#so i had to get all of that straightened out sooner rather than later

[38riku]

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃

making the phantom bride final four feel things (it's my favorite event sue me)

warnings — suggestive? light flirting.

𝐀. 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐀

"stop glaring or i'll mess it up."

as if to prove your point, his brows pinched further, causing you huff in irritation. "okay. what's wrong? you were psyched up like two seconds ago."

"yeah, well, that was two seconds ago and now is now." his rebuttal caused you to roll your eyes. 'boys' you thought as a viable excuse before trying yet again to straighten his eyeliner.

his eyes darted around the room where the others did similar things: riddle fixed his lapels, epel examined his bouquet, and rook practiced his lines, everyone was unaffected by the current circumstance.

not the rampaging bride that is going to doom a teenage boy to the eternal afterlife, no, the fact that you were straddling him in a small vanity chair.

why was such a compromising position seen so casually? now that he thinks about it, the two of you were rather touchy – piggyback rides, you holding his arms, hugs, etc. – still, this is really teetering the line of friendly affection.

"done!" beaming, you leaned back a bit, causing him to hold on to your waist a bit firmer to keep you upright. "riddle! you have a keen eye, is it straight or what?"

the house warden walked over to the two of you and ace was sure he'd call out how inappropriate this is, but he didn't. instead, he nodded and complimented you on your handiwork.

"no need to thank me." you snorted, getting up to go help the others.

riddle chuckled, patting his freshman on the shoulder as he spoke, "are you upset that they're casually intimate with you or are you upset they might act like that with someone else?"

"w-what?!" ace's cheeks flushed red.

"i may be romantically handicapped but i'm more perceptive to it than you think. i can only suggest to say something sooner than later."

he lowered his head, still blushing, diverting his gaze away from your swaying figure as his house warden's words sunk in.

damn. he did want it to mean something.

ace doesn't know which is more embarrassing: his crush on you or that riddle was the one to make him realize.

𝐑. 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒

"may i offer a suggestion?"

riddle hummed, meeting your eyes in the vanity mirror. "and what might that be? it's impossible to elevate perfection, you know."

ignoring his arrogant statement, you took a seat, propping his collar up and undoing his tie. "i think you'll stand out more it you tie it differently." you explained your actions, pausing momentarily until he nodded for you to continue.

he watched as you knotted and twirled the fabric, straightening it here and there, and you were done a minute later.

"a bow? it's rather ... cutesy."

"but you're cutesy."

riddle choked, coughing loudly and catching the attention of the other occupants of the room. as they began to walk towards him, he waved them off, effectively keeping them away from his flustered form.

"w-why would you–"

"the cuter you look, the less they'll take you seriously, and as one of the strongest mages left that's perfect for us to break their defenses."

of course, you meant it as a battle advantage – that is your area of expertise, after all.

"don't look so surprised." you joked, flattening out his collar and he hopes you can't feel the heated blush on his neck. "you were thinking the same thing too, right?"

"no, actually... i can't say that i was."

you tilted your head sideways, doubting his words but dropping the subject. "well, from now on don't look down on being cute, kay?"

standing from your seat, you left his vanity to tend to grimm, who, was arguing with ace about who knows what.

if he had half a mind he'd scold them both and cut off the small feline's magic, however, his mind was completely blank.

cute. you think he's cute.

riddle didn't take it as he usually would. for some off reason he felt giddy inside, wishing you meant it in a different ... more flirtatious manner. the poor boy has zero experience but wishing might work, right?

𝐑. 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓

"you need to talk normally to us so they won't be suspicious. try again."

if rook wasn't used to a strict training regime he'd undoubtedly call you a harsh teacher, but, as a lover of all things beautiful and magnificent he tossed the thought aside.

"no can do mon cherie. her actions are horrendous and nowhere near beautiful." he signed, placing a hand over his wounded heart. "but you, darling, are as heroic and magnificent as ever."

he watched as you rolled your eyes, placing a hand on your hip as you began to reprimand him for his lack of seriousness.

although he heard the words coming from your mouth, he couldn't help but focus on everything else.

despite not being a contender in this entire ordeal you were still dressed beautifully. the color is ethereal on you, he must make note of the hue for later ... and whatever scent you adorned had his senses on ten.

don't you know never to where perfume when there's a hunter nearby?

"rook! are you even listening to–"

all too suddenly he had your hand in his, the other gripping your waist firmly to keep your surprised form upright.

"let me give it to you straight then. the unseen beauty of your compassion and tender heart outshines that of a world class model. not that you aren't attractive, no, no, quite the opposite."

"how greedy can you possibly be?"

deep. rich. clear. his voice was positively enthralling when he dropped that phony accent (it does have a charm of its own in your opinion)

"perfect!" you beamed, his grip on you loosening in surprise of his own. "i knew you could do it. she'll be knocked off her translucent feet i tell you!"

rook allowed you to walk away, scolding epel who wiped his makeup off for the ninth time deeming it unmanly.

he couldn't help but laugh. he broke character, purposely, but he did nevertheless, and don't think he didn't notice the flash of attraction in your eyes.

never let your guard down in front of a predator, mon cherie.

𝐄. 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐑

"i swear on the seven you'll have more problems than a poof of blush if you keep testing my patience."

epel felt a chill run down his spine at your words but he stood his ground. he let you do the liner, tousle his hair all nice, and even spray a painfully potent cologne – but he draws the line at that pigmented puff of doom.

"i'm telling ya i'm not wearing that!" he argued back from the other side of the table. the two of you were playing chicken to the amusement of the others who were nearly done with their preparations.

"stop being a big baby!"

"i ain't no baby!"

he flinched back as you narrowed your eyes in a glare. for a moment, he felt sorry that grimm had to live with such a scary person.

"fine. don't wear the blush." you slid the compacted container to his side of the table, raising your hands in surrender.

"let me redo your hair then. it'll fit the look better, baby."

yeah. that's right, you better listen when he — wait, baby?

you pushed him down in the nearest chair, undoing the small ponytail you had before in favor of something else.

epel thought this earlier but your hands did feel amazing as you twirled and pinned his hair. he nearly fell asleep the first time but he knew better than to let down his guard.

"what do you think of this, baby?"

you were teasing him but jeez, why did it make his heart race?

"doesn't matter what i think." he huffed, and you laughed softly at the statement.

"well, i'm no ghost bride with unnaturally specific standards but you look good, baby." this time, you drawled out the pet name, winking, and then leaving him alone to question everything.

in the end he came to the conclusion that he should've just let you put the damn blush on.

© 2024 — 38riku. Do not copy or repost or plagiarize my work. All Rights Reserved.

[samuraiko]

CR's BEACON and a bit about it

So of course I had to get in on this because I'm all for discounts and early access and NOT giving money to Twitch and YT if I can help it.

And yes, the site is getting SLAMMED at the moment, but I've now managed to get in, and it's working great.

Couple notes:

If you have the same email address for the CR shop and for Beacon, once your Beacon account is created, it auto-applies the discount to the shop. You will see the price crossed out and a discounted price next to the item (limitations do apply, they go over that).

I gather there is some wonkiness going on with the Discord, so I'd suggest waiting a day or so on that one.

Cooldown (the immediate after-show filming) IS WORTH ITS WEIGHT IN GOLD. Listening to them conspiracy theorizing and Matt answering a couple things (or in more cases, "You don't know!") is just great to watch.

Yes, there is subtitles/captioning, and it looks like it's done by the same folks they have doing the main eps.

Re-Slayer's Take is *NOT* the main cast -- it is run and played by other people. I gather this is in a similar vein to Midst, but them allowing other groups to "play" in Exandria. It is also all-ages-friendly.

There is an app in the Apple store and Android store -- IT IS CALLED POCKET BEACON. HOW FUNNY IS THAT?!

http://beacon.tv

UPDATE: I've seen a couple of Twitter posts about the app possibly being geolocked -- cannot confirm or deny as I live in the United States and thus cannot check (and am reluctant to dick around with my phone).

UPDATE: Someone brought up in the replies that captioning/subtitling is not yet on everything, and in a couple cases, it's a bit wonky. Again, hopefully to be straightened out sooner than later.

UPDATE: Someone else in the replies wondered about whether coming in on a live broadcast late means you can still start from the beginning or not.. IF SOMEONE CAN CONFIRM OR DENY THIS WITH TONIGHT'S BROADCAST, DROP ME AN ASK AND LEMME KNOW, PLEASE!

I'll add more to this post as I encounter things!

STILL MORE UPDATES!

you can join late and start at the beginning, it looks like they upload the whole episode rather than doing a live broadcast.

however, it DOES NOT have subtitles, though the speed and quality can be adjusted.

there is also no break material, just a quick fade in and fade out.

also no ads

AND STILL MORE UPDATES!

In a rare non-Apple access win, can confirm that Pocket Beacon does not appear to be geolocked for Android, at least here in Australia!

EVEN MORE UPDATES!

Re: captioning, 4-Sided Dive does not appear to be captioned/subtitled (yet).

THE UPDATES KEEP ON COMING!

The Android version does appear to support Chromecast

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights where Phantom saves Duke or the Signal, and a week later (at a Wayne gala or some other place) Duke recognizes the light/aura coming from Danny

Putting off gala prep was perhaps not the best plan. Duke spent the past month insisting that everything is fine and he has it under control. Duke is also a lying liar who lies, and now he’s frantically trying to pick up his suit in time to get it dry cleaned and altered as necessary. 

Alfred would be disappointed in him, but in Duke’s defense, he had to go out of town on a mission to bust a growing drug cartel, and then spent half a week visiting a shelter for metas on the run (unofficial and hidden away) to help everyone find new homes and learn to control their powers. These things take time!

Unfortunately, gala prep also takes time, and since it’s a charity gala for funding the education of every Gothamite student, it’s not one he can slip out of. The entire family is being strong-armed into attending and not making a scene until the donation period in the first half is over. 

Duke knows he’s not the only one who’s scrambling to get ready for a gala that’s taking place in three days, but they’re not helping him, so it feels like he’s the only one messing up. 

“Sorry!” he calls behind him as he sprints through a group of people. 

He could have asked someone to drive him, but he knows they’re all busy and doesn’t want his own poor time management to cause problems for anyone else. Even though he’s sure Bruce is looking for an excuse to get out of a mandatory Wayne Enterprises board meeting that both Lucius and Tim dragged him to.

RIP Bruce. He will be missed.

The Diamond District is full of people walking the streets, sprinting between parked cars and waiting for their rides. They’re all dressed nicely, making him feel out of place. It’s a feeling that’s never left him since he joined the Waynes but it’s particularly bad when he’s left to navigate these spaces alone. Rich people and socialites are a different kind of human, one that Duke doesn’t care to understand; there’s greed in all of them, turning them heartless, and they can give as much as they want to charity but it won’t change the fact that all they do is a performance to make people like them, rather than a desire to do anything good. 

The sooner this is over, the better. He keeps going, hoping that he can still make it to his appointment with the tailor. Alfred recommended the store, then set up the appointment, so all Duke has to do is trust their judgment as they get him fitted. He’s still got twenty minutes until the scheduled time, but some unspoken rule makes it so he has to show up fifteen minutes early for better service or risk being turned away and told to reschedule. 

Duke slows to a walk when he catches sight of the store, the trying to catch his breath and look more composed before he reaches the door. He takes a moment to straighten his clothes a bit, then opens the door and steps in.

The bell jingles pleasantly above his head. The store is empty of any other customers, and the employee at the front counter looks up with a plastered on smile. 

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she says, then looks down at her phone and types something out before placing it under the counter. A tablet comes out instead and she swipes through a few screens, then sets it down and look at Duke again. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment? For a suit fitting. Under the name Thomas.”

She taps on the screen for a minute, then nods and gives him another customer service smile. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and grab the tailor. They’ll be out with your suit soon. Please, feel free to take a seat or browse some of our suits. We just recently got a new collection in from Italy.”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just… be here, I guess.”

The employee takes her tablet and disappears through a door, leaving him alone in the store. He doesn’t want to sit down, not while his heart is still trying to settle from his sprint through half of Diamond District, so Duke wanders around the neat stacks of dress shirts and vests, pants and belts and shoes lined up neatly against the walls. 

He takes a moment to shoot Alfred a text that he’s at the tailor for his fitting appointment. Steph’s sent him a long string of videos online, and he’s just about to go through them when the bell rings again. 

Duke glances up and watches a guy walk into the store. He looks around, makes eye contact with Duke, then quickly looks down, taking a seat by the door.

Probably another upper class citizen uncomfortable with the fact that someone in jeans and a hoodie is shopping for suits. Shaking his head lightly, Duke wanders deeper into the store to get some distance between them so they could ignore each other more easily. It’s only until the tailor comes out, and then he can go to a fitting room and be done with this whole thing, so Duke resigns himself to suffering through the tense silence. 

How long is he even supposed to wait? He can only look at clothes in one of three colors before he gets bored. 

He goes to another rack, trying to see if he can notice anything different about these shirts. 

And then he hears a shoe scuff against the floor behind him. He tenses up, but before he can turn around, a belt is wound around his throat, pulling him back and choking him. 

Duke drops his weight, tucking his chin and gets a hand against the inside of the belt to try to push it away. His back hits someone’s chest and he’s trapped, focused on trying not to be choked to death while also keeping his vigilante abilities and meta powers secret. 

More footsteps come from behind, and a soaked cloth is pressed against his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, he realizes, familiar with the smell from Bruce’s training. But training isn’t enough to keep him from being knocked out, and he quickly slips away from the waking world, falling to the ground. 

Just before he passes out completely, he hears the employee who greeted him say, “I’m not sure how much Wayne would be willing to pay for him, but let’s start high and negotiate lower. New kid can’t possibly be worth that much…”

Duke wakes up groggily, memories of what happened quickly snapping into place. He’s too out of it still to get up, but he’s awake enough to be offended. Sure he’s the new kid, and barely even a Wayne, but he’s still worth a lot!

Kidnappers these days. So rude.

He doesn’t hear anyone around him, and it feels like he’s lying on a cold concrete floor. Basement, maybe? Warehouse? Storage unit tucked away somewhere? There’s nothing much to see when Duke is able to open his eyes, squinting bareilly at his surroundings. His arms are tied behind him, wrists bound, but they left his legs alone. 

If he could just hit the panic button on his bracelet…

Duke wiggles around, fighting through the lingering effects of Chloroform, and manages to sit up. If he strains his hearing, he thinks he can hear voices outside of the empty room he’s been left in. There’s a window high up, too high for a normal person to reach without help, but if he can use the shadows to travel through it, then he may be able to escape on his own. 

First things first: he needs to free his hands before anyone comes in to check on him.

They used zip ties on him, which is inconvenient. He’s learned how to get out of them, but it’s difficult enough without being drugged and having to do it behind his back. 

He’s feeling the zip ties bite into his wrists just as there’s a crash from outside the room. His kidnappers yell, alarmed, and are quickly silenced. That’s rarely ever a good sign. Duke renews his efforts to escape, ignore the pain in pushing against his binds like this. 

The door opens. Duke hears the small click of a lock disengaging and freezes. Then he gets to his feet, still unsteady, and prepares to ram his head into anyone who comes near him like some sort of deranged battering ram, or a drunk raging bull. 

Duke is ready for the worst: a gang hoping to steal away a Wayne hostage, a Rogue, Gnomon popping in to cause trouble for the sole purpose of getting on Duke’s nerve. 

He’s not expecting another teenage boy, who is literally glowing, to poke his head in and zero in on Duke. He blinks, then smiles; it’s friendly and sincere, nothing like the employee who helped kidnap him. 

“Hey!” he says, coming into the room properly. He’s floating a good foot off the ground, eyes a bright neon green, with white hair that sways as if he’s underwater. “Are you okay? I saw them drag you out of the back of the store and followed them, but I got a bit lost. Sorry for taking so long to get here.”

“...It’s fine?” Duke offers, trying to wrap his head around what’s happening. “I wasn’t expecting a rescue so soon, anyways. Think you can help me out here?”

“Yeah, of course!” he flies closer, then drops down to the ground behind Duke. He hums lightly under his breath, and then Duke feels a cold touch on his wrist and the zip ties are suddenly gone. 

Duke blinks, then brings his arms in front of him. He moves around a bit to make sure he’s not hallucination, and sure enough, he’s free and unbound because a random meta teenager vanished the zip ties into the ether, or something. 

“Thanks, man. Any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue. I got lost coming here, and I was following them. I don’t think you should trust any directions I give.”

“Fair enough,” Duke laughs. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“Phantom.”

“Well, thanks for the save, Phantom. Can I treat you to something?”

“Like, coffee?”

“Sure. Or brunch, or ice cream. Whatever you want, really.”

Phantom considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I would love to but going out in public looking like this,” he gestures to himself, “Is not a great idea. Thanks for the offer though. You got a ride?”

Duke pats his pockets, then sighs. “My phone’s gone. I still have my wallet, though.”

“I fly you to someplace you can call someone, if you’d like.”

“You sure? I could probably just walk out of here and call a taxi.”

“I don’t think walking around by yourself after being kidnapped is a great idea,” Phantom says, doubtfully. “Seriously, let me fly you.”

He should just hit the panic button and wait for someone to show up to get him. He shouldn’t go to some unknown location with a meta he literally just met. 

But, you know what? No one else can say they got kidnapped twice in one day, so Duke nods and says, “Sure, sweep me off my feet, Phantom. You gotta commit to this rescue.”

Phantom laughs. And then he does sweep Duke off his feet into a princess carry with a cheeky grin and flies them out the building, which turns out to be an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition. 

“Keep this up and you’ll be replacing Superman in no time,” Duke jokes.

“I think I could manage it,” Phantom replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m already prettier than him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely. The glow really brings out your eyes.”

Phantom gets him a few blocks away when Duke recognizes where they are, and quickly directs him into Crime Alley. They land on top of one of Jason’s safe houses, and while he’s sure there’s enough security to take out a SWAT Team, that’s absolutely not going to stop him from breaking in to use one of Jason’s burner phones and eat his leftovers. 

He’s set down on his feet gently, and as soon as Phantom sees that he’s fine, able to walk and everything, he floats back up, just out of reach.

“Be careful, okay?” he says, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll do my best. Hey, are you gonna be in Gotham for a while, or…?”

Phantom gives him a tired smile. “Nah. I’m just passing through. As long as my luck doesn’t get even worse, then I should be out of here in a few days.”

“Shame,” Duke says, giving Phantom a very visible once over. He’s pretty tall, and Duke can see some muscle on him, and the tight black outfit really adds to his look. The glow that comes out of his chest makes him look ethereal and Duke is beyond glad that he got such a charming rescuer.

Phantom doesn’t blush like a normal person. He glows brighter instead, curling into himself a bit as he looks away, unable to stop the smile from growing on his face. 

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Are you really going to be alright from here?”

“Yeah, man, I have a friend who lives here. I’ll just bother him until he agrees to give me a ride.”

“Alright.” Phantom drifts away, glancing behind him before turning back to Duke. “I’ll get going then. Take care, Duke!”

Duke waves and watches as Phantom begins to fly away. Then Phantom… disappears? Or rather, his body does but Duke can see an orb of light making its way across Gotham, almost like a star fallen from the sky.

He stays on the roof until the light is long gone. When he’s finally ready to go in and steal from Jason, the sun has completely set. 

And he still doesn’t have his suit.

Duke sighs, and mentally prepares himself to other day of stressing out about the gala.

Three days of stress and last minute scrambling leave Duke in the Gotham Museum of Modern Art with Steph, Tim, Cass, and Damian. They’re hiding in the photography gallery to avoid other guests, taking a break from being polite and letting thinly veiled, passive aggressive insults slide over them.

.

.

.

“How much longer must we suffer this before we can go?” Damian grumbles, looking like he’s do anything to get his hands on a blade. Which, considering how many people tried to either pinch his cheeks are say some racist remark about him and his mother, is totally fair. Duke would just punch them, but sometimes a little drama helped get the message across. 

“At least two more hours,” Tim says, not bothering to look up from his phone. From what few glimpses of the screen Duke caught, he’s leading a Titans missions through text and clever hacking. Though it may be more accurate to call is a Young Justice mission since there’s no way any of this was authorized by a Justice League member. 

Also Anita, suited up as Empress, is there. If they aren’t on the news for property destruction and absolutely batshit wild shenanigans, Duke will have to check on Tim to make sure he’s not a pod person sent to infiltrate the family. 

“Think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?” Steph asks, looking at the emergency exit longingly.

Cass shakes her head and points to the door leading to the ballroom. When they look over, Dick makes very deliberate eye contact with them and give them a smile that looks stretched across his face.

Tim winces and pushes Duke. “Oh, something went down. Go take over for him and let Dick rest in here for a bit.”

“Man, why does it have to be me?” he grumbles even as he stands. Dick lets out a heavy breath and gives Duke a grateful smile, patting on the shoulder before shoving him out the door. 

As soon as he’s back into the main hallway, the music and chatter swell, no longer muffled by the thick walls of the photography wing. A few people come and go from the ballroom, no doubt looking for the restroom. 

Or more private places for… other things. Things they definitely shouldn’t be doing in an art museum.

He really can’t wait for this night to be over.

Duke joins the rest of the guests, fake smile on his face, and quickly makes his way to the snack table. He might as well make the most of his time stuck out here. Maybe he could even cause another relationship scandal by implying that Bruce is sleeping with one of partners when in hearing distance of a couple. Maybe even both of them. 

Bruce would go with it. It’s hilarious and he also needs something to make these events bearable.

Sadly, he doesn’t see any good targets as he scans the ballroom. A few people are dancing, while others are talking in small circles, closed off from outsiders. There’s an entire table of old ladies with glasses of wine in front of them; Duke considers hanging around them, since they confess to a lot of crimes after a few glasses. It’s fascinating. 

Also, he does kind of miss hanging out with the one old lady who’s declared herself his high society grandmother and told him stories of how she used to go to bars to find racist people or Klan members during the Jim Crow era, seduce them, then poison them and get their addresses so a few gangs she was friends with would fuck them up.

Granny Kaliasto is the coolest person ever. 

Just as he’s about to finish his last mini rolled crepe, Duke catches sight of one of the few teenagers still in the ballroom. The others, mostly stuck up rich kids no one actually likes, have already left to take over some other part of the museum to gossip until their parents decide it’s time to go home. These two are clearly not part of that crew, what with the girl being very goth and in a poofy, ripped dress, and the boy having already taken his jacket off to keep over his forearm, the top button of his shirt popped open.

They might be cool. He’s hoping they’re cool because he desperately needs some company to keep from dying of boredom while the gala continues on.

Duke walks over to them, going around the side of the ballroom, until he’s close enough to hear them talking.

The boy has his back to Duke, but the girl sees him. She immediately scowls and slaps the boys shoulder, eyes locked on Duke.

“Got another comment about my dress?” she says, voice sharp and acidic.

“Another?” Duke repeats. “I was just bored and wanted to talk to people who were my age. Sorry?”

The boy smacks the girl’s arm, then turns to face Duke. “Sorry about her! Sam is just naturally rude and aggressive. Tonight’s been a bit rough, with this crowd.”

Duke goes to say something, but the words stick in his throat when he sees the boy’s eyes shift from deep blue to an electric green. When he focuses, he can see a faint glow in his chest, the same glow he saw in Phantom.

“Dude? You alright?”

Sam looks him over judgmentally. “I guess it’s nice that I’m not being ogled for once, but don’t do that shit to Danny either.”

“Wait, that’s not what I was doing!” Duke hurries to say, snapped out of his shock. “I just… you look a lot like someone I met recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What was your name? I’m Duke, by the way.”

He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it with a small smile. “Danny. I don’t think we’ve met. I mean, I’m only here because Sam wouldn’t come to this gala without me, so her parents flew me in.”

“You from out of town?”

“Sam and I are from Illinois. Her parents are traveling around the east coast right now, and they decided to spend a week in Gotham to talk business.”

“I’d ask how it is, but outsiders tend to really hate Gotham, so…”

Sam barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh please, we can handle Gotham. Our town might not be as big and well known as Gotham, but we got our own shit to deal with there.”

“I do get shot at a lot back home,” Danny adds thoughtfully. “And that’s without the ghosts.”

“Woah, what?”

“Up for a bit of a story?” Danny asks, impish grin on his face. By his side, Sam brings a hand up to cover a manic smile, shoulders already shaking with laughter. 

This is already better than the grandma gang. Duke leans against the wall, getting settled in, and says, “Always, man. Hit me with it.”

The next hour an a half passes quickly with Sam and Danny dramatically narrating some of the things that have happened in their town. Duke listens, absolutely enraptured, and doesn’t even notice the Waynes file into the ballroom again. 

Unfortunately, they bring with them the attention of most of the ballroom, including Bruce and Sam’s parents. 

She cuts the current story about Box Ghost short with a heavy sigh. “Hold up, I need to greet the Waynes properly while my parents are watching.” She steps in front of Duke and Danny, holding out a hand with a pained smile.

Tim takes it first, giving a solid shake, and introductions start. 

Free from the rules of high society, if only for the moment, Duke leans closer to Danny and whispers to him, “Phantom. Wanna get out of here?”

Danny flinches and turns to him looking panicked. “How did you know?”

“I kinda got magic eyes. I see a lot of things normal humans can’t. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you, so you wanna get out of here?”

He watches as Danny glances around the ballroom, then back to him, clearly weighing out his options. Then he nods and says, “Know where to get a good milkshake around here?”

“Sure do.”

“I guess you’re the one rescuing me this time.”

“Not a rescue,” Duke corrects, and casually picks Danny up over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, “A kidnapping.”

Danny laughs and waves Sam and all the others goodbye as Duke marches out of the ballroom.

“Don’t bother me for the next two hours!” he calls to the Waynes, “I’m going on a date!”

There are shocked gasps and murmurs all through the crowd. But as he spins around to wave at his shocked and easily amused family, he also catches sight of Granny Kaliasto raising her half full wine glass towards him.

She really is the coolest.

He’s definitely telling her all about this at the next event they attend together. It’ll be nice to have a few stories of his own to share.

[ghosts-bandwagon]

I can feel myself getting sick! And I hit my head super hard today and I’ve had a crazy headache ever since! So here’s the 141 taking care of their sick idiot s/o!

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

He heard it the moment you spoke for the first time that day, you sounded congested and nasally

He made you some tea and heated up some soup, you laughed and asked about occasion

You knew you were getting sick but you’re a stubborn bitch so that means that you’re not sick and everything is fine

He knows you so he just shrugs and asks what’s wrong with soup for breakfast

He lets you go about the day, only stepping in when he sees you’re getting fatigued, discreetly suggesting you two lay down and watch a movie in bed

You’re getting the snacks ready when you drop the unopened bag of popcorn, as you’re straightening up you slammed your head on the granite countertop

It was so loud, Simon sprinted across the living room to make sure you were ok

He looked at your head and made sure you weren’t bleeding, when he didn’t see any surface damage he rushed to the freezer and pressed an ice pack on the back of your head

It was a little embarrassing and it took a lot to resist the urge to cry, he saw how much you were laughing to and playing it up and knew you felt worse than you let on

He guided you to bed, ice pack still pressed o your head, he ushered you under the covers, checking to make sure you weren’t concussed

Simon brewed a fresh cup of tea with a generous amount of honey and a light squeeze of lemon

He put on the movie and had a handful of throat lozenges in his pocket at the ready, fingers running through your hair, checking in on you and monitoring your symptoms

He blames himself for not interfering sooner but hearing your small cough and feeling you nuzzle into his chest made him feel needed, it was nice taking care of you, and a refreshing new way of being relied on

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

You kinda have to tell him if you’re feeling unwell

Not to say he doesn’t notice it when he sees you a little more fatigued and glassy eyed than usual

But as soon as you tell him you’re throat’s hurting, he’s up and making you some tea, while it’s brewing, he’s getting some cold medicine together and queuing your favorite movie

While he’s doing that he hears a loud ‘thunk’ and immediately runs over to check on you, he sees the cabinet door open and he sees you bent over and cradling your head

He can’t help the chuckle that comes out but he immediately shuts his mouth the moment he catches your glare

He fishes in the freezer for the ice pack and presses it against your head, he sends you to lay down on the couch but he catches you wobbling as you’re walking

He was at your side in a second, he hurried back to the kitchen and got some water for you

He sat beside you and rubbed your back, careful of his volume and careful not to move you too much

Needless to say, you didn’t lift a finger the rest of the day

John Price:

Like Ghost, he heard it in your voice when you first said ‘good morning’

Except he was more adamant on catching it sooner rather than later, he made you some Theraflu and didn’t move an inch until you finished it

If he heard you cough throughout the day, he’d magically appear with a cough drop ready for you to eat

Your water bottle doesn’t have a chance to be empty, same thing with your tea cup, it always managed to stay filled

You were loading up the laundry machine when you smacked your head hard against the rim, it was so loud John was at your side in a heartbeat

He cradled your head and checked your scalp for a cut or any blood, when he didn’t see any he gently applied pressure and walked you both to the kitchen where he grabbed the ice pack

He guided you to the bedroom where he instructed you to sit on the bed, he noticed your walking was a little uneven and all his training came to him in a split second

He walked you to the bed and knelt down in front of you, asked you to follow his fingers, took out his phone and turned on his flashlight, checking your pupils and asking you to follow it

He held the ice pack firmly against your head and ran down the list of symptoms, asking you and making sure you were ok

He didn’t leave your side for the rest of the day unfortunately for your partially loaded laundry

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick:

You told him that morning that you were feeling congested and he went to pharmacy as soon as you mentioned it

When he came back, he saw you doubled over and clutching your head, he sets the bags down and hurried to your side

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He asked, you explained that you dropped your phone under the table and didn’t realize how close you were to it when you hit your head on the edge

“Babe if you missed me that much, you could’ve called, I would’ve come back sooner.” He teased, you punched him in the arm as hard as you could,

When your punch was lighter than usual, he got worried and had you sit down on the couch

He handed you the bag full of snacks and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade for you to slowly drink

While you were doing that he went to the kitchen to grab an ice pack and wrap a towel around it

He sat beside you and handed it to you to press to the area, in the meantime he opened a package of cough lozenges and handed you one

He got up and started making your favorite ramen flavor and brewing a cup of lemon ginger tea with a generous helping of honey

He sat beside you and held the ice pack against your head while you ate, he turned the tv on to your favorite show and kissed your head and your cheek

He made sure all your needs were tended to for the day and spoiled you rotten

[donatellawritings]

cherry - around your neck - r. jerimovich

pairing(s): richie jerimovich x f!reader

warning(s): language, age-gap, explicit sexual content

song: the party & the after party by the weeknd

24 hours. Twenty-four hours remained until you’d stand face-to-face with the older blue-eyed man who’d come to plague your every thought, in recent times. Twenty-four hours, so close, yet so dauntingly far. Seated directly before the mirror your worn chipped-paint coated vanity, you drank yourself in. Dressed in the thin, black mesh fabric of your nightgown, you carefully examined yourself for any outstanding flaws. The concealer that once sat comfortably under your eyes now faded and live-in, courtesy of the mentally and physically taxing classes you’d endured hours prior.

Your eyes were a bit smudged from your generous application of mascara, you’d decided your staple eyeliner wasn’t needed today. Your faded and worn brown and mauve lips adding a much needed flush to your lips as you forced a closed-mouthed smile at your reflection. Your deep-red painted acrylic nails combed through your hair, adding a smidge of volume as you tilted your head, posing in the mirror, once more. Were you desirable enough? You’d just hoped that Richie would think so.

I mean, fuck, clearly you were desirable enough if he’d asked to expect a video-call from him, so close to your first official meeting date. The palm of your right hand carefully pressed against the knuckles of your left, popping the knuckles and granting you the slightest bit of relief from your anxiety-ridden nerves. Why did he want to see you? Did he want to put an end to your tryst, before it even got a chance to begin? What did Richie Jerimovich want from you that he needed to see you at this very moment?

Opening your sticker-covered laptop, you waited. Watching the reflection of yourself, through your webcam, you adjusted the hem of your nightgown to sit comfortably against your breasts, pushing them up just a bit.

Now biting into the your acrylic-reinforced thumb nail, your foot tapped against the cold carpet of your bedroom floor. Scraping your teeth against your nail, you stared at the screen of your laptop, hopelessly.

The chime of Richie’ video call request shocked you, your posture straightening as you rushed to accept the call, exhaling a breath with a smile as the call connected, revealing sight of Richie, his eyes blown and bloodshot.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

-

Truth be told, Richie couldn’t find it himself to wait any longer. The past three days had been eating him alive, the impatience and anticipation that came with seeing you, touching you, becoming all too powerful against his already shaky sense of willpower. You were intoxicating, a way more addicting and raw being that was stronger than any of the substances he’d previously conducted dealings with. He could only come up with so many scenarios of you, in his mind to get himself off in the dark and tense hours of the night. So, he gave into temptation, gave into himself.

Richie could tell that you were nervous, shit, he shared the same sentiment, if not more. Asking to see you a day earlier than planned, out of the blue, he could only imagine the worst things that you could say to him. yet, the sight of your skin clashing against the confines of the thin mesh fabric, your breasts perked up just right, made it that much harder for Richie’s patience to take hold. He didn’t care where you two would go, or what time it was, he needed you, and sooner rather than later.

“Thank you, Richie,” you smiled softly, licking over the leftover mauve that stained your lips.

The two of you sat in silence for a beat. The sight of your chest rising and falling with a shaky breath becoming too much for Richie - he was too far gone.

“Richie is everything oka-”

“I need to you see now, I just, I can’t fuckin’ wait until tomorrow,” Richie blurted out, running his hand over his grown out bear, shaking his head with a smile.

You remained silent, biting down into the swell of your bottom lip with a short and breathy laugh.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re just makin’ it real fuckin’ hard for me, looking like that,” he continued, slightly adjusting the tie that laid around his neck, the glint of his gold chain peeking through from underneath his white button-up shirt.

Richie’s nerves began to run rampant as he aimlessly rambled, “I get it if you want to wait, you deserve to have the fanciest dinner of your fuckin’ life, but I need to see you, baby, so fuckin’ bad-”

“I don’t want to wait, either.” You spoke faintly, leaning your face to sit in the palm of your head.

Fuck. Richie was so fucked.

-

A subtle ache that hummed between your legs made its way through you. Knowing that Richie held the same virtue of desire eased your initial anxiousness, the two of you were teetering on a dangerously thin line and you both knew it.

Richie swallowed thickly, “Give me twenty minutes,” he spoke, his raspy voice now holding a heavier tone, “twenty minutes and I’m all yours.”

You shifted in your seat, tightly crossing your left leg over the other with an obedient nod, “all yours,” you repeated.

Richie abruptly ended the call, leaving you a nervous wreck as you sat in silence, the sound of the mild rain that hit your window, failing to calm your buzzing veins that struck you with adrenaline.

You took one last look at yourself in the mirror, debating on whether or not you should touch up your makeup, the farthest part of your subconscious telling you that you may not need to. Something about Richie’s demeanor excited you, he was domineering, yet this time he seemed feverish, almost needy?

You could barely speak yourself, lord knows how much you craved Richie, to the point where the thought of finally having him was nearly enough to bring you to your knees.

Throwing your head back, you let out a sigh, a smile laced with excitement and shock pulling at your lips as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that you were only minutes away from finally indulging in the baby blue-eyed older man. A laugh escaped your throat as you ran your fingers through your hair, before pulling your head up straight.

Standing up from the vanity, you quickly scanned your bedroom or any sign of mess. Why are you so nervous, it’s not like this is your first time being a with a guy, let alone having one at your apartment, but a 45 year old man who you met online - that was a first for you.

You made your way to the living room, turning your television on to a random channel, before heading to your kitchen cabinet, where you sifted through, until you’d found two wine glasses - did Richie even like wine? Setting the two glasses on your kitchen counter, you snatched your refrigerator door open, reaching for the cheap bottle of Moscato that you’d gotten for yourself for special occasions, like this very night.

Slamming the refrigerator door shut, you hastily reached inside of your freezing, grabbing the ice tray and cracking it, allowing a few cubes to all into each wine glass, before sliding the half-used ice tray back into the freezer. Placing the wine bottle next to beside the two ice-filled wine glasses, you took a breath.

The abrupt shrill of your ringtone broke you from your brief moment of stillness. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“Coming!” You shouted, to no one in particular, your heart racing as you rushed to your bedroom.

Snatching your phone from your bed, you accepted the call, bringing your phone to your ear, “sorry, I was just fixing up some stuff,” you answered, swallowing the lump of nerves that had formed in your throat.

The sound of a car door closing could be heard on the other end of the phone, “S’okay, I’m downstairs - shit, uh, what apartment are you stayin’ at?” Richie questioned.

It took everything in you not to take a peek at him from your bedroom window, “Oh, yeah, I’m in 4E.”

“Alright, give me two minutes, sweetheart,” Richie cooed.

“Bye, Richie,” you ended the call, scanning over your appearance in the mirror of your vanity, “fuck,” you muttered under your breath.

-

Richie stood in the dimmed elevator, his leg bouncing as the elevator beeped with each passing floor. He was so close to you, he could taste it at the tip of his tongue. He kept his hands inside of the pockets of his leather jacket, exhaling sharply as the elevator door opened, allowing him to enter the Fourth Floor hallway.

“Fuckin’ aye,” he laughed to himself, shaking his head in disbelief as he approached the door with ‘4E’ imprinted in gold.

Sliding his right hand out of his jacket pocket, Richie brought his knuckles to the heavy door, knocking rhythmically against it. Richie silently cursed himself out as he waited at the door, his head hung low. The sound of you unlocking the door caused Richie to straighten and broaden his shoulders.

Richie’s eyes fell on yours the moment you opened the door. That fucking dress - god, Richie couldn’t even think straight as the two of you stood in silence. His eyes drank you in, he couldn't help but want to study everything about you - you were much shorter than him, so much so, that he wanted nothing more than to have you against the wall with your legs wrapped around him. He could tell that you’d just spruced up your hair with those sleek red nails, he wondered what they’d feel like digging into his back and shoulder blades. He wanted nothing more than your lips on his, seeing the way you’d lick over them, leaving him a needy and greedy mess.

Man, you were such a fuckin’ tease. Of course, you’d decided to keep that nightgown on, Richie tried to remain a man of manners and respect, keeping his eyes trained on yours, instead of on your hand that smoothed itself against the curve of your hip.

”Y’gonna let me in, sweetheart?”

-

You were completely entranced by the man who stood before you. He was tall, oh so tall, and you loved the way his oversized leather jacket clashed against his unbuttoned dress shirt and slacks. You allowed his bright baby blues to selfishly drink you in for a beat, before stepping aside, “come in,” you spoke softly.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a quick second as you shut your front door, taking a small breath before turning to face Richie, whose eyes scanned your apartment.

“You got a nice place here, yeah?”

“Uh, yeah, thank you,” you forced out a laugh as Richie’s eyes landed on yours, before motioning towards the kitchen, “would you like some wine?”

Richie shrugged off his jacket, neatly placing it on the arm of the couch as he licked at the corner of his mouth, with a nod, “Thank you, beautiful - y’need me to open it or?”

“If you don’t mind,” you accepted, your stomach turning in excitement as Richie approached you, sliding his warm hand across the side of your waist as he made his way into the kitchen.

-

Richie grabbed ahold on the wine bottle, gripping it by its neck as you leaned your back against the kitchen counter, “Y’like white wine?” He questioned, pretending to be engrossed in the cheap bottle.

“Red gives me headaches,” you spoke.

“Depends on the type you get.” Richie quipped, not missing how your hand gripped the edge of the counter.

Richie was slowly drifting off into the deep end - the tension-thick air becoming too much as he stood before you, huffing out a breath as he reached over you to open the refrigerator, sliding the bottle inside, before pushing the door closed.

Now face-to-face with you, Richie keeps his eyes directly on yours, “Tell me, where’s your head at, sweetheart,” he questioned, the tips of your noses ghosting against each other as you shrugged.

“Can-can I touch you?” You asked, your voice coming out as a whisper as you lifted your head, inching your lips closer to his.

“I’m yours, I already told you that, baby.”

And Richie meant every single word.

You nodded, “then can you touch me?”

Richie nodded, bringing his hands to your waist, smoothing his hands against your skin, before lifting you onto the counter, allowing his hands to cup your face, “tell me if it’s too much and I’ll stop, I fuckin’ swear I’ll stop, baby,” he spoke, his raspy voice needy and hoarse as his eyes search yours for any signs of displeasure.

-

With that, Richie’s warm lips were on yours, the kiss warm, wet, and hungry as you both moaned into it. Richie’s scent of musky cologne and faint cigarette smoke sent you into a daze, a whimper sneaking past your lips as Richie’s tongue slid against yours. The rough hair of Richie’s beard deliciously scratched at your lips as he adjusted himself, deepening the kiss even further, pushing you farther back onto the counter, any further and Richie would be climbing onto the counter himself.

A gasp left the two of you’s lips as you both caught your breath before you hooked your leg around Richie’s slim waist, pulling him in closer with a throaty moan. Richie’s calloused hand slightly tightened around your throat as he groaned into your mouth, the sensation of your nails accidentally scratching at the side of his neck becoming all too good to him.

Without breaking the kiss, Richie hiked your other leg around his waist, swiftly wrapping his free arm around you as he pulled you into his chest, carrying you over to your dining table.

Richie pulls away from you, feeling a faint pang in his chest as you pouted, “I know, baby, just lay back for me, I need to fuckin’ taste you,” he pleaded, pulling you in for one more quick kiss, before you laid back against the cold glass surface of the table.

A short gasp left your lips as your back arched, the frigid glass singing your skin through the thin mesh of your nightgown, “fuck,” you muttered.

Richie’s hands were quick to lift the hem of your nightgown, allowing the mesh to bunch up at your waist as he tapped your legs, silently beckoning you to spread them as you complied.

“Fuck, so fuckin’ pretty,” He smiled, pulling you closer to the edge of the table, before lowering his head between your thighs and pressing a wet kiss to your panty-covered pussy.

Richie presses another kiss to you, before sliding your underwear down your legs and allowing them to fall to the floor, a groan leaving his lips as he raised one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, kissing your inner thigh with open-mouthed kisses before making his way back down to your aching pussy.

Pressing his tongue flat against your wetness, Richie took a long and greedy lick up your folds, repeating this a couple more times, before sticking his warm and taut tongue inside of you.

“Fuck, Richie,” you breathed out, trying to grab at the completely smooth glass surface of the table as he stuck his tongue inside of you once, more, pushing himself deeper with a moan.

Richie had you right where he wanted you. And fuck, eating you out his new favorite hobby.

Richie was disgustingly greedy with you, the mixture of your slick wetness and his saliva coating his beard as he slurped away at your pulsing clit, your hoarse moans like music to his ears as he continued to lap away at you, the hand that held your leg over his shoulder now moving towards your core.

“Keep going, please, don’t st-”

Your whines fade into a gasp as Richie slides his index finger into you, the squelch of his finger enclosed in your walls sending you into a frenzy as Richie pulls his glistening face away from between your legs. Your mouth is hung open as Richie begins to thrust his finger at an agonizingly slow pace.

Taking in the wet sound of your pussy taking in his finger, Richie leans over you, his free hand now gripping your throat as he leans his forehead against yours, “M’gonna put another one in baby, just keep - fuck, just keep those pretty fuckin’ eyes on me, okay?” Richie speaks, his voice deliciously low as you nod feverishly, your nails scratching at the table.

“I-It feels so good, Richie, fuck,” you cried, your hoarse voice struggling against Richie’s grip on your throat.

Nevertheless, you did what you were told. You kept your eyes on Richie’s as he pulled his finger out of you, quickly re-entering you with both his index fingers as he pushed them all the way inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, you’re doing so fuckin’ good, baby,” Richie moaned, watching closely as you fought to keep your eyes on his.

Richie’s fingers quickened their pace inside of you, the lewd sounds of how wet you were, coupled with the ferocity of his skilled fingers leaving Richie wanting nothing more than to make you cum.

“Richie, I-I’m gon-”

“I know, baby, I know, I got you,” Richie cooed, maintaining the quick and hard pace of his fingers as he sloppily kissed you, keeping his forehead against yours as your eyelids became dangerously heavy.

“I’m so fucking close - so fucking close,” you moaned, your vision growing hazy as Richie hummed.

“You’re so fuckin’ close, I can feel it, baby.”

Richie’s hand moved from around your throat, to cradle the back of your head, forcing your to keep your focus on him as he curved his fingers inside of you, hitting that deliciously sweet spot, over and over again, until you let out a throaty cry. Richie quickly kissed you, his finger working you through your orgasm as you cried into his mouth.

Richie slowed his fingers to a gradual stop, allowing you to ride out your orgasm against his hand as you came down from your high. Your breaths were choppy and uneven as you tried to regain your composure.

Your pupils were blown, eyes wild as Richie took in your post-orgasmic appearance, so he decided he'd test the waters, bringing his/lips to your ear, “open,” he commanded, a burst of pride sweeping inside of his chest as he watched you close your swollen lips around his fingers.

You sucked softly, your strained eyes never leaving Richie’s as you gently pulled his now dry fingers out of your compliant mouth.

Richie couldn't wait to fully have his way with you, hell, in this moment even he knew that you had him wrapped around your finger. You did so good for him.

The two of you sat in silence, after Richie carried you to your bedroom, Richie standing between your legs, leaning over you as you pecked his lips, “You can stay the night, if you want,” you offered sweetly.

-

Richie was all yours and he understood that, one-hundred percent. How could he say no to those eyes, those same eyes that soaked his in as you came to a climax, how could he say no to you?

“Y’want me to stay?” He prodded.

You smiled, kissing the pendant of his gold chain that hung in front of you, “I want you to stay.”

Richie groaned, gently grabbing your chin between his thumb and index finger, “alright, then you got me, baby,” he agreed, pressing his lips to your forehead, softly cradling the back of your head.

You weren’t sure what this would mean for your relationship, moving forward. Hell, Richie wasn’t even sure what this meant, but he knew that he wanted you, every part of you, he’d just hoped that you wanted all of him too.

-

i hope you all enjoyed part three - now things are going to finally get fun <3

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Save it For a Rainy Day

Week #9 Prompt: Where It All Started | Word Count: 1950 | Rating: T | POV: Wayne | Characters: Wayne, Eddie, Steve | Pairings: Wayne & Eddie, Steddie | CW: Eddie's Rough Start in Life, Parental Neglect, Language, S4 Canon | Tags: Good Uncle Wayne Munson, Taking in Eddie, Eddie and Steve Meet as Kids, Haircuts and Swimming Playdates, Fix-It, Happy Ending

He's so little. 

That's the only thought Wayne has, over and over again. He's so goddamn little. With lank, limp hair, all snarled and knotted, matted. Unkempt. Dirty. Dark circles under his sullen eyes. He's small, but at the same time he looks every bit of a hardened fifty-five, at all of seven-years-old.

He didn't look like that the last time Wayne had seen him. 

And Wayne is sick that he's deteriorated to this point, in just two years time. At five, he had been a happy, wild boy. All snips, snails and puppy dog tails. 

With a loud mouth and big, round cheeks.

Al swore he was fine, that they both were, on the rare occasions when he'd call after losing Betts and Wayne had believed him. Until the social worker was on his front steps, Eddie standing there, head bowed, so utterly serious.

"Do you want me to find someone to try and comb it out, or would you like to shave it and start over?" Wayne asks, and Eddie just shrugs. Still not talking, still buried deep within his shell.

Wayne's not going to decide for him. Thinks it should be his decision, but knows it can't stay like this either, even if he doesn't have it in him to start dragging a comb through it. He knows that'll hurt, and he can't do it to Eddie. Won't. 

"When you decide, you let me know," Wayne says, hoping he'll decide sooner rather than later.

It takes three days, but Eddie finally comes up behind Wayne on the couch, and taps him on the shoulder, and makes the motion for shaving his head.

"Okay, I'll get you an appointment," Wayne tells him, because he wants to do this right, and not leave Eddie with the memory of Wayne shaving his head in the kitchen of the trailer. Maybe that's cowardly, but he'd rather push that off on a professional. 

Eddie is sitting on the little wooden board the hairdresser placed over the arms of her chair to make him taller, the hydraulic lift hadn't even been enough to get him where she needed him, and he somehow still looks little.

She gently, oh so gently, takes the clippers to Eddie's hair, shaving off strips, as she talks him through each pass. Eddie seems fine with it, there are no tears, but no smiles either.

This was the right call. A beauty shop, not a barber. Wayne's own barber does just fine on his own hair, but wouldn't have been so delicate with Eddie, and right now, Wayne's pretty sure his boy needs a soft touch.

There's another boy in the chair next to Eddie, probably the same age, but he's so much larger, and more animated. Studying every move of her hand as she barely trims anything off his thick head of hair. He doesn't need the booster board, even if Wayne suspects he's younger than Eddie.

"Nanny Louisa, can I get my haircut like that?"

She laughs, "Steve. Your mother would have both of our hides. We all have very strict orders for your haircut and you know it." 

"Aw, man, it looks so cool," Steve whines, and if Wayne isn't mistaken, that's Richard Harrington's boy. And if that's true, there's no way he's leaving here with his head shaved, that's for damn sure.

And then, as if it were a miracle, Eddie smiles. It's small, faint, barely there. But it's a goddamn smile, aimed at the other little boy that is watching as Eddie's hair falls down all around his chair and onto the floor.

The Harrington boy doesn't win, and only gets a trim, but Eddie has straightened up on the board. Not nearly as withdrawn as he was when they entered the shop.

Maybe shedding all that damaged hair feels like a new start. Wayne sure hopes so, because they're gonna need all the help they can get.

When he's all brushed off, and the plastic cape removed, the hairdressers each hand Eddie and the Harrington boy a coupon for a free ice cream cone at the shop down on the corner. It's a perk for being good in the chair, and they both earned it today.

Eddie clutches his coupon in his little hands.

"Do you want to save that, or get it now?" Wayne asks, and Eddie looks torn. That isn't the look Wayne wants on his face, so he quickly amends his question, "Or both? You can save your coupon for a rainy day, and we can still get ice cream now," Wayne offers.

"Really?" Eddie says, looking so hopeful, and it's the most beautiful word Wayne's ever heard in his whole life.

"Really," he reassures, "you save it until you want to use it. And I'll buy, today."

"Can we go get ice cream, too, Nanny Louisa?" the Harrington boy asks, and she looks reluctant, but finally nods. She couldn't let him get his head shaved, but ice cream, that's probably a much more doable request.

Wayne sits at the table with Louisa and makes the world's most uncomfortable small talk, as the boys sit at another table together, and jabber back and forth. Well, Steve is doing most of the talking, but Eddie, his sweet Eddie, has said more in the past thirty minutes than he has in the past week, and Wayne doesn't care who has gotten those words out of him, he'll be grateful. 

When the cones are gone, both boys appear at the side of the table, "Eddie's coming over tomorrow to swim," Steve announces. 

"Oh, is he?" his nanny asks, teasing Steve, and Wayne smiles. 

"He is. His uncle will bring him," Steve says with a confidence that things will always go his way in life, and Wayne hopes that rubs off on Eddie, just a little bit.

"I will?" Wayne teases, and Eddie meets his eyes, and Wayne nods. "If it's okay with Miss Louisa, I think that could be arranged."

"I don't know how to swim," Eddie admits on the way home, and Wayne laughs.

"Maybe you shouldn't have made a swimming playdate then, kid," Wayne teases, and Eddie laughs, a small quiet laugh. But it was a laugh. Wayne heard it.

"Yeah," Eddie says, and then he's quiet for a stretch, "could you teach me?"

Wayne isn't so sure that's his area of expertise, but he supposes he could try, "Yeah, I can try."

Knowing Eddie would be far too embarrassed to go to the public pool, Wayne takes Eddie out to the swimming side of Lover's Lake.

Wayne, not sure the last time he's even been in shorts, wades out in the water in his cut-off jeans, surely blinding the boaters a mile out with his white legs, as Eddie walks in beside him.

And Wayne teaches him, always staying within an arm's reach. And Eddie swims. It might not be the fancy strokes that the Harrington boy can surely swim, in his private pool with his private swimming lessons. 

But Eddie's doing it, and Wayne feels like maybe, just maybe, he's finally done something right for the kid today.

Eddie's laughing, and splashing, a quick study, and Wayne lets him paddle around for as long as he wants, until the sun threatens to sink beyond the horizon. 

Once back on shore, Wayne wraps him up in a towel, just one from the house, and gets him back into the truck.

"I'm starving," Eddie says.

"The downside to going swimming, I'm afraid," Wayne answers, but swings by Benny's Burgers on the way home, getting them both a burger, fries and a milkshake. Ice cream twice in one day is fine, Wayne's pretty sure, since Wayne's celebrating the first good day they've had since Eddie got here.

Anything the kid wants, forever, Wayne will do his best to make happen.

In the morning, Wayne brings Eddie by Melvald's General Store, to let Eddie pick out a beach towel from the rack. Eddie combs through them, so serious as he checks out the options: Star Wars and Barbie and Huckleberry Hound.

"Garfield!" Eddie finally declares, and Wayne supposes that's the one. 

"Garfield, great choice," Wayne says, taking the towel to the counter so they can pay for it. So Eddie won't be embarrassed bringing a fraying old towel from home. So he'll have something new, and fun, that he picked out all for himself. 

Wayne probably should have washed it first, but he's not that organized, and Eddie'll live. Wayne pulls off the tag and hands it over, and Eddie hugs it to his chest.

Pulling into the circle drive at the Harrington's is weird, to say the least. He's never set foot on the property, and never imagined he ever would. But, Eddie's brought a lot of changes, and if Eddie likes this other little boy, and he's kind, Wayne will be polite and make his boy happy in any way he knows how.

That evening, when he picks Eddie up, he's tired, and a little sunburnt, but rattling off information about his new friend and all their grand plans for the summer vacation.

And as time always goes, that summer flew by too fast, and before Wayne knew it, years had passed. The boys drifted apart as fast as they became friends. As kids do. By high school, Wayne hasn't heard the name Steve Harrington from Eddie's mouth in years. 

But that summer, that first summer, Wayne will forever be grateful for him. For Steve Harrington, Garfield beach towels, and more ice cream cones than he could ever begin to count. To swimming, and fishing, and playing in the backyard. 

To the little kid that made his boy smile again.

And when Steve Harrington, now grown into a man, shows up on Wayne's doorstep, Eddie's denim vest clutched in his hands, filthy and blood-stained, Wayne lets him inside without a word. 

Wayne takes one look at him, and tells him to wait there. 

He has to dig, but he finally finds Eddie's piggy bank in a cardboard box that he'd packed from the remnants of the trailer, and pulls out the bottom plug. Change falls out, clattering onto the desk. 

But inside, there's a slip of paper. Folded to fit, and dirty from spending so much time hanging out amongst the coins.

Wayne clutches it in his hand, and when he presses it into Steve's palm, trading him for the vest, Steve looks down at it, his eyes wet and red-rimmed.

Wayne starts, "I don't know if you remember-"

"Of course I remember," Steve cuts him off. 

"Well, I thought today might be that rainy day."

Steve laughs, and sniffles a little, both at the same time.

"This ice cream shop has been closed for years," Steve says, but he's finally smiling, just a little. 

Eddie's not here to do it himself, not here to coax out that smile, so Wayne's repaid the debt for Eddie himself. 

"Yeah, well…" Wayne trails off.

"But it is, you know," Steve says, "that rainy day. So, thank you."

And months later, Eddie shows up on Wayne's doorstep again. Dirty, his hair matted, and eyes downcast. Thin, worn to the bone, and as silent and stoic as he had been at seven. Wayne asks no questions. The answers don't matter right now. Instead, he pulls on him, hugging him tight, welcoming him home.

They've done this before, and they can do it again. And Wayne's grateful to have the opportunity. He was so sure he'd never see him again.

Then, after Wayne's gotten Eddie settled, and Eddie is standing in front of the bathroom mirror, combing out his own hair, Wayne excuses himself, heading for the kitchen to call Steve Harrington.

Wayne tells him to bring ice cream.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

[angel-kyo]

Pay it no mind

Part XXVIII

In which reader confesses their feelings to Gojo, but it seems these are not returned (maybe?).

Warnings: reader is on the receiving end of rejection (kinda), and the fact that I'm obsessed with unrequited love is a warning itself. Firearms, injuries and blood are mentioned.

Previous: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV, Part V, Part VI, Part VII, Part VIII, Part IX, Part X, Part XI, Part XII, Part XIII, Part IV, Part XV, Part XVI, Part XVII, Part XVIII, Part XIX, Part XX, Part XXI, Part XXII, Part XXIII, Part XXIV, Part XXV, Part XXVI, Part XXVII

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Onoda Asahi had been a sorcerer what he liked to call a couple lives ago. He had left that world to have a normal job but ended up in the wrong side of the tax law. Sooner rather than later, the corporate life stopped fitting him.

He had then found a job that allowed him to keep a low profile. The only problem was that the salary was just as low. So, he had resorted to do some questionable jobs for anyone who could pay the right price.

When someone from his old life as a sorcerer had contacted him to get rid of a certain nuisance for a decent amount, he had accepted in a heartbeat.

“You can take out a curse but not a human?” Onoda asked to the man who had summoned him. “That’s some strange morality, alright.”

“You’re one to lecture.” The man took an envelope out of his haori and gracefully put it on the table. “If you must know, it is not about the when and the who takes them out, but the why. Their death cannot be linked to us.”

He looked at your finally immobilized form on the floor.

His employer informed him of your upcoming promotion to grade one, and the kind of missions you were taking. His role would be simple. He was just going to activate his technique, which could debilitate a target of his choice if it was within range, from somewhere near your battle.

A strong curse and a sorcerer who was not at their full potential; it was an easy equation. It would be another work accident.

Except that he kept failing. Without knowing the specifics of the curse you were fighting, he had been activating his technique intermittently in the areas where he has been informed you would be, but he could not keep it up for prolonged periods of time without being noticed, and he would not get too close to the battlefield for the same reason. As such, he had not been able to time his debilitating technique with the exact second when you may receive a fatal blow.

How did he know that? Because you were still alive and kicking.

The man who asked him to tail your missions had been clear to state that when did not matter much. In fact, it would be suspicious if an obviously planned attack happened that season. That is why it had to look like an accident.

“Half now, half when we get notice of their demise, whenever that is.” The man slid the envelope in his direction and stood up, straightening his haori. “But remember, Onoda, sooner is better than later.”

And he could not agree more, especially if half of his payment was still pending. So, if sabotaging your assignments would not work, he would try the direct approach.

That is how he had gotten into your apartment. He would end things there cleanly. However, when he heard you in the hall calling someone because you did not have your keys, and he opened the door discreetly so you would come in, he admittedly thought that would make you suspicious and this plan would not work either.

Onoda walked to the side of the room where his gun had landed after you kicked it out of his hand. He had hesitated to use his technique in your apartment because of the residuals and all. If a sorcerer came over, it would ruin the narrative of a-robbery-gone-wrong he had wanted to build.

A thief who thought the owner was not home, surprised in the middle of the night, gets scared and shoots once -no, twice- before running away.

He thought it was a believable story. Newspapers where full of those.

Of course, that fell out when the first and second shots had missed their target and not gone through your head as he had planned. He must have impacted somewhere else though, because there where bloodstains on the floor.

He picked up the gun and eyed your unconscious form.

He still had a bullet left.

Activating his technique as a shock instead of a field had allowed him to fightback and hit your head. If he left you there, bleeding and unlikely to wake up any time soon, maybe you would be dead in the morning, and he would get his paycheck in the afternoon.

If he shot you once more, he would make sure.

That was what he was going to do when he noticed a little girl standing at your doorway, looking at you.

“Your cat is on my window,” she said.

Onoda thought maybe the girl had been awaken by the racket of the fight. He had put a silencer on the gun as to not wake up your neighbors, but whatever the reason, what was a little girl doing by herself outside of her home at this hour?

“Are they sleeping?” the question was then directed to him with a curious look. That was not the man she had seen around before nor the homewrecker with white hair her mother had told her to stay away from, and why where you sleeping on the floor?

Onoda realized he had not much choice. The girl was probably too young to understand what was going on, but she had seen him, and that was an issue.

Suddenly, he decided that last bullet would have a different use.

***

It was past 1:30 a.m. when Nitta tried to park near your building.

She had returned to give back your keys, which she had found on the backseat of the car. She knew they were yours because she had not driven around anyone else that night, but when she had called to let you know she was on her way back, you had not answered your phone.

I need to be better at this, Nitta thought, I should have noticed they had left the keys there sooner.

She guessed that in the worst-case scenario she would find you sitting outside your door, but what she found was a police car outside your building and a group of people in the street.

When she stepped closer, Nitta heard a frantic woman speaking to an officer and understood what the commotion was about.

Someone had been shot in the building. The floor had been evacuated as a preventive measure, although the woman's daughter, the only person who had seen the suspect, had said the man had shot the lights off and escaped through the balcony. It was the girl’s scream at that what had woken up her mother, and she had found her neighbor unconscious and wounded. All officers in the area had already been alerted to look out for a shooter.

“Who was the victim?” Nitta asked to a man standing nearby.

“The occupant of the 101,” the man responded without paying much attention to her, his focus on the surroundings, as if waiting for someone to open fire from the dark. “I think they…”

Nitta was momentarily too shocked to continue listening to what the man said next, because she remembered all the relevant addresses that were given to her, including those of the sorcerers that she assisted on the regular, and she knew the set of keys she was holding was likely to include the key that opened the door to the 101.

***

“Gojo?” Ieiri’s voice was calling him from his phone, but he could not bring himself to say anything. “Gojo, are you still there? Did you hear what I said?”

He had. In fact, that had been the last thing he heard before the world went awfully silent for a second, and he felt his legs and arms going numb, as if all the blood in his body had been redirected to his heart so it could take the news Shoko had just delivered to him. Then Shoko’s voice had distorted like a breaking line.

[name]… Shot… Hospital… Major blood loss… Surgery… “You should come,” Shoko’s voice was firm but compassionate in that professional tone Satoru thought doctors surely had to be taught to use when acting as the messengers of bad news.

Early in the days you had started taking solo missions in your graduating year, you had sometimes returned wounded, and it had been Shoko’s job to patch you up and call Satoru to pick you up.

“Gojo, you should come. [name] did something silly again and needs to be carried to their room,” Ieiri said, a teasing smile forming on her face while she looked at you.

“I do not!” your shouted in the background.

But now there was something else in that tone that made Satoru feel like the ground was shifting beneath him, some genuine worry he did not like, because what if Shoko was not asking him to come and take you home but to come and say goodbye?

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

Note: I'll leave this here and go back to hiding slowly...

Thank you for reading!

Next: Part XXIX

@mavs-stuff @witchbybirth @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @tqd4455 @maybe-a-bi-witch @mo0nforme @maliakealoha @zacatecanaaaa @blushhpeachh @astriarose @missesgojosatoru @ba-ks @sukunasleftkneecap @songbirdlully @cole-silas @heijihattorisgf @chokesonspit @hersheyzzz @smolbeanzzz @luciledreamz @avidreadee123 @moonmalice @ratscandaler @sadmonke

[samsalami66]

Red Card Plays

Another day, another dreamling soccer au fic! Have fun reading!

Read on ao3 here!

(TW: Homophobia, Abuse, Panic Attacks)

“You’re here early.” 

Morpheus didn’t look up at the sound of Hob’s voice, too used to it by now to be startled out of his warm-up. He took a deep breath so he might answer the unspoken question which Hob asked almost every time when he found him on the pitch way before training started.

“Yes I… I wanted to get some extra training in.” It was an easy lie, almost coming naturally with how many times he had already said it. “You are early as well.”

Hob nodded as he sat down next to him, mirroring his position. 

“Oh yeah, it makes Gilbert happy when I show up early from time to time, to straighten my bad track record.” 

This, too, was familiar. Finding pretty words in order not to outright name the punishment at hand, make light of the situation one found themselves in. It was only a matter of time until Morpheus would find himself subjected to the darker side the Fiddlers surely possessed, or be faced with it through one of the other players. 

Though he hoped it would not have to be Hob, when it came to it. Morpheus had rather started to enjoy the other man’s calming presence. 

“I understand. Say, what would Gilbert do if he was unhappy with a player’s performance?” Morpheus would want to know what to expect sooner rather than later, to get an understanding of what Gilbert’s chosen ways of training were. That way he might prepare accordingly. 

“What would he do?” Hob was frowning at him, his arms crossing over his chest. “You mean outside of talking to you?”

Now, Morpheus was frowning too. Surely Hob understood that he could talk about this freely. They were teammates now after all, and perhaps even on the way of becoming something like friends. “I mean… extra training, punishments, or whatever you call it here.”

The stare Hob gave him was bordering on worry. “Dream” he started, slowly. “What did Roderick do, when he was unhappy with your performance?”

Weird question, but alright.

“The usual?” When Hob just kept staring at him, Morpheus continued with a roll of his eyes. “Running until collapsing, no water for the day, sometimes he got out the cane.”

Hob’s stare turned dark at his words, his jaw tensed and he took a deep breath. 

“Burgess abused you?”

“What? No!” It was Morpheus’ turn to frown again. “No, those were just training methods, to keep us on track. How else would you ensure people keep up with it?”

“Enthusiasm? Loyalty? Adjusting the training to the players? Motivate them?”

“What motivates a player better than the fear of punishment?”

Morpheus was growing frustrated. There was no reason for Hob to be so stubborn about admitting to this. 

“Anything, Dream, literally anything else would be more motivating for a player. You left the Riggers the moment Burgess bit the dust, didn’t you?”

That. Well, that was true. But Morpheus hadn’t left the team because of that, it was just that he couldn’t stand to play there when Roderick was gone. His ghost had been everywhere, his voice constantly at the back of his mind, telling him he was doing it all wrong, that he was a burden for the team, that only he could make him worth something as a player. That was why he had left.

“Dream, love, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?”

Of course he could, there was nothing wrong with him, after all. Any player Morpheus had ever talked to (which, admittedly, were just his old teammates. They hadn’t been allowed friendship or anything similar outside of their team) experienced the same treatment and knew about these training methods, accepted them as effective, even. So of course he could look at Hob. He could even hold his gaze, even if the worry in his teammate’s eyes made his stomach clench with a feeling he could not place. 

“Nobody is going to hurt you here. Nobody, Dream,” Hob’s eyes held a seriousness Morpheus simply couldn’t understand, that did not make sense. 

“But Roderick didn’t hurt me. He disciplined me, he, he motivated me and pushed me to be better, to be the best version of myself.”

His voice was loud. Morpheus did not remember raising it, nor did he know why tears were gathering in his eyes or why he felt the need to hug his knees to his chest like a toddler. He was not some child after all, and there was no reason for this. 

“Oh, love,” It was so soft, so filled with care, and Morpheus felt the tears spill over. Arms wrapped around him, pulled him close, so that all he could feel was Hob’s warmth surrounding him as he cried. Though what for, he still wasn’t sure. 

- - - 

“How are we feeling?” 

We. It implied a shared feeling, as if emotions could be experienced conjointly. Perhaps Hob Gadling really did share worry, fear and joy with those around him. Empathetic, in a way Morpheus failed to fully understand. 

He was grateful for it now. 

Now, they were sitting, together, in Hob’s car, waiting for him to be ready to step outside and begin therapy. He was not alone. Hob was here, with him. Holding his hand. Patient, caring. Morpheus was not sure that he deserved this care, this love. Which, perhaps, was one of the reasons he was sitting here. Or at least Hob had informed him that such thoughts were deemed ‘unhealthy’. 

Morpheus could not remember a time where he had felt worthy of love. Or a time where he had been loved, the way Hob explained love was supposed to be. Unconditional. 

There had always been conditions. His mother had loved him when he did her bidding, his father when he kept quiet. Epithumia had loved him when he left their home. 

Hob said he loved Morpheus for himself, for his friendship and his character. Morpheus did not quite believe him, but perhaps he would, in time. 

So, how was he feeling?

“I am. Afraid. Of talking to this person. But I also wish to. To learn. I wish to become a better friend.” 

It was what they were, now. Friends. A baffling concept to Morpheus, that a person so caring could expand their care to him of all people. But he did. And Morpheus was thankful for it. 

Hob grasped his hand and squeezed it tightly, the action grounding him.

“Being afraid of this is the most natural thing, love. I was so nauseous the first time I came here I almost turned around and went back home.” It didn’t sound like a bad idea at all, and Morpheus said so. Hob squeezed his hand again with a soft smile. “If you really don’t want to go, we can turn around and reschedule. We will do this in your time, however long it takes.”

“You would leave, now? When we are already here? When all I have to do is step out of your car and into the building?” It would be an inconvenience. It would mean doing it all over again, driving into the city and spending hours in his presence. Things nobody would want to do, not voluntarily. 

“Of course I would, Dream. These things can’t be rushed. If you aren’t ready, it doesn’t need to happen today.”

Morpheus nodded, once, before taking a deep breath. Hob was not like the people he had known so far. He knew this. 

“You will be here?”

“Awaiting your return, my friend.”

Another deep breath, another nod, and Morpheus pushed the door of the car open and made his way inside, knowing that Hob would be there. Just like he promised. 

- - - 

An hour later, almost on the dot, Morpheus stepped back out of the building, feeling like a single touch might break him apart. Hob had tried to warn him that there would be a lot of feelings he wouldn’t understand, and wouldn't be able to place. Never had Morpheus felt so out of his depth, like his skin didn’t fit quite right anymore and his mind was not his own. 

But that was alright. Because Hob was there. Waiting, just as he had promised. Even if Morpheus didn’t feel like he knew himself anymore, Hob was waiting, patient, just like he always was.

Morpheus wanted to hug him, to be held, so he wouldn’t feel like he might shatter apart anymore. But at the same time touch felt impossible, the very idea made his skin crawl like a hundred ants were trapped in his veins. He wasn’t sure what to do about it, so he did not do anything, except open the passenger side to Hob’s car. 

And there, on his seat, was a… a toy. A plushie. A fox-plushie, to be exact, large red ears with black tips, a very fluffy tail and black button eyes. It was… cute. It looked like something his younger self would have loved to own, something he would have paraded around as his favourite possession.  

“A little surprise, for being brave enough to walk in there,” said Hob, his voice soft as he leaned towards the other seat so Morpheus could see him. He was smiling, pride clear in his eyes, and Morpheus could feel himself blush. It had been a long time since someone had last told him they were proud of him, longer still since he had been given a gift for doing something right. He must have been silent for a moment too long, missing the time it was socially acceptable to answer, because Hob was looking at him apologetically and reached for the plushie. “Sorry, I thought it was a good idea, but it’s childish, really, you don’t have to-”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Morpheus snatched the fox away from him and held it close to his chest, suddenly protective over the toy. 

“A gift from my only friend could never be childish, Robert.” Morpheus huffed, his eyes narrowed playfully at the other man. Teasing was still unfamiliar to him, but he believed himself to be finally getting the hang of it. “Also, don’t disrespect Gerhard the Great like that. He detests being called a children’s toy.”

His teasing must have worked, as Hob barked out a laugh at the name he had given the fox, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I wouldn’t dare! Gerhard the Great deserves all the respect I can offer. As do you, my friend.”

When Hob said ‘friend’, it sounded like a lot of things. ‘My king’, ‘My Lord’, ‘My Love’. It was never just one thing. Friend, for this man, meant everything. Morpheus doubted that Hob would stop calling his partner his friend, or that he could ever have a partner who was not also his friend. It was a weird thing to know so early on in their acquaintance, but Hob was an open book about these things. 

Hob’s openness calmed Morpheus, made it easy to trust him. And so far, his trust had only been well-placed. The fox in his arms was just another reminder of the great man Hob Gadling was. He wouldn’t judge or harm him. The only thing Hob knew to do was to care and protect. 

He had cared enough to know Morpheus would feel difficult about touch. And he had cared enough to think further, to find a solution Morpheus would have never thought of himself. 

And so, Morpheus slid easily into the passenger seat, with Gerhard the Great resting safely on his lap and one hand playing with his ears. 

“Could I tell you what I talked about with Lydia, in the past hour?”

“Of course! Whatever you want to talk about, my friend, I’m happy to listen.”

- - - 

Autism and ADHD had not been the diagnoses Morpheus had expected to get first, considering all the problems he had come to realise he had. But, as it was, Lydia had handed him books on both topics only about a month after he started therapy, and the more he read about the disorders, the more he began to see why they hadn’t been particularly hard diagnoses to make. Perhaps the fact that he was never able to stop playing around with the tissue boxes that were strategically placed around the room had been a sign. Or that he had to cover his ears from the sound of the fan and had been seconds away from what Lydia had called a ‘meltdown’, because the sound had felt like someone was scraping his brain with sandpaper. 

Perhaps, if Morpheus had had access to these books earlier, he would have noticed that he was different a lot sooner. He understood now that arguments with his old teammates had often sprouted from misunderstandings and an inability on his side to communicate his problems. Though they hadn’t been the best human beings either, so they probably wouldn’t have listened to him about his problems anyway. 

But Lydia said that he would have to try it with the Fiddlers in order to know if they were the same. Morpheus didn’t know why anyone would want to accommodate his problems, especially when he could simply push through them and pretend nothing was wrong, like he had done his whole life. Unhealthy, Lydia would chide him. He began to understand where Hob got that word from. 

He, too, said a similar thing after all, when Morpheus told him about that week’s session. It’s unhealthy to go about your whole life masking, he had said. Morpheus hadn’t known what ‘masking’ was supposed to be at that point, but he had nodded along like he understood. Whenever something is making you feel uncomfortable, just tell us, yeah? Promise we will try to help. And that had been it. 

Honestly, Hob hadn’t seemed particularly surprised about the diagnoses either. Perhaps Morpheus hadn’t been doing as well at hiding his problems as he had previously thought. 

But even with Hob’s reassurance and the fact that nothing between them or the team seemed to change after the diagnoses, it still took Morpheus another month to voice a matter of discomfort to them. Old habits die hard, after all. 

It was a Saturday and the team was getting ready for Drink Night, as was customary for them. Morpheus had been staying at Hob’s place, as he often did these days. They would watch movies or prepare dinner together on Friday nights. It was a comfortable routine, especially when Drink Night was always held at the New Inn and they simply had to walk down a flight of stairs to get there. They had their corner booth reserved every week, the bartender and waiters knew them all by name and were close friends of Hob’s, who was also the owner of the pub. If it ever became too crowded or loud for him, Morpheus would simply excuse himself to Hob’s flat. 

It was a comfortable routine. One Morpheus was not very inclined to break. 

But this Saturday, the team wanted to celebrate the opening of a new place around town. It was so new, there were no reviews or pictures online. No menu. It would be on the other side of London, far away from any of their homes, and they might have to stand in a queue in order to get in, if they would even get in all together. 

Morpheus was… slightly uncomfortable at the idea. 

“You look like your spine might snap with how tense you are.” Well, perhaps it was more than slight discomfort. Or Hob was simply getting too perceptive. Either way, he has been called out and was not feeling particularly great about it. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to deflect, but Hob was having none of it. His hands came up to massage Morpheus’ shoulders, turning him into jelly with his strong fingers digging into Morpheus’ tense muscles. 

“I can see that you’re not. Tell me what’s up so we can find a way to fix it.” 

Hob made it sound so easy. As if Morpheus just had to say the word and he would make it happen, no matter what the request was. Perhaps he would. 

Morpheus realised he wanted to find out. 

“I do not wish to go to another pub today.” He answered quietly, eyes closed and focusing on Hob’s touch, grounding him. “I fear getting… overstimulated by the surroundings and unknown parameters and not having a place to withdraw to. And I… I enjoy spending time at The New Inn.” It was a slow explanation, halting and awkward, for Morpheus was still unused to voicing his feelings in this manner. But it was easier with Hob at his back, and the knowledge that he would never be judged by this man. When he finished his explanation, the hands on his shoulders disappeared so that arms could circle around his waist and pull him into a hug. Hob was warm and solid behind him, and Morpheus felt safe like this, safe to voice any and all of his concerns. 

“Thank you for telling me, Dream. I’m so proud of you.” Warmth he wasn’t quite certain he deserved to feel swelled in Morpheus’ chest at the words, at the knowledge of having made his friend proud. “Let’s text the others to meet us here instead, yeah?”

Telling the other team members felt scarier than telling Hob, but Morpheus thought he could do anything with Hob holding him close like this. 

“Very well.” He murmured, and Hob’s arms left his body in search of his phone. Morpheus knew it was in the bathroom, where Hob had been shaving a few minutes prior and upon telling him so, he received a kiss to the cheek from his friend. 

“What would I do without you?”

It was a good question, though Morpheus felt he should be the one asking it. He answered nonetheless, but really it was more for himself than Hob. 

“I don’t know, Hob. I don’t know what I would do.”

- - - 

As the beginning of the season approached, Morpheus began to talk more with Lydia about how this time was different from how it had been at Fawney Rig. 

The overall mood of the Fiddlers did not change much as the first match drew nearer. They were growing excited, more active at training, but not really stressed or anxious. The daily talks with Gilbert seemed to help them a lot, hearing that he believed in them to play a fantastic season and could see they were coming together well as a team. 

In contrast to that, Morpheus remembered nothing but fear around the same time last year. The Riggers had been agitated, frightened of the threats Roderick would throw their way the moment he laid eyes on them. They had known that a lost match would mean punishment, that they would have to double their efforts in training and halve their hours of sleep for the weeks to come in order to placate their coach. And even then, they would get the cane. 

Apparently, a safer environment did not immediately erase years of abuse (and wasn’t it a weird thing to finally accept Roderick’s behaviour for what it had been). 

But it helped, to be able to talk about his fears with Lydia, and, later, with Hob. They had even convinced him to talk to Gilbert about it, who had pulled him into a tight hug after his explanation. On all accounts, the team and Lydia were doing their absolute best to reassure Morpheus that failure was alright and that it would not end in punishment or disappointment. Nobody would think less of him if they lost. 

And yet, when the first match approached, Morpheus found himself pacing the locker rooms, his hands shaking and mind racing. He couldn’t lose this match. It was not only the first of the season, but his first as a player for the Fiddlers, his first chance to prove himself as valuable to the team. 

What would happen if he fucked this up? What would the others think of him if he couldn’t manage to win their first game? Would Gilbert think his trust had been misplaced? That he hadn’t been worth the money of the transfer? 

“Dream?” Hob’s voice called, and unlike usual, it brought forth fear instead of warmth (which only made Morpheus feel worse, for Hob did not deserve to be feared). “Are you coming? We’re about to go on the pitch.”

He wanted to say no, that he was about to throw up or scream or pull out his own hair with how afraid he was. But there was no time left, the point of saying something long past, and so Morpheus simply nodded and followed his friend. 

Hob was perceptive as always, throwing him worried glances as they stood in line in front of the stairs to the pitch. The others were talking animatedly to the opposing team, cracking jokes and wishing them luck, but Morpheus couldn’t help but keep to himself and hide slightly behind Hob from the cameras. The public didn’t need to see just how nervous he was. Thankfully, Hob picked up on it quickly and moved to fully shield him from their view, taking one of his hands into his own and squeezing it tightly. 

“You will do just fine, Dream. I know you will.” It was a whisper, only meant for Morpheus’ ears. 

“What if I don’t?”

“Then you have given your best and will try again next time.”

Morpheus huffed, disbelieving. “I do not believe that that would be the end of it.” 

It looked like Hob was about to respond, but he was interrupted by the announcement that the players would now enter the pitch. The time for talking was over. 

For the most part, the match went alright. Hob shot an early goal, grinning wide as the crowd erupted into cheers. He bowed and threw them kisses, as was his custom, and Morpheus now understood that there was no arrogance behind that celebration, but genuine love and adoration for his fans. He had never understood it, because the Riggers’ fans had been similarly horrible to the players. They had always hated him, but it got worse after Roderick told the world about his sexuality. After that he would have food and sometimes flares thrown at him from the stands, booing from the crowd whenever he shot a goal. Morpheus couldn’t remember a single time fans cheered for him. 

Perhaps if he proved himself with the Fiddlers, the fans would start tolerating him, cheering for him. 

But for that, Morpheus had to score. 

He tried everything, every single trick up his sleeve, but the ball never found its goal. The goalkeeper was good, too good, and with every goal Morpheus failed to score his desperation grew. This was not how it usually went. He was better than this, he was so much better. But it seemed like he wasn’t good enough to win them this match. 

Ten minutes before the end, the opposing team scored the equaliser. 

Five minutes later and they were leading. 

There was nothing Morpheus could do anymore. His last shot went sailing over the goal, a pathetic attempt overall. And then it was over. The referee announced the end of the match, and everything came crashing down. 

He was breathing too quickly, too shallow. They lost. The first game of the season, his first game for the team, and they lost. 

“Dream?” Hob’s voice was close, and so soft, but Morpheus couldn’t help flinching at the sound of it. Surely not even Hob was a good enough man to look past his miserable performance today, he would be angry or disappointed, would blame him and- and punish him- “Dream, love, please look at me. Everything will be alright, just look at me, yeah?”

He couldn’t ignore Hob. Not even when he was afraid the other man would hurt him could he deny him a request, and so he lifted his eyes to look at his friend (and in this moment, friend meant so many things. It meant ‘knight’ and ‘protector’ and ‘sun’ and ‘hope’. It meant everything). 

Hob looked sad. Worried. Morpheus wanted to take him into his arms, hold him close, but before he could say so, Hob had already pulled him in. He was too warm and smelled of sweat, but it was still Hob’s smell, Hob’s warmth, and so it was nothing but comfort to Morpheus. 

“It’s okay, love. It’s okay that we lost.” There was no stopping the tears once they started, the fear and stress crashing down on him with Hob’s words, spoken even in the face of their loss. “You did so well. I’m proud of you, okay?” 

Morpheus didn’t understand how Hob could say these things when he had every reason to be mad at him, but he was grateful for it. Even if the rest of the team didn’t react as well as him, Morpheus felt like he would be able to stand their judgement with Hob at his side. Though it was only a matter of minutes before he felt more arms around him, hands clapping on his back and shoulders. A mix of Well done, Dreamy! and Good shit, boss! reached his ears, each member of the team coming over to congratulate him. They were all in good spirits, grinning wide, and Morpheus slowly began to relax under their steady praise, the reassurance that nobody blamed him for their loss. 

But only when a soft hand reached for his shoulder with the words You did well, son, did Morpheus relax completely, hiding his face in Hob’s neck and finally breathing normally again for the first time in weeks. 

- - - 

After that first match, Morpheus was slowly growing into his role as the second offence player. Without the fear of failure weighing on his shoulders, he was able to play in a way he had never been capable of before. He had fun. 

Of course, he had always been good at football, and he had always gained a certain form of joy from seeing his skills develop and having them acknowledged. But he had never had fun playing with others. The Riggers had tolerated him for his skill, but they hadn’t played with him. None of them had been anywhere near good enough to keep up with him, even if they had tried.

Playing with the Fiddlers was different. 

Hob was incredible, he saw the game in ways Morpheus had never before considered, offered advice and tricks and actually managed to teach him things. His technical skills were great as well, though they were not nearly as precise as Morpheus’ own, which were built from hours upon hours of non-stop training and repetition, in contrast to Hob’s quick improvisational talent. He was quick at coming up with a new move, whereas Morpheus was quick at finding the right move for the right situation. By all accounts, it should come as a surprise that the two of them managed to work so well together. But after an initial period of familiarisation, they functioned like they were made to play with each other. 

Game after game they became better, weaving through the opposing team without difficulty, communicating by a single glance. It was the most fun Morpheus had ever had playing this sport. 

The fact that they won almost every game after that first one became a certainty, inevitable with the force of nature Morpheus and Hob had become. 

And the fans of Fiddler’s Green had picked up on it immediately. By the fourth game they were screaming when Morpheus scored, and by the eighth game a song erupted in the fanblock. 

Mister Sandman, bring me a Dream! Bum Bum Bum Bum, make him the cutest that I’ve ever seen!

It came as a total surprise, his nickname having apparently reached the fans, and Morpheus tried his best to hide the tears in his eyes as the people cheered at him when he waved in response. Fans were cheering at him for the first time in his career, and had even come up with a chant, all while he was having the time of his life playing for a team that supported and cared for him. 

It was as close to heaven as Morpheus thought he might get.

At least until, one game, he had to be reminded that his life was simply not like that. 

During their fourteenth match of the season, after he and Hob had scored a goal each before the break, Morpheus found himself in a one on one with one of the defenders. The man was big, bulky, and by default, slower than him. But his instincts were good, and so they were head to head for several seconds, fighting for the ball, until Morpheus gained the upper hand and was about to move past the other man. That was when he suddenly grabbed Morpheus by the shoulders and shoved him into the advertising boards, hard enough to rob him of the air in his lungs. 

Moments later, in which Morpheus was still regaining his orientation, he felt something wet hitting his face. It was… familiar, which only added to the panic he felt rising in his chest. Spitting in his face was one of Roderick’s favourite methods of degradation, whenever he had wanted to remind Morpheus of how dirty and sinful his existence was. 

“Do you think I will be outplayed by a little cocksucker?” The man was yelling, his face close enough to Morpheus’ that he could feel his breath hitting his cheek with every word. Another shove, and Morpheus was falling to the ground, his back hitting the board hard. “You won’t get away with it, little fag, because nobody here gives a shit about you. Nobody will come and help you. You’re nothing.”

Morpheus wasn’t sure when exactly the voice of the defender turned into that of Roderick, but he knew that it was his old trainer that he heard screaming at him by the end of it. Flashes of a cane were appearing at the edge of his vision, and Morpheus cowered in fear from it, trying to shield his body as much as possible and closing his eyes against it. The yelling continued, insult after insult thrown at him, all of it in the voice of a dead man. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind Morpheus heard Lydia’s voice, the words PTSD and triggers and panic attack making their way through the screams and the growing sound of his own breathing, which was getting more hectic by the second. The words were closely followed by breathe and comfort and safety and a mantra of Hob Hob Hob Hob. Morpheus tried to force them past his lips, through the gasping breaths he was taking and the sobs shaking his body. Everything would be alright if Hob was there. Hob would protect him, against Roderick and Alex and everyone else, he was safety and comfort. 

Around Morpheus, the lights were suddenly dimmed. Hands gently grasped his head, covering his ears, and another sob left his lips at the relief he suddenly felt. He hadn’t noticed how overstimulated he had become, how loud the voices around him had been and how bright the lights. The hands had to be Hob’s, because no one else had ever touched him so gently, and no one else would know that light and noise might bother him. Morpheus simply had to make sure. Concentrate on the voices he could hear, the actual voices, not that of Roderick’s ghost still pestering his mind. Between the shouts of players and fans, he could finally hear it, a soft repeating of Dream Dream Dream. When his ears registered Hob’s voice, his nose was quick to follow, noticing Hob’s smell was everywhere around him. Opening his eyes was easier then, knowing that his friend was close, and so he managed to squint into the dimmed light after blinking a few times. 

What he saw then was Hob, shirtless, holding his jersey over their heads to block out light and cameras and onlookers alike, softly repeating his name over and over again. It was just them in this little bubble, and Morpheus finally felt like he could breathe again, like the air was reaching his lungs, and so he gasped desperately for air, trying to get his breathing back under control. But finding a rhythm seemed impossible, and with every second he continued to struggle he felt himself drifting back into a panic. But then arms pulled him against a strong chest, his ear pressed to bare skin, and he could feel it rise and fall beneath him. Follow the rhythm, in and out, in and out, until he was finally breathing normally again. 

“You’re doing so well, Dream. That’s it, take your time.” Morpheus knew the sound he made upon registering Hob’s words again was embarrassing and weak and pathetic, but right that moment, he did not care about it. Hearing Hob, not only his voice but his words, had become one of his greatest comforts over the months. Everything would be alright with Hob there. 

“Hob,” he managed to whisper, and when his friend only pulled him in closer he said it again and again, until hands were running up and down his back, through his hair, and Hob was pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“I’m here, my friend. I’m here.” 

Only then did Morpheus finally feel secure enough in his breathing to move away, to look at Hob, and notice that his hand was bloody, his knuckles a deep shade of purple. 

“You’re hurt.” He frowned, cradling the hand carefully in his and turning it around for inspection. 

Hob shrugged, jostling it, and winced. 

“You should see the other guy.” A terrible response, and Morpheus made sure his facial expression told Hob so. 

“Don’t hurt yourself on my account.”

“He deserved it for being a little bitch.” Morpheus looked at his friend disapprovingly, and only received a kiss to his cheek in response, which must be wet and salty from tears. Not that Hob seemed to care about it. “I had to show him that someone does care about you, alright? That we won’t stand for homophobic bullshit, on or off the pitch.”

It shouldn’t have made warmth grow in Morpheus’ chest to hear Hob would fight to protect him, to prove his care and acceptance of him. But it was the first time someone stood up for him, and he couldn’t help but feel touched by such a display of love. He didn’t feel worth that effort and sacrifice, but couldn’t help craving it anyway. 

Of course, he said none of it. But Morpheus hoped Hob could feel it in the hug he pulled him into. “Idiot.”

His friend hummed and hugged back, not denying it, and Morpheus couldn’t help but giggle into his chest, the adrenaline of the situation coming down on him all at once. 

“Let’s get out of here?” Hob whispered after a while, and Morpheus frowned. 

“But the match isn’t over?”

“Well, I received a red for punching that douchebag, so it is for me.” Morpheus scoffed, and Hob only laughed at him for it. “And while you could totally continue here, we could also go home and finish watching Lord of the Rings.”

“You’re a tempting man, Hob Gadling.” 

A wink, eyebrow waggle and eye-roll later, Hob put his jersey back on and helped Morpheus up to his feet, from where he could make out the rest of the team standing around them. They stood in a half circle, shielding them from the other players, the cameras. Standing to protect them. Well, everyone but Cori, who was wearing Hob’s captain’s armband and standing above the guy that had attacked Morpheus, talking to the referee. The defender really did look worse than Hob, right eye swollen and nose at an awkward angle, most definitely broken. 

There was some satisfaction in seeing him writhe in pain as a medic pressed antiseptics to his face. 

But there was no time to relish it, as their movement was noticed by the team and suddenly Morpheus was enveloped in a group hug, the now familiar feeling of hands clapping his back and grabbing his shoulders grounding him like few other things could. None of the men judged him for who he was, none of them cared, and they proved it by hugging and touching him without fear, in front of everyone. The Riggers had never stood up for him, had never touched him, and had laughed at the idea of offering protection. 

The Fiddlers were nothing like them. They were a family. 

Perhaps he would heal one day, with their help. 

[billythesimp]

Hellooo! I've seen your work and i was really amazed by your work. It's just pure mwah 🤌🏻❤️

I thought you were close on request before, so when i see it finally open i was in joy like fr. (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) I have few but im gonna slow with you since im sure you also busy.

So mine is Wise (you can add any other characters) x reader (prefer fem but gn is also okay). “when he saw someone else start to flirt with you (and he is jealous).”

If not, feel free to skip this request. I completely understand. Have a nice day and make sure take care of yourself (⁠/⁠^⁠-⁠^)/❤️

How do I write a Jealous Character... Oki here I go then.

[Proceeds to then stare at the screen for another 10 minutes trying to write a jealous character]

I think he came out more overprotective then anything ;-;

Who's This Dear?

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎…

Sorry for disappearing for a bit, decided to take a break and figure out a schedule that wouldn't give me writers block oh so quickly! Also another note, I promise I'm not just a Wise account, people just love this goof! Me included!

Wise x fem!reader

𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑖𝑡…⋙

tw: OOC / Use of [Name] instead of Y/N

✦ Usually customers were not a big problem at Random Play, with the experience he had gained from being a store manager leading to him adapting to the more tougher requests and issues it came with. He keeps a calm face and offers solutions to many people's problems. And a lot of the time, they are satisfied with his care that regulars swear that Belle and Wise are some of the efficient and caring managers there are. They never get mad or yell, the handle almost every interaction with care and patience. Because of that, Wise prides himself in having gained that reputation on Sixth Street. 

✦ What he also has pride in is what a wonderful girlfriend he has working alongside them. Almost everyone they work with or know on the street know of Wise’s Girlfriend. While she may only work part time during the week, she’s made an effort in getting to know Wise’s connections and making friendly conversation with their fellow vendors on the street. Every time Wise sees her chatting up with their regulars or laughing with someone like General Chops or Master Tin, he can’t help but have his heart swell in joy that they really are such a great person and that everyone approves of them already. Really, Wise believes he scored with this one, the amount of times Belle has joked about them getting married may happen sooner rather than later. 

▿

That being said, it’s during one of the shop’s working hours that it happened. He decided to take inventory of what stock they had around the store, [Name] incharge of manning the counter as Bangboo 18 needed a well-deserved recharge. But as he was shelving some recordings, he heard the angelic laughter of his love that left him wondering just what they could have been laughing at. Peeking out the slot of the staff door, he watched as some random man leaned on the counter. He held a smug look on his face as she only waved him off, a pleasant yet confused smile on their face leaving a growing pit to form in his stomach. 

‘Who the hell is he?’

Wise straightened up his jacket before walking outside to see what they had been talking about. “Oh come now, don’t be so modest. After all, a pretty face like yours surely is what keeps this business going. Why not take a break, how about we get some lunch together after your break- eh?”

“Oh hey babe, how’s the counter treating ya?” Wise saddled up to the counter with his hand hovering over the small of their back, watching as they relaxed at his touch. “Oh- Wise! It’s been good, um. Do you know if we have this movie in stock by chance? I couldn’t find it on the system…” She tucked a hair behind her ear, smiling before letting him slide in and take a look on their small tablet holding all their movies listed in rented/overdue/in-house. The man before stepped back as he did this, slowly getting nervous. 

“Ah- yeah, I looked around and couldn’t find it. Hehe…”

“Hmm, oh [Name], you’re due for your break. I can watch things from here.” She perks up at this, smiling before asking him about sharing lunch together again. “I’m down for sandwiches- OH we could get to 141 and grab some snacks. I’ll go now actually!” With that, she entered the staff only only to return after with her purse and kissing him goodbye, waving to the stranger and wishing him luck with his movie search. 

“Hmm, sorry sir, Looks like what you’re looking for isn’t here. Could I recommend anything else for you? Perhaps something that isn’t already someone else’s property?” Wise sneers at the stranger, a kind-hearted look plastered onto his face despite the dark tone in his voice that only left the man to shiver at his work.

“Um, looks like it's not here… I’ll be going then.”

“Oh, please do.” With a wave, Wise’s closed eye smile turned into a deathly glare as he left and walked the opposite way from where [Name] had gone. Once he figured that he wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon, he let out a sigh of relief and slumped down. The one time he leaves his girlfriend alone and someone already tries to make a move on them. 

“Well that was a sight, huh?”

Belle entered from the backdoor, playfully teasing her brother as he reeled back in shock out of her sudden timing, all the while Eous runs up to his second parent and leaves comforting pats on his legs. “What happened with [Name]? I thought she was watching the front for me?” Wise sighs before muttering out a small explanation, embarrassed as he never lost his cool like this before. Other than the time Belle got lost in a Hollow, he's never overreacted to this extent. He’s only glad that it was Belle and not [Name] who entered, he wouldn’t know how she’d react if she realized he was jealous and became protective of them.

“Way to show who’s the boss around here. Man, I kinda wish I could have seen it.” 

“Master, I have full access to the store camera’s and save every recording for the next 30 days until removal. I can pull it up on the H.D.D System for you.” Before Wise could refuse, Belle is already running into the Staff room to save the recording before it was too late. 

“Wise! I’m back! And I got your favorites!”

The bell rang as [Name]’s cheering caught his attention while they held up two small bags filled with various candies and snacks. He could only smile, approaching them and pulling them into a tight hug. “Thanks love, I really appreciate it. Now how about we watch a movie in my room for a while, huh?”

He is only grateful that he has such a loving and thoughtful girlfriend by his side.

[ladykailitha]

Well Met By Moonlight Part 7

Hello! It was a bit of a rough morning for me with the hate I got earlier. Maybe I could have worded it nicer, but I'm tired of gatekeepers that think everything ever has to be canon inspired, but if you have a difference of opinion about what is canon then them you're delusional.

And then my son nearly fainted at his school singing program this afternoon. He got sent home yesterday due to being over emotional at school (couldn't stop crying), but we thought it was just a bad mental health day. Apparently not.

So it was a little hard wanting to post today, even though I have a backlog of 15 chapters across 5 stories because I was feeling overly emotional.

So I hope you enjoy a little bit of sexy times for our boys. I told you I'd bring Eddie back sooner, rather than later.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6  

18+ Under the Cut

****

Eddie was in his room trying to nail down the bridge on a song he was writing when he heard a small scratching noise at the front door. He set his guitar aside and listened closely.

There it was again.

He wasn’t expecting anyone today. He got up warily and was at the door in an instant. He looked through the peephole and huffed out a laugh.

He opened the door and leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“You barely left me last night and you’re already at my door step again?” he teased.

There was that wolfie laugh Eddie adored so much.

“Come on in before the twins next door think you’re a doggy to play with and chase you all over the trailer park.”

Steve laughed again and Eddie shook his head, moving to the side to let his boyfriend in.

Steve shifted back to human and wrapped his arms around Eddie’s neck loosely. “Hey baby.”

Eddie purred. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Even though he knew that Steve being naked wasn’t a sexual thing, it didn’t stop him from grabbing that beautiful bare ass anyway.

He dived into Steve’s lips kissing and licking his way into that perfect mouth.

Steve’s arms tightened around Eddie’s neck, grinding against the hard planes his body. He wrapped his legs around Eddie’s waist and let him carry him into the bedroom.

He kicked the door closed and proceeded to have his wicked way with him.

Once they had come several times and had finally wore themselves out, Eddie rolled over on his back and huffed out a laugh.

“I know you didn’t just come over to fuck,” he said, throwing his arm over his eyes, “so what’s the real reason for the visit?”

Steve laughed. “You are very distracting, you know?”

Eddie grinned. “It’s that ass, baby. I just can’t get enough.”

“That’s fair,” Steve said. He rolled over on his side to look at him. “You know how it was Josh’s first day with the pack?”

Eddie immediately straightened up and looked down at Steve. “Yeah? How did that go?”

“He’s a good kid and I don’t think we’ll have any problem with him,” Steve hummed.

“But...” Eddie asked, tilting his head forward.

Steve sat up and wrapped one arm around his knees. “When you were growing up did you have any days where the teachers would talk about supernatural kind? But not like on days the supernatural kids would be there?”

Eddie sat up too and frowned. He thought hard. “You know, now that you mention it, there were days like that. It was straight up bullshit, so I never really paid attention...” His eyes went wide. “Shit you don’t think that’s why Jason and them went apeshit, do you? The shit they were learning about on moon days?”

Steve bit his lip. “I don’t know. It worries me that they’re getting anything like that at all.”

Eddie nodded. “I don’t know of anyone who’s not supernatural, not anymore.”

Steve lifted his head. “Yes you do. The drummer of your band, what was it called, Carrion Coffin or something?”

“Corroded Coffin,” Eddie gently corrected.

“That’s the one,” Steve said, snapping his fingers. “I know Jeff is a vampire like you and Brian is some other supernatural being...”

“Siren,” Eddie said, rubbing his chin. “I’ve always suspected Gareth might be a supe of some sort, but I could never confirm it.”

“But if he’s still going to school,” Steve said hopefully, “and not allowed to take moon days off due to whatever kind of supe he is, then he might be able to do some recon for us.”

Eddie nodded. “I have band practice tomorrow, I’ll ask. Maybe Brian remembers something, too.”

Steve sagged in relief. “Thanks sweetheart. I appreciate it. If the schools are indoctrinating kids against supes that might explain the rise in hunters over the last few decades.”

“Leading to whatever the hell it was that happened to you...” Eddie said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, because why a cross?” Steve said. “Crosses are vampire lore, not werewolf.”

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed. “I’ll talk to Wayne about it when he gets home. Maybe he can get more out of Patrick and Jason tomorrow, too.”

“Thanks, Eds,” Steve murmured. “That’s weight off my mind.”

Eddie grinned. “Now where were we?”

Steve laughed and then tackled his boyfriend back to his bed. He straddled Eddie’s waist. “You are insatiable, you know that?”

Eddie snapped his jaws at Steve playfully. “You love it.”

Steve moved up enough so that Eddie’s cock caught on Steve’s taint, causing Eddie to gasp.

“Oh, so that how you want to play it, pretty boy,” he growled, slowly pushing Steve backwards onto his cock until Steve bottomed out.

“Fuck, baby,” Steve whined. “I love the way you fill me.”

Eddie lifted him up and then snapped him back down his cock. “I love the way you look when you’re stuffed with my dick, sweetheart. I love the whimpering mess you become when I fuck you so hard. But you’re on top this time, so show me what you’ve got.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”

He started off slow, allowing the drag of Eddie’s cock to come almost all the way out before slamming back down onto his hips.

“Like that, Stevie,” Eddie said his voice husky with desire. “Just. Like. That.”

Steve nodded. He kept up the slow pace, grinding up and down, touching his throat, his chest, his stomach, his thighs, everywhere but his cock.

“Fuck, baby,” Eddie cooed. “You putting on a show for me?”

Steve nodded, biting down on his lip. He ran his fingers through his hair and then back down his body.

Eddie was about to explode from the sight alone. His last ounce of control snapped and he flipped them over.

Steve let out a gasp of surprise. “Too much for you, rockstar?”

“Not even close to being enough, sweet cheeks,” he growled and then starting railing him hard and fast.

Soon Steve was spilling on his belly as he watched Eddie chase his own release.

Moments later Eddie was stock still as he filled Steve, his eyelashes fluttered shut and his breath came out in a shuddering sigh.

They were drenched in sweat, Steve was covered in come, and they both panted for breath.

Eddie slipped out and flopped on the bed next to Steve. “Fuck, I think you’ve ruined me for anyone else.”

Steve giggled. “Supernatural sex tends to be better because we have better stamina, strength, and flexibility then humans do.”

Eddie rolled on his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “Despite what this town thinks I was no blushing virgin coming into this relationship, babe. I’ve been with human, siren, and werewolf–” Steve opened his mouth to ask but Eddie held up his hand, “no one you know, I promise. This is at a supernatural bar in Indy. But I have never had sex like when I’m with you. It makes all the noise in my head fade to the background.”

Steve smiled. “I’m glad. And of course I’m completely gone on you, too, you know. I don’t it’s the type of supe you are that makes being with you so easy, the sex so good. It’s you.”

Eddie smiled dopeyly at Steve as he watched his boyfriend get up and head for the showers.

He cleaned up the bed and got dressed again. He was back working on the bridge he was working on before Steve came around, but this time with added clarity.

“Sounding good, Eds,” Steve said when he came back in.

Eddie grinned up at him. “Maybe I should have sex with you every time I’m stumped writing, I mean it about the clearing my head.”

Steve leaned down and gave him a kiss. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Eddie giggled. “Go on, pretty alpha boy. Your pack awaits.”

Steve laughed, skipping away lightly.

He opened the door and then transformed, leaping down the stairs. He tore down the road and Eddie just shook his head fondly as he shut the door behind his boyfriend.

*

Steve loved his wolf form. It was two-toned unlike most of his pack. The dark brown of his upper pelt and honey color of his muzzle, legs, and belly made him look more like an oversized friendly dog most of the time.

It made it easier to walk the streets of Hawkins without people batting an eye at him.

There were those that recognized him on sight, of course. But they never called him by his name, they always called out, “Sandy!”

Which always made him laugh.

“Hey, Sandy!” Mr Thacher called from his tire shop as Steve loped by.

Steve barked his hello and continued on way.

A little boy spotted him and Steve patiently sat still as he buried his face into Steve’s fur until his dad tugged on his hand to make him come with.

“Not now, Charlie,” his admonished. “You have a dentist appointment.”

Charlie sighed and allowed himself to be led away with a mournful, “Bye puppy.”

He finally got to the mayor’s office and grabbed the robe waiting by the door. He went into the bathroom and came out with the robe wrapped around his naked form.

Lucy, Major Roberts’s secretary, shook her head. “It’s damn shame that Mayor Roberts put that robe there for you.”

Steve laughed. “You just like looking at my ass.”

She pretended to be affronted. “Darling, it’s your thighs!”

Steve laughed again. “Is he able to see me right now?”

She nodded. “I’ll buzz you in.”

“Mr Harrington!” Mayor Roberts greeted, standing up to shake his hand. “What an unexpected pleasure, how can I be of service?”

Steve sat down and told him everything Josh had told him and his discussion with Eddie about the possibility of anti-supernatural rhetoric being taught in the schools.

Mayor Roberts nodded. “I was aware there was extra-curricular subjects being taught on moon days, as the teachers can’t teach their subject to only half their class. But I don’t think I ever thought about what was being taught.”

Steve nodded. “If we can find the source here in Hawkins maybe we can get it changed on a national level.”

“Thereby stopping the rise of hunters in the country,” Mayor Roberts agreed. “I’ll look into it. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

Steve nodded again. “Of course. Thank you for your time.”

They shook hands and Steve was slipping through the door as wolf, the robe carefully carried in his jaw.

Lucy laughed. “Sneak!” she teased.

Steve put the robe back on the hook and looked at her innocently.

Mayor Roberts laughed. “He got you good there, Lucy.”

She shook her head. “Yeah, yeah.”

And with that Steve slipped out of the mayor’s office and back out onto the street.

He shook himself off and the broke into a run. He had a lot to think about but first he had one more stop to make.

****

Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20

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[tiyawnyana]

Kinktober: Day 9

Accidental Stimulation

A/N: so this one turned out a bit fluffier but still h o t and I actually loved writing this so much, the dialog is always so fun

Pairing: Spider x (fem) Omiticaya character

Warnings: accidental stimulation, hair pulling, handjob, slight nipple play, cum eating

¤¤¤

"Ow, ow!" Spider groans, swatting at Lo'aks hands. He had called for the Sullys help in untangling the braids, due for it anyway by now and in need of deep conditioning. So spider sought out the only ones that had helped him before.

But he hated getting their help. Neteyam was always careful, but when he tugged he tugged hard. Lo'ak was the 'rip the bandaid off' kind of person. Kiri never stood still for long enough, never having to have her own hair done and Tuk? Tuk flat out said no.

"Ow, come on guys-" He growls out, craning his head around to glare at his friends.

"Hey, you knew you had to have this done sooner rather than later-" Neteyam rolls his eyes, chuckling,"Besides, you are being a baby."

"Am not-"

"Are too-" Lo'ak teases,"You just have to get used to the pain."

"Easier said than done," Spider only grumbles in response, rolling his eyes. He groans at another harsh tug before his attention is diverted to the flap at the entry of the hut being pushed open. He feels his heart thump hard at seeing you.

You were always so sweet to him, even growing up. You were a close friend of the sully kids, full blown Na'vi after all. You were more kind than your parents were to the sky people, and you were especially kind to Spider.

Spider finds himself checking you out, red heating his cheeks. You're obviously dressed for the festival that is to be later tonight, decorative beads and feathers grazing over your breasts. Your hair was neatly braided back into one big braid that descended down your back, wrapped around your queue.

"Hello, I hope I am not interrupting?" You grin lightly, side stepping to fit the wide basket you had brought, filled with fresh fruits.

"Of course not," Neteyam speaks fondly, touching his forehead with his brief free hand before returning his attention to Spiders hair.

Kiri and Tuk swarm you, delighted over your hair and outfit. Spider grins lightly at seeing some of the beads he had crafted for you being used in the top. He can't stop the blush and his bashful gaze, quickly looking away when he realizes you're looking back at him.

"Hi, Spider," you smile softly.

"Hey- hi," he grins shakily back at you. Lo'ak snorts, tugging a braid out and causing him to growl in pain, smacking at the sullys hands.

"Are you redoing all of the braids later, Spider?" You question, softly padding over to where they all sit,"I always loved when you let your curls out, even for a bit."

He swallows thickly, staring at the ground,"I can- uh, leave them out for the festival?"

"Oh, really now?" Lo'ak turns to gaze at his adopted brother, a shit eating grin taking over his lips,"You never kept your braids out for anyone, what's the occasion?"

"Hey, real quick," Spider speaks with annoyance,"Shut up?"

Lo'ak chuckles in response.

Spider is delighted again to hear your soft giggles, he makes a move to gaze up at you but groans again as Neteyam tugs his head back into place, muttering a curt 'Stay still'.

"Hey, if you guys would like," you start, grabbing some fruits to hold out to the oldest sully boys,"I can take over for you both? I have untangled braids faster than you two, surely."

Spiders spines straightens up; the thought of your much gentler hands on his scalp has him nodding quickly.

Neteyam again chuckles, shaking his head fondly to his brother then stands, taking the fruit from your hand,"Yes, please. He won't stop moving."

Lo'ak is just as quick, taking a fruit and quickly darting out of the hut. Tuk is quick to run after her brother, giggling.

You grin, then you're sitting behind Spider after handing him a fruit and gently sectioning his hair, pinning it to the side here and there. Your hands are beyond gentle, softer on his scalp as you gently begin to take out his locks.

Spider nearly sighs in relief, sagging just slightly.

You begin to have a soft conversation with the remaining sullys in the hut. Spider just mindlessly eats his fruit, taking a deep breath from his mask every minute.

You're still mid conversation when you tug at the root of one dread, sending a hot shiver right down Spiders spine. He nearly chokes on his fruit, coughing and shoving his mask back over his face, taking deep and shaky breaths.

"Are you alright?" You lean over him to gaze in concern.

He nods too quickly, blush warm on his cheeks.

"I did not tug too hard, did I?" You loosen your hold on the dread in hand but stop when he shakes his head quickly.

"No- no, you didn't at all," his voice is shaky much to his embarrassment.

"Alright.. but do tell me if I do, promise?"

"Promise.." He grins up at you and you resume, gently taking out the dreads one by one.

Another tug has him clenching his eyes shut. He remains criss cross between your legs and now he's overwhelmed with that information. He's surrounded by you.. your hands in his hair has him stifling a groan. He then realizes with absolute shame that he's starting to get hard under his tewng.

Spider swallows thickly, groaning as you tug out another dread, sending another jolt down to his cock.

"Sorry.. almost done, just sit tight, alright?" You bend to speak softly to him and in turn it sends another shiver down his back.

He clenches his fists, the conversation becoming even more blurry as blood rushes to his ears. He takes a quick glance down to his crotch, where fortunately, it remains unseen for the most part. He takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down.

"Hey, we're going to go get some things set up for tonight," Kiri speaks, already halfway out the hut,"we'll leave you two to it, thank you!"

Neteyam waves as he leaves too, and Spider can't tell if he's happy or mortified that he's now alone with you.

"So I.. um.." You blush,"I used those beads you made me.. for my top, do you- do you think it looks good?"

Spider bites his lower lip, god he can't believe how sweet you are,"They look great! They- they suit you, really."

He speaks too fast for your liking and your ears flick back, glancing at him in concern.

"Are you really alright, Spider?"

The way you say his name in that voice and at the same time tugging the last of a dread out has him stifling a groan.

"Yeah- yes, totally fine," he coughs.

You lean over him, staring him down as you try to figure him out. His cheeks were red, he won't look at you.. and upon further investigation he's breathing heavily. You do a once over before your gaze snaps fast down to his tewng.

You gasp and he jerks forward, knowing that you know.

"Hey- wait! I'm uh," he backs up on his bum, then is waving his hands frantically in front of himself,"I- shit."

Your cheeks have grown warm by now, you're silent for a moment before crawling over to him.

And God is that a sight to behold; it has his cock twitching.

He leans back, embarrassment obvious on his features as he curls his legs in, but you're quick, taking a firm grasp on one of his knees.

"Wait, please," you speak soft, hand inching up his leg. You bite your lip, coming to crouch on your shins in front of him,"can I.. can I see?"

Spider looks up at you in shock, mouth agape behind his mask. He remains quiet for a moment, processing. He sucks in a harsh breath as your hands creep up quicker than anticipated, fingers unfastening the cords on one side. His breathing gets heavy when he sees your hands on his skin.

"Wa- wait, hold on," he grasps your hands,"What is- uh, what is happening right now?"

You look away for a moment, embarrassed,  but look back to him, a pleading look in your gaze,"I want to see you.. please?"

He shakily nods, chest heaving hard as your fingers return to pulling down his tewng. He clenches his eyes shut in embarrassment at the audible thwap as his cock springs up, hitting his abs.

Now Spider didn't know how to compare his dick size; he didn't exactly have anyone he felt comfortable with comparing his genitals, but he thought it meant a good thing when your eyes glinted a certain way, grinning in pure delight with a soft gasp.

"You do not have a sheath, no?" Your traveling fingers come to a stop around his hips, holding him in place.

"A what now?"

"You know.. um," you struggle to explain before your shrugging it off,"it is not important. Can you.. show me?"

Spider gulps,"Show you what?"

You blush again, gnawing on your lower lip before huffing,"Show me how you give yourself pleasure."

He jolts in response at first, staring at you again in shock before he nods timidly.

He's embarrassed,  but still lifts a shakey hand to his crotch before stopping, pausing for a moment.

"What is wrong?"

"Nothing- uh, it's just better when it's wet, sorry.." He looks around for something, a waterskin, lotions that Kiri carried around, but comes short. He's stopped as you take hold of his wrist, keeping eye contact and licking boldly across his palm, leaving a trail of hot saliva.

"That- that'll work, too," his face gets warmer if that's even possible, and he brings his hand down to his crotch, wrapping firmly around the base and giving himself a rough stroke. He bites back a groan, eyes hazy as he gazes at you blearily.

He strokes himself, an uneven but satisfactory pace. He grins weakly as your tail shows your emotions, flicking around in delight.

You lean in closer, watching as a pearly white drop seeps from the tip, joining his fist as he continues to stroke himself.

"How did.. how did you get like this? What's the word.. turned on?" You gaze at him, leaning closer.

He slows his hand in embarrassment, shaking his head before clenching his eyes shut,"yourhandinmyhair," he breathes out in one word.

You tilt your head in confusion,"I do not understand.. Lo'ak and Neteyam had their hands in your hair?"

Spider stops jerking himself to cover his mask covered face,"I know, I know, I can't explain it-" He turns his face away,"It's just you-"

A beat of silence.

Then you're grinning, tugging his hand away from his face and scooting closer. You lift his thighs over yours and cup his palm, pressing it over one of your breasts. 

"It's 'just you', too," you smile sweetly, before licking your palm and taking hold of his cock.

"Oh- oh god, wait," he groans, head tilting back, throat bared and you take the opportunity to gently kiss the sweaty skin there over some of those blue painted on stripes.

Your hand is firm, a steady pace around his length as he moans breathlessly. He can't seem to find his focus, but can't help but squeeze lightly where his hand is still cupping your breast.

The small moan you release is enough to have him buck into your hand.

He heaves a deep breath, hand loosening over your chest only to lightly thumb over your nipple through the beaded top. You gasp out a moan, gazing down at him with a surprised expression before craning your head back down to softly kiss along his shoulder. Your other hand comes up to tangle into his hair before tugging at the roots.

"Ghk- oh, shit, shit!" He whines, eyes clenched shut beneath his mask. He breathes heavily, shuddering softly as you continue to jerk him off.

He clenches his jaw, embarrassed by the wanton noises he's releasing before he pushes you back gently only to lean into you, hand lifting your beaded top, tugging his mask down and his lips are wrapping around your hardened nipple.

You yelp, gazing down at him in shock before your eyes go hazy. You speed up your hand, jerking him off faster while he suckles over your nipple.

You feel yourself soaking through your tewng, eyes fluttering at the thought of his hands touching you there.

He yanks himself back and pulls his mask over his face, breathing hard, but keeps his finger teasing over your now spit covered nipple. He pinches lightly and grins as you jolt against him.

You find yourself tugging at his hair again and his back arches deliciously, neck bared and all.

"I'm gonna- oh god, please don't stop," he pleads breathlessly, whining at the back of his throat.

You manage to squeeze just right around the tip and tug at his hair at the same time and he's moaning silently. A white substance shoots out of his cockhead, coating his belly and your hand. He falls back, heaving for breath and gazing at you in muted shock.

You grin down at him before you're lifting your hand, licking off the cum across the digits.

"Almost tastes like yovu fruit."

He groans, a weak smile on his face.

¤¤¤

A/N: I love him

Taglist:

@akoyaxs

(Lmk if you want to be added!)

[gowonminajxx]

⎯ fanged jealousy﹑

﹔a miguel o'hara + gn!reader fic :: a 2 part fic

﹔requested by a friend of mine on discord ^_^ for their direct request: ﹑"miguel is jealous bc the reader was talking to another spider person (punishment type shit)" . . .

﹔pre a/n :: ahhh the miguel brain rot continues! i hope you all enjoyed my last fic (which im coming out w a part 2 sooner or later.. this is just a feast for in between). thank u to my discord bff for requesting this cuz this is kinda like a toe curling concept sooo ily !!

﹔CWs :: swearing, physical action, miguel whining cuz he’s jelly ☠️

for the past year or so, you have been your world's one and only spider-person. thwipping webs all around the city, you would save lives on a daily -- that is, until you got caught up with work at the spider society headquarters on earth-928.

miguel o'hara, formerly known as spiderman 2099, would assign you the shortest missions ever, making you get bored every second you punched a villain's guts out on some random universe you never thought existed.

miguel and you weren't that close. you could call each other friends, but never the type to say that you could trust each other. the only thing you knew about him was that he was some sort of leader of this whole society. he didn't think anything of you at first, and never showed any care or praise about you, until now.

you had just finished your mission on one of the earths, and he had asked you to help out margo, formerly known as spider-byte to everyone else, with some research thing. you weren't quite paying attention, and your eyes practically drifted off to the screens behind him, showcasing some child crawling all over him.

on the way over to spider-byte's 'lair' — which you called it that, considering she's there all the time, as if it's a dungeon — you seemed to bump into one of the spidermen passing by. tall, built, slightly thin. his mask covered his face, but he seemed to unmask himself just for you, to speak to you face to face.

the two of you spoke for about ten minutes in the middle of the hallway, talking about miguel, missions, how strict he is, and other things that involved your jobs. you found yourself bonding with him a lot more than you expected.

after the conversation, you said your formal goodbyes to each other and walked out without another word. he gave you a soft smile every now and then, which made you smile back a little. no idea who he was, but he was a little cuter than you thought he'd be. you were on your way to spider-byte's lair now.

the day was practically almost over, and just as you were about to go back to your dimension to check up on some things, your watch beeped, a holographic image of miguel showing up. he had his mask off, and he looked rather angry as he spoke, trying to keep his tone under calm management.

"y/n. you went to go see spider-byte, right?" he facepalmed, sounding a little tired — yet annoyed -- as his words were low and felt rusty. you nodded, letting out a little 'yeah' as his head lifted up.

"could you see me in my office for just a moment?" his voice strained on the last bit, emphasizing as his teeth gritted. you flinched a little, your agreeable smile turning into a fearful frown. you shakily nodded your head before heading over.

as you arrived, he was still at his screens, working like the usual workaholic he was. he looked a little tired, bags underneath his eyes — which there usually was dark circles, but not this bad. he was exhausted. exhausted from something.

your eyebrow rose as his triangular shaped platform lowered, his stance straightening as he turned around to look at you. he wiped his face, scowling.

"miguel, you wanted to see me s-"

before you could even finish a complete sentence to him, miguel threw a nearby metal table at you, causing you to dodge it once your senses started tingling, the hairs on the back of your neck raising. you gawked at his sudden violence, before he started stomping towards you, a low grunt escaping his mouth.

"you got all distracted by some kid in the hallway, huh?" he groaned into his words, towering over you as your feet instantly stepped back as a natural reaction. you cowered beneath him, before trying to maintain your posture against the superhero.

"no.. i was just talking to him for a couple minutes. how do you.. how do you know this?" you tried to keep your words steady, but kept trembling, as your hands shook, ready to defend yourself. he stared at you angrily, frowning.

miguel let out an exaggerated sigh. "i had called spider-byte, and she told me that she heard you and some man in the hallway having a chatter fest." miguel strengthened, pointing an accusatory finger at you while you stepped further back. "didn't tell me what you two were talking about.. which is not to my surprise.." he quickly added, his voice trailing off.

"sir, it was just a quick conversation, no harm was intended." your chest was just a little over your knees as you nervously smiled at him, trying to make light of the situation — the tense one. miguel let out a low chuckle in response, mockingly.

"a quick conversation." he smiled, rubbing his temples. "i'll have a quick conversation. but a quick conversation before something important i've assigned you?" he held up his arms beside him, his arm muscles shining in the blue light behind him, while the rest of his body looked and felt like a tall silhouette. his head leaned into yours, like some sort of angry chicken.

you bursted. "why do you care? are you jealous or something?" your strained voice yelling audibly at him, echoing throughout the whole room.

— shit.

he stood there in silence, his eyes drifting off to the side almost as if he was thinking of something. miguel's head nodded at his own perverted and aggressive ideas, almost physical ideas. thousands of thoughts ran through your head all at once, your body freezing as there was traffic in your head. a feeling of regret surged through you as he just stood there in silence.

miguel suddenly opened his mouth to speak lowly. "jealous." he blurted.

"jealous of what?" he let out a sinister chuckle, backing you up into the wall slowly. he looked absolutely crazy in the moment, his hair a little ruffed up, dark eye circles, it all came together just to make you tremble underneath him. his hands gripped onto your shoulders before speaking again.

"what would i be jealous of, y/n?" his low voice sent chills down your spine. fear creeped up your covered back as his head towered over yours, getting closer and closer to your neck every second, his fangs revealing. miguel's hot breath tingled against your skin as he got closer, and you could feel the long fangs he had out, his hunger overrunning any thoughts in his head.

you did this to yourself.

a/n :: IM SO SORRY BUT THIS WAS JS TOO GOOD OF A CLIFFHANGER. i hate to leave yall sad like this but it was the perfect moment for the cliffhanger i promise i'll get to work on a part 2 😭 THIS IS MY LAST CLIFFHANGER PIECE I SWEAR. ITS JS TEW GOOD TO WRITE CLIFFHANGERS.

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

Heal - V

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader (female)

MASTERLIST

🪡 Summary: You and Bucky can no longer ignore what has happened, and the truth must emerge.

Warnings: Discussion of past sexual assault, nudity, angst, mostly fluff to wrap this series up

Word count: 1,388

🫁 Part IV

When you awoke the next morning, you were incredibly uncomfortable. Your head felt foggy, and you were tangled in sheets that wrapped around your naked body. You never usually slept naked, so the sight stopped you - but when you turned your head to see the sleeping form of you alpha beside you, it all came rushing back.

"B-Bucky..." you breathed out with a sigh of relief, your hand unconsciously going to touch your new mark, fresh yet painless already. He stirred slowly, rubbing his eyes, before scrambling from the bed and shoving himself up against the wall.

"Wha-what?" Confused further, you pulled the covers up to your chin, suddenly self conscious. Had you dreamt it all? Had your alpha never come to save you? Had you lured him here in his sleep?

With a gulp, Bucky surveyed your body, and was pleasantly surprised to see that you appeared to be in no pain and seemed much better than the previous evening.

"How, er, how are you feeling?" He ran a hand through his hair shakily.

"Better, thank you. Will you sit?" You gestured to the dent he had made in the mattress, and he hesitantly obeyed.

"I know that must have been hard for you," you started, not sure if he was ready to be touched yet but knowing you needed to get out what you needed to say before he could beat himself up further. "But you did what you had to. You saved me, and I know you didn't want to do what you did again, but it was the right thing."

He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued before he could. "And I'm sorry too, Bucky. I'm sorry after all the work you've put in, He still haunts you sometimes. And I'm sorry that you have to feel that pain that He initiates. And yes, I'm sorry that was how it had to happen, but I'm not sorry that it did happen.

You're my alpha, and I'm your omega. Let's be honest here, we've been denying that for a while. What happened was probably inevitable sooner or later. And what He made you do was horrific, and it's going to take me some time to get over that as well, but we will get over it if we stick together. Just...just please don't leave me again. That I don't think I can get over."

You were both crying now, wetting the sheets beneath you. Tentatively, you reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek, relieved when he closed his eyes and relaxed into you rather than shy away.

"Leaving you is the last thing I want to do, doll, but I can't risk hurting you again. Like you said, He is still in me, and I guess He ain't going anywhere any time soon. What kind of mate would I be if I can't even protect my omega from her own alpha?"

"A pretty shitty one, sure. But a mate who actively works to stop that from happening? I can't think of a better alpha."

"You shouldn't forgive me."

"I don't. I don't forgive you for leaving me, even though I understand why you did. And I don't forgive Him for driving you to do what you did, but I don't place that blame on you. But fuck forgiveness. This is bigger than forgiveness, this is bigger than me or you or Him. This is about us, and I think we can handle this. What you say?"

"I love you, doll. But I don't know what to do," he wept, and you pulled him into the crook of your shoulder, stroking his hair.

"Then I'll tell you what to do. We're going to Wakanda, tonight. We're going to tell Shuri what happened, and she's going to work with you to get Him out of your nightmares. This is nothing compared to when you still had the trigger words in you, so I don't question that this will be a walk in the park for her.

And this time, I'm going to be there too. I'm going to stick with you, through the good days and the bad, because I am not scared of Him, and I'm certainly not scared of you."

He pulled off, straightening himself up, his eyes suddenly afraid. "What if I don't wanna go back there? What if all those memories only make it worse, or what if she can't get him out of the nightmares...you said it, theres no trigger words now, maybe He's just in me and He's never going to go away. What if I can't go?"

You knew it would come to this, and you'd been preparing for it through the fever. The only thing that had got you through the lucid moments were thinking about your future with Bucky, coming up with a way to make it work for the two of you. You knew how much he would be beating himself up, but you couldn't ignore your own trauma either.

"Then we break this bond medically, and I leave. This is an ultimatum, Buck. Wakanda, or I walk."

His eyes grew wide again and he chewed on his lip. That was fair, after all. But it was scary. Petrifying, even.

"Okay. Tonight, we go."

You smiled up at him, planting a nervous kiss on his cheek. You couldn't deny that you were still hesitant with him sitting there, so conscious of what he could do. Yet at the same time, you just wanted to climb into his lap and crawl into his body, never letting go and refusing to ever part ways with him. One day you would allow that feeling to take precident, just not quite yet.

-

Bucky closed his eyes and let the dying sun soak his skin, feeling the wind tug at his outgrown hair and whistle in his ears. His flesh hand played with the soil beneath him, cold compared to the day's heat. In the distance, he could hear the hum of a song, one of the Wakandan mothers singing her children to sleep, while a goat stew, something he had become a master at cooking, was boiling away in the village below.

"You ready?"

The voice should have ruined the peacefulness up on the mountain, but instead it made him smirk unconsciously. He didn't flinch when your arm snaked around his neck, and his eyes remained closed. He even trust himself to move his metal arm to rest on your knee, rough and bruised from helping out on the farms over the months the two of you had been there.

"I'm ready, doll."

Like they usually did, your fingers went up to play with his knotted locks, longer than you'd seen them in a long time. "We don't have to leave, you know. You were right, it is incredibly peaceful here."

Bucky opened his eyes as he turned his head, making sure your glowing features were the first thing he saw.

"No, I'm ready. Our lives are back home. Plus, we have to test if all this worked, right?"

You sniggered with a shake of your head. "Oh Bucky, you know it worked. Shuri cleared you weeks ago."

"But we still have to complete the final test - going back to that room."

"True," you shrugged, nuzzling into him. "But between us, I'm pretty sure we've had enough therapy to beat anything."

Bucky kissed the top of your head, once again overcome with gratitude. He had been given yet another chance, right when he thought he deserved it the least. You had stood by him, and in turn he had stood by you. Although his nightmares were much less frequent and never so violent anymore, you still woke in the night in tears, and would never fail to break his heart. But it was true - you were stronger together, and that bond was healing in many ways.

The sound of a horn below jolted the two of you from your thoughts, and he scrambled up, holding out a hand. "C'mon, omega, lets get home."

Taking it graciously and purposely using his metal arm to wrap around your waist, you set off down the hill, kicking dust up into the sunset as you made your way to the jet waiting to take you to the rest of your lives.

The End

Bucky Taglist

@elliebee01 @littlemiss-yeehaw @lolitsthings @missvelvetsstuff @spnexploration @justlovelifeblog @1-800-call-a-milf @raajali3 @broadwaybabe18 @vicmc624 @gostodosopa @kjah97 @sageandravens @kaz11283 @bucksdonkey @alright-i-guess @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @icequeen1371 @deandreamernp @almosttoopizza @maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals @lexikizerbarnes @lazycarolinamoment @lydklein1 @cjand10 @needyomega @tesseract69

[rorywritesjunk]

The stars in their courses will run and bring their hearts earthward to hear her.

Buggy brings his son in to the bakery to get a treat for his birthday. You like decorating cakes. Rating: PG-13ish. Warning: Adorable kid decides he wants to be a baker. Worried Buggy. Friendly baker. A/N: This chapter is the official start of these two. No name for the Baker yet. I can't be stopped. This story's first few chapters will take place over like, a weekend and then fast forward a bit I feel.

Title comes from "Girl in the Garden" by S.J. Tucker. Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6

Chapter 2

You left the ship after breakfast. You needed to get to work, hoping your associate was already there getting ready. Hopefully she didn't notice you were in yesterday's clothing. You didn't have time to go home and change. And when she saw you, taking in your appearance, she just smirked as she filled the case with fresh goods.

“Fun night?”

“Shush.” 

After throwing your apron on, you went to the kitchen to start getting pans and tins ready for your baked goods. You weren't incredibly late but just enough you felt behind on everything already. You started making some muffins first, greasing the tin with butter to keep them from sticking. Your associate was at the counter helping some customers while you stayed in the back.

Thankfully it was a quiet morning, even through the lunch rush. You leaned on the counter as your last customer left, giving the two of you time to breath.

“So, is it real?”

“Is what real?” You asked as you straightened up, frowning at her. She smirked as she went to make herself a cup of tea.

“You know what I mean. You were with that pirate, weren't you?”

“I was.” You shrugged. “And that's all I'm going to say about it.”

“Oh, come on! I'm just curious!”

You just shook your head as you started to wipe down the counter. She pouted and went back to you. “You're no fun.”

“I just don't want to talk about other people in a way that could be malicious.” You retorted. “Now, can you go do some prep work for tomorrow? I'll work the front.”

Your associate grumbled and did as she was asked, heading to the back. You shook your head and sighed, waiting for the next bout of customers. Maybe it would be a slow day, going by how the last few hours were. That wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. You were tired from the night before and wanted to take it easy.

The door chime alerted you to someone coming in, but when you looked up you frowned. There wasn't anyone there, but when you looked down you were surprised to see Darby walking up to the counter. Without his dad. Oh no.

“Hey, sweetie!” You greeted as you came around the counter to greet him. “What are you doing here? Where's daddy?”

Darby shrugged. “Working.”

“Oh, does he know you're here?” You asked. Darby shrugged again. “Umm, okay. Is he on the ship?”

“Yea! He's not here.” Darby told you. This wasn't good. You sighed softly and smiled at him.

“Well, let's head back to the ship, okay? He's going to be missing you.”

“Can I help you here?” Darby asked. And it was really sweet and innocent of him to ask, but you had a feeling that when his dad realized he was missing then there would be hell brought down upon the town. You crouched down so you were eye level with him.

“Okay, let's go ask daddy first and see if he allows it.” You told him. “I'm more than happy to have you as my assistant but we gotta ask first.”

Darby frowned at that but nodded. No doubt Buggy would agree to it but he didn't think to ask. You straightened up and called back to your associate, telling her you'd be back, before you held your hand out to Darby, letting him take it before you headed out of the bakery. It would be better to get him back sooner rather than later.

And no sooner did you start walking that you could hear Darby’s name being shouted near the docks. 

“Hey, I think the crew is missing you.” You told him as he led you to the ship. “We should go find daddy, Darby, that way we can ask him.”

“Okay!” He pulled you up to the ship. There were several of the freaks there, several looking down into the water while one shouted back to the ship that the kid was found. When they tried to take Darby's hand to lead him up to the deck, the kid recoiled and grabbed your apron.

“Uhh, I'll take him up there, it's okay.” You said, patting the kid on the head. “Can I carry you, Darby?”

He nodded, wrapping himself around you once he was in your arms. You wondered if this was a regular occurrence, and was he going to be punished? Buggy didn't seem like the type to punish his kid, you saw the way he looked at his son. This kid was his entire world. You held him tight as you walked up the ramp to the deck, pausing when you saw Buggy. He was screaming at someone, red in the face as he pointed out towards the town.

“He was under your watch and you lost my kid!” Buggy roared. “How could you let that happen?! He's three!”

“I-I just looked away for a minute, Captain Buggy!”

“Maybe I should gouge your eyes out so this doesn't happen again!”

Well, this was escalating, so you cleared your throat and set Darby on the ground. He immediately ran over to Buggy, who's demeanor changed the moment he saw that his son was safe. He glared at the freak who ran off before Buggy focused on his son, picking him up in his arms and hugging him.

“Sweetheart, where were you? You can't disappear off the ship like that.” Buggy was calm and quiet, opposite of how he was moments ago. Darby shrugged and pointed over to you; you just gave them a friendly wave. “Did you go all the way to the bakery on your own?”

“He found his way to me because he wanted to be my assistant for the day.” You told him. “I suggested we come ask you first. He's a smart boy, getting all the way to the bakery on his own.”

“Darby…” Buggy rubbed his face, sighing heavily. “You can't just take off like that.”

“Daddy, I wanna bake!”

“We have a kitchen on the ship!” Buggy replied, shaking his head. “No running off, you scared daddy, okay?”

You decided to leave, taking a step back before turning to head down the ramp but a hand on your shoulder stopped you. Right, his body did… things. You tried to shoo the hand away before looking back at the captain. 

“No, you're not done here.” Buggy said. “I need to talk to you.”

Aw, shit, what did you do? He set his son down and marched over to you and you took a step back. Was he mad at you for some reason? Did he think you wanted to be involved in this? He stopped in front of you and crossed his arms, sighing before he looked away.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. “For bringing him back safely.”

“Uh… you're welcome? I figured you would be worried.” You chuckled nervously. “I can see how much you love your son. I wish all parents were like that.”

His gaze softened and he glanced at you before he looked at Darby. His son had followed him and was at his side, holding onto the hem of his jacket with one hand while the other went up to his mouth and he started sucking his thumb. Okay, the kid certainly knew how to be cute. 

“Well, I need to head back to work.” You said before crouching down in front of Darby. “And I am more than happy for you to stop by, but make sure daddy is okay with it, sweetie. We don't want him getting worried.”

Darby nodded, turning to hide his face, suddenly feeling shy. You smiled and stood back up, looking at Buggy. “I don't mind if he comes by, y’know, as long as you're okay with it.”

“Yea, well, we’re leaving in a few days, so I don't…want him getting attached.” Buggy said with a shrug. 

“Oh! Well, I wouldn't want him getting his little heart broken.” You said. “But I need to head back to the bakery.”

Buggy just nodded. You smiled at Darby, giving him a wave. “I'll see you around, Darby! Next time you guys come by you should come see me, okay?”

He looked up and pulled away from Buggy, holding his arms out for you. It was hard not to melt at how cute this kid was and you picked him up, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He wrapped his little arms around you and hugged you. 

“He isn't normally fond of strangers.” Buggy commented as he watched you two. “He doesn't even like some of the crew.”

“Aw, you're just saying that so I feel special.” You chuckled as you rubbed Darby's back gently as held him. “Then again, he didn't leave my side at his birthday party.”

“See? He likes you.” Buggy shrugged. “So you should feel special.”

“Okay, well, I need to head back.” You said as Buggy tried to take Darby back but the kid wouldn't let go.

“You keep saying that, and yet I don't see much effort being made.” Buggy said with a smirk as he tickled Darby’s sides, getting the kid to squeal and loosen his grip. He managed to get the kid out of your arms after that. “He really likes you.”

“Well, he's sweet. Probably one of the best behaved kids I've ever met.” You said, smiling at the proud look on Buggy’s face. For a kid living in a pirate ship, he seemed to be doing fine. You weren't sure how common it was for pirates to have families, muchless on a ship. A part of you always wanted kids, but as you got older and settled into your career, it just never happened. Now you made sure to shower attention on the kids that came into the bakery, making sure they had a great time in there.

“What are you doing tonight?” Buggy suddenly asked. “Would… you like to stop by again?”

“And do what?” You asked. 

“I don't… know.” He shrugged. “Cabaji can watch Darby, that's one of the few people my kid likes.”

You frowned. “Captain, are you asking me on a date?”

“If I said yes, what are you going to say?” Buggy asked as he shifted Darby in his arms. The little boy reached for you again. You raised an eyebrow and took Darby back from him, chuckling softly at passing the kid around like some kind of game.

“If it's a date where I'm not expected to do anything but show up looking nice then yes, I will go on a date with you.” You said as Darby rested his head on your shoulder. “You do this with all the bakers you meet in towns, Captain Buggy?”

“You're the first baker I've met that I liked.” He grinned. “But I try not to make a habit out of it.”

“Don't want to get attached now, so we?” You teased. “I can come back once the bakery is closed for the day.” You rubbed the little boy’s back as he settled in your arms. “I can’t wait, Captain.”

[gunnrblze]

Hesh x reader (gender neutral)

Agust? Self doubt big in this. Keep in mind I have no idea what Im actually doing

———

David Walker had a big heart, one of the many reasons you felt as though you had to stay away from him. You could not even look into his eyes, pointing your head at the floor. It had been two weeks since you started avoiding the brown-eyed man. It had been fourteen days since you began to recognize the looks he gave you, the ones that felt like lightning to your soul. The ones that’d made you think he felt something for you.

You let your guard down that night. Letting him touch you, kiss you felt like a crime. You eradicated the thought that anyone would ever want to from your mind years ago. The blood that heated his skin burned you.

He was a good man. His morels made many men, including his brother Logan, look up to him. His father was proud of his accomplishments; someone like that doesn’t need a broken reflection of a person. So you ran; you didn't let him touch or even look at you since. Allowing it for one night was a mistake because now you know the warmth you are missing. You tried, successfully, to avoid him for a while. Every day after that was like torture. You were painfully holding back the sob that was awaiting an escape.

You were standing on the hill on the outskirts of the base where you both were stationed. Not knowing how long you had been there, forgetting how you even got there. You were hoping the dark sky and stars would soak up the resentment you held for yourself. The same thoughts that circulated through your mind were louder than ever.

‘Why would anyone want you?!’

‘Why would he want you?!!’

‘Why would HE want YOU?!’

“Why are you acting like that night didn't happen?”

The voice you longed for seemingly came out of thin air, making you jump slightly and gasp in the same shock. Spinning till you saw the man had occupied every part of your thoughts lately. He did nothing to mask the confusion and hurt that poisoned the aura around him.

You knew this would happen sooner or later, him finding you. You could run, but he would just come looking for you again. If he made it his mission, he would stop at nothing to finish it.

Trying to get any sound out of your mouth was incredibly painful. All you could muster was a short groan in pain. Your vision was getting blurry, and you began to lose sight of his eyes. You were involuntarily taking a step back as he stepped towards you. His movements were passionate and aggressive, and he did not stop until he was in front of you. You were blinking, trying to stop the tears you couldn't control anymore.

You jerked your head away, not expecting his thumbs to touch your cheeks, wiping hot tears away. The fire in his veins burned your skin once again. Just as you got away, your sob cut through the air and punched him in the gut with the emotion that rolled out of your body in waves. Even from feet away, he could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, calling for him to return to you.

“…-if I did something wrong, please tell me. Give me another chance-“ “-No!”

Cutting him off sharply. Of course, he would blame himself for this. For the faults in your mind when it wasn't his fault but yours. His eyes were wide. He did not expect you to yell, as you typically kept to yourself. Your eyes were locked as you could see clearer now that the tears were falling quickly. Having his undivided attention was overwhelming, but for his sake, you took a deep breath that came out rather shaky.

“It was a mistake, David.”

He straightened up, and the determination that echoed through his mind was reflected in the deep hazel bark of his eyes. He didn't want to waste time when he had so few moments with you.

“No, it wasn't. You want this as much as I do.”

The emotion in his eyes almost made you believe him. He didn't let you go this time, moving fast. His left hand was going to grip your hip, and his right came back to your damp face, sliding back to yank your head up to meet your lips with his own. It was a brutal show of possession and love that he had for you. Trying to prove that he was yours even if you didn't know or want to admit it.

You couldn't fight the fire this time. Bones turn into ash, almost like a soft breeze picks you up into his arms. It was a purification, washing you of sin and self-hatred that you’ve bottled up for too long.

Maybe you could allow yourself to be happy?

For his sake?

Yes.

———-

Plz don’t kill me I know this is long and probably kind loopy. This is my current mood, I am at the graveyard🙂‍↕️

HELLOOOO?! I feel like a kid that just woke up on Christmas morning😭 had me hooked the first sentence lmao. I like the way you wrote him in this, he’s such a perfect character for angst I’m afraid ( ˘ ³˘) ♡

[rainbowfey]

22 "Wait, you love me?" - "I always have."

@flufftober

When Sanemi’s mansion appeared at the end of the street, Genya slowed down until he had stopped walking. The familiar pressure in his chest grew bigger and for a moment, he struggled to breathe. He had not been back to Sanemi’s estate since an incident where Sanemi had clearly shown him that he did not wish to speak to him. Ever since, Genya had not seen Sanemi even once and for weeks, he had dreaded the moment where they would meet again. Thus, it had come as a rather shocking surprise when his Kasugai crow had told him that his next mission would lead him to Sanemi’s mansion. For a while, he had contemplated relaying the message through his crow that he would not follow this particular order. But then, he had gathered all his courage and decided to go through with it. After all, Sanemi was still his brother even though he could not stand Genya and probably never had since they had been children.

Genya took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders before he started moving again. However, he could not bring himself to walk quickly and thus, he meandered along the street, stretching it as much as he could. But even the longest path had to end at some point and sooner than he liked, he arrived at the gate in the fence surrounding the mansion. The gate was closed and instantly, the hope that it would be locked stirred in his guts, giving him a good excuse to leave without further investigation. Almost smiling at that prospect, he reached for the handle.

The gate swung open without a hitch. Genya stared at the definitely unlocked and now open gate and cursed silently as his hope was shattered. He grimaced and uncomfortably shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He looked up to the sky, hoping to see his Kasugai crow come for him to tell him that he could leave again but except for a few fluffy clouds, there was nothing in sight. Miserably, he looked down at the package in his hand. The order had said very specifically that he was to deliver it to Sanemi personally, so he was not even able to just set it down somewhere and make a run for it.

Genya sighed and clutched the package when taking the first step through the gate. Even though the package was the very reason as to why he even was in this situation, it was also the only thing he could hold onto right now. His legs felt shaky when he walked further onto the estate, leaving the gate behind. Each step took him farther away from the street leading back to safety, his only refuge. He nervously glanced around and listened intently for any sign of Sanemi but the estate lay eerily quiet before him. He gulped when he realized that this would only prolong this situation and suddenly, he almost hoped to hear Sanemi’s aggressive snarl somewhere close as this was his only way to get out of here quickly. But since everything stayed silent, he did not have much of a choice than to walk to the front door of the mansion and knock, hoping that he would leave the estate in one piece later on.

When Genya had reached the door, he hesitantly lifted his hand and carefully knocked at the wooden door. Only once, then he quickly took a step back, fearing the worst. His heart started beating faster when he heard footsteps behind the door and almost without noticing, he pressed the package against his chest as if he could hide behind it. When the door opened, he took a deep breath and his chest felt like it would explode at any moment now. He closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

“Genya-kun! What a surprise to see you here,” a voice exclaimed that sounded way warmer than Sanemi was even able to.

Both relieved and disappointed at the same time, Genya opened his eyes again and met the gaze of an attendant. It was a woman, wearing the typical uniform that showed her to be a Kakushi. While her mouth was covered with the usual Kakushi mask, her brown eyes smiled at him warmly and a faint memory stirred in Genya’s mind. If he was not mistaken, he had seen her before. Maybe she was even the attendant who had ushered him out after his last confrontation with Sanemi, treating his wounds and taking care that he got away without being seen. He remembered her kindness and when he now looked at her, he felt the lump in his throat lightening a bit.

“I am here to deliver a package to … Shinazugawa-san,” he said hesitantly. “I have to hand it over personally.”

The attendant nodded and looked at the package in his hands curiously. “Of course,” she said in her friendly voice. “Shinazugawa-sama is not here at the moment but I’m sure he will return in a few hours. How about you come in and wait here?”

Genya flinched and quickly shook his head. He did not dare to imagine how Sanemi would react if he got back to his mansion just to find his detested brother sitting in his living room. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he mumbled.

But the attendant did not seem to take notice of his reluctance. Instead, she held the door open for him and motioned for him to come in. When he hesitated, her gaze softened and she calmly said, “How about you wait in the garden? Would that be a compromise?”

And to his surprise, Genya found that this indeed sounded a lot less intimidating. Slowly, he nodded and her eyes lit up. “Follow me then,” she said enthusiastically and waved him closer.

The path to the garden led them through a part of the mansion and even though his heart still thundered in his chest, Genya curiously looked around, taking in the sight. As he had expected, Sanemi did not seem to be in favor of decorations or knick-knacks but to his surprise, there were quite a few plants that did look well taken care of. Of course, that could also be due to the diligent attendant but Genya was surprised that Sanemi tolerated plants in his personal space. Even more since some of them were very obviously flowers. Somehow, that did not fit into Genya’s image of his brother as flowers seemed gentle and soft while Sanemi was as hard as stone.

When they reached the garden, the attendant gestured to a spot where he could sit down. A wooden porch sat between the house and its garden and since the porch was still under the roof, Genya would be shielded from any wind and rain there. Not that that would be necessary as today the weather was particularly mellow, almost as if it wanted to soothe Genya. With a grateful nod, he sat down and braced himself for a long wait.

It took a while for his heartbeat to finally calm down. The neat garden did help calm his nerves and after a while, he almost forgot his fear of the confrontation in his wake. At one point, the attendant popped her head out of the door and asked him whether he would like to eat or drink something. He politely declined and she disappeared, only to come back with a cup of tea anyways. She handed it to him, giving him a friendly wink. “Good for the nerves,” she said under her breath and Genya could not help but smile back at her nervously.

The time flew by and before he knew what had happened, the sun set on the horizon. With the fading light, Genya’s nervosity came back and he fiddled around the now empty cup. For a moment, he hoped that Sanemi would not return this evening but if that was the case, the attendant surely would have let him know. So, he started counting the minutes, growing more uneasy with each moment that passed. But everything stayed silent.

When Genya finally heard voices in the house behind him, he flinched violently and hastily grabbed the package he had set down next to him. His heart hammered in his chest and when he heard heavy footsteps coming closer, his stomach tightened and he felt like he was about to throw up at any moment now. He desperately pressed a hand against his mouth and swallowed hard when he heard the door behind him opening.

The footsteps came to a halt and Genya did not dare to turn around. Only when he realized that Sanemi would certainly consider this behavior disrespectful did he force his body to move. He quickly got to his feet, staring at the ground intently as he bowed deeply.

“I am here to deliver a package,” he said quietly, hoping that his voice would tremble less than his body did. When Sanemi did not reply, Genya held the package out with both hands, still lowering his head.

The seconds of silence seemed to blur into a small eternity while all he heard was his blood rushing through his ears and quiet, steady breathing a few steps away. Then, the silence was shattered by the sound of the door sliding open again.

“I have prepared dinner for you, Shinazugawa-sama,” the attendant said in her friendly tone and Genya froze. “Since it’s too late for young Genya to walk back through the forest alone, I have prepared a portion for him too.”

Genya managed to suppress his gasp just in time before it could leave his mouth. He wanted to scream and run away but his body did not react at all, leaving him frozen in place. Bile made its way up his throat and he desperately pressed his lips together.

When Sanemi did not say a word, the attendant walked towards Genya. From the corner of his eye, he saw her setting a tray down on a narrow table, positioning the dishes neatly before she looked up and smiled again. “You should have your meal while it’s still warm.”

That was what tipped the scales and suddenly, Genya’s voice worked again. “I … I should get going,” he stammered, shooting her a pleading look.

“Nonsense,” she said firmly. “And now come here and take a seat.”

Her tone did not allow for any protest and with a sense of impending doom, Genya cautiously set down the package on the porch and followed her order, sitting down, his gaze still fixed at the ground.

“You too, Shinazugawa-sama,” the attendant said politely but insistently. And to his bewilderment, Genya heard footsteps coming closer slowly. The floorboards of the porch creaked when Sanemi sat down. The attendant beamed at him and nodded. “Good. And now enjoy your meal.”

And with those words, she bowed politely and retreated back into the mansion, leaving them alone. Genya’s ears were ringing and he struggled for breath. Everything in him wanted to get up and run away but he knew that would be a grave mistake. “I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’ll just get going now.”

“No.”

The word came out of nowhere and hung in the air between them, growing until it almost suffocated Genya. His hair stood on end when he hesitantly asked, “N- no?”

Sanemi heaved a deep sigh and his voice sounded exasperated when he repeated, “No. She’s right, you can’t leave now. It’s not safe.”

“I’ll be fine,” Genya stammered, instinctively backing away. “I can handle it.”

Sanemi huffed and Genya froze at the familiar sound. “Yeah, I’ve seen how you handle things,” he said, his voice full of disdain. “You are going to stay here for the night. But tomorrow morning by sunrise, I want you gone.”

“Yes, Sir,” Genya muttered, feeling entirely miserable. His whole body tensed up when he felt Sanemi moving next to him, but Sanemi just pulled the table a bit closer.

“Eat,” Sanemi said curtly and pointed at the tray which held two portions of each dish.

Genya looked down at his hands that were still trembling. He knew that if he reached for one of the bowls now, Sanemi would notice it. But if he did not follow Sanemi’s order, he was risking even more. And thus, he plucked up his courage and cautiously took one of the bowls, praying that he would not drop it. From the corner of his eye, he saw Sanemi looking at his hands but he stayed silent. Instead, he slowly started eating, not paying Genya any further attention.

With a weird mixture of relief and fear, Genya looked down at his bowl and the lump in his throat grew. While his stomach did feel hollow, he was fairly sure that he would not manage to eat even a single bite without having to throw up. His heart started pounding faster again while he pleaded with his body to not give up on him.

When he realized that Sanemi was looking at him, his heart stopped. “What are you so afraid of?” Sanemi asked harshly and Genya flinched.

He did not know what to say as Sanemi would probably not take too kindly to him revealing the truth. Hastily, he wracked his brain for a possible explanation but nothing came to mind and the bowl he stared at helplessly also did not reveal any magical solution.

“I’m not going to harm you,” Sanemi said after a while and Genya winced when he realized how accurately Sanemi had read his mind.

“But you tried to last time,” Genya blurted out and pressed his hand on his mouth when he realized what he had said. The urge to flee grew until it was almost overwhelming but he stayed frozen in place, the bowl trembling in his other hand.

For a moment, Sanemi stayed quiet. Then, he nodded. “I did,” he said curtly. “But I’m not going to try again.”

Genya paused and asked himself whether he had heard the words right. He set his bowl down, careful not to break it. And when he spoke, the word came without him thinking about it. “Why?”

Sanemi stayed silent for so long that Genya started to think he would not reply at all. But when he also set his bowl aside and spoke up, his voice sounded strangely tired. “Because I realized that it’s too late. You have chosen your path and I am not able to change that anymore.”

Images flashed before Genya’s inner eye. He still saw Sanemi’s face in his nightmares, pale with rage as he stormed towards Genya, two fingers outstretched, aiming for his eyes. The tone of Sanemi’s voice now did not want to fit in with those memories and Genya’s mind started swimming. When he had told Sanemi that he had started eating demons, he had expected a reaction. Maybe surprise, bewilderment even, probably also a bit of anger. But he had not expected Sanemi attacking him like that. How in the world could anyone ever expect something like that, even from a person that hated them?

After the incident, Genya had thought about it every single night, lying awake and staring into the dark. At first, he had thought Sanemi had wanted to kill him. However, there would have been more than enough more convenient ways to do so. And after long and hard thinking, Genya had come to the conclusion that Sanemi had went specifically for his eyes because he wanted to blind him. But why he had tried that had escaped Genya. Until now.

“You wanted me injured so badly that I can’t be a demon slayer anymore,” he said slowly when the realization sunk in. His heart stopped and for the first time, he looked up and met Sanemi’s gaze. The look out of his dark eyes paralyzed Genya and he held his breath, waiting for a reaction.

Sanemi looked at him, his face entirely blank. But then, he sighed and shrugged. “It did not work,” he said, his face still unmoving.

Genya stared at him, trying to grasp what could have led Sanemi to this attempt. “I … why did you want to do that to me?” he asked quietly, his heartbeat slowing down until it felt like his heart would stop beating at any moment. If this was the moment of truth, he had to use his chance to find out once and for all.

Sanemi stayed silent for a while. His gaze wandered over the dark garden and for once, he seemed almost calm, unsettlingly so. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained, sending a shiver down Genya’s spine. “I can’t watch my brother go down that path.”

Genya’s head shot up and he stared at Sanemi with wide eyes. In his ears, faint memories of Sanemi’s voice rang when he hissed at him that they were not family. “You said you didn’t have a brother,” Genya said, casting his caution to the wind. “What changed?”

Sanemi sighed and when he looked back at Genya, his face darkened. “Nothing,” he said curtly. “After tomorrow, I don’t want to see you again.”

And even though Genya was not surprised at these words, his heart ached when he looked at his older brother, his pale face so familiar and so foreign at the same time. When he blinked, he saw a younger, happier face for a moment and the pain in his chest grew until it took his breath away. He could still see a younger Sanemi smiling at him, ruffling his hair. But then he blinked another time and the world turned dark again. The fair features turned into rough, hard ones, no hint of that kind smile left. The lump in Genya’s throat grew until it suffocated him. “Why, Sanemi?” he asked and his voice broke.

Sanemi closed his eyes and for a moment, Genya could see the pain in his features as he grimaced. When he opened his eyes again, he straightened his shoulders and stared into the night. “You don’t want to see a person you love seal their own fate,” Sanemi said. And when he turned back and looked at Genya, his voice sounded cold. “I’m not going to stand by and watch you die. If you want things to be this way, you’re on your own.”

And while Genya heard his voice, four words echoed in his mind. ‘A person you love’. The world shattered around him when he looked at his brother. “Wait,” he whispered, his vision blurring, the world washing away until Sanemi’s face was all he could see. “You love me?”

And when Sanemi looked at him, Genya could see the anguish in his eyes. “I always have,” Sanemi said hoarsely, his gaze burning into Genya’s eyes. “And that’s exactly why I can’t watch you go down.”

Genya’s face felt cold when a single tear ran down his cheek. And when he looked at Sanemi, he felt small again, like the child that had sought shelter in his brother’s arms when it got scared. “I’m sorry, aniki,” he squeezed out and quickly wiped the tear away. “I’m so sorry.”

Genya looked down, desperately trying to regain his composure as more and more tears blurred his vision, running down his cheeks uncontrollably. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to find something to hold onto as the pain ripped him to pieces. When he heard a movement next to him, he flinched and hunched up his shoulders, trying to shield his head.

And then, a hand touched his back. Hesitantly at first, then firmer as it grabbed his shoulder and slowly pulled him closer. And when he felt an arm wrapping around his shoulder, he broke. Pushing his fear aside, he threw himself at his brother, clinging to him as if he was his lifeline. Sanemi froze under his touch, his body growing stiff. But then, he heaved a deep sigh and softened, pulling Genya into an embrace. “We’ll make it through this together, Genya-kun.”

And for the first time in years, Genya felt safe again.