audio you post online and he loves to get off to the most. That is where the embarrassment takes root, not for listening to audio porn, not really for it being your main role in kinky roleplay, but that he's become practically addicted to you. Always waiting for a notification that you've updated. Imagining your voice even when not clicked onto one of your videos, knowing your tone so well he can use it to make new scenarios to get off to in the meantime. Worst, he's found himself daydreaming of meeting you one day and what he'd say or do to make you smile and laugh and possibly go on a simple date with him. He's a big pathetic fan of a women he knew he'd never meet and was content on just supporting with donations to you subscriber account for more of your work.

And you're fucken here, in the same building, wearing the most beautiful pair of trousers that hug your wide, thick hips and blouse that shows off your supple breasts and cleavage; enjoying yourself talking to another man. Not talking to Copia who stands there stupidly with a juice-box in hand like a child. Which is all for the best, because if you came any closer (was right in front of him with all your pretty smiles) he'd probably make an absolute dumbass of himself.

Maybe he's just jinxed himself with that last thought, because you then looking in his direction. Copia's breath stops working, it's caught up in his nose and stays there like he can't remember how to exhale. Then you are bidding the other man goodbye (fucken good) and making your away to Copia (fucken NO), or to be more specific, Cirrus who he now realizes is waving her long arm up in a wave and obviously grinning at you (Fucken DAMN IT). His ghouls mean well, they are his beloved beasts, but they could be so frustrating to handle.

"Cirrus, what the fu —" He hisses lowly, daring a growl to seep into it so Cirrus understands how angry he is with her.

Of course it doesn't do anything, because when you are much closer she begins to greet you. "Hello! Sorry for interrupting, I'm trying to meet all our new members."

You are even worse for Copia up close where he can finally put a detailed face to your voice he knows so well. He's tried to make up an appearance for your voice, a temptress figure lying across a plush bed like Elvira the Mistress of Darkness herself. There are so many versions of this woman, all who commonly have those wide child bearing hips made for tight-fitting jeans, but none of them have stayed for long. They don't fit the voice, the words, the tingling sensations that crawl up his heated body from head to toe.

Now he's found it — you are truly there, and everything clicks into place. Now he's going to have to do his damned hardest not to get off to images of you, even if it is harmless (he's not going to be stupid and act like a delusional fanboy, naturally that won't be the case). Everything would feel too weird, certainly so when he is now going to be (forced) into meeting you face to face; his dick may think otherwise, but the shame is going to be waiting there after when all is over.

"Wonderful! Though, I'm not really a member of your church." You smile shyly up to the ghoulette, the skin around your eyes showing the smallest of wrinkles.

Copia bites the inside of his cheek. You're actually younger than he thought, heard, and imagined. The voice matches the body, yet still lies to anyone passing by (or hearing it while curled up in bed listening). Despite a mom-body and voice, you actually appear to be early 30s at the oldest, and late 20s at the youngest. Nary a cease on your face that is from age, only the lines that tell of how much you may have smiled over your lifetime so far. And that both worries Copia while also excites him; you must have a partner with how young and gorgeous you are; obviously you wouldn't care for someone of his age and looks. For once in his own life, there is a sense of disgust — you are far too young as much as you are a full-grown adult with experience to make your own choices smartly.

Cirrus cants her head a bit. "That must be why you're not in a habit. So why are you here?" It's so bluntly put, Copia wants to pinch her pointed ear for being so rude.

"I'm here to write up an article about you all and the band!" Your grin is so wide and your voice (pits below, you voice) is filled with glee.

"All of us ghouls and Papa?!"

You wiggle your head side to side and squint your eyes. "Well, the siblings and clergy members too, of course. It's so crazy how your church has reached out to the masses via Ghost. Usually other churches are going door to door, or being annoying at bus stops and stuff. Just handing out brochure like they're selling you a time-share or something." The annoyance seeps off your whole body and voice, like you've heard something a million times and are sick of it.

The ghoul joins in, matching the energy as she lifts her head up to the sky. "Absolutely! I'm so happy the whole Ghost project was made! Being summoned to join was the best thing to happen in my existence!"

Your face brightens up at that, scrambling in your pocket while also speaking and looking to the ghoulette. "So you really are summoned from Hell?"

As you quickly scratch away at a small notebook now in your hand, Cirrus begins to hop on the ends of her booted feet. "Yeah! Any high-ranking clergy member can summon beasts from the pits of Hell, but when a Papa does, it's super special! I felt it when the words echoed down below, and when Papa's voice was echoing in my head, I totally let myself relax and be brought up to this plane!"

"So he like… pretty much whispers in your ear — if you had one with a form even then, of course."

"…Not really? It was…Kinda like…" Then the tall air ghoul is turning her eyes to Copia. Their amber color is truly shining, so relaxed and almost longing as she gazes on the man; she knows how it looks, its just like Copia's face was when he was gazing on you a moment ago.

"Singing. Papa was singing to me and only me. Copia has such a bewitching voice, he called for me amongst the crowds of so many others…but he needed an air ghoul, and my essence…"

"I felt you there, my ghoul." Copia doesn't try to stop himself as reverence for his demon pours out of him not only in his words, but the piece of his soul that bonds them together in something like a hug. "All of the others felt so wonderful, but just a brush over your being and I was enraptured. So I focused, then you were — mnnn….well, you were there covered in blood, haha."

Cirrus' fang gleam as she giggles. "You're so sweet papa, you even took your frock off and covered me up despite the blood!"

"You were shivering, cara! As your summoner I had to instantly make sure you were ok and taken care of." He remembers the rush of protectiveness he felt when she was there on the circle of old runes — he had purposefully written them just as he practiced for days before, an intent behind every line. That was how it was with every ghoul he summoned, that need to ensure their new livelihood was safe the moment he saw their bare bodies mucked with thick blood that still shone so brightly. Perhaps he had actually fallen in love with each of them then, those decades old beasts who had lived a deadly life away from the Human realm.

Suddenly Cirrus is speaking again, but facing you who had been standing there frozen with the tip of your pen on the pad of paper. "This is so rude of me! I haven't even introduced you to Papa yet!"

Copia snaps his attention to you and he watches you blink a few times before you give him a small smile. The thought that you may be disappointed now to pay him any thought and are just being polite as Cirrus brings him up, swirls in his head. Why else would you give such an indifferent face. He doesn't blame you: he'd be more interested in such an impressive figure as Cirrus too.

"Papa this is …"

There hadn't been an exchange of names yet, but you don't hesitate to reach out a hand and tell them both yours. Copia only hopes his hand isn't as shaky as he feels — grateful for his gloves that keep his sweaty palms hidden.

"Please, call me Copia — Papa is my father." A fucken joke? A dad joke no less!

But your eyes fall to the ground, hiding away a big smile as you chuckle so sweetly it makes Copia whole body heat up in a flush. "Copia," No, no, no, you've said his name in your perfect voice"that's a unique one, really. It's very nice to meet you." And your hand gives his a quick squeeze, then releases.

"Me too. I mean, to meet you too! Eh, your name its, uhh, very nice too!"

You playfully look like you'd beg to differ, but say nothing and now truly grin. "You're very sweet, Copia. Very nice to little 'ol me."

In a race to keep himself from groaning aloud, he pulls his drink up for what was meant to be a sip, only to become a gulp that he swallows loudly instead; he fails to see to see Cirrus covering her mouth to keep her own laughter at bay. After a few clearings grunts of his throat, he attempts to keep the conversation going.

"I love your lipstick!"

"Aww, thanks! I love the darker colors." You give their plump shape a pucker like you are going in for a kiss.

"Though, they tend to be hard in keeping from staining everything my lips touch." You lick your lips, the tint to them not budging, stained in that dark color despite the long hours the party has gone.

Endless images fill Copia's head, each one of your lips pouting, wrapped around so many things, daring to see them below him. He wonders how they would feel not just there, but on his shoulders, across his chest, around his fingers, pressed on his cheeks, locked with his so deeply he'd be weaing your lipstick for hours after. Having their shape imprinted on every inch of his body to make him look like some lovesick fool.

There is nothing left in his juice-box to cover any reaction he has (especially physically), so in a moment of desperation Copia turns his head away and raises his juice to no one in particular far off. "Oh, excuse me! Someone over there is wanting me to go over! Look, more drinks!"

He looks back at you, finding you looking confused and curious. "I'm sorry to end this conversation so soon, please excuse me! I hope we can talk more another time." Dare he thinks it, dear God does he hope so.

"Of course, I'm sure we will with my —" Before you can continue, Copia is speed walking away with an odd limp in his step. You watch his back disappear in the crowd of so many, lost in the sea of blacks and reds like an enigma.

Cirrus sighs and rolls her eyes. "He's a very busy, you know. Still relatively new to his role now as Papa Emeritus."

"I understand…"

Your voice sounds very much like wistfulness to Cirrus' ears, making her wonder if there is a chance she can meddle a little in things that fill her head now. When she tells the others, they'll definitely feel the same. Its very cute to watch you continue staring where Copia went, how your soft lifts all but pout. Oh, how Cirrus wants in, she wants to have a taste of you…after Copia does, of course, if he would like to (and it seems so). The waiting game is one that any ghoul would be impatient about, but the reward is all worth it.

"You were saying something as he left. You'll be seeing Papa again?"

Nodding and turning back to the ghoul, you come back into the moment. "Yes, I will be setting up interviews with many peeople here — you ghouls included — but Copia mostly. I want to hear about his life before and after his promotion. Pick his brain at a few things and learn more about the clergy."

"It sounds like you know a bit already. Not everyone is aware of how ghouls are summoned."

"Aware is the key word here, until you both told me more right now. I've done some reading beforehand by fellow fans and articles online, skimmed a book or two. That's part of my job as a journalist."

That piques Cirrus' interest. "You are a fan of Ghost?"

A soft blush covers your cheeks, and you bite your bottom lips softly in a smile. Your shyness fills the ghoulette's cursed blood with flames, feeling a desire to chase and capture you in her arms; but just as quickly she covers it up, knowing how fearsome her face will look if you catch it in that moment.

"Yes…Not like a huge, huge fan though! But when the opportunity to do a story about religion came up for the news site I work for, I felt the need to cover your guys' church."

"You are so kind!" Cirrus steps closer. It's the same move she uses when it comes to anyone she finds interest in. Yet, what you do next is absolutely new.

"I've been told that before," your face changes, eyes lidded with something dark and alluring that makes Cirrus' focus zone in solely on you. Not only that, but there's a new timber to your voice, your words, that makes her ears tingle enough, she feels it like a warm blanket over her body. "I'm truly glad I chose you and this church as my topic"

Then you take a step closer as well, and there's little space between either bodies. "I'm grateful I'm here to meet you. You're so much taller than photos and videos would lead someone to believe; and so stunning in person!"

"You didn't choose me specifically, silly. You chose all of Ghost, all the ghouls and Papa." Cirrus can't take her eyes off you — doesn't want you to stop talking.

"True, but still, you are all so skilled and lovely in your own ways. I can't wait to talk to each of you one-on-one. I'll make sure you are comfortable and satisfied with our time together."

And Cirrus has never felt herself so captured. She's the lioness here, the one they joke about keeping behind chains so she doesn't play that ghoulish game of run and seek. And despite that, here she is, feeling so heated and at ease by a mere human who is much shorter and far less powerful than she. This must be whatever has her powerful summoner so uneasy, like he knows what strengths are hidden under that plushy flesh Cirrus now wants to caress and bite at.

If Copia doesn't get his shit together before Cirrus and the others snap, he's going to end up with some seriously sloppy and marked seconds. There could be a chance they'd ruin you for anyone else but their pack.

Cirrus' hair blows up a bit, a spark of her element rising enough it seeps out of her in a small gust. Absolutely embarrassing, though not enough to make her feel an ounce of it.

You grin so widely she fears your face will split in half. Stepping back and combing fingers in you hair to push it back, you put your notebook and pen back in your pocket. "I'm so sorry, uhh —"

"Cirrus, that's what you fans call me. I like it." I'm going to make sure you call it out without realzing it when I get my claws on you.

"Cirrus, like the clouds in the sky. I love it!" You give her a polite nod. "I'm sorry to run off, Cirrus, but I need to talk with Sister Imperator about setting up times for the interviews." You nod over to where the blonde woman stands, arm hooked around Nihil's elbow like a leash to keep him close.

"Of course, don't worry — I can't wait for ours!"

"Wonderful! I'll talk to you later then!"

"You bet!"

You are off with a confident stride in your step. The way your hips sway in those perfect trousers that show off your assets, how your shoes click on the marble floor echoes throughout the building. Cirrus squeezes her juice-box without thinking, and whatever was left is now a puddle on the floor as she watches you walk off. Only one thought stands out from the dozens of new ones.

Copia better hope his fat, perky ass gets interviewed first.

[seeingivy]

picnic

sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

(^^make sure you check since this was a double upload and I posted the last one very recently :D)

--

dear head of the cullen clan,  keep evening plans open – im getting off work early and we’re going on a picnic.  coldest regards,  the head of the volturi  (ps. am expecting a very wholehearted appreciation for the fact that it’s coldest regards and not warmest regards, because they are, in fact, vampires and therefore cold. because they don’t have a heart and such.)  (extra ps. this is a link to a shared spotify playlist. i’ll add a song and then you add one. we’ll keep it going.) 

you snort. 

dear aro of the volturi (does he have a last name???),  so much to unpack in one email, yet again. you really know how to keep a girl on her toes.  first and foremost, you are SOOOO ran through. so offended that i wasn’t the person who got to put you on to twilight and whoever it was, I HOEP SHE DIES! if you’re team jacob, you’re a freak.  second, SO VERY FLATTERED that you think i would be carlisle. a little haunting that you think YOU would be aro…but it’s ok cuz former companions to enemies back to lovers in our case would be kind of crazy???  third. done and done. i just added a song so hurry up bc i have like ten other songs i want to add and i am #impatient  see u after work pookie :D,  carlisle cullen  (very appreciative of the cold regards. you are a king among men.) 

his response back is very prompt. 

Never call me pookie again.  (very offended that you think i’d be stupid enough to be team jacob. and direct your murderous rage towards yuuji and my mom, who forced me to watch it in theaters with them.) 

--

you wait for sukuna at the park two blocks down the apartment complex. the sun is hours away from dipping into the horizon, the chilly wind rustling through the trees. you realize now that the red skirt and white sweater might betray you in a few hours but decide that you’ll simply have to steal his jacket when he gets here. 

and you would have already but he’s twenty minutes late.

and while this part of the city is extremely safe, sukuna’s ever constant fear of people attacking you on subway trains and stabbing you in alleyways has instilled an acute fear of strangers in you, which is why you’re gripping the sparkly pink pepper spray he bought you very harshly in your palm right now. 

you think it’s sweet that he bought you a pink one. 

but of course it’s severely ironic that you almost used it on him. 

because he scares the living daylights out of you, by placing his hand around your shoulder from behind. 

“hey. i’m sorry i-” 

“jesus fuck-” 

you instinctively hold the pepper spray up to his face, your hands shaking in front of you. 

“i’ll use it, you pervert!” 

sukuna leans his head to the side, which is when you’re finally able to log that it’s actually him standing in front of you and not a stranger, and you drop your hands in embarrassment. 

“i mean, i’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t doll face but–” 

“oh my god, sukuna. i thought you were trying to rob me!” 

“i’m smarter than that. the only thing inside your purse is lip gloss, which has very little value to me.” sukuna responds, dropping the little basket at his feet and taking the little stalk of flowers out of the top handle. 

“i’ll have you know that it’s actually sold out in every store right now. so you could make bank if you sold it.” 

“don’t tempt me. and for your sake, i’ll accept the apology you didn’t give me for just trying to rob me of my eyesight and for calling me a pervert? i’m getting really tired of the age gap jokes, y/n.” sukuna responds, as he lifts your hands at your sides and places the stalk of flowers in your hand. 

you give him a big smile as you press your nose to the flowers, the scent fresh in your nose. and sukuna props down, setting a billowing white blanket on the ground before he taps the spot next to him and signals for you to sit next to him. 

“who needs eyes?” you joke, as you squeeze his hands and set the flowers down next to the little basket. 

“me, dipshit. how else am i supposed to look at you?” 

you cover your hands with your cheeks as you watch him place all of the little things inside the basket next to you, laying them out perfectly. it’s albeit a weird assortment – two wine glasses, perfectly wrapped sandwiches, a mini-cake, and strawberry lemonade. 

“well, stop perceiving me. this is so weird!” you murmur. 

it’s enough to catch his attention and stop him in his tracks. 

“what?” 

the question makes you pause. and a little embarrassed. it was a little harsh to say while you were joking.

“oh, i mean…i didn’t mean it like that! i was making a joke about perceiving because eyes…vision…and i almost took your vision away! and you perceive with your eyes, because how else would you see…” 

sukuna smiles, before shaking his head, and continuing spilling out the last of the contents – a set of gouache paints and two little small canvases. and he drops to his feet, yanking his shoes off, before sitting flat on the blanket and gesturing for you to join him. 

“there’s no way in hell that was what you meant. but we’ll ignore that for the time being.” sukuna responds, hiking his legs to his chest and gesturing towards the spread he just put out. 

you tilt your head to the side in confusion. 

“you look very pretty today.” sukuna responds. 

“thanks! you too!” 

he narrows his eyes. 

“uh huh. well, pick what we do first. the paint, the sandwiches, or the weird wine glass cake.” 

“the wine glass cake? like from tiktok?” you ask. 

“correct. i’m really bad at…cute dates. so…i did some research.” 

sukuna refuses to look at you. because after admitting it, he’s suddenly busied himself with reading the back of the box of paints, like it’s the most riveting, intriguing thing he’s ever read in his life. 

but the pink flush that’s creeping down his neck betrays him entirely, as you reach forward and push the little box down. and sukuna’s already glaring at you. 

you place your chin on the top of his knees, reaching for one of his hands and smiling. 

“you did research for a date?” 

“you can choke on your spit.” 

you grin. 

“you really know how to turn a girl on.” 

“you’re filthy.” 

you grin. 

“and you’re actually so precious, i–” 

“don’t call me precious, y/n.” he whines, as he reaches forward to flick on your forehead. 

you smile as you sit by his side, tucking the folds of your skirt under your leg as you reach for both of the wine glasses and hand him one. 

“so how humbling was it to have satoru explain all this to you?” you ask. 

he sneers. 

“don’t even ask. he’s like the biggest nuisance i’ve ever met in my life. top ten worst moments of my life.” sukuna responds. 

“i’m flattered you humbled yourself to him for me.” 

“i actually asked suguru. they’re like…two peas in a pod, they can’t do shit without each other. the paints and stuff they gave me and the nice basket too.” 

“that’s sweet of them. remind me to send them something later to thank them.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“no need. they were more than happy to give it up for you.” 

“ah yes. i hear they’re big fans of this camping bag story. the scouts honor and the fake story we had to tell them makes a lot more sense now.” you respond. 

sukuna rolls his eyes. 

“okay, you know what? sue me. i was like sixteen sleeping next to a girl for the first time. god forbid i enjoyed myself. and i don’t know why they’re all so hyperfixated on that story because it was a very normal thing to assume when you’re asked that question.”  

you snort. 

“and you say you’re not a pervert…” 

sukuna leans forward, his eyes flitting down to his lips before he looks back up at you. and he can tell that you’re in a mood, that you’re trying to push his buttons by annoying him. 

“you know i despise you right?” he whispers. 

you grin, leaning in. 

“is that right?” you whisper back. 

“oh yeah. you irritate me.” 

there isn’t even a shred of earnestness in the words he’s uttering. you know he doesn’t mean them. 

“keep going.” you respond, as he presses a warm kiss to the side of your cheek. 

“you’re a nuisance.” – a kiss to your forehead. 

“an irritation.” – a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“like a fucking thorn in my side.” – and a kiss to the sweet spot right in your neck and his hand snaking up your thigh, which makes you nearly keel your head back from the sensation. 

you place your hands on his cheek and pull him back, face flushed and his eyes nearly glazed over. 

“are you crazy?” you whisper. 

“what?” he asks. 

“we’re in public, dumbass. you can’t just start trying to rile me up.” 

sukuna leans back, obliging. 

“so you admit it? i was riling you up?” 

“oh, shut up.” 

you reach for the sandwiches and unpeel one for sukuna. before he takes it, he places a tiny white box in your lap. 

you frown. first the fancy date but the jewelry too? 

“sukuna. you didn’t–” 

“just open it. i’m impatient and i’ve been waiting all day. and i actually think you’ll like it. otherwise, you’re ungrateful and rude and you hate me.” sukuna responds. 

you give him a tight lipped smile before you open the little box and actually smile. 

it’s a dainty silver chain – the exact same as sukuna’s from the chain-links, but the build is a little thinner. and right at the center, a little charm of a star. 

you reach forward for his chain, dangling around his collarbone. and surely enough, in addition to the original charm he had of an interlocked circle, there’s a star charm added right next to it. 

“you always reach for it. when you’re talking or when we’re kissing. figured i’d get you your own since you’re such a big fan.” 

“you are so…” 

“perfect? sexy? the father of your children?” 

“i was thinking adorable. can i answer d for all of the above?” you respond. 

sukuna grins. 

“survey says yes, princess.” he responds. 

you yank the chain from the little box and hand it to him, before turning around for him to secure it on you. his fingers tickle against the nape of your neck, accompanied by a warm kiss, before he taps your shoulders to signify that he’s done. 

“you know. you really are perceiving me right now.” you respond. 

“and how’s that?” 

“i know you’re obsessed with me and pay attention to every word i say.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“obviously.” 

you jab at his side. 

“i mean, i know you’re doing this because i mentioned picnics yesterday and always feeling left out. sure you could put two and two together that he never really bought me any nice gifts or anything when i said he ruined my birthday.” 

“okay, captain obvious. and?” 

you shove him once more, before leaning your head against his shoulder. 

“well, i appreciate it. i know the whole…cutesy painting date isn’t your thing. we won’t have to do it again. and that you…you’re trying to make this whole thing special for me.” 

sukuna scoffs. 

“i’m offended. first and foremost, i always like to eat with you. every time i think that there’s no way you can amaze me more, you find another way to spill food on your clothes.” 

“hey! that’s not true.” 

“you already spilled on the blanket. second, this is a very violent way to eat cake. you literally mess up all the layers by doing that and destroy the piping on the cake which i can admit, i am a fan of. and third, i’m going to paint us as worms, which seems enjoyable to me.” 

you curl your nose. 

“worms?” 

“yeah. what were you going to paint?” 

“i don’t know. but it certainly wasn’t going to be worms. like the park or flowers or something.” 

“boring. i’m going to paint us as slimy worms. and because we made it on this date, you’ll have to agree to put it up in the apartment, even if it’s ugly.” 

“sukuna.” you whine. 

“especially if it’s ugly. it’s a testament to our love.” he responds, dramatically placing his hands on  his chest. 

“you know, you’re so right. worms have been a really defining feature of your relationship.” 

sukuna leans forward and presses a quick kiss to your lips and an additional one on your cheek. 

“you just get me, princess!” 

and he breaks the little joke by lifting one of your hands to his lips, and pressing a kiss on all four of your knuckles before pressing your hand to his cheek. 

“and i have to do special things for a special person.” 

you return the gesture, lifting his tattooed fingers to your lips and doing the same. 

“you know…you’re really good at this type of thing.” you murmur. 

“what do you mean?” 

“i mean, being a boyfriend. and…and being supportive about everything. sometimes i feel like i’m trying really hard to be the best but…just comes naturally to you.” you respond. 

sukuna shrugs. 

“don’t know if i’m perfect but…loving you has always come really easy to me. i don’t really have to think twice about it because these are actually just things i want to do for you.” 

you groan. 

“see! that’s what i’m saying! you always just…say sweet things, do sweet things. sometimes i’m convinced i’m not even half deserving of it, just because sometimes i don’t reciprocate that back.” you respond. 

sukuna leans forward. 

“you know, you actually do though.” 

“as if.” you groan. 

sukuna pauses, before leaning his cheek against the tops of his knees and looking out at the expanse of grass in front of you. you follow his line of vision – to the dog running in the distance, the wide, billowing trees, and the little flower truck on the side – which you now realize is where sukuna copped the flowers from earlier. 

“i mean, this type of thing. that we have, or…or the way i act around you. it means a lot to you because, you…you’ve never had this before. right?” 

“yeah.” 

“well, i haven’t had you before. i know you see me as perfect, but…but when you say that i can tell that you don’t mean it the way my mom or…or yuuji think that i’m perfect. in the untouchable way.” 

you lean forward, cupping the side of his face. 

“sukuna. you’re so touchable.” you joke. 

“you’re disgusting.” 

“you love it.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“yeah, i really do. it does actually mean the world to me that you think i’m perfect how i am and don’t think i’m larger than life.” 

“if anything, your ego could be smaller.” 

sukuna leans forward and presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“and…and even the other day. i know you were acting squirrely and weird when yuuji was near us and heard us bickering, but i was half convinced that you were going to take his side at the end, when he started saying that stuff about me. because it is true and i have acted a certain way in the past…and, you would have every right to agree with him if you wanted to.” 

you frown. 

“no, i wouldn’t. you’ve never treated me like that and i know you’re being earnest when you say these things to me. this would be a very elaborate way to get into my pants if that was what you were trying to do. and i know it’s not.” 

sukuna smiles. 

“that’s what i’m saying. every other person for me has never given me that benefit of the doubt, but you always do. you were the person who thought to tell me that my grandpa died when you all came to get me and you were the one who wasn’t mad at me. the things you do for me are the same, in equal magnitude, as what i do for you. if this makes you feel good, or…or on top of the world, you have to know that’s how you make me feel too. i’m half convinced that you’re basically made for me at this point the way you get everything right on point.” 

you lean forward and press a lingering kiss to his lips. 

“i really think you’re made for me too, ryomen.” 

sukuna groans, dramatically leaning his head back, before nearly pushing you over and peppering kisses to almost every surface on your face. 

“quit fucking saying my name. you have no idea what that does to me.” 

“i mean, i think i have an idea.” 

sukuna clamps his fingers over your mouth, before pressing a few more lingering kisses to your face and pushing off. and subsequently, picks all of the grass out of your hair as you roll your eyes. 

and after that sukuna, admittedly, very aggressively uses the wine glasses to portion off little slices of the cake and makes it a point to finish off yours when you can’t stomach the sweetness. and true to his promise – sukuna paints the two of you as worms, but at the park, stargazing. 

it’s a little silly, the way he paints it. you were expecting it to be more gory or gross, but it’s so corny that it makes you smile. because he draws the two little worms, but distinguishes between the two of you, by swiping some of your pink paint and adding a little ribbon to the one that’s supposed to be you. 

sukuna explains the stars. because before sukuna had dragged you out of that shitty bathroom bar, it’s what megumi and yuuji said in his drunken mess – he had pointed at two little stars and likened them to him and megumi.

and you’re almost positive that at the time, sukuna found it utterly ridiculous. but now, he understood it – the sentiment. that you and sukuna were two little worms, and two stars, and two little flowers too. 

and to his promise, the two of you decide to place the little canvases you drew at the end of the kitchen counter. 

it’s only then that you realize that you have to go the whole ten miles for sukuna the way he had done for you – countless times again. and that if you were going in blind in trying to make something special, you’d have to take a page out of his book and do some research. 

and there was only one person who could really help you, who you’d rather die than humble yourself to than ask for help. 

regardless of that, you still call sammy the next morning.

--

next part linked here

an: they're about to do it. anyways....there is a very real playlist to match the one that they talk about in the fic -- and it matches the way it described in the fic! so it's interleaved, the first song is a song that sukuna would have added, the second one that y/n added, the third sukuna, so on and so forth. it's linked here! happy listening babies

second an: thank you for the love on the last chapter. it makes my heart really warm bc all of that was actually based on a REAL MAN and real things that I have felt/have said to me and just having people comment that they felt seen by it or it made them feel a certain type of way actually made me really happy and so warm. this blog was one of the first things I did after I stopped being really, really sad and i'm glad that i'm able to share a little joy here and there, if that's what this fic is for you. anyways this is long and sappy and gross and actually I just love you all for enduring the ouchies and the sillies with me a little bit 💌

third an: double upload bc yall were so patient with me :D

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani79 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[wolfjackle-creates]

I took part in the Demon Twins Who Wrote That game over on the Haunting Heroes DPxDC server and author reveals were today. So now I can finally post the fic I wrote for it!

No Place Left to Hide

Danny is on the run. He wants nothing more than to see his family, but they're out of his reach at the moment. Then he sees a magazine article and accompanying photo of Damian Wayne. His long-lost twin brother. Maybe he does have some family he can check on. Just to spy from a distance, of course. Getting too close would only make his situation worse. But when he gets caught in the halls of Gotham Academy, he might not have a choice in the matter.

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3.1k

Rating: T

Warning: a trans Danny mentions his deadname to Damian

-----

Danny stared down at Gotham Academy. Damian was just inside those walls. All he’d have to do was go intangible and he’d be able to see his twin for the first time in eight years. The thought made his core ache, a throbbing that echoed in his still-healing injuries.

He was descending before ever consciously making the choice to actually see his brother.

It was stupid. What if Damian caught him? Told Talia, or worse, Ra’s? Then it wouldn’t just be the Fentons and the GIW after him, but also the League of Assassins. And he was already injured.

But he had to see. He hadn’t seen Damian in years. Had lived half his life without his twin at this point.

He should leave. He shouldn’t be here at all.

A moment later, he’d phased through the roof and floated invisibly in the middle of a locker-lined hallway. He allowed gravity to once more take control of him and his feet settled on the linoleum floor.

Now, to find Damian. Just to see him, make sure he was safe. The rest of his family were out of his reach; the GIW was monitoring them too closely for Danny to risk visiting. Or even just check in from a distance. And Danny’s core was demanding he check on his loved ones.

He’d been debating risking a visit to them regardless of the risk when he saw the magazine article: Wayne Boy Volunteers at Animal Shelter. The attached picture brought a smile to Danny’s face. One of the few genuine smiles he’d worn since being forced on the run. In it, Damian was glaring at the camera, but his arms were gentle as he cradled a puppy. Behind him stood Bruce Wayne, grinning widely. In the article, Bruce talked about how proud he was of his youngest son and his big heart. Back when they’d been with the League, Danny had been the only one to know of Damian’s gentleness.

Reading the article, seeing the picture had healed something in Danny. Damian had gotten out. Something he’d thought impossible when he left half a lifetime ago.

And now he was here to confirm it. To check on the twin he’d left behind. Make sure he was healthy and safe and happy. He’d never seen Damian be any of those things before. Not beyond fleeting moments carved out in secret.

Though… He looked around the empty hallway and bit his lip. The school was huge and he had no idea what Damian’s schedule looked like. Where should he even start?

Footsteps echoed down the hall and Danny instinctively moved to the side to let whomever it was pass.

Only to feel a hand grip his shoulder.

Danny just barely kept himself from twisting and throwing a punch at the person. He wasn’t able stop himself from jumping a foot in the air, though. And if he hung in the air a bit longer than gravity should’ve allowed, well, Danny could only hope the person gripping his arm didn’t notice.

“Wayne, why are you in the hallways out of uniform rather than in your class?”

Danny blinked in surprise. “What?” he asked. This guy couldn’t actually have mistaken him for Damian, could he have? They weren’t identical twins. They didn’t even have the same skin tone!

Though Danny did suppose he’d gotten more tanned lately. Being on the run meant he was spending much more time outside than normal and he always did tan pretty well, one thing to thank Talia for he supposed.

The hall monitor rolled his eyes. “Where are you supposed to be right now?”

Danny opened his mouth, then shut it again. Should he disappear? But what if the teacher reported it? Would the GIW come to investigate? Would Damian, growing up around Lazarus pits, ping on their sensors?

He stayed put and he stayed silent.

The teacher sniffed and pulled out his phone. After tapping a bit, he announced, “History with Mr. Binder. I’ll accompany you back and we will be contacting your father about this behavior.”

He grabbed Danny’s shoulder again and marched him through the hallways. Danny allowed it, not sure what else to do. And still so desperate to see his brother.

When they reached what must be Damian’s classroom, the man knocked once, then pushed the door open.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Binder. But I found one of your students wandering the hallways.”

Danny had barely glanced inside the classroom when his eyes fell on Damian. Everything else fell away. He didn’t see the other kids, didn’t hear Mr. Binder’s response. All he could see was Damian.

Even sitting, it was clear Damian was taller than Danny. His hair was shorter, his muscles more defined. And he was holding his pencil like it was a dagger he was going to throw through Danny’s throat.

Danny grinned and, speaking a language he’d barely used in eight years, said, “It’s been a long time, brother.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed further, but he kept his posture relaxed. Except for his grip on his pencil. “You’re no brother of mine. Who are you?” asked Damian, also in Arabic.

Danny clutched his hands to his chest. “How could you not remember me?” he wailed. But he couldn’t keep up the feigned offense for more than a second and grinned. “Though, I suppose you did used to call me sister. A lot’s changed in eight years, brother. Liat died in the league; I go by Danny now.”

At Danny’s mention of his deadname, the pencil fell from Damian’s hands. The sound of it hitting the floor was loud in the otherwise silent room. But when Damian spoke, his voice was steady. “Prove it.”

Danny inclined his head in a mock bow. “If you insist,” he said, switching to English. “The sun did not shine, it was too wet to play. So we sat in the house, all that cold, cold, wet day.”

Damian stood, sending his chair tumbling to the floor. “Enough!”

Danny obediently stopped reciting and grinned at Damian.

Damian hated The Cat in the Hat. Danny had heard it when he’d been sent to a daycare on one of his first missions to slip a child a mild poison that’d leave her sick for a few days and a letter for her father, a man who’d been planning to betray the league.

Danny had fallen in love. He’d smuggled the book out with him when he’d finished his task. The idea of a cat in a hat coming to the league and causing a bit of destruction helped him withstand the endless trainings and trials. Besides, their grandfather and mother deserved it. And Damian just didn’t see.

Though now Danny realized that was because Damian had never been allowed to glimpse what life could be outside the League. Danny, on the other hand, had been trained in spying and infiltration. Which meant he had to understand how kids his age worked and thought and acted. So he had to be around them with some regularity.

What he’d learned was that he wanted their lives, not his own. A lesson he tried, and failed, to teach Damian.

Before either Damian or Danny could think of something to say to each other, the History teacher cleared his throat. “Damian, what is going on here?”

Damian immediately stood to attention, just as Talia had taught him. “I apologize for the intrusion. My… brother came for an unexpected visit. May we be excused to the office so I can call my father?”

“I wasn’t aware you had another sibling your age,” said the teacher with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s from my mother’s side,” said Damian.

Danny hummed. True enough, he supposed. They did share a biological mother. Even if Danny refused to ever acknowledge her as such ever again.

He really didn’t have much luck with mother figures, did he? Maddie had turned out to be just as bad as Talia.

In the end, the teacher really didn’t have a choice but to let them go. Though the hall monitor who had caught Danny insisted on accompanying them all the way to the office despite Damian’s protests that he knew the way.

Danny hid a scowl at the situation. He’d had no intentions of meeting Bruce Wayne and now it looked like he’d either have to reveal his powers and run or meet his biological father. His core ached at the thought of leaving Damian, though. And he couldn’t risk letting Ra’s or Talia find out about his powers.

He ignored the longing he felt at the potential for a true family, for a father who loved him unconditionally. He was zero for three on parental figures. No way was he going to try for a fourth.

“How are you here?” asked Damian in Arabic as they walked.

Danny shrugged and answered in the same language. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be. Saw you in a magazine and figured I’d check in.”

“In a—” Damian cut off with a noise of frustration. “I thought you were dead. Did Mother put you in a pit?”

“As far as I’m aware, both Talia and Ra’s are also under the impression I am dead-dead. Though now that we’ve had contact, I don’t suppose that will last much longer.”

“How did you survive?” demanded Damian.

Danny stared ahead and bit his lip. After a moment, he said, “I did try and take you with me, you know. You were the only thing I regretted leaving behind.”

The resulting silence lasted until they reached the front office. Danny didn’t know how to break it.

They were instructed to sit in plush seats facing the office staff where they could be observed as Damian spoke to their his dad.

Damian pulled out his phone, but before he dialed, asked, “How did you get caught? Have you forgotten all your training?”

Danny didn’t bother to try and hide his blush. He’d been relying on his powers and must’ve let his invisibility drop by mistake. It was just…he’d been on the run for almost two months now. He was hungry and tired and in pain. If Jazz knew, she’d scold him for neglecting himself. He should’ve expected something like this would happen the moment he got distracted.

But how to explain that without explaining everything? “The last few months have been hard,” he settled on. “Due to certain circumstances, I am no longer welcome at the place I’ve called home the last few years and had to leave suddenly. Thus, I am not currently at optimal physical health. I grew careless.”

Damian frowned and looked down at his phone. Rather than answer, he opened his contacts and dialed the one labeled “Father.”

Danny probably should be more cautious. He probably shouldn’t trust Damian. But this was his brother. The only good thing from his early childhood.

And he was so, so tired.

Danny let himself slump against Damian’s side. Damian tensed for just a moment before he relaxed.

“Hello, Father,” said Damian into the phone.

Danny let his eyes drift shut as he listened to Damian’s side of the conversation.

“No. I am well. But there’s been a situation.”

Danny snorted at that description, and Damian pinched his thigh.

“It is not something I can explain over the phone, but I need to be picked up from school. Immediately.”

Bruce Wayne’s voice was just indistinct enough that Danny had a hard time understanding it, though he could hear the worry in it.

“It is a family matter. You will wish to be here quickly as there is a strong possibility we will not have the chance again.”

“Think I’m that good, do you?” huffed Danny under his breath. Damian just pinched him again with a tut.

“Could you stop and pick up a smoothie on your way in? With extra protein powder?”

Danny’s breath caught. Was Damian asking on his behalf? It’d been so long since he’d been around Jazz or his friends. He hadn’t had anyone look out for his wellbeing in months.

He screwed his eyes tight against the burning and focused on keeping his breathing steady.

The rest of Damian’s conversation consisted of stilted goodbyes and promises of explanations once they got home.

Despite his apprehension at meeting Bruce, sitting in a comfortable chair leaning against his brother after months of being on edge was enough for him to slip into a shallow doze. Damian would keep him safe. Whatever disagreements they’d had as children, that had been a constant. Danny was vaguely aware of the office staff talking and making noises. Damian’s shoulder shifted slightly as he did something on his phone. But Danny was more asleep than awake.

Until Damian tensed and shrugged his shoulder. “Father’s here,” he whispered in Arabic.

Danny was instantly awake, though he kept his posture relaxed. Bruce Wayne was someone who had attracted the attention of Talia al Ghul. Whatever face he presented to the public had to be a lie, and Danny didn’t know what to expect from him.

One thing Danny did know, though, was that he refused to go back to who he’d been with the league. The formality was so exhausting. And his very core rebelled at the thought of going back to a life of violence and suffering. He’d left to be a regular American kid, and that was what Bruce Wayne would meet.

Maybe his second death made that life impossible, but while he still had breath in his lungs and a heart that beat, he was going to cling to the dream.

So, rather than follow Damian’s lead and sit up straight and formal, Danny stretched his arms up and yawned loudly. “Ope, sorry for falling asleep there on you Dami,” he said in his strongest Midwestern accent.

Damian shot him a look, but didn’t respond. Still, when he stood, he offered a hand to Danny to help him up as well.

Danny grinned as he took it. Then he took a fortifying breath and turned to face Bruce Wayne, his biological father.

Bruce stared at him, face blank. His eyes lingered on where Danny still clasped Damian’s hand. To his disappointment, Damian let go at the look.

The stern look only lasted seconds before Bruce smiled broadly and his body language became relaxed and open. “You must be a friend of Damian’s! I take it this is for you?” He held out the smoothie for Danny.

Danny hesitated. His stomach ached with hunger, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. This was his biological father.

Damian misunderstood his hesitation and grabbed the smoothie himself. He took a deep swallow and in Arabic said, “It is safe, brother.”

If Danny hadn’t been staring so intently at Bruce, he would’ve missed the small twitch the man made at the word “brother.”

Danny grabbed the smoothie and took a long drink. He couldn’t stop the quiet sigh at the taste. It was the best thing he’d had in weeks. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’m parked right out front! Let me just sign you both out and we can be on our way.”

“Oh, you just have to sign out Damian. I’m not a student.”

“Well, I suppose that explains the lack of a uniform! How do you know my Damian, then?”

“Father,” hissed Damian. In Arabic he said, “I will explain what I can in the car as I promised.”

Danny just took another sip of his smoothie and remained silent.

Bruce’s eyes flicked to Danny, gaze sharp. But he remained relaxed and ruffled Damian’s hair. “Of course, of course.”

Damian glared at him as he smoothed his hair back down.

Bruce laughed with the office staff and signed the requisite paperwork, then the three were making their way outside.

The car out front was a fancy sports car. Danny hesitated a moment before entering. He glanced down in both directions, but knew a school like this would have too many cameras to hide from.

And now that he had Damian in front of him, he was certain his core would protest if he tried to leave.

Damian made a sharp gesture to him, ordering him into the car. Danny slid in. The door shut behind him. He gripped his smoothie with both hands to mask their shaking and took another sip.

“Father,” started Damian. “This is…” he broke off.

“Yes?” prompted Bruce after a moment.

“This is my twin brother, Danny. Your other biological son.”

Bruce froze. Danny didn’t even think he was breathing. One hand rested on the gear stick where he’d been planning to put the car in drive, the other dug into his own leg.

“What.” Bruce’s voice was hard and flat, not a hint of the jovial man from the office.

“In his defense,” said Danny. “He thought I was his twin sister. And that I was dead.”

Bruce’s eyes closed and he took several deep breaths. “Your name is Danny?”

“Yep.” Danny popped the p. “Chose it myself six years ago.”

“It’s…a good name.”

“Thanks! It was my dad’s dad’s name.”

“Your dad?” asked Bruce.

Danny hummed. “Yeah. Got myself adopted after I ran away from Talia and Ra’s. But that living situation fell through a few months ago.” Which, really, understatement of the century, but Danny wasn’t going to go into it. “So I had to leave. Thought I’d check up on Damian. Mind if I come over to visit after Damian gets out of school for the next few days? I’ve got a hotel room lined up in the city,” he lied. Squatting was way easier when you were half-ghost.

Damian broke in at that. “You will be staying with us, not in some hotel,” he spat the last word. “And not just for a few days. Live with us.”

“Can’t stay more than a few days, I’m afraid.” The GIW or his parents would definitely find him if he did. “But if no one minds, I won’t turn down a room if you’ve got a spare.”

“Father’s house is large,” said Damian. “There are plenty of spare rooms.”

“Damian is right,” said Bruce. “I insist you stay with us. We can discuss more over lunch when we’re comfortable.”

Danny shrugged. “If you insist.” He’d disappear, of course. Too risky to stay and lead the GIW to Damian when he still wasn’t sure of the connection between ectoplasm and the Lazarus pits.

Bruce let out a long sigh and put the car in gear. “I do,” was all he said.

Danny watched the scenery go by, pretending not to notice the two pairs of eyes glued to him.

After several long minutes of uncomfortable silence, Bruce spoke again. “I am glad to meet you, Danny. I’m happy you came to Gotham.”

Danny hummed. He supposed time would tell if any of them would come to regret it.

-----

Hope you enjoy!

[hoeforsungie]

💌 … ( 𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖊𝖜 ) 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ ִ𐙚 — stoned sex w/ Hannie

best friends to lovers! Hannie x fem reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎cw ・ teasing, lots of tension, Hannie and reader are both horny for each other, drug usage (don’t!) wc ・‎ 2.8k ‎| ‎ ‎[library link here]

[ ۫ ꣑ৎ author’s note ] here’s my first ever preview for a work i’m working on! tbh, the fic is loooong and i’m still writing. i decided to post the preview bc the actual fic is kinda sad, depressing, and dark. i’m worried people wouldn’t actually like that part until it gets to the filth, however i wanted to write a hurt/comfort with some smut for a while… and i may or may not have stoner hannie brainrot. i may post just the smut and loving bits as its own thing, as well as the whole fic when i finally finish? idk i’m rambling… well here enjoy this preview for needy stoned Hannie x reader.

oh btw, here’s a playlist w songs i listened to while writing this

divider by @v6que

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🕊️ ⋅ ˚Jisung was happy to see her smile, even if it was small and her eyes were still red and puffy from crying. A win is a win in his book. So, he happily followed along. The pair grabbed their shoes and the umbrella before leaving the building. The walk to their normal smoking hang out was pretty calm, despite the rain. At least, the rain had died down again into a steady drizzle, saving them from the monsoon-like downpour earlier. The only unfortunate thing was that the wind had picked up, blowing the rain sideways. This left her with no choice but to cling to Jisung as the bitter wind whipped around the two of them. It was about 10 minutes before they spotted the treehouse her parents had built when they were children. All their normal stuff was still there, pictures from their youth hanging on the wall. Now there was an old beat up couch (where their stash was hidden), a bed with a few pillows and blankets where many hours cuddling had been spent, and a projector.

Jisung climbed up first and turned around to offer his hand to y/n. After getting pulled up, she beelined towards the couch to pull out the bud as well as the lighter and the wraps. After wrapping the blunt, she handed it to Jisung as he flopped down onto the couch next to her. “Ladies first.” She giggled. He took the blunt with a begrudging look and held it in his mouth, waiting for her to light it. Y/n obliged and elbowed him “Don’t take all of it, make sure to leave some for me. You hog.” She elbowed her friend then rubbed at her eyes, probably trying to diffuse some of the puffiness remaining from her tears.

Jisung, of course, only offered her a punch to the arm instead and a snarky remark about how he ‘wasn’t the one who finished 70% of the last blunt.’ Y/n rolled her eyes and plucked the blunt from Jisung’s lips harshly. “Shut up, besides,” y/n says as she pauses to take a drag. “You said this was to smoke the depression away. Right now I think I need it more than you.” She stuck her tongue at Jisung, to which he replied by flicking her in the forehead. Y/n took another big drag and coughed. “Goddamn, it’s been a while since I smoked with you Jisungie.” After coughing for a bit, y/n tucked her legs under her and turned towards Jisung. She took a few more drags before putting it in between her two fingers and passing it to Jisung to take. He gladly took the blunt and took a large drag himself. Somehow, he didn’t cough like her, much to y/n’s dismay.

“Bro, are you fucking kidding me? You’re such a show off. Ugh, fuck you!” Y/n squeaked and started punching him anywhere she could hit. “You’re the worst.” She sighed and plopped her body forward so she could lean onto Jisung. Cuddling between them wasn’t something new by any means. She’d never admit it, but cuddling with Jisung recently has been giving her new thoughts to think about. She didn’t know when it happened, but one day she began to notice the way her heart beats louder when she feel jisung’s broad chest caging her in, as his arms wrapped around her. She’d especially take this one to the grave, but she really started noticing it as she slipped away to excuse herself to use the bathroom in a panic. It was pretty obvious when she slipped her underwear down to see the pearly string that attaches itself to her lips and her panties. It was slowly becoming clear to her that she was attracted to Jisung. Perhaps, in more ways than one.

Jisung chuckled at y/n’s cute little outburst and reached over to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear. “Looked like it was getting in your lip gloss, y/nnie.” He said with a honey-dripped voice. He smiled as he noticed as a small blush crept along y/n’s cheeks, down towards her neck. His eyes trailed below as they followed the path the blush was burning on her skin. He swallowed thickly as his eyes reached below her collarbone where his white band t-shirt stuck to her skin snugly. The white had become similar to gossamer, her skin and black bra shining through, thanks to the rain. Taking a sharp inhale, Jisung unconsciously began digging into her arm tightly as he drank in the sight. As if on cue, he broke the spell and suddenly snapped his eyes back into y/n’s. He hoped that she hadn’t noticed, although he knew the chances were entirely too slim. He couldn’t even blink as he peered into y/n’s eyes. Now it was Jisung’s turn to blush, a warmth spreading across his own cheeks. He sputtered something about ‘needing space’ and ‘why are you over here when there’s the entire couch?’ then promptly shoved y/n across the couch, turning his head away from her to hide the blush that was igniting his skin.

Y/n, of course, wouldn’t stand for being pushed away from her heat source as the cold from the rain blew into the tree house. “Sungie, fuck off! What the hell was that for? You know it’s cold out.” She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. After a few seconds of pouting silently she reached her arm out to grab the blunt that Jisung was holding in his hand, half forgotten. He yelped in surprise and moved his arm up in the air out of y/n’s reach. She slapped his shoulder and laughed as he grunted. After a few seconds of pretending to give up, she smiled and lunged even harder at Jisung. Launching herself off the couch and smiling in victory as she was able to reach the blunt Jisung held over his head, she failed to notice her miscalculation as she was now sitting in Jisung’s lap with her face very close to his own. He glared at her unamused but she still noticed the blush dusting his cheeks. The clock on the wall continued to tick on as the air around the pair thickened. Jisung’s own shocked expression melted into something much needier as she felt him try to physically run away from her hold. But with her sitting on his lap, he had nowhere to go. He pinched his eyebrows and turned his head, bringing his fist up in a feeble attempt to hide his teeth digging into his bottom lip at the suggestive pose the pair are in. With the way in which her arm is still frozen in the air at her attempt to get the blunt for herself, she begins to blush as bright as Jisung and feel a familiar slowly knot tying itself in her stomach. Y/n never thought she’d get turned on by such a small act, let alone from a simple mistake she made.

More time passed as the pair stared deeply, albeit curiously, into each other’s eyes. Jisung’s hands which were thrown around her waist in shock began to grip tighter at her hips, the fingers leaving indents in the milky skin where they were also splayed on her thighs. She parted her lips and he heard a small, breathy “Oh.” leave her. It was hard to deny, but this had a larger impact on y/n than she would have liked. She inhaled sharply as she felt her clit throb gently at the feeling at Jisung’s hands deliciously digging into her sides. It was her turn to look away in embarrassment as she quickly dismounted herself off his lap and back onto the couch with a pout. Stupid Jisung and the way he doesn’t realize the impact he has on me! She internally curses him as all she places the blunt back in between her sticky strawberry lips and inhales. After taking a long drag, and much to her enjoyment, the lack of a coughing fit, she crosses her hands back over into her lap and closes her eyes. She felt the beginning of her arousal begin to fade as she tried to be one of God’s stronger soldiers and put the thoughts flashing behind her eyes deep down into her subconscious. Something about the way Jisung’s fingers stung ever so slightly as he pushed into her plush thighs and waist with his soft hands threw her for a complete tailspin. Of course she’s had sex before, but never had she felt so ignited by such a small and subtle touch. It was as if a jolt of electricity had gone through her the second he laid his hands on her. Shaking her head vigorously to rid the sinful thoughts before they overwhelmed her and she could only imagine the way in which he would handle her, she tried to rid the unholy thoughts once more. Deciding to say “fuck it” and take another large drag from the blunt, end goal of becoming as high as possible in the fastest manner becoming clearer and clearer in her head. It was during this time in which she was so in her own head, she missed the golden opportunity to peek open her own eyes and see the disheveled state Jisung was in, similarly to her own.

If she were to peer over and turn her head towards Jisung, she would have had a heart attack and simultaneously seen the way he desired y/n so bad it was almost tangible. His head was reeling and chest heaving as he shut his eyes and flopped it back against the couch, staring up into the ceiling. His hair flopped with him and covered his eyes, but his own arousal was still apparent to any outsider. The way in which his bottom lip is still trapped between his teeth as he tries to catch his breath. The blush on his cheeks spread down to his chest where the slight dew of sweat began to gather. He pinched his nose bridge as he tried to will the thoughts and his raging boner away. The way in which y/n’s body looked so small on his lap, the way in which her thighs were so soft and plump in his hands. Her small, breathy, ‘oh’ that made his heart hang onto the idea that she was into him enough to find him sexually attractive, and the way in which her wet clothes clung to her form; it all made him go insane. He needed the weed to kick in any second now, hoping he could instead get lost in the sensation of being high rather than hopelessly longing for the feeling of y/n’s pink sugary lips gliding against his own. Heaving a heavy sigh, he looked over to y/n on the couch and slowly peeked his eyes at her form on the couch. Thanking whatever deity was allowing her to look so perfect before him, and luckily she was in her own world with her eyes closed. He let his eyes slowly drag down her body, a little more unashamedly now that he knew he didn’t have an audience to judge his own indulgence.

Jisung flitted his eyes down to her chest once again, running them along the valley of her collarbones, down to where her cleavage just faintly peeked out above the low collar she cut on his shirt, now claimed for herself and neatly stored in Jisung’s drawer for their impromptu sleepovers and other clothing emergencies. He dragged his eyes back up to her lips. He internally groaned as he saw the way her gloss smudged slightly from the blunt, the sugary pink tint shimmering softly in the light. After admiring her lips for a while, Jisung trailed his eyes down to her hips and smiled softly at what he saw. The grey sweatpants that they both owned as a matching set were sitting snugly on her hips. The ones with a little black star and the word “Youtiful” under it, that both of them got as a gift on graduation day from one of their closest friends. The ones that matched his very own. Thanking God and the people he saved in his last life, he smiled at the fact that even if y/n had so many other bottoms to choose from, she chose those special ones. Now here they were, both matching. As he thanked the universe for giving him this win, he stilled as he saw y/n inhale and slowly open her eyes before yawning and sitting up, lashes getting slightly wet from the unshed tears the strong yawn brought to her eyes. He sat up straighter, eyes still trained on her as he followed her every move. Imagine his surprise as he feels y/n shove the blunt between his lips and her hand on his cheeks, pushing into them lightly as she forces his mouth open (much like the kissy face a fish makes) to take the blunt. After she’s satisfied that the blunt remains lodged in Jisung’s plush lips, she withdraws her hand and whips her head away. He held his breath when the words y/n whispered met his ears.

“Mm feelin’ it slowly. It’s your turn to catch up now. Don’t wanna be high alone, Hannie.” Y/n mumbled out through pouted lips. She felt her cheeks heat up as she admitted to already feeling the pleasant sluggish feeling enveloping her body. After she was satisfied by seeing Jisung take a few drags himself, head laid back with one hand in his hair behind his head as he peered up at the ceiling, she let her own head flop back on the couch. Sighing with contentment, she snuggled further into the couch, allowing the comforting feeling of her incoming high roll onto her slowly. It was a few minutes that had passed before y/n’s eyes blink open again slowly as she sat up quickly realizing she had dozed off for about 30 minutes.

Embarrassment painted her features as she quickly realized where Jisung had been when she dozed off. She looked down and nearly yelped as she saw Jisung with his plump lips, open and spit-slicked, laying in her lap. She felt his hair tickle her thighs through the material of the sweatpants as she sucked in a breath and shook him gently, worried what would happen if he stayed there any longer. Now it was her turn to bite her lip as she felt him stir ever so slightly, and instead of waking up, he then wiggled his face deeper into y/n’s lap, grabbing at her and mumbling something incoherent except for the one word she caught. ‘Warm.’ Jisung burrowed in again, his nose nuzzling along her thigh as he breathed out peacefully, his breath fanning across her tummy, where her shirt had risen in her short slumber. Y/n’s breath caught as she let out a little hiccup when one deep sigh let out just the right amount of air to feel a small bead of arousal leak out of her hole and into her panties. After freezing in fear when she felt Jisung nuzzle impossibly deeper, almost driven in his sleep by his body’s unconscious drive to feel her closer. It was over for her though when she felt the tip of his nose nuzzle in just right so that it barely traced over her clothed clit. With a squeak she felt her clit throb more strongly this time and the arousal continued to pool in both her underwear and belly before she’d decided she’d had enough. She grabbed Jisung by the hair and lifted his sleeping body up.

Jisung awoke with a start and a yelp as his hands reached up to where y/n’s were caught tangled in his brunette locks. His bracelet jangled as he looked up at y/n with unshed tears and a pout on his lips, making them look so kissable. After a few seconds y/n smoothed her hand back over his hair and massaged it. She let her hands begin to knead into Jisung’s neck, trying to work out any sore spots as an apology for waking him up so urgently. With the pout still on his lips, he peered up at y/n as he felt his body begin to melt into her touch. “Why did you even do that anyways?” She shook her head and did something which Jisung did not expect at all. She leaned down and pressed her glossy lips to the tip of his nose gently. As his brain was short circuiting he looked up at her with his big boba eyes shining in the soft light and another pout formed on his lips. “W-what was that for?” He asked, his eyes trailing away to look at the posters and photos on the wall, a testament to the brilliance of your youth that you two shared together. Y/n simply smiled and retracted her face from Jisung’s. She twinkled out a laugh, eyes turning into little crescents, and flicked him in the forehead.

[fandomgirlz01]

Somewhere Out There

Paul {TLB} X Reader

Imagine on fandom instagram?: No

Prompt or Request or Requested Prompt?: No

Style of Writing: Stand Alone Fic (has potential for more in the future though... 😉)

Rating: R for some mature themes such as smoking as well you know the description of a vampire losing it and going absolutely raving mad, like so mad all he sees is red 😉

Edited: Yes

Word count: 4,867

Post Date & Time: November 1st 2024 at 12:16AM

Ko-fi

Masterlist

Warnings Here 

Listen to the story be read out loud here.

Summary: Ever since all the vampires have known they and humans alike have a soulmate. The only member of the lost boys who hasn’t found his other half is Paul, but what happens when he does actually find them? 

PSA from Faith: This is the first time I am writing for a character from The Lost Boys. I just love both Paul and David as well as Dwayne and Marko. Yet I also love Mike so you might see more of this fandom down the line… maybe. I have loved some of the works that I have read for this fandom, however I did notice there’s not very many where it’s not just centered on one of the boys specifically so I thought I’d give them (especially my favorites) a little attention. I did try to keep some canon and I also went non canon so before any of you guys come at me for it not being all accurate, this is just how I foresaw the boys okay? By the way you do NOT need to have seen the movie to read this fic. Yes it’s based off of the characters, but it will be spoiler free if you choose to watch the movie that is completely up to you guys. That being said I have NEVER written a soulmate AU before so if this isn’t 100% right, I’m sorry, but again this is just how I wanted to depict it all and I just really wanted to try something newish. Thank you and please enjoy the story! 

Song that goes with fic:

Many say Santa Carla has its deep dark secrets hidden away in the shadows, and only some know what those secrets are. Just like every night the boardwalk is lit up; couples walk under the moonlight none the wiser to what lurks in the night, others play games and go into the stores or on rides. Shouts of cheer and fright are all surrounding while the vampires make their usual meander all over the boardwalk, senses sharp yet vigilant as they look for anything they can do for a bit of amusement or maybe even find some dinner. 

Tonight, however, David notices that Paul seems to wander back behind them, seemingly feeling down which is unusual for the other blond vampire. Paul kicks at the dirt as he finds himself locked in his thoughts once more, thinking about her and what she might just be like. David laughs at something Marko said before telling the baby of the group (a nickname given to him by all the boys because that’s just what Marko is, the baby who everyone wants to protect, the happy-go-lucky spirit of the group and most innocent looking one) to keep going and he’ll catch up to him soon. Marko agrees before skipping off to walk and talk with Dwayne. David watches his brothers for a moment before turning around. He comes up beside Paul and pats him on the back, knowing just what Paul is thinking about. 

Ever since the vampires knew they each had a soulmate, all that mattered was when they’d find each other. The only one of the group who hadn’t found his soulmate yet was Paul, and sometimes he’d get discouraged when thinking of it all. When he did, he’d leave the mind link so his brothers didn’t have to hear his incessant inner thoughts, but David knew. He always knows. 

“You’ll find her, Paul. I know you will. It’s only a matter of time,” David tells his brother as he pulls him into his side. 

“Yeah, but it’s been so long, David. You’ve all found yours. What if I’m not meant to have one?” Paul asks, discouraged once more and David holds back the sigh he wants to let out at having had this conversation a million times before. 

“Listen, Paul. I know it feels that way. I used to feel that way before I met Nyra, Dwayne felt that way before meeting Amalie, and Marko felt that way before meeting sweet Charlotte. We’ve all felt that way at one point or another. It’ll pass,” David promises as he squeezes his brother’s shoulder. 

“I don’t know, David. It’s been a lot longer for me…” Paul again denies and David clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. 

“Well, you still have that song title written on your wrist, don’t you?” David asks.

“And you still see all colors, right?” Marko asks as he pops up behind the two, always the one to pop up at random times. 

“Yeah. I still have both…” Paul mutters as he holds up his wrist, showing the song title Somewhere Out There, a song by Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram that he knows well. 

“See, if you didn’t see color anymore or the song had faded, that’d mean she was dead. The fact you have both is a good thing,” Marko cheerily adds on, slapping him softly on the back and Paul only sighs. 

“What if she doesn’t have it? I mean, I’m dead myself,” Paul adds on and David shakes his head, laughing. 

“I’ve told you, Paul. I was dead and I still had it all, still do,” David informs him as he thinks of his Nyra and Marko hums in agreement. 

“And technically you're not dead, you're undead! Huge difference, buddy,” Marko very pointedly yet happily adds.

“I don’t think being a vampire changes the soulmate laws. I think you’d have to be dead dead, like in the ground dead for that,” Dwayne adds with a shrug as he now jumps in to help comfort his brother. 

Nobody really knows all the details about soulmates and the way it works. For centuries, they’ve all just known that it’s a powerful thing that only comes from the universe. People have done studies, but even then they’ve only learned the basics, so people and vampires just go with it, continuously being pulled together. 

“Who knows! Maybe you’ll find her tonight!” Marko again happily adds on, not knowing how right he might just be. 

“Yeah… maybe…” Paul sighs out, choosing to just agree with them to change the subject. 

Each of them always found their other half and David was sure it’d happen for Paul at some point if not sooner than later. Turns out David, Marko and Dwayne were right because as the night went on, they continued to goof off on the boardwalk for a few more hours before suddenly Paul felt different. He couldn’t put a finger on why he felt lighter all of a sudden. He thought for a moment maybe it was the new strain they’d all smoked before the night started, it felt like being high, but at the same time it didn’t feel like the high he was used to. 

“Do you guys smell that amazing smell?” he asks, perking up as they ride on the carousel again for the millionth time. 

“No. What is it, Paul?” David asks, concern written all over his face until he realizes what’s going on. 

“It smells sweet and fresh. Like… like…” Paul struggles to describe the smell that just hit him. 

“Like vanilla and cinnamon mixed together. Like… home…” Paul finally mutters as his confusion grows more and more. 

“Paul. Follow the scent. Let your nose guide you,” David commands his brother with a growing smile that he shares with the other boys, who catch onto what’s going on. 

“What? Me? Why? I suck at catching dinner,” Paul asks, knowing he definitely isn’t the best hunter of the group. More often than not, somehow Paul would lose his prey and Marko is the first to snicker. 

“That isn’t dinner you're smelling, Paulie my boy,” David tells him, his own grin growing in happiness for his brother. 

“What is it then?” Paul asks, confused and Marko face palms. 

“Dude. Just follow it and maybe find out!” Marko shouts as he pulls his hand away from his face and Paul shrugs. 

“Okay. What could it hurt?” he asks nobody in particular before doing just as his brothers had said. 

He follows the scent, electricity seeming to flow through him, making his toes and fingers tingle the more he moves toward it. The scent grows more and more intoxicating, making him feel more primal than ever before. The sweet smell only calls to him like a siren's call, making his whole body seem to light up. 

He continues to follow it, his brothers all flanking him, egging him to keep following it as they protect him while he’s in his unusual focus. The closer he gets to the alluring scent, the thicker it gets in the air. His blood boils though his veins which if he was not so focused, he would have thought that was weird for a vampire, but he could care less at the moment. He continues to follow the scent like he’s a compass needle, looking for its true north until he comes to a stop in front of the music store. He stands there frozen as he looks on at one of the workers, a girl at the counter talking with a customer as she rings them up. 

“Welp, Paul, my boy. I’d say you just found yourself your soulmate,” David happily comments as they all watch you from the large opening in the side of the building. 

Paul doesn’t answer as he watches you in awe and without knowing it, Paul’s ears activate his vampire hearing so he can hear you. He smiles to himself as the first thing he hears is the music you have playing on the boom box behind you: Somewhere Out There. Then he’s smiling wider as he overhears your conversation, your voice a brand new melody he never wants to forget. 

“That’ll be eight dollars, buddy,” you tell the kid who reaches into his pocket. 

“Oh. Linda Ronstadt. I love her work,” the kid tells you as he hands you the money and you smile warmly at him. 

“I love her too, but this is my favorite song. You wanna know why?” You ask the kid, putting the ten dollars he gave you into the register and without a doubt Paul knows exactly what you’re gonna say. 

“It’s mine and my soulmate's song, see,” you happily tell the kid after he nods and you hold out your wrist. 

“Wow! You and your soulmate must really be meant for one another then,” the kid tells you and you grin even more as you go back to getting his change. 

“Here's your two dollars back. Have fun listening to that tape,” you tell him as you reach out and hand him his money. 

Meanwhile, Paul still stands frozen, just staring at you in awe. His brothers all stand around him, smirking as they watch the lovesick look that he’s had to watch on all their faces wash over his own face now. 

“Well, aren’t you going to go over and say hi…?” Marko asks, nudging Paul a little bit, but again Paul doesn’t speak back, so entranced with watching you. 

You watch the little boy leave until he walks around the corner and then feel someone’s eyes on you, so you look around until your eyes land on Paul. The two of you make eye contact and stare at one another for a few minutes before he seemingly snaps out of the moment and walks away looking sad. You don’t know why (well actually that’s a lie, you have an inkling as to why, but you shrug it off) but you feel sad that he seems sad and wish you could just give him a hug. With a shake of your head, you decide to leave it be seeing as he was with a group of what seemed to be friends that could comfort him and just go back to work. 

“Paul?” David asks as Paul starts to hastily walk away, moving faster and faster by the minute, heading for his bike and his brothers follow after him in confusion. 

“Paul? What’s wrong? That’s your soulmate, buddy. You gotta go say hi!” Marko tries but Paul shakes his head, seemingly angry now. 

“No, I don’t,” he almost practically seeths out before kicking his kick stand up and starting his bike up. 

The three brothers watch on in confusion as he rides off and once he’s gone, Marko turns to David. David stands there with arms crossed, trying to figure out what would have spooked him. 

“You’d think he would have been happy. He’s been waiting for this moment for centuries…” Marko comments in utter disbelief and confusion. 

“You would think so,” Dwayne comments next, breaking David out of his thoughts. 

“Let’s go find him,” David commands before getting onto his bike with the others following suit and getting onto their own bikes. 

Together they all ride out to the cliff side where they know Paul goes when he wants some peace and quiet. Sure enough, they find him there sitting on his bike and smoking another rolled cigarette with his head low. 

“Paul?” David asks in an attentive tone, which is unusual for the vampire who’s normally commanding and stern.

No matter how cold, commanding and stern as he can seem or be, he still cares for his brothers, all three of them. David, Marko and Dwayne slowly get closer to him, if anyone was watching them right now, they would be surprised to see vampires of all creatures being soft on one another, but again Paul is their brother. They found each other and became family and as David likes to say, family comes first. 

“Paul, what’s wrong?” Marko softly asks again out of character.

“What’s wrong? Ha! What’s wrong?!” Paul retorts in what sounds like disbelief, rolling his eyes at the question. 

“She’s human! I can’t go near her. I’ll hurt her and I could never ask her to become one of us and… and…” Paul trails off, taking a gulp as he now tries to hold his tears back. 

“It’d ruin her beauty, man…” Paul sadly mutters, shaking his head in anger. 

“And to ask her to give up her life. Just to be with me. I can’t… I won’t…” Paul chokes on his words before lowering his head, refusing to look at his brothers. 

“Paul. How do you know that isn’t what she’d want? You gotta at least try to fight for her,” Marko comments with a frown, sad for his brother. 

“I don’t care if that’s what she’d want, Marko! She’s my soulmate! It’s my job to protect her! How do I do that the way I am?! Huh?!” he shouts in his brother's face, anger running through him as he heaves while Marko takes a step back. 

“How do I protect her from myself, huh, Marko?? Tell me that one,” he continues to let his anger take over before he sighs, turning around. 

“But if you love her that much already, then you couldn’t hurt her. You’re only hurting yourself by not reaching out to her,” Marko continues to try and convince Paul, who scoffs again, shaking his head as he flicks his joint away. 

“No. I’m protecting her. My pain is a small price compared to if she were to be hurt,” Paul mutters softly before he shrugs halfheartedly. 

“I’ll meet you guys back home at the cave,” Paul softly promises before kicking his kick stand up and starting the bike back up. 

“Dude needs to calm the heck down,” Marko comments as they all watch him drive away. 

“He’s just blinded by the shock of her being human. He’ll come around eventually. Paul always does, he likes to stew in his thoughts, ya know,” Dwayne comments back and Marko laughs in agreement. 

“Yeah. For being the wild carefree guy he is, he definitely is too broody sometimes. And people say you're the broody one,” Marko adds on with a roll of his eyes and Dwayne nods in agreement, chuckling along. 

“Hey. I’m most definitely the broody one. Paul is the crackhead. He smokes more than any of us…” Dwayne practically complains, making Marko laugh some more. 

“Awe, jealous that your place will be taken?” Marko taunts and Dwayne crosses his arms across his chest. 

“At least I don’t get called the baby…” Dwayne argues back with a smirk when Marko shyly grins, proving his point. 

“I actually don’t mind it…” Marko replies with a shrug and Dwayne shakes his head at him. 

“Of course you don’t,” Dwayne chuckles out and David reaches up to grab onto both of their shoulders, giving a light squeeze. 

“Okay. Okay. That’s enough, you two. Come on,  We’ll just leave him be for now. He’ll reach out though the link should he need us. For now, let’s go find dinner for ourselves,” David commands with a roll of his eyes at their play fighting. He still worries for Paul, but he knows he just needs time to come to terms with everything. 

“You got it, big D,” Marko jokes and Dwayne holds back the laugh he wants to let out at David’s annoyed look. 

This is how it always was with the brothers. Dwayne is definitely more silent and broody when others are around and Marko is the innocent curious one. David is leader and commander while Paul is the crackhead that will jump to do anything, yet Paul has always been the most in touch with his emotions, hence why he smokes. 

Meanwhile, as his brothers go on the hunt for dinner, Paul finds himself back at the boardwalk and sits on the beach, just watching the waves. He can still smell that intoxicating scent that he now knows is all you, so very strong that it makes him want more and more of it. He keeps his eyes closed, listening to you talk to all kinds of different customers that come and go. Soon before he knows it, you're closing up shop, saying goodbye to your coworker that stands with you as you pull down the door and lock it up tight. It’s only then he realizes all the loudness and craziness that normally surrounds the boardwalk is now quiet. 

He watches as you turn and you pull your headphones that had been resting around your neck up to your ears. He then starts to follow you, but stays in the shadows just watching over you. At first you look around like you're weary of something or someone being around, but you shrug nonchalantly and continue to walk. He watches over you with pure adoration rolling off of him, yet he also stays vigilant in case someone or something were to harm you. However if anyone saw the way he follows you, they’d probably say he follows like a lost puppy.

Finally after a long walk down the beach, you walk up the stairs to a door and open it before heading inside which makes him realize it’s probably your home. He stays for a while, just sitting on the bottom step, not fully ready to leave you just yet. Eventually the sun starts to rise, so he reluctantly leaves you safe in your apartment and heads home back to the cave. When he walks in, it’s only then he realizes he hadn’t eaten, so taken with making sure you were safe to even really care. He walks further in and finds David sitting in his wheelchair he loves so much. 

“Did you eat, Paul?” David asks with a raised eyebrow and Paul shakes his head. 

“I, uh… forgot…” he mutters, thinking David would be mad, but he’s surprised when David just smiles. 

“It’s okay. We saved you some. Did you figure out what you want to do?” David asks and Paul sighs once more. 

“I’m going to leave her be. That’s it,” Paul tells him and David sighs, sitting forward. 

“Paul. The universe will never let you stay away from her. You might be able to resist for a while, but eventually something will pull the two of you together,” David tells him in a pointed tone. He tries to be soft on him even though he wants to just command him to go talk to her or have max sire him to do it, but David won’t do that, he knows Paul has to choose to go to her himself. 

“It’s whatever, David. I’m going to eat and go to sleep,” Paul responds, shrugging before disappearing toward where they store their food sometimes. 

David frowns as he watches his brother disappear before sighing and shaking his head. David stands slowly from the chair before going and joining Dwayne and Marko as well as all their soulmates in sleeping from the rafter, knowing Paul will join once he’s finished eating. 

Three months have gone by now and every night, David seems to notice that at a certain point in the night Paul will just simply disappear. Where Paul disappears to, David thinks he knows, but he doesn’t want to try and interfere and so he lets him do his thing. 

Once again Paul sits in the sand, watching the waves and just listens to you the whole night. He’d come to realize that your voice is more calming to him then even a joint could be, so he just sits there and listens. Like every night since that first night he’d sat there listening to you and enjoying a peace he never knew he needed until you close up shop. Without fail every single night for the past three months, he waits until you have your headphones on and then he stays in the shadows as he follows you home, just wanting you safe. However, tonight something feels off and Paul just can’t figure it out. 

He’s been trying to figure out why your scent that’s so alluring to him seems off, but he can’t place why. He’s in such deep thought about it that he doesn’t clock the two surfer nazi’s creeping up from the other side. It’s when the one guy grabs you and pulls you into the dark under the boardwalk that Paul is alerted. He quickly follows after and finds one of the surfer nazi’s holding you struggling against the cement wall while the other one seemingly watches. 

“I told you earlier I’d find you and we’d have some fun,” the surfer nazi holding you growls as you continue to squirm and fight him. 

“And I said I didn’t want to. I do have a soulmate, ya know?!” You shout out and for a minuscule minute Paul stops to wonder if you’ve known he’s been around, but he shakes his head clear. 

“And I said I don’t care. Now stay still,” the surfer nazi commands out though a growl and when you don’t do as he says, he reaches up to smack you, fear falling over your face. 

Paul, however, feels his veins boil and an anger he’s never ever felt before washes over him. All he sees is red as he transforms into his vampire self and pulls the first guy off to the side, snapping his neck in the process before pulling the second guy off of you. You watch on as he pulls the guy away and punches him down before crouching over him. He bares his fangs before sinking his teeth into the guy's throat and ripping at it. When he’s satisfied that the guy is good and gone, he stands, heaving for breath, blood all over his face. Suddenly though, like breaking through a fog, his anger dissipates and he turns to look at you. 

You sit there against the sand, staring at the scene in front of you and he immediately rushes over. He crouches down next to you, shielding your view of the carnage behind him. 

“Hey. You okay?” he asks softly and all you do is nod as you stare at him with wide eyes, making him think you're scared when you're more in awe. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you at all, but I promise I am of no threat to you,” he quickly informs you, hoping it’ll help calm your fear, but he’s shocked when you softly smile at him. 

“I’m not scared of you, far from it actually…” you pause, trailing off to bite at your lip. 

“I was actually wondering when you’d come out of the shadows and talk to me,” you shyly admit, a blush on your cheeks now and a warm fuzzy feeling takes over Paul’s stomach. 

“It, uh, it was about time…” he admits almost shyly himself even though he’s shocked that you knew he'd been there all along. 

“I take it, you know who I am then?” he asks and you grin, nodding. 

“You’re that cute guy I saw a few months back standing on the beach,” you tell him, not quite sure if he knows about the two of you being soulmates or not. 

“I’m uh, y/n. Thank you for saving me…” you shyly continue and he shakes his head. 

“I’m Paul, and there’s really no reason to thank me,” he responds with a shrug as he gives you his name in return. 

“Hello, Paul, it’s very nice to meet you,” you joke with him and he chuckles, not being able to help but just adore you. 

“Here. I’ll walk you home,” he starts as he stands before holding a hand out for you. 

“So basically what you’ve been doing for the last three months, only I can actually talk with you now?” You jokingly ask in faux shock and he playfully yet bashfully rolls his eyes. 

“I had my reasons-” he shrugs before you place your hand in his and his sentence gets cut off with a halted breath as the two of you stand. 

He’s stunned by just how easily your hand fits in his like a puzzle piece and how warm you are. You look up at him, making real eye contact for the first time and as he looks into your eyes, his whole center seems to shift once more as an all consuming love for you just flows through him. 

“Are you okay, Paul?” You ask as you reach up and rub his cheek, trying to get some of the blood off, shocking him even more. 

“No. Yeah, I’m okay,” he tells you although he so badly wants to kiss you, but before he can he’s shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought. 

“Come on. Let’s get you safe at home,” he fully breaks the tension now, ruining the moment and you frown before nodding as the two of you start to walk. 

Hey, boys. There’s food on the beach if you want it. He reaches out to his brothers though the mind link they share before you nudge him as the two of you walk. 

“So are you the only one I’m safe with? Or is your whole group supposed to like, protect me now?” You joke, but Paul can tell it’s a serious question that you want answered. 

“Nah… No vampire will hurt you. Not with me around now. Definitely not from my pack anyway. You’ve kinda already been adopted into the family,” he informs you and you give him a confused look like you're not fully getting it. 

“You’re part of this family whether you decide to change or not…” he tells you while trying to hide the fact he knows your soulmates. 

“Why?” You ask, egging him on hoping he’ll say it first and he pauses for a moment, trying to decide if he wants to tell you or not. 

“Well umm… because you're my soulmate,” he shyly admits, he’d probably start blushing if vampires could and you let out a giggle, making him look at you in shock. 

“Oh, my sweet Paul. I knew… you really thought I wouldn’t know? Especially when you’ve been following me home every night like a lost puppy. I knew it the moment our eyes first met,” you pointedly tell him with a proud smile.

“Why didn’t you say anything to me then?” he asks and you pause to purse your lips. 

“Well you walked away looking rather sad and I just wanted to give you a hug, but your friends-” 

“Brothers,” he corrects you and you smile softly at him. 

“You were with your brothers,” you amend your first words with a shrug before going on. 

“I assumed you just were shocked by finding me and you’d come talk to me eventually but you never did. I assumed you just didn’t know how to approach me,” you explain to him as you show him your wrist proudly with the words he knows so well written in matching ink: Somewhere Out There. 

“No. I wanted to. Believe me, I did so badly, but my fears of what I am got in the way of it all. I’m sorry,” he explains before looking away in shame. 

“It’s okay. We all let the fear get the best of us sometimes, but I’m glad we’ve finally actually met,” you tell him as you stop in place to turn to him and reach up to touch his cheek, not really caring about the blood. 

“Even with the circumstances of how we met?” he asks you with a raised eyebrow and you let out a giggle that sounds heavenly to his ears. 

“Yes. Even with the circumstances of it all,” you tell him and he shakes his head at you in disbelief before grinning at you. 

“Yeah. Again I’m sorry. I just wanted to protect you, even from myself,” he says and he grimaces at himself after saying it. 

“Paul. It’s really okay. I’m just glad we're together now. We are, right?” You ask, scared he’ll leave you at your apartment and never come back. 

“Babe, I couldn’t leave now even if I tried,” he charmingly tells you with a grin taking over his face. 

“Good, because I wouldn’t want you to,” you grin now too, happy to be on the same page. 

That's how the night ends, with you and Paul now walking hand in hand in the moonlight. Paul can’t help but to think just how right his brothers had been, if only he’d talked to you that very first night this could have been the two of you every night for the last three months. But Paul refuses to think any further about it and can’t help but smile the whole way as he walks you to your apartment. He leaves you there knowing you’ll be safe, promising to see you tomorrow night and together you both know this is the start to an even more beautiful story for the two of you to tell in the future. 

The End...

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[letteredlettered]

Hey! I really enjoyed reading your comments on feedback and fanfic this week and would love to get your input on something similar-ish I’ve been struggling with. I’m recently back on Tumblr (lurking) and writing fanfic (secretly) after quite a few years away from fandom spaces. I’ve never posted my work on AO3 before but I’ve been considering pulling that trigger lately. I’d love to share my writing with anyone else who might enjoy it and admittedly I do dream of finding some community by putting myself out there like that. However, so intimidating to put myself out there like that. Do you have any advice for someone thinking of posting their fics for the first time? Anything you wish you knew before posting yours? Truly any perspective you can share would be very much appreciated :)

I posted my first fanfic probably about 24 years ago, so I don’t know if I’m the best person for these questions, but I’ll address what you’ve asked. At length, it seems.

1. I guess the first thing I’d say is search elsewhere than AO3 to fulfill your dream of finding community. As I said in this post, AO3 was built as an archive for community that already existed, and it doesn’t have robust community-building tools.

2. I’ve tried. I have literally posted fics partly to ask where the discord was, a question I have put in the A/N that was eventually answered but not without numerous follow-ups. I have often posted my tumblr handle in A/Ns, asking people to come scream with me about a fandom. While a flattering number of folks over the years have sent me asks and chats saying they really liked my fic, there have been striking few who have come to scream at me about the canon.

This is my fault, not theirs. I’m bad at starting conversations; I’m of an unsocial, taciturn disposition unwilling to speak unless to say something that will impress the whole room. But I am also a pretty popular writer, and I have made precious few connections this way; I think it should tell you something.

3. To fulfill your dream of finding community, as I said in the above-linked post, I don’t actually have great solutions. Since discord is basically hidden, the only way I know of to actually find community is to start cold-messaging people you vibe with through asks and chat on places like tumblr.

4. Re finding community through writing fic, @reads8hoursperday made an interesting addition to that above-linked post here, pointing out that in the journaling days of fandom, it was very common to write fics in the comments or even on your journal. They didn’t get archived and in that way were effectively ephemeral. While it’s nice to have a permanent archive, they were pointing out that the permanent nature of AO3 contributes to the feeling that there is some kind of status associated with fic.

One way to a) deal with nerves posting fic for the first time, b) shatter the feeling that your first fic must accrue beaucoup stats, would be to post on one of the other platforms first. If you post somewhere like discord, it feels less like a presentation and more just like part of a conversation you want to have: hey, what do you think about this fic? Is it good? Does it need work? Should I post to AO3? The folks there can help encourage and cheerlead you to post somewhere more intimidating, like AO3.

But okay, you also said you wanted to share your fics, and AO3 is an excellent place for that, and imo, the best, so here are some further ideas about how to post fic on AO3 without feeling like you might die of stage fright:

5. Title your fic something you would want to read. Write a summary for your fic that would make you want to click on it. Do not title your fic something you think the most people will click on. Do not write a summary you think will entice the most people. Giving your fic the title and summary that would attract you is setting up the expectation, for yourself, that this fic is for you, and maybe, a little bit, readers like you—instead of for a big audience that will accrue the most stats.

I say this as someone whose fic summaries have been endlessly mocked and derided. I’ve literally had people come into my comments angry at me because my summary wasn’t “eloquent” enough to let them know my fic was “good” and so they “missed out” on reading it for far “too long.” It’s a wild world out there, let me tell you.

But my summaries have also been complimented. They have been what made someone click. In the end I’m putting this out there for someone who likes what I do, and it’s been really liberating to say to myself, “You know what? I would read this. And the people who wouldn’t? Maybe they’re not the readers I’m interested in.”

6. I think setting both hopes and also setting expectations around that kind of audience—an audience who wants to hear what you have to say—rather than stats, is important. Ultimately, if you’re writing to be popular, or to attain a certain number of comments or kudos, you’re going to be disappointed. But if you’re sharing what you’ve written because you want to reach people who like what you have to say, if you don’t get comments and kudos, then the problem is that those people haven’t found you, not that what you have to say is worthless.

And I think bearing that in mind can soothe a lot of the heartache around posting a fic that doesn’t do well.

I posted a fic in a fandom that was new for me two years ago. It was the juggernaut pairing in a megafandom, the kind of fandom where even new authors get over a hundred kudos and a decent number of comments. But my fic was a little darker than what seemed to be the norm for the pairing on AO3; it didn’t have porn, and it didn’t have a very strong plot with an ending.

This fic tanked, stats-wise. But my conclusion is that the people who would’ve liked this fic didn’t see it, or even that the people who would’ve liked this fic aren’t even in the fandom, because they saw how much fluff there was on AO3, or the canon is too light-hearted for them. I didn’t conclude my writing sucked or that it was a bad story. Some people might think that! But what I told myself was I just didn’t find my audience.

You might say it’s easy for me to say that because I am a pretty popular author who does have an audience with most other things I write. I would agree I am a very confident writer, but I do think, even if you don’t have my kind of confidence, going into it knowing that not everyone’s going to love it can really help.

7. Relatedly, I think that loving what you’ve written, working on it and editing it and creating something that you care about and adore, something that is exactly what you want, can help with feeling proud no matter what. You might think that if, then, you don’t get a lot of comments and kudos also adoring it, it can feel demoralizing, and it can. It can definitely feel that way.

But there is something really liberating in creating a thing that makes you happy. And if you honest-to-god wrote something that you love, I guarantee someone else will love it. They might not find you on AO3, which can be really disappointing. But think of how many times you’ve loved something strange or unusual you thought no one had ever even thought about before, and then you read a book or saw a post or a video and realized there was a whole world out there that loved it too. There is a whole world out there, and they’re there for you. You’re sending a signal out there to the world. Maybe it can really touch someone.

8. Since I’m suggesting that the trick is really “finding your audience” some people conclude that what they really need to do is market their fic, really sell it to people, link it every chance they get, beg authors they like to read it, etc. I really recommend against this. People will think it looks gauche, but who gives a fuck what they think. What’s really detrimental about it is that if you go hawking your wares like that and you’re still not getting the attention and validation you’re craving, you’re going to be even more disappointed, and it’s going to feel really bad.

I’m not saying “let the universe do its work,” or anything mystic. Fic does require a certain amount of signal-boosting so people know what’s out there. Certainly, post a link to your fic on tumblr, mention it in discord, tweet it on bluesky, or wherever. My wife even tells me I have to reblog my fic posts on tumblr a few times so people don’t miss it in their feed. All of that is fine. But if you are giving your whole self to “finding your audience” and you don’t find it, it’s going to leave you raw and unwanted.

9. All right, so you’ve written the fic you love and you’ve prepped yourself for the idea that you’re just looking for readers to love what you love—and yet, somehow, you’re still concerned about stats. Don’t beat yourself up about it. Almost everyone is concerned about stats. It’s impossible not to fret over it in this economy environment.

People think I must never be concerned about getting a little kudos because I get a lot. I really think people think there’s some kind of popularity threshold where people must feel they have “arrived,” where they no longer care about being popular. I’m not sure where they are getting this idea. It’s just not true. Everyone wants praise and attention; they don’t stop because they get it.

So yes, I think about stats. I think about them a lot, and you probably do, too. That’s okay. Here are some more things you can do:

10. Set expectations around this too, and set them very, very low. One thing that people don’t understand about expectation-setting is that it requires some real time and imagination. Don’t just tell yourself, “I’m going to get two kudos” and that’s all. Imagine your timeline. Imagine looking at your fic’s stats. And imagine how you’re going to feel when you see that stat.

For instance, if I imagine two kudos is all the attention my fic will ever get, I don’t imagine that one minute after I post, I’ll see it got two kudos. I imagine that a week later, I will be looking at my fic, and I will see that it has two kudos. I check in with myself--how does it feel? A little disappointing, maybe. I thought more people would read it. What will I do next? Maybe I’ll go out for a fun coffee with my wife. Ah, it’s not that bad, really. It’s too bad only two people kudos’ed it—but in the end, it wasn’t the end of the world.

Now, imagine I set my expectations at two and I got three kudos—well, that feels spectacular! And if I get my two kudos, well, okay, maybe it feels a little worse than I imagined, but it’s still not that bad. But imagine if I was expecting five and only got two—I think I would be crushed.

11. I will make this a separate point because I think it’s important—really, imagine how your email will look. There’s a thing we do with our phones, where we get hopeful someone has messaged us, or we get hopeful that there will be something new for us, that someone will have paid attention to us in some way. Then we look at our phone and there’s nothing for us. It’s crushing. The chemicals in your body cause your whole being to plummet. And then the next time you look at your phone they cause you to anticipate, to get tense and stress again, and then when your phone has nothing for you, you’re that much more depleted.

You are putting your body through a roller coaster. Many people’s solution is not to look at their phone, but I don’t actually think this is a great idea for many people, because they will fail. They will fail, be crushed by whatever attention they didn’t receive on their phone, AND they will feel bad that they failed to stay away from their phone.

Meanwhile, if you say to yourself: what am I hoping to see when I look at my phone? What can I realistically expect from my phone at this moment? How will I feel when I see it? What will I do after that? Then you can manage these expectations much more easily.

12. Relatedly, I would suggest you have an activity planned that will start the moment after you post your fic—an activity that takes you away from your computer and, if possible, your phone for four to eight hours. Going to the cinema is a great idea for a few of those hours, because most people are really able to keep their phone off for the duration. I like to go out with friends after I post a fic, but I am not someone who really looks at her phone during social engagements.

I remember once I posted a fic and went directly to an anti-Dobbs protest; the friend who had informed me about the protest and met me there was a fandom friend. She said, “Did you really just post porn and then come to a demonstration about the right of a woman to choose?”

I said yes. This is the best way to do it. So here is my final advice: post on AO3 and then allow people with a uterus the right to choose.

[djarrex]

into the deep

Steb (Arcane) x reader

***This Steb art I had reblogged a while back was the inspiration for this fic, but I am unable to link it because I think the original post was deleted. Also, I'm pretty sure the person who posted it isn't even the original artist, so I don't know who to credit. So if you know who created this artwork, please let me know so I can properly give credit where it's due!

sfw, about 1.8k words. read on ao3 | masterlist

Now, two decades later, Steb allowed the memories to engulf him as stood half-submerged in those familiar waters. Welcomed them like an old, regretfully almost forgotten friend. He was strong enough for this, he’d reasoned with himself before coming. No feelings of regret or self deprecation tonight. No sorrow for being all alone on an evening like this one.

In fact, he wasn’t alone.

Accompanying Steb tonight was nobody more deserving; he had invited you here to wade in these memories with him on the anniversary of his mother’s death. What Steb felt for you was more than he could verbally articulate, but the gesture–even though you were not privy to its significance–seemed like an appropriate one.

Out here, surrounded by the cool, soothing waters of the lake, Steb felt a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. It had first hit him this morning, when he’d decided that it was time – after all the years of purposefully avoiding the place that created so many happy memories, the very place that also brought the weight of something too heavy sitting deep in the never healing cavern in his chest. Wistful sentimentality. He’d preemptively taken the day off, a sort of tradition that stayed with him year after year throughout his time in the force. His father used to do the same thing, before he’d retired; it allowed him to grieve privately. Steb sort of picked up where his father had left off, even though it always felt incredibly uncharacteristic of him to opt for a day off during times like these, rather than busying himself with work. Even so, after pondering for far too long whether he should make it a point to visit on this day, Steb had finally come to a conclusion: He’d go back, but he wouldn’t go alone. 

He hadn’t gone swimming in years – at least, not like this, not here. Not since before his mother passed. Steb was only a child then – blissfully ignorant of harsh reality as he’d splashed carefree under her watchful, admiring eye. Back then, as a child, he’d treaded to stay afloat, his awkwardly lengthy hair flipping into his face with every plummet beneath the waterline. His mother’s glacier eyes would squint with a reassuring smile as she stood just as effortlessly as he could now.  Lakeside picnics often happened here. Sometimes day had bled into night, wholesome family moments lasting longer than the light of the sun. It had always been just the three of them, venturing far from the city when his father’s schedule had allowed it. A small, tight-knit circle. It had stayed that way until the unthinkable happened, when a huge part had been torn from the whole.

Now, two decades later, Steb allowed the memories to engulf him as stood half-submerged in those familiar waters. Welcomed them like an old, regretfully almost forgotten friend. He was strong enough for this, he’d reasoned with himself before coming. No feelings of regret or self deprecation tonight. No sorrow for being all alone on an evening like this one.

In fact, he wasn’t alone.

Accompanying Steb tonight was nobody more deserving; he had invited you here to wade in these memories with him on the anniversary of his mother’s death. What Steb felt for you was more than he could verbally articulate, but the gesture–even though you were not privy to its significance–seemed like an appropriate one.

You floated around happily, more than content to watch as Steb took some time to reacquaint himself with the lake. Each time he resurfaced, you were watching with the prettiest smile on your face, your features just barely illuminated by the moonlight. 

The way you watched him, with nothing but admiration and total acceptance – it reminded Steb of his mother. And if he were to be completely honest with himself, you reminded him of his late mother in many ways, more than he’d realized, and it caused him to pause as he sunk his feet into the mushy sand and pebbles on the lake’s floor. Fixed his gaze toward the cityscape in the distance, the place where the two of you currently lived and thrived, worked and shared in silence when words weren’t necessary. Steb loved you. He supposed he had his mother to thank for showing him the real meaning of such an emotion. Unconditional and everlasting, overcoming all else. Deeper than any words could describe.

-

In a pleasantly unexpected way, it was enlightening for you to witness how natural Steb appeared to be when in the strong embrace of the lake. He swam for a bit. Dove beneath the surface and visibly basked in how the water gave breath to his gills. Hydrated and quenched a thirst that you hadn’t realized he’d been longing for. After a little while of wordless wading, Steb stopped. He looked as if he were in a trance, his expression broadcasting the presence of many thoughts taking their own laps around in his head as his gaze fixed itself on the coastline in the distance. 

Even the tallest of Piltover’s buildings looked so small from the distance between the two of you and the bustling city. The airships that hovered over the city didn’t seem as large from out here, either. The faintest of lights outlined the mountains that stretched even further beyond the city limits, wrapping around the expanse of the large lake and enclosing it like a bowl. Up overhead, the inky sky was peppered with twinkling stars, reflecting along the gentle rippling surface of the water. Soft moonlight casted down on Steb, his skin almost glowing an illuminating blue-green and reflecting upon the water surrounding him. 

This outing was so different from your usual ones with Steb, and you were further from the city than you really ever had been, even though it was still in view. Trust came easy with him, so you weren’t worried, but you couldn’t help but wonder why exactly he’d invited you here. You wanted to ask, just as you’d wanted to earlier today – but the question always seemed to die before it touched your tongue. You didn’t feel that you were owed an immediate answer; Steb would explain in his own way once it was time. Deep down, something was telling you that this moment was far more meaningful than you could imagine, so you continued to absently move your arms beneath the water line. Stayed silent while Steb stewed. 

Soon breaking from his trance, Steb tilted his head curiously in your direction. He’d caught you staring, but you couldn’t help it; he truly looked magnificent in these conditions. Natural. Free. Beautiful, in many ways. Your heart thundered in your chest at the sight of him, and a heated blush crept its way to your cheeks when he started to make a move toward you, the glowing waters breaking fluidly around his abdomen with every step. 

His hand reached for yours beneath the surface. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice betraying you. Despite the flustered way your face heated and heartbeat accelerated, a smile upturned your lips. Steb reciprocated with his own little smirk; a knowing one, one that told you he’d just been reminded of how easily it was to render you nearly speechless with the simplest of gestures. Closer now, you could see how the moonlight made the scales on his face practically glow like the rest of him, only brighter and more glittery. They flitted wetly, dancing up along his cheekbones. Steb squeezed your hand and brought it out from beneath the waterline, his eyes following. 

Inexplicably nervous, you coolly scrambled for a topic to chatter on about. “It’s nice out here,” you tried. A probe, perhaps. Your eyes stayed on how his slick fingers threaded through yours. “Peaceful.”

Steb acknowledged with a thoughtful hum, and brought your hand to his chest. Splayed your fingers out, allowing every inch of your hand to feel the very different texture of his newly-hydrated skin. He was cool to the touch, his internal temperature mimicking that of the lake’s waters. It seemed that even with the simple touch, you were able to smell him now, too. His natural scent never smelt so… like him. Earthy undertones became more prominent. Mossy vegetation. Something akin to fresh rainfall. Steb’s heart pounded under your palm, and you finally met his eyes. Bright pools of blue that you could drown in. 

Something was very clearly on his mind. Many things, probably. You’d gotten to know Steb’s expressions pretty well, his looks and gestures that told you enough to where words were hardly needed or longed for. 

Steb stepped closer, the water slightly sloshing around him. “This…” He took a breath, then tried again. Recaptured your hand and squeezed it. Resolute. “This lake is special to me.”

You hummed thoughtfully, grateful for his effort. His voice was always music to your ears.

“My mother was like me,” he continued. His hands instead found your arms, running his palms up and down from your elbows to your shoulders. “We enjoyed swimming together.”

It was starting to click. 

You’d seen the photo of a young Stebarryn with his mother and father: A human male adorned in a pre-war Enforcer uniform standing proudly with a hand on the shoulder of a seated Vastaya female, both adults smiling warmly toward the camera. On the mother’s lap is a small child, only a handful of years old, and his smile is a little wonky, almost as if he were being too silly for the photographer to take the ‘perfect’ photo and ended up settling for the very one that an adult Steb kept close to him at all times. The photograph itself was quite worn from years of it being folded up and pressed tightly into his wallet, but even through the colorlessness and crinkles you could tell just how much Steb truly looked like his mother. You could understand how influential she must have been on him as a child – but after her passing when he was still so young, that influence may have morphed into confusion. 

There was still so much you didn’t yet know about Steb’s childhood, but you were starting to piece together the purpose of him wanting to come here. 

You continued to listen silently, receptively, grateful for the anecdote and Steb’s willingness to be vulnerable with you. 

His hands fell back into your own. “The last time I came here was… with her, actually.”

You took a deep breath, and squeezed his hands reassuringly. Steb brought you here with him, to this place that could be described as sacred. Special, he’d called it. Filled with memories. His childhood and a sense of belonging branded forever here. He wanted you here with him, after all those years.

“Steb,” you whispered. Your emotions broke your voice. Choked you in a near sob. “I don’t know what to say.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you even closer. The coolness of his abdomen pressed against yours, and his fingers threaded easily through your damp hair, cradling the back of your head. You leaned backward slightly, easily tipping with the gentle force of Steb’s mouth against yours. You’d kissed him before, many times – but this felt new. The weight of it.

It was dizzying.

When he finally pulled away, Steb’s lips parted with the promise of something else to say. Dazed, you blinked up at him expectantly. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” he whispered after several moments of visible, careful consideration. While a gentle, thoughtful smile tugged at his lips, the mass of his words sunk into you. Carved themselves deep into your heart. You knew – knew what was really being said. Between the lines. You felt the same way, and you’d show him later on, after he’d had his time here. 

Yeah, I came up with a full name for our beloved Steb Stebarryn Hauser

I also have many thoughts on Steb's childhood and upbringing and I'm sure it'll all come up later on down the road ;)