#of course you have to be down with YA which it's fine not to be. but imho there's a layer of intrigue to both books due to their age

[coconutjelly]

Crisis, Part 5b

Link to all parts

“I would apologize for his behavior, but that implies I have any control over it, whatsoever,” Tim drawls as he walks around the end of the couch like a normal person. 

“Sounds like his regimen needs an update, then,” he replies, letting a crooked grin slide over his face. “We can only fall to the level of our training, ya know.”

Tim rolls his eyes and looks at them both kinda fondly, Kon would like to think. That’s when he realizes that Bernard is still wrapped around his side like a koala. He goes to release the TTK keeping him there so he can get down, but Bernard digs his fingers into his shoulders for a second and shakes his head petulantly.

“Mm-mn. Tim gets to see you like, all the time. If he wants a hug, he can share.” Personally, Kon wouldn’t describe how often he gets to see Tim, much less hug him, as “all the time”, especially compared to his actual boyfriend. Before he can consider that or respond to it, though, Tim is shaking his head and stepping right up into his space, and his other arm raises without him deciding to do it, and Tim is there, and then…

And then he’s just sort of… got both of them tucked into his sides, one under each arm. His brain flickers through all the other times he’s been between the two of them for kisses and sex stuff and even falling asleep cuddling the TTK versions of them, and decides that this is his favorite kind of between them that he’s been so far. 

The other times, they were putting him between them, the same way Tim puts each piece of equipment in its proper place on the shelves in the training room, putting his things right where they’re supposed to be, so they’re ready for his next use. Standing in the rec area of the Tower though, it’s more like… like they’re placing themselves next to him, like ducking under an awning to stay out of the rain, somewhere to shelter from a storm. Like he’s somewhere comfy or safe or nice to be, he means.

They’re warm and he can hear their hearts beating together in that lovely way they do, and he can look down to see faint sparkles stuck to both their faces, even though the facepaint itself is gone. After a couple of seconds, Tim puts one arm around his back and the other around Bernard, and Kon sighs contentedly. He squeezes them both in closer for a second and inhales as subtly as he can, and they smell like home.

Which feels so fucking sappy for a second that he wonders where that thought came from, until he realizes - no, they literally smell like his home at the Tower. His laundry detergent, his soap, his bedroom, his–

“Did you use my shampoo?” he asks. 

Tim winces just slightly, as though he thinks Kon could mind. “We did, I hope that’s okay. You have a bigger shower than mine, and I was just feeling overstimulated when we got back and–”

“Yeah, of course–” Kon starts to say.

“We didn’ fuck in it, I promise,” Bernard interrupts urgently, ensuring that Kon will be haunted by that image until the heat death of the universe. 

“–that’s fine,” he finishes weakly, barely audible over Tim’s huffed, “Oh my god, Bernard.”

“Tim tried to put the moves on me, but I said that was a boundary of your violations,” Bernard tells him in a comically serious tone, and he doesn’t even need to be able to sense his heartbeat or adrenal system to know that he’s lying.

“That sounds completely believable and in-character,” Kon agrees in a matching tone. He looks down at Tim to ask him, “So, what’s the secret ingredient in the magic of Pride?”

Tim is already looking up at him and…pauses a bit before answering, just sort of staring back at him and…blinking in this long, slow blink that might be time dilation from how hard Kon is suddenly focused on the little specks of glitter dotted right along the part of Tim’s cheekbones that are freckled when he’s actually been out in the sun. A little peek of tongue at the corner of Tim’s mouth makes his breath hitch. Or maybe it’s that he suddenly realizes the thumb of Tim’s hand is looped through one of his belts like it fucking belongs there.

Before he can do or even think anything about it though, Bernard breaks through his thoughts by leaning back and tonelessly chanting, “Ba-da-da-da-da-da-dah. Tequila.” 

It takes Kon a second or six to remember what question is being answered. He takes the first two to notice that there are some real freckles mixed in with the glitter on Tim’s cheeks, even though they’re probably too faint for human eyes to pick up after just one afternoon outside. The third second goes toward an automatic little laugh, because he can tell that’s the right response even without really hearing the words. Then two are spent processing the way Tim’s expression closes off before being replaced with a generic amused expression. Kon’s seen him give that face way too many times while talking themselves out of all kinds of trouble to believe it for even one last second.

“You can keep him, if you want,” Tim offers blithely, poking Bernard in the sternum with his free hand - the one not currently looped through his belt like it belongs there. “He’s very low-maintenance, house-trained and everything. Great cook, hardly ever gets kidnapped.”

“Mm, yeah, this feels very low-maintenance,” Kon replies sarcastically, pointedly shrugging the shoulder that Bernard is snuggling back into.

“Dude, are you even aware of my weight right now?” Kon makes a gesture of eh around him, and they all share a laugh, and things feel…mostly normal, he thinks. The intensity of that one moment is gone, and he can’t decide if he wants to live in that moment or never experience it again.

[vxsellie]

‧₊˚┊simple living things !

❛ convince me ❜⌇𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭 𝔵𝔵𝔳𝔦

summary. when the past attempts to catch up with her, ellie finds herself fleeing, which—inevitably—only makes things worse. she returns to find an absolute nightmare lodged within her home.

warnings. mentions of past abuse, descriptions of dead animals and blood, mentions of past death—seems like a light chapter but do NOT be fooled

wc. 7 480

⊹ series masterlist ⊹ playlist ⊹ ao3 ⊹

04:22.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

“—to have taken that fucking much!” 

“I-I didn’t know she was—“

“How could that possibly escape your notice!?”

“Ellie, jus’ calm down. This ain’t Ruben’s fault.”

She whips around to face Joel, anger weighing so heavy in her chest that it’s getting hard to breathe around. “He’s her brother! He should notice when she’s trying to get herself fucking killed!”

Ruben wears a pained expression. Ellie knows that she hurt his feelings but, at the moment, she doesn’t give a fuck. Her breathing has grown erratic; her entire body is desperate to latch onto something to blame for the ache in her heart. And, unfortunately for him, Ruben was the easiest to censure. 

“It ain’t his job t’keep 24/7 surveillance on her, Kiddo.” Joel tells her gently. “It was ‘er own choice to take the Morphling.”

“Maybe surveillance is what she needs.” 

“No.” Ruben frowns. “She wouldn’t want me around anyway.”

“Wouldn’t want you around?” Ellie turns to him with a raised brow, genuine confusion painting her features. “What do you mean? Of course she would.” 

“She’s changed since the arena, Ellie.” He tells her.

“What—”

“She’s unwell, Kiddo.”

She turns to face Joel, head pounding. “But you told me she was fine! You—“

“I knew that’s what ya needed t’hear.”

“What I needed to hear was the truth!”

Her temples shoot bolts of pain through her skull, everything becoming too much all at once. Her chest hurts, lungs convulsing for air. She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut as she struggles to process all of which has happened in the past ten minutes. 

Ever since Ruben showed up at Ellie’s door, she’s been shouting at him for it. Her voice is loud and enraged, but the shakes and cracks in it serve as proof of her worry.

Even though you’re safe on the couch, you’re trapped in a state between consciousness and syncope. And, not wanting to wake you, the three of them have taken their arguing to the porch. Joel and Ruben stand across from her, mirrored expressions of concern on their faces as she shivers violently. The snow has picked up and, paired with her refusal to put on a coat, her entire body has begun to ache from the cold.

“You’re not thinkin’ clearly.” Joel tells her, still attempting gentility despite her having reacted poorly to it last time. “How ‘bout we all get some sleep and—“

“And what?” She snaps. “Wake up in a few hours to find her dead on my couch?”

“She’s not dying, Ellie.” Ruben tells her softly. “She took a lot of Morphling, but she’ll be okay. It’ll be completely worn off by noon tomorrow.”

Their gentle tones and gentler words only make her more annoyed. She clenches her jaw despite his words having successfully eased a bit of the coiled spring of worry in her chest. She searches her mind for another issue to bring to the table because, with how stressed she’s become, the solution cannot be so easy.

“Well what about all those bruises?”

Ruben visibly tenses at that, his shoulders going rigid. She continues to stare him down, waiting for his response. Then, after a moment, realization hits her like a freight train. 

You’ve been living in Four since returning from the hospital, visiting the Capitol every chance you get. And, every time she sees you on the news, you’re covered in makeup. At first, Ellie thought it was just because the Capitol wishes for you to look as desirable as possible. But that’s not true. They wouldn’t want to have their way with you when everyone wants for you and Ellie to be soulmates. No, the makeup was to cover something. Something rendered uncovered right now—those bruises. 

Before the 74th Games, you and Ellie would meet up on the rooftop of the Training Center and, despite having barely been even acquaintances, you’d confide in each other. One of the things you’d spoken of were your parents. You didn’t go into detail. You didn’t have to. Everyone knew the L/n family was jaundiced. 

Ellie doesn’t say anything else before she’s shoving the door open and stroming inside. It slams shut behind her, successfully rousing you from your agitated rest. Joel and Ruben remain on the porch, likely deciding to give the two of you some space and time to yourselves.

You push up on your elbows, eyes lidded as you watch Ellie approach the couch. Your lips are parted, blinking slowly as she crouches on the floor beside you. For a moment, she just stares—at your face, all the features she’d been trying to recall in her paintings and in her dreams; at your body, battered and bruised as though it cannot ever be cleansed of pain. 

“How are you?” She whispers. Like a prayer.

You huff a laugh, flopping back against the cushion. You stare up at the ceiling, pupils floating around aimlessly. “A mess.”

“Well, I can see that much.”

You roll your head to the side, peering at her. You narrow your eyes, as though you’re unsure whether or not she’s real. She’s not sure if you form a solid decision when your face splits into a wide smile. “Asshole.”

“I’m serious.” She says. “How does it feel?”

“What, are you thinking about trying it?” You ask. Then, before she has the chance to say no, you continue. “You shouldn’t. Morphling’s a bitch.”

“Then why’d you take it?”

Your face falls, a sigh wracking from your chest. You roll your head upward so as to face the ceiling once more. She watches you for a moment, waiting patiently. Then you shut your eyes, almost as if you can’t quite face it. “Because I can see him.”

Her heart instantly sinks at that, not needing to ask who you’re speaking of. 

She knows how it feels—succumbing to a nasty habit for the sake of comfort. That’s why she drank during those first few months back from the arena. When she was drunk, shapes and colors all blurred together and, sometimes, they would form Riley. 

Ellie allows that to sit between you, the gentle weight of understanding—something that neither of you have been able to find in anyone except each other. She’s not sure if you’re conscious enough to even register what’s going on, not to mention what’s happening in a wordless sense. But, regardless, she feels a semblance of relief at knowing someone else in this world knows how she feels. 

13:45.

DISTRICT SEVEN

An excessive dosage of Morphling causes its user to hallucinate. So, when you wake to find that Ellie actually is by your side, to say you’re shocked would be an understatement.

She’s sitting in a little wooden chair perched beside the sofa. Her head is resting in your lap atop folded arms. Her auburn hair is splayed across your thighs, mused by sleep. Her eyes are shut, long lashes grazing freckled cheekbones. You notice that one of her ears—which you hadn’t realized she’d kept hidden during the Games—has a chunk removed from it. Only a moment later do you realize it must be where Nolan nicked her with his spear during training.

Her arms are folded under her head, forming a makeshift pillow between herself and your lap. Her fingers are stained with yellow paint and—

You suddenly notice something unfamiliar. Something she didn’t have last time you saw her. 

A tattoo. 

On her right forearm, dark ink spirals across her skin in intricate shapes. You can’t quite see the entire thing due to her sleeping position but you’re able to make out two figures—a fern and a moth. 

It’s a rather weighty message, you think, for her to use this tattoo as a means to cover the burn mark which resides beneath. It’s a message to the Capitol that their power is finite. For they may withhold power over the lives of everyone within the Districts, but they cannot control each minuscule part of them. The Capitol’s empire was built on sand and it’s currently slipping between their fingers. 

You hear footsteps approaching from across the room. Without much thought, you jolt upright to block Ellie’s body from them. An act of instinctual protection, it’d been. Something burned into your mind by the will of the Capitol and the iron of the arena. She’s made into something precious and you into a shield. 

Ruben pauses in the doorway, eyes widening as he holds his hands up in defense. His hair is mused and his eyes are puffy—both signs of just having woken. 

“Wanted to check on you, is all.” He says quietly. 

You instantly relax, moving away from where you’d been blocking Ellie’s vulnerable form. She’s, somehow, still asleep. Ruben continues to step forward, his gait hesitant. 

“She yelled at you last night, didn’t she?”

He pauses. “How could you tell?”

“Because you’re wearing the face of someone who got scolded quite harshly.” You tell him. “Plus, I know exactly how it feels to be loathed by Ellie Williams.”

He chuckles at that. “I suppose you do.”

“Well? What’d she say?”

“That, had I kept a closer eye on you, this wouldn’t have happened.” He says. “And she’s right. I should have.”

“Don’t blame yourself. She was probably just overwhelmed. She gets like that, sometimes, when there’s a lot going on.” Your gaze falls onto her sleeping form; onto her parted lips and her gentle breaths. You turn back to Ruben. “Was Joel here?”

“Yeah, but he left when he saw that she’d fallen asleep. Apparently she struggles with it.”

“With sleeping?”

“Yeah. The way Joel described it, she sounds to be even worse off than you.”

“I’m sure she is.” You say. “What happened to Riley was… It was terrible. Nobody should have to go through that, especially not her.”

“Yeah.”

The two of you don’t speak much after that quiet concurrence. A weight settles between you, heavy and solid. Not materialized only by what happened last night, but by all of which has passed since the arena. 

For starters, you haven’t exactly been open with Ruben lately. He’s been trying to talk to you, to connect. You know he has. But you simply cannot find it within yourself to be overtly forthright. No matter how hard you want to, there is always something you’re keeping to yourself. 

He stands in the doorway for only a moment longer before muttering something about making breakfast. Then he’s turning on his heel and heading toward the kitchen. You watch him leave, a pained frown on your face. 

You are grateful for his illimitable efforts to help you. But you know he’s being dishonest with you as well. You’re unsure what of, but you know it’s something important. He’s a good actor—a phenomenal one, even—but you’re still his sister and thereby inherently skilled at reading him.

With a sigh, you turn your attention away from Ruben and the messy tangle of emotions that come with him. You flop into the couch, your neck resting against a handmade pillow. At the sight of it, you wonder if Ellie has picked up knitting. 

Sunlight filters through the thin fabric of Ellie’s curtains, painting the wooden room in hues of gold. You roll your head to the side, taking in the sight of the room. The walls are blank and undecorated; the floor is clean yet just as empty. It’s completely lifeless, save for the crackling fireplace. It smells of firewood and verdure and her—a sweet tang of musings. And, after a minute or so, the scent of breakfast subdues all other aromas.

You sit up, glancing down at where Ellie remains peacefully asleep against you. Her lips are chapped, likely caused by the frigidity of Seven’s Wintertime. Then, as slowly as possible, you begin to shift away. You slide your legs out from under her folded arms. For the first few seconds, she is completely unaware. Then, once you’re halfway there, she begins to stir. You instantly pause, waiting for her lashes to flutter. Instead, she just shifts—turning her head a bit as her fingers twitch against your thigh.

It takes a minimum of five minutes to successfully remove yourself from the couch without waking her. You then, silently, exit the room. As you enter the hallway, you quickly come to realize all Victor’s houses are set up—generally—the same way. Due to this, you’re able to find the kitchen easily.

Ruben is standing at the stove, cooking an egg atop an iron skillet. The entire kitchen is bathed in the wonderful scent of spices and herbs. The intricate smells add a sense of depth to the otherwise empty home.

“Hungry?” Ruben asks, not bothering to look over his shoulder. He already knows who it is, aware that Ellie would likely approach him with much more contempt. 

“Depends.” You respond. “What’re you making?”

“The only thing I know how to make.” He admits, taking a step to the side to allow you to see the eggs currently baking  atop the skillet. 

You step forward, bracing your hands on the edge of the counter as you lean over to watch him continue cooking. It’s true that eggs are the only thing he’s capable of making. Someone has likely been laughed at for this, unaware that it’s a trait caused by absent parents. 

The Avoxes in your home would always be put in charge of making, serving, and cleaning up after meals. You’re unsure whether your parents are even capable of cooking. Not well, certainly. 

“Smells good.” You tell him.

“Yeah.” He agrees, “But I’m pretty sure that’s only because I added way too much seasoning.”

You tip your head to the side, watching as he attempts to stir the spices around. You’re not sure of exactly what he put in there, but it looks edible enough. 

“If Ellie asks, can we say that you’re the one who used all her spices?” His voice is lowered as though he’s formulating some sort of great scheme. “She already hates me.”

You frown at him. “She doesn’t hate you.”

“She does. She really, really does.”

“You’re overreacting.” You tell him. 

15:03.

DISTRICT SEVEN.

Ellie wakes to the scent of cayenne pepper. She rubs at her eyes, sitting upright in her chair. In front of her is an empty sofa, newly rid of you. Worry instantly pinches at her chest, sending a jolt of panic through her body. But then she hears voices from the kitchen—yours and Ruben’s. 

She pushes to her feet, careful to not scrape the legs of the chair against the flooring. She walks silently toward the kitchen, her feet more than accustomed to walking without sound from so many years of hunting. 

She pokes her head around the corner of the kitchen, peering inside. 

Ruben is standing in front of her unused skillet, dismay laced within his tone as he struggles to puzzle out how much salt to add to his eggs. And, sitting on the countertop to the left of the stove, you laugh loudly at his toil. 

She allows her eyes to rake over your body. Only for a moment, though. Long enough to make sure you’re not in any pain. Your arms are covered in bruises—both old and fresh. They trail up your skin before disappearing under the hem of your shirt, sure to continue throughout the rest of your body. Despite them, you don’t appear to be in any pain.

She backs away from the kitchen without being noticed. Her feet move soundlessly as she walks upstairs to her bedroom. There, she strips out of her dirty clothes and replaces them with a new outfit. She then walks back down the stairs toward the front door. She grabs her boots and coat before exiting the home, putting them on only once she’s outside and thereby unlikely to be noticed. She grabs her bag from the corner of her porch, slinging it over her shoulder before descending the stairs.

Almost instantly, she bumps into someone. Her chest slams into theirs, sending her staggering backward. They reach out to grab her before she’s able to fully register anything. 

“Woah there, Kiddo.” She lifts her head to see Joel in front of her. He’s wearing an expression of both confusion and concern. A hand is braced on her shoulder, brows creased in genuine worry.

She scoffs, yanking her shoulder from his grip. “The hell are you doing here?”

“Just comin’ to check on ya.” He says. 

“I don’t need to be checked on.”

“That’s fine, Kid, but why’re ya leavin’ in such a hurry?”

“I always go hunting in the mornings.” She says as though it’s obvious. “And, seeing as I’ve slept past noon, I need to get to the woods before the sun goes down.”

Joel frowns at her. “You have visitors.”

“They’ll be fine.” She waves him off haphazardly. “If they need anything, you’re right across the street.”

“They’ll be askin’ where ya went.”

“Okay? Tell them I went out hunting.” 

With that and naught more, Ellie brushes past him and begins walking toward town. She can hear Joel ascending the stairs to the porch, his heavy boots thudding against the wood as he does so. She hears the door open then close again.

She exhales a heavy breath, adjusting the bag on her back. It’s feather-light, carrying only her journal and a cloud of stench. 

She makes it to the old lady’s house after ten minutes of walking, her house perched neatly on the hill. Ellie walks around to the back before trekking down toward the tree line. 

The woods welcome her with open arms, snow crunching under her feet as she makes her way toward the hollow log in which her bow and quiver are stored. She grabs the both before continuing her journey through the trees. Only the sounds of chirping birds and gentle wind interrupt her thoughts. 

Ellie finds a comfortable spot to reside, nestled neatly between two trees and a bush. She’s hidden by dead foliage, blending in with the dormant plants of her home. 

From her bag, she removes her journal and pen—which barely has any ink left and makes her handwriting look like messy scribbles. She flips open to the last page she’d written on, finding messy notes about Joel and Cat and how tempted she was to buy a bottle of alcohol at the Hob. That was a week ago, now. In the margins, she drew a sketch of Riley’s hatchet and Sam’s canned toy car. 

She flips to the next page, flattening it out with the palm of her non dominant hand. The journal is stained and torn, but she loves it no less. If anything, the flaws only serve to make it more lovable. The cover, black and leather, is barely attached to the spine anymore. Even the current page she’s writing on has an old stain in the center and small patches of ink from the last page bleeding through.

Ellie raises her legs, propping the journal on her thighs as her wrist twists to form small shapes and letters.

“I hadn’t meant to yell at Ruben last night. I don’t blame him—not really. I just needed a way to release the anger within me. I wasn’t thinking. I regret it now, though, after seeing him laugh and smile with Y/n this morning. He should not have been blamed for her decisions. She wanted the Morphling. She told me she wanted it. She told me why, too, and I cannot blame her for having taken the drug. Not when it’s the only way she can see Remy. Still, I wish she would stop. I wish she would take a step back and see how she is slowly destroying herself: body and mind alike. I think that’s why Ruben brought her here. He thought I could help. But I can’t. That’s why I left this morning. The guilt of knowing I cannot help her through this became too much to face.”

Ellie clicks her pen once. Twice. Thrice before she begins to write again. This time, it is not words but an image. Ruben’s expression of pain when she shouted at him; your body coated in bruises. They’re small sketches that squeeze into the margins, placed beside the words that depict the art. 

Then she moves to the next blank page, staring at it for only a moment before she begins to draw again. The dying ink of her pen forms the shape of your smile, your arms, your hips. She draws you, perched on her counter, surrounded by laughter and felicity. 

She’d just begun to delineate your legs when she hears a sound. Her head snaps up, discarding her pen as she reaches for her bow. Raising to her knees, Ellie reaches over her shoulder for an arrow. Her journal falls into the snow, the impact too quiet to alert the prey.

Then, emerging from a dead bush of sticks, a rabbit points its nose into the air. Ellie moves slowly, too slowly to grab the animal’s attention, as she nocks her arrow and pulls back on the bowstring. All the while, the rabbit is sniffing the air and twitching its tail. It has time only to blink before its corpse falls into the snow, an arrow sticking out of its eye. Around it, deep shades of crimson dribble into the white of its fur.

Ellie rises to her feet, brushing snow from her knees, and walks over to the dead animal. She grabs it by the ears, yanking the arrow from its eye. Perfect shot—she didn’t damage any meat. A smile tugs at her lips as she walks over to her backpack, placing the poor rabbit into her bag.

She picks up her journal and pen from the snow and stands fully to her feet. The Hob is likely no longer honing the usual crowd she visits. Most people only visit the mill in the early mornings or late afternoons. Right now, though, most people are returning from work or visiting their families. So she settles for one rabbit—enough to serve as thanks for the lady on the hill’s services. 

Ellie tucks her weapon away in the log before ascending the steep hill, her feet slipping on the icy snow as she walks. She emerges from the tree line, bag slung over her shoulder and only one corpse within. 

The old lady doesn’t show up at the sound of her boots stomping on the stairs. Ellie knocks on her sliding glass door, waiting for only a minute before it squeaks open. The woman smiles at her.

“I thought you weren’t comin’ today.” She grins. “I should’ve known better, huh?”

Ellie gives her a kind smile, adjusting the bag on her shoulder to unzip and remove the rabbit. “When have I ever missed a day?”

“Never.” The woman replies while taking the animal from her. “You’re a very punctual woman, Miss Williams. I admire that about you.”

“Thank you.” Ellie says despite the ache that blooms in her chest at that. 

“Of course, dear, I’m only being honest.”

Ellie excuses herself soon after that, taking her leave rather hastily. She jogs down the steps of the porch, her throat tight as she rounds the house back to the street. 

The trek back to the Victor’s Village is a quiet one, her bag weighing heavy on her shoulders as she thinks about the woman’s words. They were kind, yes, but stupid. She shouldn’t admire anything about Ellie—even something so harmless as punctuality. How could she, after seeing her in the arena? How could she feel anything for her aside from disgust? She watched her take Riley’s life, for fuck’s sake. She watched her kill Sam and Henry—albeit indirectly.

When Ellie arrives in the Victor’s Village, she instantly senses something is off. She quickens her gait as she approaches her house, removing her bag and tossing it onto the porch without much care. It thuds against the wood at the same time she opens the front door. 

She’s only halfway inside when you’re on her, pressing a quick kiss to her lips before pulling her into a tight hug. She’s instantly tense, unsure what the fuck is going on. She can feel your heart pounding against her chest, sped with something akin to fear. 

Then you’re dipping your head and whispering into her ear, “We live together and we’re in love.” Then you’re pulling away and giving her a small smile. It’s meant to be reassuring, she thinks, but it’s not. All it does is put her on edge. 

Ellie blinks, confused and beginning to panic.

“How’s Cricket?” You ask while removing her coat from her shoulders. It’s a small act, yet gentle—one meant for a couple that’s been together for six months. You hang it up before crouching down in front of her and beginning to unlace her boots. That’s when she notices your hands are shaking.

“She’s gotten better.” Ellie replies, her gaze never leaving you. How the fuck do you know who Cricket even is? “Her fever finally started coming down yesterday.”

Ellie lifts her foot to allow you to pull off her boot and set it aside. You’ve just begun to unlace the second one when someone else enters the foyer. Thiago Clampitt’s gait is more professional than she’d ever seen it—stiff and sharp. When he lifts his head, there resides an expression she’d never seen him wear before. Pity, maybe. 

“Right this way, you two.” He says curtly.

You tug her shoe off and toss it to where the other one is laying discarded on the floor. Then you’re standing to your feet and grabbing Ellie’s hand. She glances down, eyes narrowing at the shakiness of your body. 

The two of you follow behind Clampitt as he leads you into the kitchen. It’s weird, Ellie thinks, to be ushered around her own house. But she knows better than to say anything.

That’s when she registers the familiar sound of croaking. Of clicking. Her heart skins, her shoulders going rigid. 

Once you reach the kitchen, Clampitt stands guard in the hall. Another Peacekeeper whose name she doesn’t know is already stationed on the other side. 

Your hand tightens around hers as you tug her toward the kitchen where the clicking noise grows louder. Her heart is pounding when she sets eyes on what resides within—a man with snakelike eyes and lips the color of blood sits at the island, his hands neatly clasped atop the counter. President Fedra. Behind him are two clickers, their wrists and ankles manacled by thick chains. They twitch against their restraints, baring their teeth as they yearn to bite. The issue isn’t what they are, though. It’s who they are. 

One of their heads is split open, fungus growing from its open flesh. Coiled hair reaches its shoulders in matted tufts, messy and coated with rot. Its skin is dark, adorned with burn marks and blisters. Riley.

The other is much shorter; much smaller. Its neck is sliced open, fungus tracing down its chest and up to its jaw like the tentacles of a squid. Its cheeks are hallowed yet youthful, rosy with exertion as it yanks against the chains. Remy.

“Miss Williams.” Says President Fedra in a voice so kind that it’s sickening. “Thank you for joining me.”

“My apologies for making you wait.” She says, moving forward to sit in one of the stools across from him. You do the same, releasing her hand as you sit. “Had I known you were visiting, I’d not have taken so long.”

“I cannot hold you accountable for your absence. Especially seeing as you were providing aid to a sick Charlotte Barlowe.” Fedra says. “Or, as District Seven knows her, Cricket.”

“Yes.” Ellie nods. “She has been quite ill as of late.”

“With the flu, I hear?”

“Yes.”

He smiles at her, though it looks more like a grimace than anything akin to joy. Almost as if his face is unused to the act of showing cheer. He then turns to you, his smile dropping as his sharp eyes cut right through you. 

“While awaiting your return, Y/n and I had a little chat.” President Fedra says. He’s speaking to Ellie, though his eyes remain trained on your face. You hold the contact, steady and unmoving. 

Ellie’s mind instantly materializes the worst possible scenarios as she imagines what he could have spoken to you about that’d make you so tense and shaky. She keeps her voice calm as she asks, “What about?”

“I was simply offering my condolences.” He finally turns to Ellie, his expression lacking any sense of woe that’d naturally accompany such a topic. “I believe she’d been quite close with Doris Alden. A shame she couldn’t be there for his final days.” He turns to you. “Why is that, again?”

You blink as though your mind is lodged somewhere else; somewhere far, far away from here. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

“Why are you in Seven when you should be in Four?”

“Oh,” You exhale an airy laugh. “Ellie wished to visit her home District for a few days. Considering the Victory Tour is so soon, we thought it best to take the trip prior to the event.”

“Homesick?” He asks her.

She tightens her jaw. “Very much.”

Ellie’s gaze keeps falling onto the croaking mutts over his shoulders—their tattered clothes, their holey skin, their boisterous croaking. Riley and Remy should be gone. They should be experiencing the sweet relief of death; it’s what they deserve after all of which they’d endured. 

“This entire situation will be much less complicated if we all agree to be honest with each other, yes?” President Fedra asks, leaning his elbows on the countertop.

“Yes.” 

“I thought so.” He grins/grimaces. “Now, I’d like to be honest by admitting that I have run into a bit of trouble within the Capitol. This issue first arose when the two of you emerged from the arena together.”

Ellie should have known. She should have been able to guess what this meeting would entail considering the presence of the mutts and the Peacekeepers. President Fedra watches closely, his eyes flicking between the two of you like a predator waiting for the best moment to pounce. 

“You see,” He begins, “Head Gamemaker, Thelma Thatcher, had been a fool to permit dual victorship in the latest Games. Had she any brains, she’d have simply chosen one of you to burn into ash and thereby deem the other victorious. Instead, she placed her own glory higher in priority than the wellbeing of the entirety of the country. And, due to this, here you two both are—alive. Can you guess where she is?”

Ellie swallows because, by the way he spoke, it is rather obvious that Miss Thatcher has been executed for having permitted the life of two victors. She momentarily thinks of Thea, who has now lost both her sister and her mother in less than a year’s time. 

“Since your simultaneous victories, the Capitol has been entirely enraptured by this story. They’re loving the romance bit, entirely convinced by its validity.” He says. “Some, however, are not so easily swayed.”

“Some.” You repeat. “You’re referring to yourself.”

“I am, yes.”

Ellie’s brow furrows. “You think it was an act.”

“I know it was an act.” He corrects. “Now, I am not saying that the two of you haven’t any love for one another. I am simply saying that, during this upcoming Victory Tour, I expect you to convince this to the entirety of the country. Not only those who are willing to second guess your genuine feelings, but also me. You must convince me.”

You lean forward. “How can we possibly convince a romance story to a man who does not believe in love’s very existence?”

“I never claimed to not believe in love.”

“You needn’t claim it.” You say. “I can tell.”

“Love is not something to believe or to not believe.” He tells you, tapping his long nail against the top of the counter. “It is something to feel and to live. I, personally, do not feel such things. The two of you, however, must spend the Victory Tour showing me that you do not only feel it, but you live it.” He pauses. “Can you do that?”

“Easily.” You say.

“Perfect.” 

President Fedra then stands from his stool and snaps his fingers. In an instant, the two Peacekeepers file into the kitchen. They approach a clicker each, Clampitt standing beside Riley as the other stands beside Remy. 

Fedra turns, watching you and Ellie very closely as he lifts his hand to snap again. Then, in one swift motion, the Peacekeepers both draw a handgun before shooting their respective mutt in the head. 

The gunshot rings through the house, sharp and violent. The corpses fall to the floor in unison with one big heavy thud. Your body is rigid as you stare at Remy’s fallen body, unable to peel your eyes away. Ellie, on the other hand, cannot bring herself to look at Riley. 

She suddenly pushes to her feet, catching up to Fedra in the hall. “Allow me to walk you out, sir.”

He turns. “I would like that.”

She walks him to the foyer, both Peacekeepers following close behind with guns readied across their chests. She opens the front door for him, holding it wide. 

“One more question, Miss Williams.” He’s halfway through the door when he turns around to face her. “How high was Charlotte’s temperature when you visited?”

Her heart stutters in her chest at the question. He knows she wasn’t visiting Cricket. She thinks for only a moment before speaking with an easy, cordial tone. “97°F. It had been brought down from her fever yesterday. I was only checking on her.”

“Catalina would know, would she not?” He asks. “Shall I go and ask her?”

Cat?

“I’m unsure.” Ellie says. “She is only my stylist.”

Fedra’s eyes flash with something Ellie doesn’t quite recognize, an emotion she is not used to seeing. He then gives her a curt nod before reaching for the doorknob. His hand lands on the polished brass before he whispers sharply in her ear, “I know of the hill.”

Then he turns on his heel and descends the porch, the two Peacekeepers walking close behind. Ellie shuts the door, allowing it to close with a quiet click. He knows about Cat, he knows about hunting, he knows about the lady on the hill. He knows everything and is unafraid to use that as a weapon against her. 

Adrenaline rushes through her veins, slowly dwindling to nothingness as she stands in the foyer, staring blankly at the closed door in front of her. 

When she—finally—returns to the kitchen, you haven’t yet moved. Your eyes remain wide and pinned to the floor where Remy once laid. In his place is a pool of blood that has been smeared across the tile flooring, evidence of having been dragged away. 

Her eyes follow the trail of crimson to find Ruben and Joel tugging the corpses toward the back door so you and Ellie don’t have to. She’s unsure where they’d been hiding throughout that entire exchange, but she’s glad they’re here now. She watches Joel pull Riley’s body across the floor until they’re out of sight. Only then is she able to breathe without feeling like she’s suffocating under the weight of it all.

She turns away, gaze falling onto you. Still, you haven’t moved. Not even an inch. Your bare feet don’t quite reach the kitchen floor, dangling from the tall stool childishly. Your arms are wrapped around your torso as though you’re afraid of falling apart if you’re not holding yourself upright. Your eyes are blank of any emotion, your expression completely empty. You continue to stare at the empty space that Remy—albeit a replica—once filled.

Ellie steps forward, reaching to tap your shoulder gently. But she forgot how silently she moves and, at the feeling of someone touching you, you’re instantly set on edge. You flinch away from her hand as you whip around to face her. When you realize who it was that you, she halfway expects you to relax. But you don’t. She tries to ignore how much that lack of comfortability hurts. 

“Sorry, I just–”

“Don’t apologize.”

“...Okay.”

That’s all either of you say. 

Despite all you went through together—all you lost together—your relationship has been reverted right back to square one. Awkward discomfort is draped across the kitchen like a blanket. But it’s not soft like blankets should be, it’s scratchy and holey and Ellie wants naught aside from to be rid of it.

Then Joel and Ruben are entering the kitchen again, their footsteps thudding against the floor with easy familiarity. The door clicks shut behind them, but Ellie doesn’t remove her eyes from your face. Not even when you look away, meeting Ruben’s gaze instead of hers. Again, she shouldn’t be as hurt as she is. The two of you are siblings; you grew up together. You knew Ellie for only two weeks and, during that time, everything good was eradicated from your lives. She can’t blame you for holding a distaste for anything that reminds you of that timeframe. Not even when that thing is her.

She, finally, turns away from you to face the men. Their hands and clothes are stained with blood, both out of breath. Ruben is quick to clasp his hands behind his back when he notices her staring at them. Joel, though, doesn't seem to pick up on the symbolism of such a sight. So, cluelessly, he wipes a hand across his face, thus smearing Riley’s blood into his stubbled skin. 

“You guys should go.” Ruben says. “Joel and I will clean this mess up.”

By this mess, he means the blood of the two people held most dear to your hearts. Riley: Ellie’s best friend who she’d watched grow from a giggly child to a stern woman and, now, will never be able to watch grow into an old lady. Remy: a child you only knew for a week, yet managed to wedge himself into your heart and into your soul, signifying all of which is lost in the cruelty of the Games.

Ellie doesn’t respond, her mind struggling to catch up with her body. She stares at the blood on Joel’s hands; at the way the crimson fluid has now tainted that broken watch he refuses to replace. She can’t seem to look away from it, knowing it belonged to Riley. A version of her, at least, whether that be a clone or a replica. 

She’s only pulled back to reality when you grab her by the wrist and begin tugging her toward the hall. She blinks once, twice, thrice before she’s stumbling to keep up with your hasty gait. you pull her toward the living room where you’d once slept on the sofa—passed out yet blissfully unaware.

You release her wrist once you’ve entered the room. She stands in the doorway, heart pounding, as she watches you sit down on the couch. Your knees are pressed together, jaw clenched. You stare at the floor, eyes darting across the wooden planks.

For a long time, it’s silent.

Then, “He killed him.”

Ellie lifts her head at the sound of your voice breaking through the veil of quietude that she was just beginning to grow used to. You haven’t moved, still staring at the floor with those wide eyes of yours. She tilts her head, “Who?”

“Mister Alden.” You whisper. “He killed him.”

You told Ellie of Mister Alden before, though you’d not gone into much detail. She knows that he gave you the pearl necklace you wore into the arena and you’re wearing now. She knows he meant a lot to you; enough for you to keep smaller details of his life close to your heart, at least.

“You don’t know that.” She tries. “Maybe he just–”

“No.” Your head snaps up to meet her gaze. “He murdered him.”

Ellie swallows harshly before nodding, knowing better than to challenge you. She may not have known much regarding your life in Four, but she knows enough to be aware that there weren’t many things you cherished about it. But, among the few things that you did, are Ruben and Mister Alden. They made your life there bearable. They were the break in the storm clouds that are your life.

She watches your fingers twist the pearl pendant on your necklace. You’d done that before and during the arena, though the habit slowly faded over time as you grew used to the feel of the jewelry around your neck. You must be uncomfortable wearing it, again, now that its prior owner is dead.

“It wasn’t his.” You say, as though you’d read her mind. “His granddaughter made it—by hand—for good luck during her first Reaping. In her place, though, mine and Remy’s names were drawn. He– Mister Alden visited me in the justice building. Said she spent weeks searching for the perfect pearl, then another few weeks saving up enough money to buy the chain. I refused it at first—of course I did, I could never accept something so personal, but– but he insisted. He said she slipped it into his pocket the moment she heard my name. He said she–” Your voice cracks, brows twitching at the memory.

Ellie walks forward, expression gentle as she approaches. She sits on the cushion beside you, resting her elbows on her knees to see your downturned face fully. Your bottom lip has begun to tremble and your eyes are watering, but you refuse to let any tears fall. She doesn't know why—are you no longer comfortable enough to be vulnerable around her?

“You don’t have to talk about it.” She says softly.

“No.” You shake your head. “He deserves to be talked about. Remembered.”

She nods, slow and patient.

“He told me, in the justice building, that she– his granddaughter reminded him of me. Her ferocity, he said, was the main thing we had in common. That, and the way she figured things out without needing to be told them. He–” You swallow the lump in your throat, blinking rapidly. “Neither of us ever mentioned how close our relationship truly was. Not until that day. I– He said I was like a daughter to him.”

Ellie’s entire body aches at that. She can practically hear as her heart shatters within her chest. Nobody deserves to lose a father figure. Especially not in the way you did—quick, gruesome, and meant to be disregarded. She couldn’t even begin to imagine such a thing. You weren’t even there to visit him during those limited days he had left.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers, though the words are rather hollow in comparison to all of which she currently feels.

You lift your head, a pair of watery eyes meeting hers. “He wasn’t a cruel man.”

“I know, I’m–”

“Don’t.” You tell her. Just then, something in your gaze shifts. Something deep within you clicks into place—something animalistic; something that’s been lying dormant for a long time, wishing and waiting to be roused from slumber. You wipe at your eyes roughly, sucking in a deep breath. “I’m going to kill him.”

Ellie blinks. “Who?”

“Fedra.” You say. “With my bare hands, I will kill him. I’ll watch him gasp for air and–”

“Hey, hey, hey.” She interrupts, shaking her head furtively. “None of that.”

You turn to her, agitated. “He cannot get away with murdering innocent people whenever he fucking feels like it, Ellie. He caused all of this.”

“I get it.” She tells you. “I really, really fucking do. But you can’t say shit like that. If you want to kill him, fine—I’ll even help you, if you want—but you can not go around demanding his head on a spike.”

“Sure.”

“Sure what? Are you–”

“Sure, you can help me kill him.”

“Woah, woah. That wasn’t the point of–”

“You can help by catching his decapitated head after I remove it from his shoulders.”

She blinks. “What the fuck?”

Ruben and Joel told her you’d changed, but she wasn’t expecting this—blood thirsty and impulsive even while sober. She saw you laughing in the kitchen this morning, basked in sunlight and serendipity. She thought they’d been overreacting to say you weren’t the same. But, here you are, very much different from the girl she held in the arena and cried with in the hospital.

But you’re still you. And she thereby will never stop flocking toward your flame. The Capitol can try all they want to extinguish you but, even when you’re naught but a smoking wick, Ellie will always be drawn to you.

notes ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ they're officially reunited 🥳🥳 umm get ready for the oddest relationship ever ! speaking of odd relationships, how do we feel about the ellie & ruben argument (it was more like a lecture than anything) ??? bc they both love yn so much & would literally die for her, but their love for her is just so... violent? i mean, ellie fell for her in the arena so her brain relates the sight of yn to the feel of anguish and longing. and, similarly, ruben & yn's relationship was at its peak when they were kids getting abused daily so it's ALSO rooted to pain. can she get a damn break already ???????? pls ???? OH! AND! ellie saying "i needed the truth" to joel is so 💔 like baby. he lies to you in every universe. also i don't proofread my author's notes so if these make no sense, that's why! love u guys!

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[irkimatsu]

Husk with a partner who cannot take romantic hints.

When Husk asks if you'd like to go out for dinner with him later in the week, you accept easily. The place he's described sounds nice, an upscale lounge with live music, with a jazz band playing on the night he wants to go. It sounds fun, getting to hang out and listen to music with friends! You wonder who else is coming?

It sounds like a pretty fancy place, so you make sure to dress for the occasion, even asking Angel for advice if you're not confident in your fashion sense. You come down the stairs in your new outfit, and right away you see Husk staring at you. Of course he'd stare - he's never seen you dressed like this, has he? It's a new sight, and he's just not used to it, is all.

"Wow. Ya look great," he says with a smile.

"You do, too," you tell him as you return his smile. He really does clean up well - it's amazing what a crisp button-up and a tie can do for his image. He looks so much more confident like this.

You take a quick look around, and the only other person you see in the lobby is Angel, lounging on the couch in sweats.

"Angel? Aren't you coming?" you ask.

"When'd I ever say I was coming along?" Angel says without even looking at you, too focused on rubbing noses with the piglet on his chest.

"You never said you weren't-"

"You never asked!" he shoots back.

"I didn't ask him to come," Husk says. "Or anyone else." He seems... confused? "I wanted it to be just us. ...is that okay, or-?"

"It's fine!" you assure him. "I just wasn't expecting it. If you only want me to come with you, then that's fine."

Odd that Husk wants to go out with only you and no one else. You're sure there's a perfectly normal reason for that. You suppose he does seem like the type to prefer one-on-one social situations as opposed to large groups...

You get to the lounge, get seated in a booth, and despite some initial nerves, you feel comfortable with him almost immediately. The food is delicious, the booze is flowing, and the conversation comes so easy. He has so much to say about the band that's playing, and he's invested in what you have to say about the music from the perspective of your own time on Earth. You barely notice the time passing, or anything outside this booth.

You're about to ask Husk why he's getting out of the booth, but then he turns to you and extends his paw.

"Care to dance?"

He's obviously the more experienced dancer between the two of you, but you follow his lead easily enough to keep him impressed. It's so exhilarating, the way he moves both himself and you along to the music as if it comes naturally. You're laughing and smiling, enjoying the high-energy music-

And then the music slows down and the lights go dim. Without missing a beat, Husk's paws are on your hips, and his smile seems oddly nervous.

"May I?"

You nod, your voice caught in your throat. You aren't sure at first what to do with your arms; you follow your first instinct, which is to drape them over his shoulders. He slowly sways you to the rhythm of the music, and you can just barely hear him singing along under his breath.

Your face flushes as you realize this is a love song. It must be so awkward for him to sing like that while he's dancing with you... maybe he just likes the song that much?

You've spent so much time with Husk over the past couple of months, but you've never focused on him before. Not like you are now. The smooth baritone of his singing voice, the light flecks of gray in his dark fur that give him a weathered but experienced look, the glow of his golden eyes that he can't seem to take off of you... his paws on your hips are so firm, yet gentle, even as he pulls you closer to him. His fur is so silky, his body so warm, the fragrance you're used to from him smells sweeter now than it ever has before-

Haven't you figured out yet why he asked you to come with him tonight? If you haven't, maybe his next question will help you along.

"May I kiss you...?"

[friendlyrandomperson]

Howdy everybody! Before you start this fanfiction, I want to warn you that there is a bit more angst in this one than I usually make. Without further ado, here is the fic!

Which is fine!

Everything feels sharp, his breaths like glass shards in his lungs, his sobs scraping his throat. Everything feels sore, his heart pounding, his head throbbing with each beat. Everything feels cold, the wind whirring through his ears, his cheeks left with streaks from tears. Everything feels warm, his face burning, the fresh tears reaching his cheeks before they fly off like all the others.

He doesn’t know when it started. He doesn’t know why. All he knows is it hurts. All he knows is it hurts and he wants it to stop. He is dizzy, his throat is sore, well… everything is, his lungs burn, his ears hear the rush of wind against them.

Everything was okay. Completely okay. Well, a couple things went wrong, but it shouldn’t be such a big deal!

He simply woke up thirty minutes late and didn’t get to say goodbye to Eddie, which also meant he didn’t get to give him his lunch and a kiss goodbye. Which is fine. He can just make up for it with extra kisses and cuddles tonight!

Then, he was going to go out with Julie, but she made plans with Wally and forgot to tell Frank, so those plans were cancelled and it left Frank with nothing to do, which is fine! He can use the alone time well; he decided to catch up on a book he’s been needing to finish!

But the book gave him a paper cut, and it stung a lot, so he had to go fix it. He grabbed the disinfectant and opened the lid before dropping it and spilling it everywhere. In his panic to grab the disinfectant, he knocked the roll of gauze off of the table and into the puddle, soaking into the entire brand-new roll and leaving it unusable. Which is fine! Now it’s easier to clean up and he can just go buy a new roll. Of course, Howdy wasn’t a big fan of his jokes so he’ll have to wait for Julie, and he isn’t sure how long she’ll take.

Oh, and his finger is still stinging.

Which is… not fine.

Nothing is fine. Not a single thing. Everything has gone wrong and now he’s a bawling mess on the floor next to spilled disinfectant and squishy gauze and his eyes hurt and his body hurts and his head won’t stop spinning and everything is just awful. He can handle inconveniences but for some reason this is all so hard to handle and it’s overwhelming and nobody is coming home for another hour and he still has to clean up that spill—

“Frank? Frank, you home?”

Eddie? Eddie’s not supposed to be home yet. Or is he? How long has Frank been sitting on the floor? He hasn’t done anything and—

“FRANK!” Rapid footsteps and then a thud. “Omph, that smarts.” Gentler, more soft sounds follow, as if someone was crawling. “Oh no, what’s wrong, what happened to yer finger?”

What is Eddie even saying? He can’t hear anything!!!

Frank feels Eddie gently take hold of his hurt hand before the warmth leaves again. Suddenly, it comes back.

“This is gonna sting, okay? I know it’s not real nice, I don’t like it mahself but you’re really hurt an’ I wanna make ya feel better, okay sugarplum?”

A cold stinging sensation runs over his finger, causing him to hiss. A gentle pressure wraps around his finger, where the cut is, followed by a ginger kiss.

“‘S alright, I got chu.” Even though Frank can barely hear, he can clearly tell that Eddie’s voice is gentle and loving. He feels himself be softly pulled into Eddie’s lap, with the taller man stroking his hair and his back, giving him kisses on the top of his head for what seemed like forever and not even a minute until Frank’s loud, harsh sobs downed into quieter, less achy ones.

When the sobbing fades, sounding less rough than before, Eddie speaks softly. “How long you been on the floor in here?” A gentle sniffle comes from Frank. “I don’t know, I- I just dropped the- the-“ Frank whimpers, not even being able to get the words out. “Hey now, it’s okay, don’t beat yerself up over it.” Eddie lifts his face, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You need a break, huh? Whatchu wanna do?” Gently pushing stray hairs off of Frank’s forehead and waiting for an answer patiently, Eddie takes time to observe his husband.

— Hair tousled and sticking out in various directions but somewhat stuck outwards, his head has been spinning for more than thirty minutes. He will have a headache.

— Eyes pink and red around the edges, clear and shiny lines down his face and neck, he’s been crying for over forty minutes. He probably shouldn’t read for a bit and is tired.

— His voice sounded rough when he responded, he needs water.

“How ‘bout this?” Eddie carefully stands and picks Frank up, holding him in his arms like one would hold a sleeping child. “I’m gonna get chu some water and a painkiller or two, then we can just cuddle fer a bit until you don’t wanna. Unless you don’t wanna cuddle at all and wanna do somethin’ else.” Frank shakes his head, his arms tightening around Eddie quickly. “No, no I want to cuddle.”

Eddie softly chuckles, kneeling down and picking up the gauze, using the dry side to get the rest of the disinfectant off of the floor. Luckily, there’s not much left in the bottle, so the puddle is easy to clean up. Eddie picks up the now empty bottle, still holding the gauze, and walks to the trashcan, dropping both in and walking out of the kitchen, flicking off the light as he does so. “Alright, we can cuddle fer a bit.”

~~~

“No, that’s what happened? Baby gimme yer hand, that musta hurt!”

Frank snorts, giving Eddie his hand. “It did, but it doesn’t anymore because you helped me.” Eddie holds Frank’s hand, the thin finger wrapped in a butterfly band-aid. He gently kisses the top of the band-aid, earning a soft giggle from Frank. “Kisses can make just ‘bout anythin’ better, huh?” Frank nods.

“Only from you.”

“Hmm, I dunno, yours work purty well if I say so mahself.”

Frank playfully rolls his eyes. “Oh, Eddie, you don’t mean that.”

“I bet I can prove it.”

“How?”

Eddie quickly kisses Frank’s lips and pulls back.

“Hmm… yup, I’m right.”

Frank scoffs quietly.

“What did I make better?”

“I was cravin’ somethin’ sweet.”

[lovers-instead]

Sapphic YA Book Rec: Good Moon Rising by Nancy Garden

1996 follow-up to Annie on My Mind, this time featuring 2 girls who compete for the lead role in their high school theater department.

Links to download:

Internet Archive (to borrow)

Anna's Archive

Z-Library

[oceantornadoo]

inspired by a dramoine fic i read! simon riley x f!reader

it’s the third time today someone has handed you simon’s paperwork and you’re starting to get confused. in fact, there’s the distinct feeling that you’ve missed a memo.

first, it was the visiting captain, so you couldn’t blame him for confusing lieutenants. but then it was johnny turning in his mission report, muttering something about “cannae be late this time if ah give it ye, lass.” which was odd, considering you weren’t his direct report (you were gaz’s). but what really sent you over the edge was getting called into price’s office and being met with a load of folders addressed to one Lt. Ghost (Confidential).

“sir, i’m a bit confused as to why you can’t just give these to him yourself.” price looked up from his desk, eyes flickering from under his boonie hat. “hav’ you seen ‘im today, lieutenant?” you nodded immediately while trying to scoop all of this paperwork (that was not yours!) into your arms. “yessir, i saw him before breakfast and then during training and then…what?” price had silently quirked an eyebrow, his beard echoing the movement. “i haven’t seen ‘im all day, so i figure it’s faster for you to deliver since you’re more well-versed in his movements than i am.” huh. “i’m sure he’s just doing his ghost thing, y’know? slipping into shadows and…”, price patiently gave you an exasperated look, “but i’ll get these to him, sir. see you later!”

the problem was, you knew exactly where simon was. in your office.

his own had an unfortunate ground level window near the track, so he was always complaining about nosy recruits until you offered to share some office space. temporarily, of course. it’s not like you were using all the empty space anyways and it made it much easier to get the opinion of your fellow lieutenant on a report by walking over to his desk, rather than going up and down stairs. that was the second point he made, and who were you to say no?

after pushing open your office door, you beelined for simon’s desk, dumping the stacks of folders on his desk. “wot’s this?” his mask was off so you could see his eyes widen at the mess of papers. “everyone now thinks i’m a drop off box for your paperwork, so i got burdened with all of this when i was doing my rounds.” he nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of his tea. “cheers, love.”

“what do you mean, cheers? don’t you think it’s odd for them to give me your paperwork? and why do we even have so much paperwork? i swear im drowning in it this week.” he snorted at your last sentence, opening the first folder in front of him while you rounded your desk, sitting in your comfy chair with a hmpf. “yer out an’ about more than me, tha’s all.” well, that was true. the infamous ghost was not known to be a sociable person on base. “i guess…” you turned to your old radio, passed down by a retired captain, and turned on simon’s favorite classical station.

“ya want mess or the pub tonight, love?” another great thing about being on base with simon - you never had to pay for dinner. “actually, that thai place we like is doing a special tonight.” he gave you a half-smirk, one cheek ticking up. “bloody raccoon. we had thai two nights ago.” you didn’t respond, instead blinking your best impression of puppy dog eyes at him. simon sighed, then shook his head at his desk. “olrigh’. the things i do.” you smiled and winked, dipping your head back down to your desk. “thanks, si.”

-

two weeks later, you were prepping for a duo mission with simon. price had been grilling the two of you for the past three hours, making sure you had everything memorized. satisfied, he leaned back in his office chair and rubbed his temples, the feeling of a headache coming on. “one more thing.” both of you snapped your head up at price, desperate to leave and eat. you’d already missed dinner and your stomach was complaining.

“the safe house is pretty small, basically a shack. one bed, no couch. i assumed ‘s fine since y’r datin-“ “‘s fine, captain.” simon cut him off, an out of character move that had you frowning. “it’s fine, cap. not like ive never slept on a floor before.” now price was frowning at what you said. he turned to simon, who shook his head imperceptibly before becoming still again. price’s brow furrowed but he didn’t push further. he got up from his chair, eyes flitting suspiciously between you two. “i’ll see you at 0600.”

“what was that about?” you whispered to simon after as you walked down the hall. “‘s nothin’.” you were missing something but it was so unclear what. “he thinks that we’re datin-“ “said it’s nothin’, sweetheart. he’s an old man. let’s get some food in you, yeah?” you nodded, letting him guide you to the kitchen. price wasn’t that old. and you were not dating simon riley.

-

the mission was beautiful, your best one in years. it was the first duo mission between you and simon, so the nerves of pulling your own weight had settled in hard. thankfully, your skills balanced each other out and you’d gotten the target in record time. now, all you had to do was wait in the safe house for exfil.

“you were so good.” you whispered once he’d locked the door. he only hummed a response, checking exit and entry points while you set up your packs, scrounging up MREs and testing the shack for electricity. price wasn’t kidding - it was practically a studio apartment. one bed, a bathroom and a decrepit stove. the soldier part of you was fine with it, but that small soft part of you ached for the warmth of your apartment. memories of yelling at simon for using all your shampoo even though he didn’t live there, of him running you a bath after a long day of training.

“you were good too, baby.” he snuck up from behind your spot on the floor and lifted you onto the mattress that had definitely seen better days. you hadn’t even checked it for bed bugs yet. “c’mere.” he pulled you into his lap, unbuckling your tac vest as you pulled off your bandana. you tugged off his mask - the hard shell since you were on a mission - and ran your nails through his short haircut. simon started kissing your neck, wet and sloppy like he couldn’t get enough. the unrestrained want he displayed sometimes scared you. the respective pulsing in both your chest and cunt scared you more.

“so are you sleeping on the floor or am i?” he flipped you over, your back flush with the mattress as simon loomed over you. there was still eyeblack around his eyes, caught on his blonde eyelashes as well, and you couldn’t help the hand that reached up to brush some of it away. “y’r funny, sweetheart.” you grinned at that - a real toothy smile. he bent down to kiss you, scarred lips caressing your own. simon bit your lip and you moaned, sliding your legs out from under him to wrap them around his torso. when you tugged him in he went willingly, grinding into your clothed cunt. his tac vest was still on, scraping against your shirt, hardening your nipples.

“keepin’ you in this bed all night.” cold fingers dipped past the waist of your pants. you were already wet, his fingers sliding easily up and down your slit as they warmed up. that’s when you realized he still had his glove on, his movements harsher than normal. wide eyes met his own, and simon stopped so you could make a decision.

it didn’t take much as you dug your heels into his back harder, meeting him in a sloppy kiss as his gloved thumb played with your clit. “fuckin’ made for me.” he whispered, and you chalked it up to dirty talk because obviously, you weren’t together. he just knew exactly what to do, giving your clit the right amount of pressure as his other fingers teased your hole, the stretch burning more than usual. it only took a few flicks and you were off, your orgasm settling through your bones like a warm cup of tea. “jesus, si.” he grinned, his scarred lips pulling up to show a beautiful smile. “know ya like th’ back of my hand, huh?” you shook your head, capturing the idiot in another kiss.

-

after the mission, after debrief and a hot shower, you made your way back to your base office. thankfully, paperwork had only slightly piled up. one envelope stood out though - a thick card-stock with glossy, swooping letters. an invite to london’s military gala, addressed to a Lieutenant & Lieutenant. simon’s name was next to yours, connected by a singular symbol. you turned to him in disbelief. simon had been going through his own backlog, but his head snapped up under the focus of your glare.

“simon, are we…dating?”

-

this was fun!!! check out the fic i linked it was so good and i couldn’t put it down.

[reignpage]

♣ In which you peg Toji as punishment

“Just get it over with, woman.”

He’s kneeling on the bed, ass up, legs spread, face squished against the pillows as he grips the headboard a little too tightly. A smile is almost brought to your lips; your big, bad Toji is nervous and too proud to admit it. Honestly, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity and you will not waste it. After all, you’re never going to trust him to take care of your plants next time you go on a long, out-of-town mission. Was it so hard to water a couple pots here and there? 

For someone who’s never been in this position – literally and figuratively – he sure is quite adept. His ass is clean, he didn’t bat an eye at the not so little cock you whipped out (probably because his is much bigger), and his arch is, well, kinda better than yours. Like, actually. Nice curvature, good height, and topped off with a delicious looking bubble butt. 

“Quit admiring me and get to work,” he grunts out. 

You smack a cheek. He jolts. It didn’t hurt him. Couldn’t have. But it does leave behind a red glow, most likely from the humiliation, which doesn’t make pre leak out of his only semi-hard cock. Bummer. 

Taking his command to heart, you grip his hips, rubbing what you hope to be, soothing circles into his bare skin, and circle the cockhead of your dark green strap-on dildo to his puckering hole. Of course, you’ve taken the right measures. His asshole has been stretched out stage by stage, albeit begrudgingly and with a lot of complaints, and you’ve lubed up both his asshole and your fake cock. All that’s left to do is to push it in and give him the ride of his life. 

Toji hisses at the sensation. He once described rimming as ‘ticklish’ and ‘not really my thing,’ though as his ass stretches back towards you ever so slightly, you start to wonder. Cooing, you say, “Aww, baby, eager?”

“Fuck off.”

Alrighty. Clearly, he’s not in a talking mood. Fine. You don’t need him to be, you just need him to keep that mouth open so you can hear all the fantastic moans he doesn’t want to admit to. So, inch by inch, you feed the green thing into his reluctantly open hole. 

The headboard creeks. “Fuck. Shit. Ah, fuck.”

“Feel good, To-ji?” You tease. “It sounds like it feels good.”

Rolling his eyes, you’re sure, the sassy man grumbles, “It’s f-fine. You -hah- all in yet?” 

Now, if the roles were reversed, as they always are, this would be the cue to shove the cock in until you’ve bottomed out and he’s a drooling mess. He’s never once taken mercy on you so why should you on him?

SLAM!

“FUCK!”

Oh, whoops. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re aware you’re going to pay for that after he’s paid the price for being a plant-murderer. Maybe with a spanking or orgasm-denial lasting for hours…or maybe he wants to return the favour. Yeah, knowing him that’s exactly how it’s going to go. With that in mind, you quickly decide to forego warnings and make the most of this experience. 

Working your hips double time, you begin shovelling the long, thick green dildo in and out of his pulsing hole. 

“You fucking -ah shit s-slow down.” Toji’s arch miraculously deepens, body quivering in a way you’ve never seen him do. It’s oddly endearing to see such a huge man holding back all the violent reflexes he’s honed over the years as a killing machine. And even more endearing, is the low grunt he releases when you scratch your nails down his long spine. “You’re having too -hngh! not there fuck!- too much f-fun, aren’t ya? Those damn -seriously fuck!- plants don’t even mean shit to -ngh!- you.”

A hand wanders down to his very real, very hard cock. Though it’s an awkward position, you keep pummelling the dildo through his gummy walls as you jerk him off, smearing the pre you’ve been waiting for down his length. “Gonna cum soon, Toji? It’s a shame it’s not going -hah- inside me, r-right? I wish I could actually cum inside you; could you imagine how pretty your asshole would look with cum leaking out of it?”

Toji growls, “Talking a lot of shit for s-someone already out of breath.”

“Yeah, well, if you let me do this more often, then I’ll build up my stamina, won’t I?”

To that, he has no response. But with the way he’s letting out low moans, breathy groans, and gravelly curses, you think he’s actually considering the possibility. Maybe you’re fucking him so good that the mysterious male g-spot of his is being stimulated and he’s feeling so amazing that it’s changing his worldview…or, much more likely, the guilt he bears weigh heavy on him, making the man open to the idea of letting you have your fun. 

Something smacks your hand away from the scalding thing you’re holding. His own hand replaces yours. Toji’s jerking himself off. Oh, how you so badly want to watch him. If he lets you fuck him again, you’ll have to insist on doing it missionary style so you can watch his brows furrow and eyes roll back. 

When you bury deep, grinding hard, you’re pretty surprised to find him fucking back into you. His head turns and those piercing eyes, hooded and dark, meet yours. 

With a smirk, he says, “Put your back into it, ma. Never gonna make me cum at this rate.”

Right the first time. Yay.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Hybrid Town (1) | Only Human

In a world filled with humans and hybrids attempting to find balance with one another, you are but a simple human trying to integrate into the town on the property your late grandparent bequeathed to you. The town just so happens to have a small population of farming hybrids, with hardly any other humans around. 

“So you’re the inheritor…(Y/n)? (L/n)?”

“Yes, I have my I.D. if you want to check.”

“..Right….but the owner of the original property was a hybrid…you are not.”

“Not that it matters. But my grandfather’s partner was a Wolf hybrid…They both agreed to give it to me when they both passed.”

“I..see.”

It might be right to call it racism or maybe more accurately it’s specism and the townsfolk aren’t all that keen on hiding it. They openly sneer at you when you do come to town, whispering loudly about what they’ve heard, and rolling their eyes if you have the gall to ask them a question. 

“Can I get these bags of mulch in bulk?”

“...so what are ya talkin’ to me for? Just grab ‘em.”

“Your sign says to ‘ask for more at the front desk.’”

“...Fine dirt monkey. How much?”

It doesn’t bother you…sometimes. You mostly spend your days on your property, having picnics in the open fields you now own. Spending time renovating your cottage with all the custom plumbing and electricity you learn to install yourself. Wouldn’t want some unfriendly technician in town doing it instead. Anyways you get into the routine of sustaining yourself in your lonesome working from home and relying on your savings to help you enjoy your new life. That doesn’t stop until the one fateful day…you’re lounging on your deck when you hear something faint. It sounds like crying. 

“Waaaaa!”

It sounds like a child…which isn’t unfamiliar, after all your neighbors do seem to be a little family. Of course, they don’t want to talk to you but that’s fine.

“Waaaa!”

It sounds pretty intense but you’re sure it’ll stop soon. 

“Waaaaa! Somebody help, please!”

Now it feels wrong to ignore it any longer. You quickly fix yourself to head over, driving the tractor that you ride across your property to the fence that represents the beginning of your neighbor’s property. It was short work to hop over the fence and hear the crying persisting. Running to the back porch of the house, you see a little dog boy crying his heart out. 

“I heard you crying what’s wrong?”

The kid starts blubbering wiping at tears and snot on his face. After some calming pats between the ears and some promises to help you can get a clear picture.

“Mama fell ‘ver and she won’t wake up!”

You run inside to find exactly that. A dog woman face down on the floor while the soup on the stove boils out and whatever’s in the oven beginning to smoke. Stopping the appliances you flip over the woman in search of a heartbeat and breathing. Thankfully you find it and ask the little boy where you can lay her down. He points you to the bedroom down the hall passing by another bedroom and a bathroom. 

Once you’ve laid her down, check her temperature, and decide in your not-so-expert opinion that she’s suffering from a fever. Assuring the little dog boy you have him help you carry some cold water and a rag to place on her head. While making sure she drinks some water, you finally get to talking to the little dog boy who’s started to calm down now.

“That was real brave of you, good job for asking for help.”

“Big brother always said I gotta since I’m too tiny to do much myself.”

“Well, I thought you were very helpful and you don’t seem that tiny to me.”

“Thanks!” 

“No problem! My name’s (Y/n).”

“And my name’s Titan! By the way (Y/n) I’m real hungry!”

That’s how you ended up cleaning the dishes, Titan’s mother started and using what you could to make something new. You stuck with one of your old family recipes, relying on your memory the best you could to avoid another charred disaster. Eventually, you finish up able to set a plate in front of Titan who is more than happy to dig in. 

“More! More!”

“Okay Titan just a little bit more but you can’t eat it all we’ve got to save some.”

“Whyyyy!?”

“Because your mom hasn’t eaten yet and I’m sure your brother will want some when he gets home–”

“But he’s never aroun’ we’ll be waiting forever for him to come!”

Creak.

“Titan who is this?”

The new voice comes from a much larger dog man with a sturdy build, sun-kissed skin, and overalls barely hanging off his shoulders. His ears are narrowed back and his shoulders are hunched as he easily towers over you. With Titan’s help, you explain how you came to help and that his mother had fainted, likely from the fever she had. When you show him to her, his bared teeth and impending growl quiet down. Fussing over her as he checks for any sign that you might be lying. Finding that you’re not, he skeptically accepts the meal you made as you alternate watching over her and entertaining Titan–who’s far too chipper for a pup ready for bed. 

“Hey uh, wanted to apolog’ze for earlier”

“For what?!”

“Fer how I acted when you’re just helpin’ out.”

“Oh, it’s okay! I’m just happy no one’s hurt.”

“I’m also sorry for misjudging you. I think I had the wrong impression bout ya.”

As you continue to chat with the young dog man–Tank you both work together to finish up whatever chores his mom would usually do. Between you both Titan is convinced to finally get some sleep if it’s in your lap close to his mom. Tank suggests you stay over bashfully offering his bed if you need it. You decline, encouraging him to get some much-needed rest considering he was working on the farm tomorrow. 

“A-a-are you sure you don’t want to stay in a bed? I feel like it’s the least we could do.”

“No worries Tank, I’m going to watch over your mom until this fever breaks. Besides I don’t have the heart to move Titan now.”

“Fair I guess. Hopefully, I’ll see ya tomorrow?”

“Yeah if I’m not still here in the morning you can come to my place anytime.”

His fluffy tail wags a lot harder than he likes at that.

“R-really?”

“Yeah, anytime!”

With another ‘thank you’ he’s off to bed. It isn’t until sunrise that the fever breaks and the dog-hybrid mother is coming to. Assuring her that her boys and the food she left in the oven are not burning the house she calms down to thank you.

“Oh thank you thank you I don’t know what I would have done without you!”

Where you’ll have to fight her off from her barrage of kisses, hugs, and propositions to stay long enough for her to cook something for you to take home, as much as you wanted to stay and indulge in her acts of thanks, you missed your bed and it was plenty exhausting now that you were being spoken to positively. Convincing her that you were such a short drive away that she didn’t need to keep you too much longer and after promising that she and her boys were welcome anytime you could finally go home. 

“You promise?”

“Yes, Miss Tiffany I promise, anytime you’d like.”

“Just not now?”

“Yes, not now so please get some rest!”

Back in the comfort of your home, everything is more or less the same except for the recently obsessed friendly neighbors who make all the quiet time you used to have nonexistent. 

“Wake Up! Wake Up! Let’s play!”

“Egh Titan how did you get in here?”

“Through your doggy door!”

“But I don’t have one!”

“Now you do!”

Thus begins the first few to fall for the lone human in this hybrid town. Hardly shy about their newly discovered attraction as they fill their dull hours up with time next to you. Lucky them as your neighbors they’re the only ones privy to your addictive affection and comforting scent. 

“Oh! I was about to drive over to drop off Titan!”

“What a coincidence! We were just coming over to have dinner at yours!”

“Huh?”

“Well, you did say we can come and thank you anytime!”

“So we figured why not now!”

“In fact, maybe every week we come over to yours and you come over to ours!”

“I mean I guess-?”

“Wonderful Titan, Tank clear the kitchen I’m going to make this dinner the best yet!”

“Yes’m!” “Yes’m

The Dog hybrid family next door is all too eager to take up all of your time. Since the moment you moved in they’ve been eager to truly get to know you, woefully settling with the distant wafts of your scent during a favorable breeze. Unlike others in the town their curiosity for the human was a positive one blaming it on their all too friendly instincts they couldn’t deny the urge they got to close to the distance between you two. But alas everyone in the town was so averse to the idea they were pushed off the desire for far too long but after your sweet words and intentions, they’d be foolish not to return the affection. 

“(Y/n) if you’d like me to cut the grass, I don’t mind.”

“That’s really sweet, Tank but I told myself I wouldn’t allow myself to sit back and let others do all the work.”

His tail droops at that. “Ah I see.”

“But you won’t tell me to go away will you (Y/n)? After I made that doggy door and everything.”

“You just chewed a hole in my door and I’m not saying you can’t stop by Tank I just don’t want it to be because you’re doing more work.”

His tail is wagging a mile a minute again. “I don’t mind if it’s for you!”

With your canine hybrid neighbors so close it’s hard to forget you were ever left alone. Now quiet and sometimes confrontational trips are filled with at least one member of the family accompanying you. Willing to bargain at stores for you or impressively growl when the cashier’s being a tad too snippy. It does make you nervous when the tiny Titan politely asks the nosy bird-woman who had the nerve to whisper about you to a ‘nice chat’ in the alley between the store. Returning with tufts of feathers and blood in his baby teeth. Or how Mama Tiff will oh so politely mention her bloodhound heritage at the fox bullies that hang around your car. Or when Tank all too eagerly pulls you into his side when he finds you cornered by the snake librarian.

“Back off my human!”

After any confrontation, you’ll ask your questions. Head on or round about they’ll all only smile at you, tail wagging wildly behind them. As if they’re proud of the slight fear in your eyes when you ask what that was about.

“We just want to protect you! You are only human after all!”

Part 2: It's Here!

[everlastingserenitys]

snowfall.

summ. winter break was approaching which meant having two of your polar opposite best friends help you warm u– i mean help with your project of course!

pairing. zayne x f!reader x caleb cw. nerd!zayne, jock!caleb (more like failing student), college au, threesome, p in v, oral, est. friend group, teasing, calebs a freak, reassurance, slightly sick reader, fingering, dirty talk, lil bit of fluff, wearing glasses while 👀, 2.7k wc (cries) a/n. IMHORNYIMHORN-

“It’s freezing. I can't believe they assigned a group project in this weather!” Caleb shivered, glancing at the pair next to him who were perfectly fine.

“Seriously guys? Are you not cold? Like at all?"

Zayne sighed and pushed up his glasses on the bridge of his nose, slightly shaking his head as he eyed down Caleb’s outfit. “If you weren't wearing shorts and a light jacket you wouldn’t be cold.”

Caleb only rolled his eyes in response and lingered his gaze on you. You were wearing a comfortable winter jacket and a fluffy winter hat resting on your head. The strings dangling against your face at every step you took.

“Pips, look over there.” Caleb pointed at a random direction and when you turned your head, the hat that was once on your head was gone.

You stare at Caleb in disbelief and try to reach for your hat but he kept pulling away and soon placed the hat on his head.

“Seriously?” you groaned and tried grabbing onto it but Caleb already ran meters away from you. A stupid smirk was plastered on his lips as he mockingly waved at you, yelling something you couldn't hear from the gusts of snow flickering against your skin.

“Don’t worry about him, we’re almost at his dorm. I’ll make you something nice to warm up.” Zayne offered. You smile and nod at him before ducking your head down as the three of you continue your walk in the crazy snow.

And before you knew it, the three of you were already at Caleb’s fancy dorm. His room was surprisingly clean, spacious, and warm. The second you walk in and feel the heat surge through your body, you immediately head to the couch and plop on the soft mattress.

“Here's ya hat back.” Caleb threw your hat right at your face and you grumbled something incoherent under your breath before sitting up and noticing the two men making something in the kitchen.

“Coffee or hot chocolate?” Zayne asked, dangling the two packs of powder in front of him. You ponder for a moment and eventually choose hot chocolate. Zayne nodded and started making your drink.

“Damn…Want some marshmallows with that too?” Caleb asked, lightly banging closed the cabinet that he had opened, pulling out an ingredient that was most definitely not marshmallows.

“No it's okay..” you mutter, turning your body away from the angry tension between the two of you and reaching into your bag for the papers for the project. You slam the papers on the coffee table and slump against the edge of the couch, patiently waiting for your little group members to come back.

A few minutes pass and Zayne comes back with yours and his drink, carefully placing it on the table before sitting diagonally from you. And without even waiting for Caleb he started grabbing the papers and his pen–which was resting in his pocket–and started writing away.

You eventually did the same, grabbing one of the papers and your pencil and started working on the project.

Caleb comes back around five minutes later and sits in the opposite direction of Zayne, rocking himself back and forth against the ground as he watches you and Zayne work away.

“Caleb, are you going to do your part?” you ask, shifting the paper closer to him. But Caleb shrugged and picked up the paper, glancing at it before putting it back down seconds later. He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and stared at you and Zayne with a confused look.

“What do we even do?–Ow!” Caleb winced as he rubbed his arm, staring at Zayne with a mocking pout on his lips. A small thud of an eraser fell on the ground and Caleb soon picked it up and juggled it around his fingers.

“Read the instructions.” You say, pointing at the top of the paper with the end of your pen. But Caleb only grabbed the paper and leaned in closer towards you.

“Wanna read it for me? pleasee?"

You roll your eyes and grab his paper, putting the end of your pen against each word on the page.

“After. Writing. Your. Personal. Essay. Get. Wit–”

“I’m not that stupid.” he scoffed and looked at you as he waited for you to actually read the instructions properly.

And so you do. The project wasn’t hard at all. Before getting into groups you had to write a personal essay about your experience in the class or your experience with somebody in the class but Caleb hasn't even shown up for a week.

After you explained the project Caleb hummed and backed away from you, “I just have to write my personal experience first?” he asked, bringing out his laptop and placing it on the table. You nod and tell him the next steps.

“And once you're done with the essay, this is where the group stuff comes in…” you explain the rest of the project and Caleb absorbs every word spitting out your mouth as he types away on his computer.

“Experience with the class, huh?”

“Or somebody in the class.” you correct, jotting down a few more things on your paper.

“So can I write about any experience with you? Or thoughts I ha–”

Zayne cleared his throat and glanced at Caleb with a displeased and back at you with a concerned look. You shook your head at him and fanned your hands at Caleb, telling him he could do what he wanted.

“Just don't make it too weird, we have to make a presentation later, okay?”

“Mhmm…anyway ‘s a bit chilly in here dontcha think?” Caleb got up from the ground and headed over to turn the heaters on but before he could even flick the switch to the right temperature the lights flicker and shuts off momentarily.

“That wasn’t me!” he said, flicking the light switches up and down, and when the light wasn't turning on that was when you all realized…

“Power went off, must've been the snow…” Zayne pondered, glancing at the window and got up from his seat to raise the blinds up. A bright white light illuminated the room and Caleb sighed in relief.

“Since there's no heater, we will have to deal with the cold. But it should come ba–”

Before Caleb could finish his sentence an ‘achoo!’ left your lips and you sniffled your nose, staring at the two men who had a flash of concern filled in their eyes, mainly Zayne though.

“Got medicine, Caleb?” Zayne asked as he started opening every drawer near him.

“Ah, shit…I forgot to buy some more but don't worry she only sneezed once, she should be okay. right?"

You nodded and continued your work but not even another minute passed and you just kept sneezing and coughing.

“Cold? C’mere.” Caleb patted on his lap and, of course, since you were cold you immediately climbed on his lap, nuzzling your cold body against his warm skin, his arms wrapped around you as he pulled you closer, practically cuddling you on the ground.

“You’re also going to get sick.” Zayne muttered, staring at Caleb who had a light smile plastered on his lips as he rocked you back and forth.

“I don't even show up to classes so there's no difference if I do get sick…But…”

Caleb beckoned a finger at Zayne who just shook his head in response, “I'm not going to be the next person to get sick, Nope.”

“Let’s make it even, c’mon.”

Zayne rolled his eyes and stood up, walking the opposite direction from the two of you, to the bathroom. a displeased scoff was heard from Caleb and you eventually pulled yourself away from him, sitting at your seat next to him and rested your head against the edge of the couch.

“Already done?”

Zayne comes back and a relieved sigh left his lips when he noticed you weren't clinging onto Caleb like a koala, he had somehow found some medicine hiding somewhere in Caleb's bathroom and he walked towards you, holding the small liquid bottle in front of you.

You take the medicine from his hand and eye it before chugging down the liquid. Zayne patted your head and took the medicine back, heading over to the kitchen and propped the items on the counter.

“I feel a little better now,” you say, grabbing your papers and pen before writing away, “let's finish doing this before the power comes back.”

But as time passed it started to get colder, and colder in Caleb’s dorm. You shiver at every stroke your pen puts on the paper and try to press your knees closer to your chest as the only warmth you had was the soft fabric of your pants pressed against you.

“Pips you’re shivering like crazy, you sure you’re okay?”

“Do you seriously not have a blanket? Anything?” you ask through shivered teeth, but Caleb winces in response and shrugs.

“They’re kiindaa in the laundry…which isn’t working at the moment…”

You rolled your eyes at him and he chuckled in response.

“I mean, if you want…” Caleb’s voice had a hint of teasingness filled in it and you had a feeling where he was going.

When the three of you were younger Caleb made a rule where when it was freezing, freezing cold the three of you would huddle up together and hug each other until each person felt warm, nothing harmless, in fact, it was cute.

But after all of you started growing up, those little games weren't something you had time for, especially being in college and focusing on studies. But now that Caleb brought it up again you felt a wave of nostalgia rush through you and a cold laugh leaves your lips.

“Seriously? Aren’t we too old for that little rule?” You say.

Caleb laughed and Zayne only stared at him with a confused look.

“So since we’re older should we try a different way?” Caleb suggested.

And, oh.

Oh.

That’s what he meant.

“Uh…”

You glance at Zayne who was sipping on his hot chocolate as he looked away from the two of you, trying to not include himself in this conversation. But the second Caleb called out his name and offered the suggestion again, Zayne dramatically choked on his drink.

“She's sick, Caleb.”

“Come on, i have no blankets or anything to warm her up, just this once?”

---

You weren't sure how Zayne agreed either.

The second a sigh of defeat left Zayne’s lips, Caleb took it as a sign that they could actually try out that little method together.

Caleb slid his fingers along your back as he pulled you closer, pressing your plump cheeks against him. He slowly rode himself against you, fabrics of his and your pants meddling with each other as the room started to echo with whimpers and moans.

Caleb tucked a finger under your pants and slid the material off as if he was ripping a smooth piece of paper.

Caleb nodded to Zayne who was just standing in front of you, staring at your flushed face with a concerned look. His arms were crossed as he stepped closer, legs coming mere inches to your face.

“What if she gets even more sick, hm?” Zayne asked, resting his fingers on his belt as he started to unbuckle it.

“You’re concerned if she’s sick,” Caleb’s chest pressed against your back and a low whimper escaped your lips. Before you could turn around to look at Caleb, he already had his fingers sunk deep in you.

“But you’re undressing yourself?”

Zayne ignored his teasing remark and slid his fingers through your hair, yanking your head up and pressing your face against his soaked boxers. Your tongue darts to the wet fabric and you slick along the imprint of his boner before sucking on it.

“J-just.. wan’ her to be…ngh” Zayne pressed himself closer against you as he soon brought his other hand and sunk his fingers under his boxers, slowly sliding them down, letting his cock spring out.

“Warm. That's what you wanted–too Caleb?”

Caleb only grinned in response and curled his fingers, pressing against your weak spots. A loud moan escapes your lips and you clasp onto Zayne’s thigh. You soon felt those fingers slip out of you and another sticky thing pressed against your soaking entrance.

“This should get her, right?”

Without knowing what the two men were about to do, Caleb raised your hips at an angle and Zayne brushed your bottom lip, slightly parting them together before bobbing his leaking tip against your lips.

And before you could even process what was going on both of them thrusted into you at the same time.

Your eyes widened in shock when you felt Zayne’s length slice open your mouth by the second, he slowly pushed himself in and out of you, not letting you take his full length, not yet. Your eyes roll back at the ecstasy and you swirl your tongue around his veiny, hard length.

He held onto your hair with ease and slowly pushed your head back and forth, back and forthhh.

Broken, muffled moans left your lips at every thrust he was giving you. Your bottom half started to feel numb, your legs shaking in pleasure when you felt Caleb slide his cold fingers along your waist before clasping onto you like it was the last thing he needed in life.

He was practically pounding you, his hard tip hit every right spot and you felt your head bob back and forth at the impact of his brutal thrusts. Caleb moaned in pleasure as his pace started to quicken inside you.

“Y-you feel so w-warm and oh, so good…” he gulped, sliding his fingers down your bare, flushed, plump cheeks, giving them a squeeze. Your body jolts in pleasure and you grip on the floorboard, nails digging deep into the glossed wood that was breaking apart by the second.

Caleb pressed down your lower back, making your back arch, giving him more space to see the mess pooling down your roughed up pussy. You didn't even notice he had already came inside you and you couldn't even warn him about it because Zayne was still trapped inside your mouth.

You look up at Zayne with teary eyes, a quiet gasp escapes his lips as he starts pushing himself deeper and deeper inside you, glasses slowly sliding down his nose and—oh.

The metal frame fell right on your nose, the glass and heavy object left a sting flaring on your nose, you coughed up a moan as you picked up the wilted glasses on the ground trying to raise your arm up to give the glasses back.

But what does Zayne do? He shook his head and made you put on the glasses, and oh fuck.

You glance up at him, unable to recognize his face because of the prescription but also because of your teary eyes unable to disappear no matter how much you wipe them. As Zayne was getting close to release you felt his grip on the sides of your face grow tighter and tighter.

His fingertips dug on your neck and he soon pulled your head away, slick of his pre trailed along your lips and Zayne wrapped his fingers around his cock, slowly pumping his fist as he stared at your flushed, dumbfounded face.

“za-ngh”

Caleb thrusts himself into you one more time, your lower stomach felt like you were getting filled up by him at every thrust he gave you. His same large presence shadowed over you again and his fingers found their way to your clit, pinching and pulling on it.

The feeling of white, spurts of cum sprawled all over your face and dripped down your legs, your vision through the glasses gets clouded at every breath you took.

When Caleb slid out of your bruised, sensitive cunt you plopped on your knees, panting as if you were getting chased by murderers.

But one thing neither of you noticed during the time you had together was that the power was back on.

“Feeling warmed up, pips?” Caleb laughed ruffling your hair before helping you get up.

“Let’s get cleaned.” Zayne offered, also helping you up.

---

After you got cleaned and put into some comfortable clothing, all three of you sat at your table and started on work again.

“I finally know what I'm going to write about!” Caleb cheered and brought his laptop to his lap, already starting to type away.

“Please don’t.” you and Zayne say in unison.

“Don’t worry i won–” before Caleb could finish his sentence a loud sneeze echoed through the room.

Fuck.

a/n. this one was a lil random sorry if its not great lol... but need them SOOO bad.

[alpali]

There was nothing more you hated than overly cocky guys. Especially when they had the talent to back it up.

That’s how you felt about Oikawa Toru.

The ace in the volleyball team, the ace in his studies, the ace with the ladies. His whole presence was infuriating to you.

You had to admit yes, you had no reason to hate him. But you were a little hater at heart. So of course when you catch his attention. He is not leaving you alone. “There’s my favorite girl! How’ve you been hm?” He quips, taking the empty seat right next to you. You glare at him with at least what you think is the most deadliest look ever. But to him you look so adorable he bites his lip, trying to stifle a laugh.

“What do you want shittykawa.” You grumble and his face pales.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been hanging with Iwa-Chan.” He blinks and you blink, your face contorting in anger once again.

“Who the hell even is that!” He visibly looks relieved and sets his chin on the palm of his hand.

“Anywho, how do you feel about coming to one of my games. I’ll dedicate all my killer serves to you.” He winks and you look disgusted.

“I’d rather die.”

He pouts.

“When are you gonna stop acting like you hate me.”

“This isn’t an act.” You mutter.

He grins.

“You know you’re really pretty when you’re mad.”

“Don’t you have a bajillion minions to tend to? Leave me alone.” You roll your eyes.

“Who needs them when I have you!” He smiles and he means it. But you’ll never know that.

“I hate you.”

“I love you too.”

When you’re gone for a week. His demeanor begins to diminish. At first he just thought you were avoiding him. But now he was worried. And it was starting to affect his volleyball playing.

“I thought this girl hated you anyways. Why do you even like her.” Iwaizumi crosses his arms.

“You don’t get it.” Oikawa sighs.

“Just admit it, you like the chase. Once you get her you’ll get bored and dump her like you do with the rest.”

“You make me sound like a terrible person!”

“You are.”

“Am not!” Oikawa says, sticking out his tongue.

Oikawa sighs once again as he’s on his way to his first class, he had a routine. He grabs a coffee, pops his head in your class, teases you to no end, then goes to class.

Hes about to walk past your class until he sees you peacefully sleeping on your desk. He blinks, watching from the outside as your chest rises and falls. His heart beating a little faster. He walks in, squatting in front of your desk. He knocks on it a few times and your eyes drowsily open.

“Class is gonna start soon sleeping beauty.”

You look a little dazed, you don’t even look that mad at him. His cheeks flush up at how pretty you look. His face inches away from yours. His hand shoots out to your face.

“You’re drooling.” And Oikawa giggles, completely enamored with you.

You push his hand away but he quickly holds it. But what shocks him the most is you aren’t letting go. However you snuggle back in to your arm.

“It’s my first day back. Go away.” You grumble. Which doesn’t even sound like it has any malice intent behind it.

He gulps, not used to you ever being this…normal with him. He holds your hand for a little longer, basking in the moment.

“Fine. Only because I think my heart is going to explode.” You send a glare at him but to him it’s just a meaningless pout.

“See ya later cutie.” He winks at you.

He completely fawns over that interaction for weeks. His volleyball team is tired of hearing it at this point. “Yet she still hates you.” Iwaizumi shakes his head.

“I’m getting closer! I feel it.” Oikawa clenches his fist, a glint in his eye.

“You’re so delusional.” Iwaizumi laughs and Oikawa crosses his arms.

When Oikawa is leaving school he sees you sat on the grass, sat under a tree. He immediately perks up, walking over to you.

“Hey~” He smiles and you narrow your eyes at him but they lost their full emotion. He plops down next you, your hair blows with the wind and he sighs, lovesick.

“Stop looking at me.” You pout, your cheeks heating up.

“I can’t.” He smiles and you huff, yet you look conflicted. And that worries him. He’s about to ask what’s wrong but your words cut him off.

“Why do you even like me—or keep talking to me.” You cast your eyes to the side, picking at the grass.

He’s taken aback.

“I don’t know, I like the way you make me feel.”

“You mean you like the chase?”

He groans.

“Are you sure you don’t talk to Iwa-Chan?” He throws his head back, your blank face answers his question.

“No it’s not the chase. I just, I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never felt this way before.” He blushes but you’re still not convinced.

“You don’t even know me.” You scoff and he pouts.

“You don’t give me the chance to!”

Which he is right. You pull your knees to your chest, your red cheeks on display.

“Why do you hate me.” He asks and you answer without missing a beat.

“Because you’re cocky. You’re not humble and you get everything served to you on a silver platter. It’s irritating.”

He frowns at that because you’re completely wrong and he lets the hurt be evident on his face.

“That’s not true…” He seems small and you look at him skeptically.

“Ok maybe I do like to gloat. But I’ve earned it. I worked very hard to get where I’m at.”

It’s silent.

All that’s heard is the wind rustling the leaves above.

“Sorry.” You mumble and he blinks at you.

“Guess I misunderstood you.”

You still don’t meet his eyes but he brightens at that.

A chance.

“That’s ok. Can we start over?” He wiggles his brows and you roll your eyes. Yet a smile cracks onto your face.

“Yea, we can start over.” pt 2

[loveletterlore]

a sweater affair ♡ b.b. x reader

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

summary: Bucky and reader are in a secret relationship, but can't stop wearing each others clothes...

warnings: details of injury and wound getting stitched up, keeping secrets, nothing too serious, some kisses

word count: 3.3k

author's note: fluffy Bucky is my favourite thing in the world, I just want him to cuddle me until I fall asleep. also, this is definitely not the most intellectual fic ever, it's just some toothrotting, daily life fluff so enjoy (---- indicates time skip, ////// indicates new day)

Your leg bounced up and down, anxiety manifesting in your body in familiar ways. You were awaiting the return of the mission crew, having heard that the mission had been extra brutal. As one of the doctors in the Avengers compound, it was your role to assess the agent's conditions, organising different levels of care for those who needed it.

Eyes focused on the horizon, you spotted the quinjet approaching as a buzz sounded over your walkie-talkie.

“We’re about 60 seconds out from base, got a couple here who need urgent med attention.”

“Ready and waiting,” you responded, trying to hide the wobble in your voice.

The quinjet came in to land, gusts of air messing your hair and causing you to squint your eyes. The door opened, agents limping out towards you. You directed the first set inside, nurses taking notes as they went. 

You turned towards the quinjet, your walk progressing into a jog due to the adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your feet moved up the ramp, narrowly dodging the pilot as they left the craft. Once inside, you turned to the right, scanning the cockpit to no avail. A wave of nerves washed over you and your heart dropped as you turned on your heel.

Looking up, your eyes met his and relief washed over you, your stomach turning with nausea. He was okay, thank god. His eyes crinkled slightly, the height of expression for this man. As the rest of the team exited the quinjet, he paused slightly in front of you.

“Doc,” his voice was low, barely speaking above a whisper.

“Bucky,” you breathed, your eyes fluttering closed as his familiar scent hit your nostrils. 

The temptation to reach out and take his hand in yours was strong. You ran your eyes over his body, trying to identify any injuries on his body. 

“I’m fine,” Bucky could sense the anxiety coursing through your veins. “Just a bit bruised. If it makes you feel better, I’ll let you give me a full check up later.”

You glanced up at his face, which he had leaned closer to you, “Give me an hour to check these guys out.”

A small nod was his response as he straightened, stretching his neck and leaving the quinjet.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pushed open the door to your room, the familiar scent immediately wafting into your face. You knew he was there without even needing to see him, this had become routine over these past weeks. Steam snuck out of the bathroom through the cracks around the door and you could smell his body wash. Dropping your jacket on a chair, you began to tidy up around the room.

Pulling open the drawer, you placed the stray socks you had gathered from around the room and paused, reaching for one of Bucky’s sweaters. You lifted it to your face, inhaling the scent before pulling it on over your shirt. 

The bathroom door opened, revealing Bucky with a towel draped around his waist, still dripping from the shower. He rubbed at his hair with a smaller towel, a smirk growing on his face as he saw you, dressed in his clothes. Leaning against the doorframe, he observed the image for a few moments, considering how he had gotten to this point in his life.

Feeling eyes on you, you turned to face him, a gentle smile on your lips, “Hey, how ya holdin’ up?”

“All good, doll,” his voice was music to your ears, like your favourite song on repeat. “Although I could do with some help with this…”

Turning, he presented a large gash in his side, the wound raw and bloody.

“James, for goodness sake-” you rolled your eyes, brushing past him into the bathroom to grab your med kit. “Go sit down.”

He chuckled at your response, having known exactly what you would say. Grimacing at the movement, he sat down and leaned in a way that would allow you access to his injury. You kneeled on the floor next to him, pulling gloves on and lightly pressing at the wound, watching for any signs of pain - thanks to the serum, he seemed pretty unphased by the whole situation.

Bucky watched each movement you made as you fixed him up, studying your face as though he was trying to memorise your features. A blush crept through your skin, the sight making you even more beautiful to the man with you. His hand brushed your cheek, drawing your eyes up to meet his gaze.

“Hi,” he mumbled, eyes half closed. In all the time you had known Bucky, he had never been this at ease, this comfortable, this calm. The effect was particularly evident when it was just the two of you, alone and safe behind closed doors. You doubted anyone would believe you if you told them that James Buchanan Barnes, the tortured ex-assassin with a brutal backstory, had fallen asleep with his head in your lap, you stroking slow, gentle circles on his scalp. It was actually his favourite position, he had often told you, usually as he balanced the line between asleep and awake.

And here you were, patching him up in your room as his thumb stroked along your bottom lip.

“Hi,” you whispered back, pressing a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb. “Nearly done.”

He let his head fall back, strangely enjoying the gentle touches of you stitching him up. As you wiped the wound, applying a small dressing, you pressed a kiss to his side and stood up. You threw the med kit onto the other side of the bed as Bucky’s hands lifted to rest on your hips, pulling you between his spread legs. His head dropped to rest on your chest as your arms circled him, a comfortable quiet settling over the room.

“Any other secret injuries?” you kept your voice low, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“Well, there is this one, maybe you can kiss it better?” he looked up at you with those blue eyes, glinting in the light.

You let out a sigh, playing up to the trick you knew he was about to pull, “Oh dear, where is it?”

“Right here,” he pointed to his forehead, pouting his bottom lip out.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead, your lips lingering a moment, enjoying the closeness.

“Oh, and here,” his finger moved to his cheek.

Obliging, you shifted to nuzzle into his cheek, dotting a kiss on his cheekbone.

“And one last one,” he pointed to his lips, the bottom one still jutting out in a mock-pout.

Rolling your eyes playfully, you placed a finger under his chin, tilting it upwards. Leaning forward slowly, you pressed your lips against his, a sigh of relief leaving your body. His hand returned to your hip, squeezing comfortingly. Your hands rested on his shoulders, his build keeping you steady on your feet. 

After a moment you pulled away, resting your forehead against his.

“How was it?” you asked, your eyes half-closed. 

Bucky knew you were talking about the mission. He leaned back in the bed, pulling your hips with him so that you were laying across him. Reaching an arm behind you, he curled it to allow his fingers to play in your hair while the other hand rested on your thigh.

“‘S fine, nothing too special,” he murmured, eyes closed from the comfort of your presence. “You should have seen the other guys.”

A small chuckle escaped your lips as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, breathing in the usual smell of him. The two of you lay there, pleasantly cozy in each other's company, even without words. Feeling yourself begin to drift, you snuck your hand up to cup his face, pulling his lips to yours for another gentle kiss.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Beep… beep… beep…

Electric buzzing pulled you from the warm, serene clouds of sleep. Rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand, your vision cleared and revealed the face centimeters from yours. A sleepy smile grew on your face at the sight, warmth flooding your body. Gently unravelling your limbs from his, you cringed as he shifted in his sleep, evidently missing your presence. 

Sneaking from the room, you closed the door quietly behind you, finally letting out a breath.

“Hey Doc!” Steve appeared from around the corner, clapping you on the shoulder. You jumped at the volume, your senses still awakening after your impromptu nap. 

“Cap, hi,” your voice was groggy. You cleared your throat before looking back up at him. “Did you get beeped as well?”

“Yeah, can I walk you there?” Steve’s eyes glanced down at your sweater, recognition flashing across his face.

Crap. Bucky’s sweater. 

You forced your eyes to stay on his face, refusing to give him any sign of the truth. “Sure, we should probably hurry up!”

You turned on your heels, starting towards the medical bay with Steve hot on your heels. Blood rushed to your head as you realized your current situation - if Steve had made the connection, there was no doubt others would too.

Barrelling into the med bay, you sprung into action, trying desperately to ignore the lingering glances you felt all over your skin.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Tony’s parties had always been extravagant, and this one was evidently no different. Balloons and lights turned the room fluorescent, a rainbow of colours reflecting on the dance floor in the middle of the room. For as much drama as these events caused, it was always nice for the whole team to get together and have some fun, Avengers and medical staff included.

The past few days, the only discussion in the medical bay had been centered around outfits, what was everyone going to wear? Hidden in the back of your wardrobe, you had purchased an outfit months ago, knowing that one of these parties would inevitably be organised before long.  

The surprise of the day had occurred when you exited the bathroom; hair done, sprayed with your favorite scent and accessories perfectly matched to your outfit. You were thoroughly feeling  yourself, the reality of this look living up to the concept you had created in your head. What you hadn’t expected, however, was to see Bucky, fixing his cufflinks in the vanity mirror before adjusting his tie - the colour of which matched your outfit, exactly.

You watched his reflection in the mirror, leaning back against the wall while admiring the man before you. He caught your eyes in the mirror, a smirk on his face as he witnessed the reaction to his master plan. 

“You like it?” he spoke clearly as he picked up the hairbrush from the vanity, running it through his locks and settling them into place. 

You sighed into your words, “A perfect match. Aren’t you worried someone will realise?”

“Nah, Tony’ll get everyone drunk enough they won’t even be able to see straight,” Bucky chuckled, using your scrunchie to tie back part of his hair as he brushed through a knot.

“Apart from Steve,” you raised your eyebrows, alluding to your previous interaction with the blonde super soldier.

“Steve’s fine, even if he thought something he’d never say it to anyone,” Bucky smiled at you, sliding the scrunchie back on his wrist as he turned, approaching you. His hands rested on your hips as he looked over your figure. “You look stunning, by the way.”

“Thanks Jamie,” you pressed your lips to his, reaching up to stroke his neatly trimmed beard. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

“You know, we just look too good together. If people knew, they would just be so jealous they would implode,” Bucky joked, a familiar, cheeky grin returning to his face.

“Yeah, yeah,” rolling your eyes, you pressed a final kiss to his lips before turning for the door. “I’ll see you up there. Don’t stare at me too hard.”

You gave him a quick wink before opening the door, making sure to see the look on his face before leaving - it was a sight to remember.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Steve had approached you as you entered the party, clapping his hand on your shoulder in a friendly manner.

“Hey, Doc! You scrub up nicely,” he smiled down at you, dressed in his finest suit. 

“Looking good, Cap,” you pulled him into a quick hug. “How have you been? I feel like it’s been a minute since we caught up.”

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” Steve spoke, your previous interaction hanging in the air between you. “I’m good, just all these missions at the moment.”

It felt like a test, as though he wanted to see if Bucky had mentioned anything about these missions, to see if you and Bucky truly were in eachothers pockets as he predicted.

“There’s been some brutal injuries coming in, I feel like I’ve set more bones in the past week than the entirety of last year,” a nervous laugh left your body, feeling forced. Steve laughed in return, his eyes still searching yours.

A murmur settled over the crowd as heads turned towards the door. Curious, you craned your neck in an attempt to see what everyone was looking at. Of course it was him.

Bucky strolled in, running a hand through his hair as he scanned the room, eyes settling on you and Steve. 

In that moment, there were three things you knew. You knew, without even looking, that Steve’s eyes were on you, trying to gauge your reaction to Bucky’s presence. You also knew that on Bucky’s raised arm, your scrunchie still sat, decorating his wrist. The final thing that you knew, your face was flushed pink as you realised the pair of you had messed up, again. 

Steve definitely knew something was happening.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The light from your laptop was starting to give you a headache, blue light and all that. Running a hand over your face, you squeezed your eyes closed before opening them again and looking at the ceiling. The night shift was your least favorite of the shift patterns to work; not necessarily because of the timings, more because you hated leaving Bucky to sleep alone. The nightmares always seemed more frequent during these weeks. 

A quick stretch of your limbs, punctuated by your bones popping and cracking, waking your body up from its lazy position, slumped over in your chair. There wasn’t too much to do on these night shifts, no-one was training at this time and missions had been slow recently. Your job was just to monitor the few agents on the ward and be there in case of emergency.

You stood, taking the opportunity to release the pressure in your back with a quick turn. Your shirt rode up, wafting Bucky’s familiar scent back into your face. You had left his room, not realising you were still wearing his red henley shirt. It was oversized on you, making it super comfortable and ideal for this shift. 

“Doctor, Captain Rogers is on his way to the med bay with a request,” FRIDAY spoke over the speaker, the sudden noise a shock to your system.

Rubbing your eyes, you responded, “Okay, do you know the request?”

“He didn’t say, my apologies,” FRIDAY returned.

You began to pace the room, trying to consider what Steve might be wanting from you. Steve was the type of person who made it his business to know every single person in the compound. It’s my role as the Captain, he would say, the ship doesn’t sail without the sailors. It wasn’t uncommon for him to come to the med bay, visiting the medical staff on his rounds. 

At the sound of the door you turned, eyes landing on the built frame of the man before you. Steve had never intimidated you, despite his intense physique and serious face, until recently, the prospect of him uncovering your secret setting you on edge. You plastered a smile on your face, trying to avoid him sensing something was off with you. 

“Hey, Cap. How’s it going?” you spoke calmly, strolling over to meet him.

“Hi, uh- Are you free to talk?” Steve reached up, scratching the back of his neck.

A wave of anxiety swept over you as he spoke and you were sure the blood drained from your face, “Yeah, of course.”

Steve moved to sit at one of the tables, you sliding in across from him.

“I’ve been noticing some things and I just need to ask… are you and Bucky…?” he trailed off, seeming mildly uncomfortable with asking the question.

You sighed, eyes dropping to the floor, “Yes, Steve. We didn’t want to tell anyone yet, it’s still fairly new and we don’t really know how it’s going to work.”

Steve blew out a breath, seeming instantly lighter, “Thank God.”

“Huh?”

Surprise bloomed in your chest at his response. You were sure that he would be upset, maybe even betrayed at the secret being kept from him. Anger wouldn’t have surprised you, you were well aware of Steve’s intent on helping Bucky heal from his past before getting into anything overwhelming or new. Relief hadn’t been anywhere on your list of expected reactions.

“I was worried about him, something seemed different. It’s strange; he was more secretive and withdrawn, but there was a part of him that seemed better, healed maybe. It wasn’t until I saw you wearing his shirt, and then at Tony’s party, that it started to click. He’s in love,” Steve smiled, looking across the table at you.

“Oh, I- it’s still new, we haven’t said anything like that,” you stuttered.

Steve smiled, knowingly, “Doc, he’s been my best friend for nearly a century. I can tell when he’s in love.”

Your face flushed scarlet, your stomach full of butterflies at the revelation. Your watch beeped, alerting you to the end of your shift.

“Steve, I have to go,” your eyes met his and he instantly understood the message. Giving you a quick salute and a smile, he stood and turned to leave the room.

You sprinted back to your room, counting down the steps as you neared him. You creaked the door open, inch by inch, peering in to see if Bucky was asleep. As you had expected, he was lying atop the covers, hands behind his head and eyes focused on the ceiling. He turned to look at you as you entered.

“Mornin’ doll, how was-”

You ran over, cutting off his speech as you kicked your leg over, straddling his hips. You cupped his face in your hands, leaning down to press your lips to his. You felt his surprised response as he short circuited, taking a second to kick into gear and kiss you back. His hands roamed up your legs, rising to rest on your waist as he lifted his head, returning the kiss with passion.

Your lips danced as tongues and teeth clashed, the kiss becoming heated quickly. You forced yourself away from him, lips swollen and pink from the passion.

“Woah, good night?” Bucky was breathless, a rare sight for the self-proclaimed “ladies man”. 

“James Buchanan Barnes, I am totally, irreversibly, completely in love with you.”

Your heart pounded, the seconds stretching into minutes, into hours, into days. You watched as Bucky’s expression changed; surprise, confusion, understanding, happiness, excitement, laughter. Then, you watched his eyes as they began to water.

“Darlin’, I am fully, devotedly, inconceivably in love with you,” he pulled you back to his lips, confirming the statement with his mouth. 

Faces met, hands grabbed, hair pulled, hips rolled, teeth nibbled, breaths moaned. It was truly a night to remember.

masterlist for more of my work <3

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[bunny-jpeg]

well behaved

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, married life, wife!reader, husband!price, (house) wife kink, dresses, missionary position & mating press, misogyny, darker themes

price ran his team tightly. he had to. it was life or death, and the manner in which he ran his team, he saw great success. so it was only natural for price to run his home the same way. while it wasn't like a military task force, it was still ran with set roles and tasks for all members. he was the husband and you the wife.

and being the wife of john price meant tasks steeped in tradition. price wanted a proper woman to be his wife and expected only the best from you.

"don't touch those, john." you smacked price's hand away lightly, "they're for dinner, silly." then leaned over to kiss him on the lips.

"ah, sorry, lovie. couldn't help myself." he replied, "you know how much i love watchin' ya cook dinner. even the carrots." he leaned over and pinched your behind as he watched you continue to cook for a moment longer. his gaze lingered for a moment before he went back to the living room to watch the same.

that was your task, to take care of the home. you cooked price's meals and served it to him. he loved your cooking, to him you cooked like a proper chef and you were all his!

you got the roast out of the oven and asked in your sweet tone, "honey, do you want to eat at the table or in front of the television?"

"table's good, petal." he replied before he got up with a slight huff from the couch and with his beer headed to the table. he watched you serve dinner and when you finally sat down, you had your own plate of dinner. the missus gotta eat too!

price eyes the roast,but then eyed you across the table. in the dress you wore. you often wore dresses and fine jewellery. you had to look like a respectable wife after all! not the slags who called themselves 'barrack bunnies' that mactavish brought him. you were price's good girl.

before you could start your meal, price gestured for you to come to him for a moment. you obeyed and price pulled you onto his lap. he kept a strong arm around you. "my missus made this all for me, huh?" he pulled you a little closer. he got some of the mashed potatoes on the fork and fed it to you.

you replied, "no, you eat!"

"oh, don't worry. if i'm still hungry. i'll just have you." he said as his thick fingers touched your inner thigh. "pretty thing." he cooed as he played with your soft skin as he ate. in the process he fed you parts of his dinner.

price's task of the unit was to work and take care of you. you took care of the home and he made sure you wanted for nothing. if the rock on your finger was anything to go by, you were well taken care of.

"mmm, john. honey."

he chuckled beofre he kissed your cheek, "gotta take care of the wife. can't have an unhappy home." he continued to eat, only pulling his hand away from you when he had to cut the meat with a steak knife.

but even your amazing roast was nothing compared to your sweet cunt. that of course meant that you couldn't even finish cleaning up the dishes before your husband had you hoisted into his arms and headed to the bedroom.

price loved to keep you up. only right for a husband to feel up his wife. he loved his big, calloused hands on your round behind or your soft hips. he groped you as he unzipped your dress once he finally put you down on the bed. he then got you out of your string of pearls. you really did live a fairly charmed life.

your husband continued to strip you free of your clothes and he licked his lips at the sight of you when you were in only your push-up bra. he then got you out of it then felt up your bare breasts. he toyed with your nipples using his thumbs.

"my woman." he said, "nabbed yourself an older man who loved to make a mess of your pretty pussy. your love men who are bigger, hairier and who can fold you in half to ruin your cunt." he eyed you up and down, "i bet she misses me, huh?"

you blushed even more and you ended up splayed out in bed under your husband. he rubbed your hefty cock up against you. you swallowed when you felt the blunt head right up against you.

"my beautiful wife. so perfect for me. from the meals you cook to the cunt that keeps my boys safe. no need to masturbate when i got myself a wife to fuck every night. making me food, keepin' my house clean. you have no need to think too hard when you have a husband to do it for you." he sank into you and he watched your back arch. your cunt tight around him as he started to fuck you.

mrs. price's cunt was heaven on earth.

"mmm, john!" you whined loudly. the blunt head of your husband's cock hit deep inside of you. it felt like he was past your cervix and you knew very well that john price was a womb bruiser.

he continued to move against you, he eyed you as he thrusts. he admired your soft breasts. they moved as price rocked into you. it left him hypnotized. price kept his weight onto you, he kept you pinned to the bed. you were his wife and you'd take every inch he gave you. you whined under him and he admired you. every curve you held. the softness of your body. you were a heavenly, beautiful goddess. price's loving wife.

he bullied his cock inside of you. your burly, string husband who could melt you with the warmth of his love. while your marriage was a little more traditional and a little unconventional but, you felt more loved and adored than with any other man you could ever love. your older, strong husband would always love you. he'd die for you. so it was only fair you kept him satisfied

and that wasn't hard given how obsessed he was with your pretty little cunt. no other way to die than between the legs of his missus. "you're beautiful under me, lovie. you look like heaven under me. takin' me like no one else." he chuckled, "that's my petal, takin' your husband beautifully."

you moaned a little louder as he continued to fuck your soaked cunt. this was everything. price didn't need a woman with a forty hour work week. no, he needed a wife to care for the home. to care for him. you spoiled him with love and he spoiled you with whatever you desired. whatever you craved.

that was what a proper man did for his wife, he made sure you were taken care of. he loved the sight of you as he fucked you. your knees were hiked up and his cock pushed into your further given the new angle. price knew he was a bruiser and he loved it when his pretty little wife's pussy took him. the sweet thing he got to make a mess of every night.

he moved further and laid heavy kisses on you. he couldn't get enough of you. you drove him mad. no wonder he did everything to make sure you were taken care of.

he was addicted to his wife, his little housewife.

"ah, honey." you moaned a little louder, the pleasure was realy working through you. right up to your core. price's heavy thrusts sent shocks through your blood and your achy core yearned for him. he was a good husband. a traditional one, but he loved you and you loved him. you tensed up at the hot feeling in your gut. everything felt alive in your body was you needed him. you relied on your husband, even for things like orgasms.

"ah, please!" you whined loudly. you sounded almost desperate as price fucked you faster. you felt the fire in your belly as he nudged his cock up against you.

price's pace lost focus and the man was relying on instinct to get you both to climax. you felt the immense heat take you over as the older man roughly fucked you. your sweet moans sounded whorish as he made you finish.

"beautiful petal. you know how to drive me crazy." he laugh, a little out of breath as he worked your achy pussy through climax. the stimulation made your mind go blank for a moment. he loved you, he loved your cunt. loved it so much that he didn't last much longer. it was like you had him under a spell. anything you want, you got.

price fucked you through his climax and made sure every drop of him was safe in your gummy soft pussy. he pressed his forehead against yours when he slowed to a stop. he kissed you lazily with a lot of tongue as he pressed his softening cock as deep as i would go. you made the ideal wife for him.

and in return price did anything for his missus <3

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[hawkinsbnbg]

Steve had this kind of stray puppy thing going on that Wayne was reluctant to give him a shovel talk. And he didn't even do anything! All he did was sat there with his perfect posture—straight back, hands politely folded on his lap, big earnest eyes, and calm breathing. He was all good-mannered and nervous smiles, which was both annoying and endearing.

Now, Wayne wouldn't call himself soft or lenient when it came to securing his nephew's happiness. But maybe, he'd mellowed out because of old age. Or maybe, he'd seen how Steve always brought out the best of Eddie, making him the kind of man that Wayne was proud of.

Either way, Wayne didn't have the heart to threaten Steve with something truly malicious, so he just skipped right over it and ended the talk with a well practiced stern look that made the Harrington boy cower just fine.

Later that night, when Eddie came home with a goofy, lovesick smile, Wayne couldn't help but ask, "Anyone given ya the talk, yet?"

"What talk?" Eddie plopped down beside him on the couch and took a long swig from the bottle of Guinness he'd just retrieved from the fridge. A metaphorical lightbulb went off above his head when Wayne gave him a raised brow. "Ah yes, The Talk. 'Course. I'd be offended if they didn't!"

Wayne hummed and continued nursing his lukewarm beer while watching the TV, ignoring Eddie's curious look that slowly turned mischievous.

"What? I just left you guys alone for fifteen minutes and you already adopted him?"

"He's your boyfriend, Ed, not some stray," Wayne responded gruffly, but Eddie could easily hear the exasperation in his flat tone.

"Jesus," Eddie cackled, slapping his knee as if he couldn't believe it. "You're worse than Hopper, old man!"

This time, Wayne just stopped pretending to not care and smirked at his nephew's nativity.

"Ya really think it took that man longer than me?"

Eddie paused and let out a gasp, eyes widening as realization dawned on him.

"He threatened to hunt me down if I dare to hurt Steve." Eddie slapped his forehead. "No way it'd take him months to adopt baby Steve on sight!"

Wayne nodded, not so smugly. "Now you're talkin'."

He'd eat his pickup truck if Hopper didn't also immediately yield under those puppy eyes. The Harrington might not be the best kind of people, but Wayne had to admit that their son was a sweet soul with a big heart. No thanks to them, of course.

"Anyway," Eddie smirked, nudging at his shoulder teasingly. "You're not distracting me from the fact that you consider Steve family now."

Wayne shrugged, unbothered. Family was family. He'd lived long enough to know it had nothing to do with blood relation.

"'Course, he's your boy."

And though neither of them said it aloud, they both agreed that Steve had been a Munson since the day he saved Eddie's life and continued to make it better with his presence alone.

"Thank you," Eddie said softly a moment later when they were about to go to bed.

The only good thing that came out of the whole 'earthquake' incident was their new apartment, which was afforded by the government's compensation money. And even so, if Wayne was allowed to choose again, he'd rather they still lived in their shoebox of a trailer than watch his nephew suffer from blatant PTSD that none of the kids were willing to talk about and this town's blind hatred.

"He makes you happy and you love him. That's what matters to me." Wayne shrugged, ignoring Eddie's blush and sputtering N– No, I'm not!

Before Eddie could try to argue against a moot point, the phone rang and he sprinted toward it to snatch the receiver up as if fearing it'd disappear otherwise.

"Hey, sweetheart," Eddie said breathlessly, looking far too smitten for someone who'd just refused to admit he was in love.

Shaking his head, Wayne decided to leave his nephew be for now. The way he saw it, Eddie wouldn't be able to hold back for long. Not with someone like Steve Harrington.

[written-in-knife]

Dressing for the Cloudcall

Leona Kingscholar x fem!Reader, pre-relationship

Word count: 4680 (dialogue heavy to start, stick with it, I find a rhythm in there somewhere)

Category: one-shot, fluff, angst if you squint really really hard

Leona's family is sneaky and knows him very well, and you get roped into some Cloudcalling dress up. And maybe Leona is into that.

I loved Cloudcalling on the Savanna but I was a little disappointed we didn’t get even a hinted outfit, and this idea has been bouncing around in my little walnut brain for MONTHS and it finally spilled out in the span of like two hours. Tried to keep Yuu ambiguous, female, hair long enough to braid and put into a bun, and she’s shorter than Falena’s wife. Your Yuu is six feet tall? Cool, Falena’s wife is taller 👏AS👏SHE👏SHOULD👏BE. Reading back, I think I have a crush on my own version of Falena’s wife, as I should. I just imagined the most beautiful woman I could.

Kifaji had to step away to take a phone call while everyone was checking out the food stalls and Leona almost looked grateful to see his back disappearing into the crowd as he handed you one of the baobab hibiscus teas. You thanked him quietly before sipping on the drink, as refreshing as promised. Grim was just about to pull everyone over to a meat vendor-- surprise surprise-- when Kifaji returned, a sly looking smile on his face.

"What's got you so happy, ya old bird?" Leona huffed as Grim drooled over the meat.

"My apologies, but I need to borrow Miss Yuu for awhile." Kifaji said simply, turning his ominous smile to you.

"What for?" Leona practically growled, putting a hand on your shoulder before you could even think to step away from the group.

"On such short notice, we could not procure an outfit for her." Kifaji explained, folding his hands behind his back. "I, however, did not want her to feel left out, so I made arrangements which are now ready. I will return her at your next destination."

"It's fine, Leona." You tried to assure him, patting his hand gently. "I do feel a little left out of the fun."

Leona clicked his tongue in annoyance before releasing your shoulder and crossing his arms.

"We're headed to Ivory Springs after this. Do not be late." He directed the command at Kifaji rather than you.

"B-But, Yuu look at this! And these!" Grim was actually drooling over the meat in the stall, turning back to you with tears in his eyes that practically begged you to let him stay.

You sighed heavily and shook your head. "Vil, can you keep Grim out of trouble for me? I won't be long."

"Of course." Vil nodded, glancing down at the direbeast as he cheered and danced around in a little circle. "I'll try my best to not let him eat through Leona's entire fortune."

"Good enough for me." You chuckled before turning to Kifaji, who smiled again and held an arm out for you to lead the way out of the markets.

You walked side by side with Kifaji to the entrance of the market, only for him to place a hand on your upper back to direct you towards a waiting black car just up the street. As you approached, a beastwoman in full guard regalia opened the back door for you to enter. You thanked her quietly before stepping into the blissfully air conditioned car, Kifaji getting in on the other side.

"It's not that far to the hotel," you chuckled as the driver reentered the car, "and I'm not as prone to heatstroke as Jack is."

"Oh, we aren't going to the hotel." Kifaji said, as if just remembering he "forgot" to tell you about it.

"Oh?"

There was a minute of silence as he didn't answer your unspoken question. A few turns through the city, he broke it, turning to you with a pleasant smile.

"Tell me, Yuu, what is the nature of your relationship with Prince Leona?"

You were shocked for a moment at the bluntness of the question. "Is this because I'm the only girl? Because I can assure you, we're all friends--"

"My apologies, that isn't what I meant." He cut you off with a small chuckle and a lift of his hand. "If you'd humor me?"

"I mean... we're friends? Friendly, at least." You explained, wringing your hands in your lap. "He's helped me out of a few tough spots, I've helped him. We hang out on occasion. He's nice, I dunno." You wouldn't dare say it out loud, especially to the chamberlain, but you sometimes secretly wished there was more there.

He gave you a warm smile, much like a father would give to a daughter talking about her crush. "I see. As you well know, I've seen to Leona since the day he was born, and I haven't seen him so... protective of someone since... well, ever. That boy has never exactly been friendly, let alone "nice" to just about anyone since his mother passed. It's refreshing to see."

You could feel your face getting hotter with each word the chamberlain said. You desperately wanted the subject to change. "S-So, if we aren't going to the hotel, where are we going?"

"The Royal Palace." Kifaji said casually, as if you were on your way to some unnamed park.

"What?! Why?"

"As I said, I made arrangements for your outfit. You need to look the part to represent your team!" He said, another sly smile on his face as he pumped his fist in front of him in an imitation cheer. "And, I regret to say, you stick out like a sore thumb among those boys."

"But-- I-I thought-- we--"

"And here we are. A short drive, is it not? The walk would have been significantly longer."

You looked out the window at the palace, a grand stone building at the top of the hill. It almost looked as if it were carved out of the rock itself. You were startled out of your thoughts as the driver opened your door for you again, the chamberlain outside waiting to give you a hand out. You thanked them both as you took the offered hand and stepped out, following Kifaji closely as he walked.

"So, uh... just pop in, change clothes, and head back down to the market, yeah?" You asked nervously as you glanced at the guards you passed by, feeling eyes on your back.

"Just so." Kifaji assured you, another sly smile as he stopped at a large set of doors already opened, swinging a hand out for you to go first.

You weren't sure what was about to happen. Maybe you'd be thrown in a dungeon for fraternizing with their prince, or maybe they meant to keep you here until Leona himself came to find you, or--

"There she is!" A booming and excited voice came from across the room as you entered, startling you to turn and look.

A mound of long ginger hair twisted into braids was running up to greet you, perched atop a muscle-bound mountain of a man. He was dressed similarly to Leona, but wearing white instead of black, still adorned in gold, an enormous smile on his face. The guards at the door stood at attention as he got to your side of the room, clasping your hand quickly in a firm and enthusiastic handshake.

"You must be the girl Kifaji told me so much about!" He beamed at you, reminding you so much of Kalim in this moment. Wait.

"So much?" You parroted, looking at Kifaji, who simply shrugged.

"Oh, you must tell me how you got Leona to be so... docile? That isn't the right word. He listens to you?! Insane!" The man rambled, still holding onto your hand. "You must tell me everything!"

"Falena, you'll scare the poor girl." Another voice rang out from the other side of the room.

The man, Falena, finally released your hand and turned to see the woman walking towards you. She was elegant and gorgeous and so poised, dressed in similar colors and patterns to her husband, also adorned in gold. You suddenly felt very intimidated as you finally realized just where you were standing.

"Oh, but my love," Falena sighed, still smiling, "think of everything we could learn! What's Leona like at school, anyhow?"

"H-He, uh..." you hesitated as the woman joined her husband’s side. It probably wasn't a good idea to tell them exactly how he was, and it wasn't a good idea to lie. Rock and a hard place. "He's certainly there."

Falena let out a booming laugh at this, his wife joining in with a laugh that sounded like bells in the large chamber.

"We know of Leona's troubles at school." She assured you, holding out a hand to shake. "I am Shani, and I'm sure my husband, Falena, did not introduce himself before launching into his questioning."

"I'm Yuu," you said, gently grabbing her hand and shaking it, "a pleasure."

"Likewise." She smiled warmly at you as you both retracted your hands. "Kifaji has asked me to dress you for the occasion."

"The festival?"

"Leona brought a girl home!" Falena cut in, the smile surely cemented on his face at this point. "A sign things are turning around for my little brother, to be sure!"

"O-Oh! No, wait, I'm--" You practically choked on your words trying to get them out fast enough, feeling your face burning again, "Leona and I aren't a couple!"

"I know! But everything Kifaji told us over the phone just makes it all the more interesting!" He gushed grabbing your shoulders. "Forgive me for being forward, but you smell like him! You must be together often!"

"I-I just keep watch while he naps, it's not like we--"

"Falena. You are making her nervous." Shani said sharply, trying to hide her amused smile as she swatted his hands off you and looped her arm into yours. "Come, we should get you into something else before Leona comes looking for you."

She didn't wait for a response before pulling you off towards the door she came through. You glanced back to Kifaji and Falena, seeing them both smiling at you, though Kifaji's looked nefarious. You faced forward again, looking up at the glamorous woman holding your arm, still amazed that you'd just met the crown prince and princess. Shani led you down the hall and into a large bedroom, turning quickly into a nearly equally large closet. Gorgeous outfits-- if you were to judge just based on the fabric-- lined the walls on either side, the far wall was large, open windows looking over the expanse of the savanna, and the wall behind was adorned with large mirrors. You couldn't help but be impressed as Shani practically floated across the room and picked up a dress that was already waiting on a chair and held it up for you.

"I hope you don't mind, I already picked something out for you." She explained as she approached. "Don't worry about the length, we can work with it however we need. This is going home with you."

"What? No, I couldn't." You said quickly as she deposited the dress in your hands.

"Do you see where we are right now? You absolutely can." She laughed, gesturing to the lines of clothes. "Go ahead and get changed, I'll be right outside, just let me know when you're ready."

Her nose scrunched up adorably in her excitement as she smiled even wider at your for a moment, her hands clapping under her chin once before she exited the room, closing the door behind her. Alone, you sighed at the absolute whirlwind you'd just gone through. You turned to the large mirrors on the closest wall and held the dress up to your body. It would definitely be long, but Shani was a tall woman who seemed to like wearing heels, so you weren't terribly surprised. Resigned to your fate, you began to change out of your current outfit. The dress had very thin straps, so your sports bra would have to go. Once actually in the dress, it fit remarkably well, other than the length. The thin straps spread down into a V neck and stretched to the skirt in the back, the skirt itself starting a little below the bust, similar to a halter top. You couldn't help but notice the patterns on the fabric coordinated to Leona's cloak, bright orange and black not helping the case. You folded your clothes into a neat pile in front of the mirror, honestly a little relieved how well the dress held up to movement, no risk of spilling out the sides or front when lifting your arms or bending over.

"Shani? I'm ready." You called to the door, hiking the skirt up to walk over.

She entered the room again with an excited smile, looking you up and down as you stood there.

"You are definitely shorter than me." She laughed as you let the skirt go, a few inches of fabric bundling up at your feet. "But we can fix that, easy. Ten minutes. First!" She walked over to a chest of drawers, pulling off a length of fabric she'd set on top. "Do you know how to wrap your hair? Keep it off your neck and out of your eyes."

"I do not." You shook your head prompting her to wave you off.

"I can teach you, it's very easy." She smiled, joining you at the mirror again.

She turned you to face the mirror, standing behind you and draping the fabric over your shoulders. She undid the braid your hair was always in, gently combing the knots out of your hair with her fingers.

"I always used to do this with my little sisters." She explained softly as she styled your hair to the top of your head in a large bun. "I love Cheka with all my heart and soul, but I do so hope we have a little girl some day, I miss having girls around to dress up with and do hair and everything."

"What, Cheka doesn't let you do his hair?" You smiled at her in the mirror as she began wrapping the scarf, making sure you were carefully watching her steps.

She laughed brightly. "He does! But as he gets older he may not. Plus, there isn’t exactly a ton of hair to work with, he prefers to keep it short."

"No, I get what you mean though." You said fondly. "I used to have my mom do my hair all the time, but she was always there to fix it when I eventually took it out and complained about it being in my face."

"Where are you from, by the way?"

Your face fell at the question. "It doesn't really matter. Crowley doesn't seem like he's able to send me back anyhow."

Shani looked like she was about to press further, but stopped herself. "There, all done." She said with another warm smile as she smoothed out some of the wrinkles in the turban style she'd done. "Not half bad, if I do say so myself."

"It looks great, thank you." You were smiling again, not pointing out the, again, same fabric Leona had on his scarf. Maybe it was a common pattern? You somehow doubted it.

"Now, I have a few accessories for you to tie it all together." She explained, walking over to a shelf opposite the chest of drawers. "I will have you put these on to see how they look, then you give me the dress and I will hem the bottom up for you."

"Thank you for this, Shani." You said sincerely, turning to look at her with a warm smile. "You really didn't have to go to these lengths."

"Nonsense, a friend of Leona's is a friend of ours." She assured you. "We want to make sure you enjoy your first time to the Sunset Savanna to the fullest."

..

Leona and the others had arrived at the palace, Leona planning to swipe a car to avoid having to take Kifaji with them. However, to his surprise, Kifaji was already outside speaking with one of the guards at the door.

"Oh for fucks sake..." Leona growled as he connected the dots.

"What?" Kalim asked, glancing over to the chamberlain. "Oh, it's Kifaji! Hey Kifaji!"

The chamberlain looked up in surprise at the call of his name, locking eyes with a furious Leona and giving him another sly smile.

"Wait here." Leona snapped at the group, not giving them a chance to protest before marching over to the door. "What the hell?!"

"Ah, Prince Leona." Kifaji said coolly as the guard stood at attention for the prince's approach. "I was under the impression you were not coming home during your visit."

"That why you brought Yuu here?" He spat. "Thought you were goin' to the hotel."

"I don't recall ever saying my arrangements were at the hotel." Kifaji said, though the infuriating smile and raise of his eyebrows suggested he knew exactly what he was up to.

Leona pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering expletives under his breath before looking back up. "Where is Yuu? We're goin'."

"She is changing, currently. You and your friends are more than welcome to wait inside, if you'd prefer."

"Yeah, ya’d like that, wouldn’t ya. Did Falena put you up to thi--"

"UNCA!"

Leona nearly instinctively side stepped the little ball of fiery orange that flung itself into his arms, grunting as the fuzzball impacted into his abdomen. Kifaji, while now safe from the verbal lashing Leona wanted to deal out, was not safe from the deadly glare that was shot his way.

“Quit clingin’ to me like that! Knock it off!” Leona snapped halfheartedly at his nephew who, undeterred by the tone, continued to beam up at him.

“I got so excited when I heard you were coming home!” The boy chirped quickly, grabbing his uncle’s hand and swinging it back and forth. “Can I hang out with you guys?”

Leona ignored the amused muttering of his schoolmates behind him as he rolled his eyes at the child’s antics.

Cheka continued, still swinging Leona’s arm around. “Mama said to be on the lookout for you! Do you wanna come play with me? We could play tag, or hide-and-seek, or--”

“Cheka.” Leona snarled, finally making the boy stop. “What was that about your mother?”

“Oh… I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“Oh for fff…” Leona let the curse fizzle out into a loud grumble, trying to rub away the headache blooming in his temple. Of course it was Shani’s idea.

“I should go tell Mama you’re here!” Cheka said excitedly, darting off before Leona could stop him.

..

You slipped into the newly hemmed dress, a new length of fabric now flaring out the bottom that, once again, highly suspiciously matched the fabric of Leona's pants. Three times makes a pattern, damn if it didn't look good though. You were about to call out to Shani when you heard giggling through the door, and a boy's voice talking. You waited a moment before Shani knocked, sounding amused.

"All ready in there?" She called out.

"Yeah, ready." You called back, prompting her to enter the room.

Her smile grew ever wider as she looked at your outfit. "I've one more thing, and we need to be quick. Seems we've been found out."

There was a small gasp as Shani walked into the room, a tiny mess of ginger hair standing in the bedroom.

"I remember you!" Cheka said excitedly. "You're Unca's friend! From school!"

"I am! It's nice to see you again, Cheka!" You replied just as enthusiastically as Shani pulled one more thing off the shelf.

"It's nice to see you too! You match Unca!"

"I knew I wasn't crazy!" You nearly shouted, turning to Shani as your face burned again. She at least had the decency to look a little guilty.

"Yuu, you are a beautiful girl in an unfamiliar place." She explained, walking forward and wrapping something around your waist. "These are recognizable patterns of the leader of the Sunset Warriors, of the second prince, no one would dare do anything to you while you are wearing these."

"Do anything?" You echoed as she fastened the belt, which matched the rest of the boys'.

"Swindle you, pickpocket, worse." She listed grimly as she adjusted your necklace. "Sunrise City is as safe a city as any during a heavy tourist season. We want you to enjoy your time here, not wonder where your wallet may have gone."

"I..." you sighed heavily. "I get that. Thank you, really. This is all very generous."

"You can pay me back by marrying my brother in law." Shani teased as she exited the closet, making your face burn tenfold.

"Hey!"

"YOU AND UNCA ARE GETTING MARRIED?!"

"Oops…"

Cheka insisted you carry him through the halls, Shani nearly telling him to return to his studies before you assured her that it was fine. You spent the entire walk trying to explain to the boy that, no, you were not marrying his uncle. Cheka, however, kept talking about the imaginary wedding and all the things you needed to have there. You resigned yourself to not stopping him. He was talking about the cake when you entered the large room you'd first met Falena and Shani.

"Aha! There she is! A much more appropriate look for your guest, don't you agree, brother?" Falena said, prompting you to turn your gaze from Cheka to him, looking just in time to watch him clap Leona on the back.

Leona said nothing, just staring for a moment before clicking his tongue and looking away. You took this as annoyance for a moment before Cheka spoke up.

"Unca, unca!" Cheka said excitedly from your arms. "When you two get married you need to have a BIG cake, okay? And there needs to be chocolate, and 'biscus, and--"

"Married?" He asked incredulously, turning back to look at the boy, not able to hide the red on his cheeks now, before looking to Shani. "What did you do?"

"Children have impressive imaginations, don't they?" She asked pleasantly, taking Cheka from your arms to hers. "Thank you for letting me dress you, Yuu."

"Thank you for dressing me," you smiled at her, ignoring the burning on your own cheeks, "it was fun."

She smiled before taking your hand and leaning in to whisper to you. "If you cannot go home for school holidays, our home is open to you, just say the word."

You nearly teared up at this, simply nodding and squeezing her hand. "Thanks for everything, Shani."

Falena laughed as you walked over to join him and Leona, who had his arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I'd give you some words of warning, but you seem to know how to handle my brother better than I do at this point!"

"He's not so bad." You chuckled as he pointedly refused to look at you. "It was nice to meet you, Falena."

"You too! Come back anytime!" He beamed down at you before Leona grabbed your arm and started dragging you out of the room.

You waved back to the crown prince and princess as you were hauled out of the room and into the hall. Leona dragged you towards the entrance before making a sharp left a few doors down into another hallway.

"Leona--?"

"Shut up."

Your mouth closed with a clack of your teeth at his words, and you suddenly felt ashamed of your actions. Were you supposed to text him an SOS as soon as you realized where you were? When you realized what was happening? Before you could think about it further, he dragged you into a room at the end of the hall and shut the door, quickly caging you with his arms against it.

"What did they tell you?" He growled low, a dangerous tone you'd only heard a few times since you first stepped on his tail in the garden.

"N-Nothing--"

"Don't play dumb with me right now, herbivore, what did they say?"

"Kifaji and Falena kept saying that you're nice to me, and Shani said if I wore your patterns I'm less likely to get robbed." You said quickly, omitting her comment about marriage. "I was mostly with Shani, we talked about her sisters and my mom and the outfit, that's it."

His green eyes stared into your soul for a moment before he grumbled something under his breath, leaning forward to press his forehead against the wall next to your head.

"Leona?"

"Shani thinks she's funny." He said quietly, you could feel his breath against your ear as he spoke. "Makin' you match me, in public no less..."

"I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it--"

"Are you?" He asked, pulling back to look you in the eyes again, closer this time. "She's making fun of me."

"She's not."

"You don't know her."

"She's not making fun of you." You whispered, not breaking eye contact.

"You don't know what I say in those phone calls home." He muttered back. "Lemme guess, Shani already had that dress picked out for you, as if she plucked it from her own closet."

"...Yes?"

"You think the crown princess would ever wear the second-born's pattern?" He leaned in again, his jaw bumping your cheek as he moved to whisper in your ear. "She had that made for you, on purpose, for the day you eventually showed up."

"W-What do you say... in the calls home...?" You asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to reach your arms around him.

"Too much, apparently." He chuckled softly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. You felt like you would combust into flames any second. "Looks good on you though... suits you."

"L-Leona?"

He pulled back again, close enough to bump noses. "We have to get to the springs, otherwise our resident pretty princess won't play tomorrow." He whispered, still making no move to pull away.

"What..." your wet your suddenly very dry lips, not missing how Leona's eyes flicked down for just a second to catch the motion, "what did you mean by "when I eventually showed up...?""

"I said, don't play dumb, Yuu. You think I let just anyone braid my hair? You think I didn't notice that you do that while I'm tryin' to sleep?" He chuckled again, his grin almost looking like he was just flashing his teeth at you. "I pretend to not notice a lot of things."

"I'm not just anyone...?"

"You haven't been "just anyone" for awhile now." He muttered leaning in just a little closer, his nose brushing against yours gently before he stopped. "We need to go."

He let the moment hang in the minuscule amount of air between you for a second longer before finally pulling away, glancing over your outfit again as he did, making a triumphant little noise.

"Looks good on you." He muttered again before grabbing you by the arm to pull you away from the door.

Once you were out of the way, he opened the door again and walked out into the hallway, leaving you feeling like your knees were about to give out. With a moment to look around the room, you realized he'd pulled you into a bedroom that looked a little too similar to his back at the college.

"Herbivore." He barked from down the hall, kick starting you again.

"Y-Yeah!" You called back before hiking your skirt and jogging to catch up to him again.

If your friends, namely Vil, noticed the similarities between your outfit and Leona's, they were gracious enough not to say anything about it. You were, however, highly complimented on it, Kalim making a point to spin you around to see the dress twirl. Kifaji had a very self satisfied look on his face off to the side, which was quickly wiped away when Leona finally announced his plan to leave him in the dust.

..

Back at Night Raven College, you and Leona went back to your normal routine as if nothing had ever happened. You almost wondered if it had been a very sweet dream until you saw the dress in your closet again. You grabbed the skirt, rubbing the fabric between your thumb and index finger, as if to remind yourself that it was real. It had happened.

"What? You longin' for the Sunset Savanna again?" Grim asked from your bed, you'd nearly forgotten he was there. "I am. You really missed out on that meat, hench-human. I wouldn't mind goin' back."

"Yeah... me neither." You sighed, releasing the dress. You stared at it longingly for another moment before shutting the closet door to continue getting ready for bed. A very sweet dream indeed.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[clockwayswrites]

The Haunting of Danny Fenton

Chapter 6 Part 2

materpost (no edting/concrit pls. did you know 8+ moderate-sever migraines in a month are too many? ㄟ( ▔, ▔ )ㄏ)

“Oh, you’re a real freak of nature, aren’t ya?” Constantine said as he looked Danny over.

Danny grinned at Constantine like a wolf grins before it rips something’s throat out. “Yep.”

The weird thing was, Constantine actually looked a little afraid. “They know what you are?”

“Okay,” Dick said as he moved between the two. He wasn’t afraid to push either of them back a little. “Yes, we know that Danny is a half ghost, but that’s not actually the important part here.”

Constantine blinked at Dick. “Say what, bruv?”

“I know, we had it backwards at first ourselves,” Dick said. “But if everyone will just sit down for a moment, we can talk through it.”

Constantine looked like he was actually going to argue before he took the chair next to Zatanna with an exaggerated huff. Bruce, who’d of course been standing off to the side, swept over to a seat himself. It was the signal that everyone else needed to sit. Dick took the head of the table with Danny nervously to one side and Wally flanking the other.

“As the Justice League knows, our Flash disappeared while on a solo investigative mission a little over three months ago. Initial investigations by both the Titans and the Justice League found nothing. During that time, the Flash managed to make contact with Danny Fenton,” Dick explained with a little motion towards Danny.

Danny rubbed at the back of his neck. “As Nightwing said, I’m Danny Fenton. For a few years as a teen, I was a local hero known as Phantom in Amity Park. The usual lab accident origin story gave me my powers. I’m half ghost. It’s along story and not actually important. Mostly these days I’m just a psychopomp; sometimes I get visited by ghosts and I make sure they move on.

“I assume that’s what Flash was once he showed up, but he also felt wrong right away. He also caused seizures if he touched me, which wasn’t great. That had me reaching out to Miss Wilhelmina Aleshire. She’s a local oracle and friend I made through the pyschopomp mess. After trying a tea she gave me, I was able to make clearer contact with Flash. He gave me a message to take to Titan Tower.”

“And caused a heart attack,” Wally said, guilt heavy in his voice.

Danny just shrugged. “Not the first time my heart’s stopped. Anyways, once I was awake I checked myself out of the hospital, came here with the phrase, and got in contact with the Titans.”

“They called me in,” Barry picked up, “and we worked on using Danny’s connection as an anchor to isolate Flash’s reading. Main players were Danny, Raven, and myself. Obviously once we got Flash to the point that we could see and hear him, he helped also.”

“Obviously, not dead,” Wally said. “I’m trapped in the Speed Force. Unfortunately, my existing and using Danny as an anchor is continuing to cause health issues.”

“Which is fine,” Danny said with a little glare, “but when we got the signal as clear as it seemed to get, meant rethinking things. It’s when I realized that I’m not able to see Flash and serving as his anchor because of being a psychopomp. He’s right, he isn’t dead. One of my… mentors in the Infinite Realms is a being known currently as Clockwork. He’s basically a god of time. We call them Ancients there. He’s been pretty determined to take me under his wing. There might be some powers at play, but I’m certain that the bigger reason that I’m able to be Flash’s anchor is because I have a medallion of time as part of my being.”

“Wow, more of a freak than I thought,” Constantine said, squinting at Danny.

“Says the man with mince meat for a soul,” Danny snapped back.

“I can slap him for you, if you want,” Zatanna offered calmly.

Danny smiled sweetly at her. “Would you?”

“Ow!” Constantine squawked as Zatanna backhanded him right in the sternum. He rubbed at the spot with a pout. “We’re teammates, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I’m your teammate, but when you’re being an idiot I’m not on your side,” she said with a viciously pleasant smile.

“Anyways,” Dick interrupted. “Because we want to make sure that Danny survives—or at least revives from this process—we called in you all. Flash and Batman to continue to help us refine the signal isolation machine, Constantine and Zatanna to try and safeguard things from a magical perspective, and MM to keep a track on things mentally. Obviously our Flash, Cyborg, and Raven will continue to help. We have a medical team standing by. It’s my opinion that we should expect Danny’s heart to stop.”

“Nightwing… might be right about that. I seem to have an annoying habit of it,” Danny said with a little shrug.

“He’s also annoyingly unconcerned about it,” Wally added with a sigh.

“What exactly is the plan?” Bruce asked, finally speaking.

Dick gave him a nod. “We will set up in the reinforced training room and the connecting observation room. Danny will transform into Phantom and remove the medallion. Flash will make contact with both it and Phantom. We believe that while he’s doing so, his signal will become stable enough for us to isolate and lock into this timeline. Luckily, that’s science that we’ve done before for different reasons.”

“We have to expect a large amount of electrical discharge from that,” Wally added. “Which won’t effect me, but will Danny.”

“Lessened because I’ll be Phantom, but none of me gets along with electricity much. It’s likely to snap me back into this form which is where the heart stopping might occur,” Danny said.

“So, as soon as Flash is locked, we need everything can to protect Danny from the effects and then medical in there the second the secondary effects have died down,” Dick stressed. “Anything that we can plan in to help Danny, we need to plan in. We’re not making an exchange here. I expect both of them to be just as alive at the end of this as they should be. Understood?”

With a course of agreement, the teams split up into magical, medical, and science to brainstorm. There would need to be a lot of cross talk, and some like Raven and MM would jump between a few groups, but it was a place to start. Dick would play leader. At least it was a roll he was well used to.

Bruce slowed his steps to hang back from the science group and walk with Dick. “You care about him.”

“Danny? Yeah. Wally developed quite a crush on him, which I get. He’s kind, smart, funny—lots of things. We’re going to go on some dates once Wally’s solid enough to do so,” Dick said. “I don’t know if I’m gone like Wally, I’ve been more focused on getting him back, but that’s what dating is for, right?”

Bruce hummed in agreement. “But?”

Dick sighed. “But he has to survive, and I’m worried about that. There’s also some things that the Titans or the JL need to look into about ghosts. Danny has been through some shit and that’s with him only alluding to it as he tried to brush it off. I don’t know, I just… Wally has been isolated for months. Danny has anxiety about being a lab rat and for this to work we have to make him into one. I’m worried about both of them coming out of this aright.”

“You’ll be there for them,” Bruce said.

“Of course, but will I be enough?”

Bruce was silent for a bit, watching the group in front of them. “Maybe not. But the Titans are there too. As are the Wests. As your family is.”

Dick couldn’t help but smile a little. “Yeah, you going to explain polyamory to Damian?”

“I’ll make Tim do it.”

Dick snorted. “You just want to make Tim realize his own bullshit.”

Bruce just smiled that Bat smile of his and increased his pace to catch up with the rest of the group.