#so to get to my point. i try to be more present and voice my love

[zealouswitchwerewolf]

Unbeknownst to them, the rumor of them looking for Tim and speculation on why exactly they're doing so after so much time has passed spreads quickly through the league and the younger heroes. While each of those teams are known to work with the Bats and they usually have one as a team mate, they're not blind and they have seen the way things went down after Batman came back from the time stream. Some (Superman, Wally, Jon, maybe?) want to believe they finally realized how important Tim is to their family and want to reconnect.

Most of the others are skeptic and have (correctly) assumed they need Tim for something and are intending to pull him back into their parasitic (?) dynamic where Tim gives and gives and they take without giving anything back. Tim is finally moving on. Happy. They're not about to compromise that for the sake of the bats. Not after he put them before his own life and well being for years and years without them truly realizing.

It takes a week for them to hear back from Tim. However, when they finally get the call from a blocked number it isn't Tim on the other side.

"Tim? We were worried about you? Where have you been?" Dick answers but puts the phone on speaker, Bruce, Damian and Alfred present in the room.

"and why exactly are you trying to contact Tim right now?" Ma Kent's voice is colder than they've ever heard before. "Tim changed his number months ago. What exactly are you worried about?"

"Um... We..." Dick starts, sheepish and not sure how to continue without looking like a jerk.

"Where is Tim? Why isn't he calling us?" Bruce interrupts with his usual tact. Ma isn't having it.

"That's not how this works. Either answer my question or I'll hang up and make sure no one else gives you Tim's information. You might be detectives but even you won't be able to pass through all the layers of security that boy and his friends have put up as a precaution."

"He... Gave Bruce some advice that helped get the family back together we were hoping that he could..." Dick started.

"Go back to fixing your messes without ever getting anything in return? Talk Bruce out of his bullshit like he's the child instead of a full grown adult?" They stay silent, knowing Ma has a point. "That's what I thought. You know, anyone else in your situation would look for a therapist instead of relying on an emotional support child to get you through life. You didn't even notice when he left, did you?"

"I..." Dick is not sure how to finish his sentence. Damian looks bored and like he'd rather be anywhere else. Alfred has a deep frown on his face but it doesn't seem to be directed at anyone in particular. Bruce... Bruce has completely shut down. His face is pale, stuck in a neutral expression while his eyes are glassy and focused on a random point in the wall.

"Like I said. You're not getting close to that boy if you're just going to keep using him. He got out. Respect that. If you don't, I'll make sure someone keeps you in check. He has a lot of people at his back and even more who owe him favors. You don't want to try me." With that, Martha Kent hangs up the phone.

Bruce comes back from the dead and wants to make things better. Bruce comes back from the dead and Tim was the one who brought him back, so it's obviously Tim who'll know best how to help him reconnect with everyone.

It's Tim who should give him advice on how to bond with Dick. Dick has always been his idol, after all. Tim would know best how to bring him back, and he does. He gives good advice and the two of them begin to get closer.

So Bruce asks about Jason, too. Asks about how to bring his son back into the fold and Tim wished for a brief and brutal moment that it weren't so obvious who the favorite was.

Tim told Bruce to give Jason his space, to loosen his rules, and make it clear that no matter what the Red Hood did, no matter what the Batman believed in, Jason was always welcome. Bruce would always want him.

It worked. Bruce wasn't surprised. Tim was a special sort of bitter.

Bruce asked again for Damian and Tim had to push down his anger. "That boy tried to kill me," Tim wanted to say. "I hate him and I want you to hate him too so that I can remember a time when we had something in common," Tim didn't say, but he got close.

He instead told Bruce how Damian liked art and animals and loved hearing stories of the wonders of Batman.

He told Bruce just how much Damian loved being Robin. Told Bruce to tell Damian what a good Robin he was.

God bless or maybe damn him, but he did and it worked and Tim wanted to start screaming and clawing at something because that would have never worked if Tim tried it and it wouldn't have stopped Damian from cutting his line--something Bruce did not and would never know about.

Bruce asked about Babs. How should he make sure she knew that she was a part of the family? They they loved her and not just for the work she did?

He asked about Steph. How should he make sure she knew that she was more important than his rules and that, if something else should go wrong, she didn't need to run away?

He asked about Duke. He never got the chance to get to know him before leaving--not as well as he wanted to, at least. How should he let him know that he was just as much a son as everyone else? That, whether or not his parents woke up, he'd always be welcome?

He asked about Cass. How should he show her that he loves her even though he has nothing to teach her? How can he convey how much he cares about her, his first daughter?

Bruce gets brought back from time and he makes things better. He brings his family back together by following Tim's advice.

And Tim?

Tim brings his dad back from the dead and Bruce changes, becomes a better father.

Bruce changes, but not everything can.

That, Tim thinks, is why Bruce never calls Tim his son.

[spiderb00]

What's Yn and Eve's relationship like? Do they lowkey fight for Yoonchae's attention, do they argue, or is Eve not even bothered by yn? 😹 and what's Sophia like with them?

Oh anon, Yn is in a competition all by herself. I swear, Evie doesn't even wiggle a muscle to fend off Yn.

Actually, she finds it very funny how Yn acts, but at some points she gets annoyed because she just wants to have time with her girlfriend.

But all of this is quickly turned into provocations.

Evie had probably killed Yn from the heart.

Relaxing in Yoonchae's room, Evie is lying on the bed, her face tucked into a book she had taken from her backpack, which was now at the foot of her girlfriend's bed. Yoonchae, who had her head lying on Jane's lap, began to miss her girlfriend's attention.

"Evie..." Yoonchae called, making the cat-eyed girl let out a small "hm" without taking her eyes off the book.

With a sigh, Yoonchae lifted her head from Evie's lap, the maknae's eyes scanning the profile of her girlfriend's face, sighing and trying again to get her attention.

"Jagiya..." With her ears perking up and her cheeks flushing as she heard the nickname coming out of Yoonchae's mouth, Evie put the book down, finally looking at the girl next to her.

"Yes, Chae..." Evie said, the girl's gaze softening as she saw how Yoonchae was looking at her.

"How long do we have until your training starts?" Yoonchae asked, moving closer to the girl Jane, making her blush furiously.

"Uhm, I... I think..." The girl tried to speak, becoming slightly disturbed by her girlfriend's beauty. "Thirty minutes."

Finally managing to complete a sentence, Eve saw Yoonchae agree, getting even closer, their noses almost touching, only for the maknae to whisper.

"Can we go buy ice cream?"

"Whatever you want, Chae." Eve said, seeing her girlfriend smile and get even closer.

It would have been perfect, if a thunderous knock on the door had not interrupted them.

"Hey, I said keep the door open!" Yn entered the room, causing Yoonchae to jump away from Evie, and causing the girl Jane to look at her with an indecipherable expression.

"It was open." Eve said.

"No, it wasn't." Yn replied.

"It had three centimeters of space between the door and the hinge, so yes it was open."

"What?"

"You know, you should have specified." Evie said finally, a teasing smile on the girl's lips, while Yoonchae was just standing there, watching it all like a tennis match.

"Yn, leave them alone." Sophia said, appearing in the doorway and grabbing Yn's shoulders.

"I'm leaving them alone, they were very peaceful when I arrived!" Yn replied, making the woman and the two girls present roll their eyes.

"All right, we're going guys." Yoonchae said, pulling Evie by the wrist and making the girl get up from the bed.

"Going? Going where?" Yn asked, the tone of concern flooding her voice.

"Hey, relax. You have to be more chill with it, Yn." Sophia said, pulling her girlfriend down the hall to give the two younger girls some privacy.

"Be more chill? They were about to kiss when I walked in!"

"Look, I know you're worried about Yoonchae, but you have to make them a little more comfortable, Yoonchae won't trust you anymore if you keep choking her." Sophia said, finally putting some sense into Yn's head.

"I know, but they're so young." lowering her head, Yn reflected on her method of care.

"I know, but this is normal my love. You had nothing to say when we were us." Sophia said, lightly mocking her future wife.

"We were nineteen, that's quite different!" Yn said, her head rising instantly.

"Of course, and you've never had a girlfriend before me, right?!" putting her hands on her hips, Sophia looked menacingly at Yn, who just let out an embarrassed laugh.

"So where do they go?" Rubbing the back of her neck, Yn tried to change the subject as quickly as possible.

[daynascullys]

ficlet: surprise

by handwrittengarden

rating: general words: 1,132 pairing: Fox Mulder & Dana Scully tags: birthday party, surprise party, humor, fluff warnings: none apply. links to read: AO3 / tumblr

SUMMARY: Mulder throws Scully a surprise party for her birthday.

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NOTES: Tried something new with the encouragement of my friends @thursdayinspace and @laurencem. This was just a silly little feel-good ficlet that I didn't have anyone beta read but hopefully it's still enjoyable :)

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“Mulder, it’s me.”

Mulder presses the phone to his ear with his shoulder as he gestures wildly at the friends he’s crowded into his apartment, motioning with his hands and mouthing that they need to shut the fuck up.   

“Oh hey, birthday girl,” Mulder teases, trying his best to sound nonchalant.

“Scully is fine, Mulder.” Mulder pictures her rolling her eyes and swears he can hear a suppressed smile in her voice. “I’m heading out now. I’ll meet you at your place?”

“Yes, yes. That’s the plan!” Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder sees Frohike disapprovingly shaking his head. Without thinking, Mulder swats an arm at him, the phone slipping from his shoulder and nearly hitting the floor in the process.

“Mulder, what was that? Are you okay?” Mulder glares at Frohike, who is snickering in the corner with the other Gunmen. 

“What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you when you get here.” He hangs up before Scully can press him for more answers. The Gunmen burst out laughing as he hangs up and Mulder glances around for something he can throw at them. He settles for some pencils he snatches from the desk.

“That’s the plan!” Frohike mimics in a high-pitched voice. 

“Worst co-conspirators ever,” Mulder mutters. Shoving his phone in his pocket, Mulder assesses the room, noting the drooping corner of a banner reading Happy Birthday and several half-full bags of balloons that have yet to be blown up. Mulder clears his throat. “Alright, people,” he announces, “we have about 20 minutes before Scully gets here. Come on, let’s go, let’s go!”   

————————

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you when you get here.”

“Mu–” Scully starts, but Mulder’s already hung up. She sighs, shaking her head slightly as she puts down the phone and turns her key in the ignition.

On the short drive to Mulder’s apartment, she mulls over their brief call. She knows Mulder so well, knows every inflection and cadence of his voice and the emotions he endeavors to confine within them. She thinks his voice sounded ever-so-slightly strained, too well-concealed for anyone but her to discern. There had been noise, too–some sort of commotion in the background. At least, she thinks there was noise. Scully isn’t sure. Ever since Mulder brought up going out to celebrate her birthday, his behavior has been… not quite erratic, but inconsistent. His answers either contain insufficient information or are brimming with insignificant details, and more often than not, they don’t even answer her questions. 

Lost in her thoughts, Scully hardly registers the fact that she has parked, entered Mulder’s apartment building, and is now stepping out of the elevator onto his floor. A door clicks shut as she walks down the hallway, the sound directing her focus back to the present. Reaching 42, Scully knocks on the door.

“It’s open!” Mudler’s muffled voice shouts through the door. Scully turns the handle, the darkness of the apartment colliding with the hallway light as she slowly pushes the door open. Scully reaches out to flick on the lights as she lets herself in. 

“SURPRISE!!!!!!!!” 

Scully jumps, instinctively reaching for her weapon. 

“I’M ARMED!” she screams, drawing her gun and pointing it around the apartment, her voice lost in the commotion as people shout and jump and duck and dive into corners and behind furniture. Her mind goes blank, vision narrowing to the trajectory of her unshot bullets. Scully hears something pop and the sound of shattering glass as she continues to threaten the intruders.

“Scully, Scully!” Mulder shouts as he steps in front of her, arms raised. “Scully, hey, it’s me. You’re okay.” 

“Mulder?!” Scully blinks, lowering her weapon in confusion and attempting to orient herself to her surroundings. There’s a mountain of presents on Mulder’s desk next to… her mom? She notices the Lone Gunmen standing by a cake. A crooked banner hangs behind Skinner, whose hand sits on his undrawn gun. Scully looks back to Mulder and finds him watching her in amusement, his barely suppressed laugh escaping as he starts to say something. He steps closer, gently placing his hands over hers and extricating the gun from her grip. 

“Happy birthday?” he manages with a sheepish grin before devolving into a full fit of laughter. She watches him incredulously, her heartbeat still pounding in her ears. Slowly, guests begin to emerge from their hiding spots. 

“MULDER!” Scully yells, pushing him lightly. “That’s not funny!” Mulder doesn’t respond. His laughter has overtaken him and rendered him incapable of speaking. The other guests stifle their grins as her panic slowly subsides. 

“It wasn’t meant to be funny!” he gasps, trying to regain his composure. “It was meant to be a surprise.” His hands are on her shoulders now, gently guiding her out of the doorway and farther into the apartment. “So, uh… surprise?”

Scully glances up at him, her face breaking into a smile in spite of herself. She shakes her head at him, heart bursting with affection as he meets her look with a delighted grin. From the kitchen, Langly blows a party horn. The guests begin to clap and cheer. Mulder jokingly takes several exaggerated bows as Scully buries her smile in both her hands, the room breaking into a flurry of party activities.      

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Some time after midnight, when the guests have cleared out and it’s finally just the two of them, Scully and Mulder sit side-by-side on Mulder’s couch, faces alight with the teal glow of his fish tank. Their shoulders are pressed firmly together, feet resting on the coffee table as they lean into the comfort of his couch. Scully’s head rests lightly on Mulder’s shoulder. 

“Mulder,” Scully says thoughtfully.

“Hm?” Mulder responds.

“In all the years that I’ve known you, you have had some remarkably terrible ideas.” Scully pauses. “But I have to say… this was–by a long shot–the absolute worst idea you have ever had.” Scully turns her head and angles it slightly up toward Mulder, just enough to glimpse the expression on his face. The smile on his face warms his voice and fills Scully’s heart with renewed affection.

“Hey, I think you were the problem,” he quips. “The idea itself was very nice.” Scully presses a grin into his shoulder.

“I guess it is a nice idea,” Scully concedes. She shifts slightly so she can wrap her right arm around his left, tacitly thanking him for his thoughtfulness and care. Mulder’s smile deepens as he finds her hand and intertwines it with his. He rubs his thumb back and forth and Scully squeezes his hand. “And you did manage to surprise me.” 

Mulder glances down, meeting Scully’s gaze with a satisfied grin as she smiles up at him. 

“I am never throwing you a surprise party again.”

[destielaureversebb]

Coming soon for the @destielaureversebb: “Station 49” 

Author: Itztigress3 Artist: @xfancyfranart

Rating: Explicit Archive warnings: None Length: 65,000 words Tags:  Firefighter!Dean, Fire Investigator!Cas, AU-Firehouse, Demonic Fire, Spirits Relationships: Dean/Castiel, Sam Winchester/Eileen Leahy, Bobby Singer/Ellen Harvelle, Benny Lafitte/Andrea

Summary:  

Guilt is all Dean has known since he was fifteen, when his parents died. Ten years later he’s a fireman with the Lawrence Fire Department and it seems like the fire is out to get him and his friends. 

Castiel’s career had been smooth until his boyfriend was arrested and charged with arson. As a fire investigator, he should have known better. Now he’s faced with falling for another fireman who has fires trying to take him out.

Can they band together and solve the riddle? Can Cas overcome his fear of moving on? 

Excerpt: 

I positioned Jones in front of me, letting her lead. Lafitte was bringing up the rear. It seemed odd that as soon as Jones cleared a section, flames would erupt from somewhere near her.

The walls, a light socket, even the ceiling! Added, if we weren’t close to the initial point it seemed the fire snaked its way across the floor toward us. As if it was seeking us out.

The initial point of fire was also changing colors indicating it was heating up, turning from red and orange to blues and whites. Eventually, Lafitte passed me and I hanged back but caught up. After they were outside I turned to do a final check, to make sure no one was calling out. What I noticed was trails of flames that were running across the floor. It was in areas we were all in, like someone had poured a trail for the flames to follow.

“Winchester?” Captain asked.

“Coming, Captain Hascum.” 

I was nearing the door when the voice rang out. Your fault.

I spun around expecting someone to be there, but the room was empty. Just white hot flames licking the ceiling, trailing across the floor, blazing through sofas and desks. A hand dropped on my shoulder, and I swear even with fifty pounds of weight, I jumped ten feet off the ground.

“Easy, Cher, it’s just me. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Let’s get the hell out of here.” 

Flames seemed to leap at Benny as we exited the building. 

“All clear.” I called.

Outside the building was pure chaos. There were more stations present now, each one having hoses on full. Four were focused on the roof up on ladders high above us. Chief Singer was also on the scene, he seemed to have taken over Captain Hascum’s command. I went right to him. He was giving out directions initially, so I turned to view the building and found flames were now leaping out the windows, engulfing the door we just came out of. But, I swore for a brief moment I saw a boy standing there.

Posting date:  March 11, 2025

[cryptid-killjoy]

Curly hair was down for the count!

He started screaming at the top of his lungs shrill like a girl. "ZOMBIE! ZOMBIEEEEEEEEEEE! OH GOD! Get it!" He was scrambling, flailing, trying to gain traction in a way that looked worse than a spooked cornered cat with nowhere to go. Bebop wasn't helping at all. He didn't come running to his aid like usual. What triggered him to open his eyes and focus a little was Bebop's voice saying, "Well, well, well, look what the Mother Ginger dragged in."

Then Jax finally noticed it wasn't a zombie that tackled him.

"ELLIE!" His face lit up like Christmas unlike the cautious way Mazzie had presented in Candy Land. "Ellie! You're here."

He pointed at Babyface too. He was smiling so big his eye was like slits and could barely be seen, so happy. He started hugging back.

When Bebop saw Babyface he stood up. Babyface started to smile. A genuine smile. It looked like he was coming in for a hug. Their whole damn family was dead. It was going to be okay this time.

Then he actually got the knuckle nudge. "Look at you actually living through this bullshit. Damn. There's a Beagle Holocaust out there and you're what I get?"

There was a time Babyface took it all and knew his place in the pack of Beagle Boys, but after everything he'd been through, he'd had about enough. The rest of the pack wasn't there to dogpile him if he barked back.

He took one glance to the air. He made up his mind and he charged his brother Beagle and started wailing on him. These two started a wrestling match that was a long time coming and long overdue. Every few jostles one would pin the other and say something snarky. While Bebop started with low blows like Wish it was you instead of Bouncer or insert name here type of jabs Babyface went in another direction when he finally got the upper hand. "Yeah, well while you're sitting here being a crybaby over who you didn't save, I was out there finding more Beagles. I was doing the footwork to start a new crew. I did what Ma Beagle told us to do not sit here on my ass doing nothing letting more of us die like you."

That one got Bebob too heated. He pulled a blade in anger. Babyface pulled his gun. They stared at each other and stared at each other.

Mazzie and Jax looked at each other. They both looked at Ellie. Everyone looked back and forth between each other and then suddenly both Beagles put their weapons down.

"Fine. Time." They'd say it simultaneously as if they both were counting down like it was a game. It was like they both knew if neither went for actually killing one another and they wouldn't because they were brothers that this was a Babyface won draw. He drew the weapon that caused the pause.

"Fine. Fuck." Bebop said sticking his blade in his back pocket. Then he'd start talking like nothing insane happened between them. "Who'd you find?"

"Black Arts. He's got some Beagle Babe with him. Calls her Nebby. Visited my Ma in prison, got some leads."

"Brandy? Zombies didn't take it over?"

"It's not in Nola, dope."

"Oh, right, right. Good thinking, little Beags." Then he rubbed the top of Babyface's hair as if he still wanted to infantilize him somehow even though he just got the drop on him not quite wanting to give up his position so clearly. He was the elder brother.

Mazzie looked over at Ellie as the drama unfoiled itself and then relaxed again. "So, everything's still the same."

Then she started grinning because at least if something was the same even though they knew nothing really was it was something to hold on to. Crazy as the boys being the boys was it; she didn't mind it being that something at all.

"Well, not everything." Jax blurted out.

Mazzie gave Jax a hard glare. She wasn't quite ready for all that, but then again why drag it out?

She waved them into the control room so they could start to understand what was different about Pleasure Island than before. They might not know it like the backs of their hands like Mazzie and Jax did, but they were going to start to understand this clearly the moment they got inside.

"Don't get your hands near them. Don't pet them or feed them."

"Pet or feed the donkeys?"

"No."

Then Mazzie pushed open the door as Babyface shook off his hair from Bebop rubbing it.

His cocky jaw fell wide open. His eyes were just the same. He couldn't decide if he wanted step backwards or run forwards. There inside the control room was the boat full of Beagles all chained to chairs including one of Mazzie and Jax's father's, Honest John.

An alive Gideon, the quietest one turned his head and said, "Oh 'ello there. I didn't expect guests. Do we needs more chains and brains or plates and sammiches? Which kinds of guests are you, dear?"

Then he threw a body part at the zombie Bouncer who started gobbling it down with no manners at all. Yes, Gideon was feeding the zombies.

This was only the beginning of the surprises inside.

“Yeah, but some half-pipes would be cool, some railings,” Ellie said, looking around. If it was themed like an amusement park, why couldn’t it have a skate park? “I’m sure the boys would love it.”

She knew that she was torn. And she knew that Babyface knew. And Mazzie, even if they hadn’t seen each other in a long time. It was a big decision - and she knew the clock was counting down. But for now - maybe just try to get through this night alive, and make sure that everyone else was as well.

She stayed back, out of the questioning that Mazzie was doing to Babyface, which proved that everyone here knew that she was on the fence. She kept her hand on the weapon, looking around for zombies, making sure there wasn’t anymore coming. Mazzie might be able to get the boys to stand down but no one controlled zombies.

But she looked back in time to see the punches to Babyface, and she couldn’t help giggling at that.

“I almost was,” Ellie admitted to Mazzie. “I was stuck inside of our base when everything went to Hell. The zombie virus in the air went away, thankfully, and then there was just the dancing. I duct taped myself to my skateboard and went to Babyface over in Halloweentown. I nearly wiped out so many times because my hips kept trying to hula-hoop or something, it was ridiculous.”

But then shes caught onto what Babyface had. Survivors. What were the chances - not many people knew about the island. Almost nobody knew about the island, actually. So how -

“Beagles?” She repeated, her eyes wide with disbelief. Of all the people - of course the Beagles would endure. There was so many of them, there was no way that all of them could be lost. "Like - Real-time Beagles?"

Big Time. Bouncer.

She put an arm around Babyface, hugging him close, rubbing up and down on his ribs. If there was any time to try to provide comfort, it was that moment, learning the absolute truth. At least he didn’t have to see them, though. Like how she had been pretty sure that she saw her parents shuffling about through Feral.

Her eyes followed up to the porch. Red hair. Looks like she was no longer the only Ginger in Feral.

“Son of a bitch,” She said, grinning. And then she started to run, flats hitting the pavement, going right up to Jax and tackling him down with a hug.

[morningsharksworld]

Just confess already!!!

Hazard x Hopeless Romantic! Reader

A/N: This was going to be an oc x cannon fic but tbh I know some people feel like this for others and went WHY NOT

Summary: JUST TELL HIM ALREADY

You were nursing a cup of coffee at the dimly lit bar the Phreaks called their second home. The music was low, a rare lull in the usual chaos that followed the gang. Across the room, Hazard was playing darts, his sharp eyes focused on the target. Every so often, he’d crack a joke or smirk at something Boomslang said, his laugh echoing in the space.

You couldn’t stop staring, your heart doing that stupid fluttering thing it always did when he was near. But no matter how much you felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything.

“You’re pathetic, you know that?”

The sudden voice beside you made you jump, nearly spilling your coffee. You turned to see Boomslang leaning against the bar, her ever-present smirk firmly in place.

“Excuse me?” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t play dumb” she said, gesturing toward Hazard with his drink. “You’ve been making goo-goo eyes at him for months. Hell, maybe even years. When are you gonna grow a spine and tell him?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Not you too.”

“Oh, definitely me” she said, sliding into the stool next to you. “And you’re lucky, ‘cause I’m the nicest one in this group. If Susie were here, she’d—”

“If Susie were here, she’d what?”

You flinched as Susie appeared out of nowhere, her boots clunking against the floor as she crossed her arms and gave you a pointed look. “Don’t stop on my account, Boom. Go ahead, finish the thought.”

Boomslang grinned. “She’d give you hell, obviously. Right, Susie?”

You felt Susie rolled her nonexistent eyes and turned her attention to you. “Look, we’re not trying to be jerks. But seriously, what’s stopping you? Hazard isn’t a mind reader.”

“He doesn’t need to be” you muttered, staring into your coffee. “It’s obvious he’s not interested.”

Susie snorted. “Are you kidding me? Do you know how many times he’s asked me if you’re okay when you’re not around? Or how often he gets distracted during missions ‘cause he’s worried about you?”

Boomslang chimed in, “Not to mention the fact that he’s actually tolerable when you’re around. That’s a miracle all on its own.”

You frowned, your heart pounding. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Am I?” Susie leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a serious tone. “Listen, I’ve been around enough people to know when someone’s holding back. Hazard’s got his issues, sure, but he cares about you. Probably more than he even realizes. You just have to give him a reason to admit it.”

You shook your head, your stomach twisting. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing worth having ever is” Boomslang said, clinking her glass against yours. “But you’re running out of time, sweetheart. Guys like Hazard don’t stick around forever.”

Susie nodded, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “I’m not saying he’s gonna disappear tomorrow, but life happens fast in our world. If you wait too long, you might lose your chance. And trust me, regret’s a bitch.”

You glanced back at Hazard. He was laughing now, leaning against the dartboard as another member of the crew tried (and failed) to beat his score. He looked so carefree in that moment, so alive.

“I don’t even know how I’d do it” you admitted quietly.

Boomslang grinned. “That’s the easy part. You walk up to him and say, ‘Hey, Hazard, I’m into you.’ Boom. Done.”

Susie smacked her arm. “Ignore her. Just… be honest. Tell him how you feel, no games, no excuses. If he feels the same, great. If he doesn’t… well, at least you’ll know, right?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of their words settling over you. They were right—you’d been holding back out of fear, but that fear wasn’t going to disappear on its own. If you didn’t take the risk, you’d never know what could have been.

“I’ll think about it” you said, your voice shaky but determined.

Boomslang raised her glass in a mock toast. “That’s all we’re asking for. Just don’t take too long, yeah?”

Susie hummed. “And if you chicken out, don’t worry—we’ll happily push you in his direction.”

You groaned, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks… I think.”

As they walked away, you took a deep breath, your eyes drifting back to Hazard. The fear was still there, but so was something else—hope.

Maybe, just maybe, it was time to take the leap.

The noise from the bar faded as you stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air wrapping around you like a welcome reprieve. You sighed, leaning on the railing, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. This was the only quiet spot, far from the crowd—perfect for what you were about to do.

You pulled your jacket tighter around you, gathering the courage once more. You couldn’t keep pushing it aside—tonight had to be the night. You were tired of hiding your feelings, of pretending you didn’t care. Hazard deserved to know, no matter what came next.

Just as you were about to speak, the door creaked open behind you. You turned to see Hazard stepping out onto the balcony, his eyes scanning the space for a moment before settling on you.

“What’re you doin’ out here?” he asked, his tone casual but curious.

You shrugged, playing with the hem of your sleeve. “Needed some air. A lot of things have been… on my mind.”

Hazard’s brow furrowed slightly as he approached, his usual cool expression softening. “Ye a’right?”

You hesitated for a second, then let out a nervous laugh. “No, actually. I’ve been kinda of a mess.”

Hazard stepped closer, now standing beside you, his presence quiet but steady. “A mess? What’s got you in such a state?”

You sighed, turning to face him fully. “Look, I didn’t come out here to waste time. I needed to say something.”

Hazard’s sharp gaze sharpened. “Aye? What’s on your mind, then?”

You took a deep breath, gathering every ounce of courage you had left. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something for a while. And I can’t keep pretending anymore… I like you, Hazard. I like you more than I should...”

His lips twitched into a subtle smirk, and you could tell he wasn’t surprised—but it still made your nerves tangle. “Oh?” he murmured, his voice soft but with that familiar teasing edge.

“Yes” you continued, feeling more confident now that the words were out. “And… I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t mean anything anymore. I care about you, more than I should.”

Hazard’s smirk grew, but it wasn’t mocking—more like… intrigued. “You’ve been carryin’ this for a while, haven’t you?”

You nodded, unable to hide the blush rising in your cheeks. “Yes. And I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I—”

Before you could say more, Hazard took a step forward, closing the small distance between you. His expression softened, his gaze steady. “You should’ve told me sooner, then.”

Your breath hitched. “I was scared. What if I messed things up? or worse, what if you didn’t like me at all?”

Hazard chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You’re braver than most I’ve met, Ach, I've seen ye punch guys twice yer size Luv. But ye don’t need to worry ‘bout that.”

You frowned slightly, confused. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before locking eyes with you again. “I’ve known for a while now… I’ve been feelin’ the same.”

Your heart skipped, the weight of his words settling in. “What?”

Hazard gave you a small, amused smirk. “Aye, I’ve been feelin’ the same way ‘bout ye.”

For a moment, you were speechless. Your mind couldn’t process it.

“…You like me?” you whispered, disbelief washing over you.

“Aye” Hazard replied, his expression serious now, but with that familiar quiet confidence. “Just didn’t want to ruin what we had.”

You blinked, your mind reeling. You couldn’t believe it—he’d felt the same for so long, and yet, he’d never said a word. And now, here you were, finally hearing it from him, your face completely flushed.

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “Do you have any idea the amount of nights I’ve stayed up thinking about you!? I mean I must look like a damn dog waiting for y—”

But before you could finish, Hazard stepped closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. He leaned in, cutting you off mid-rant with a soft, kiss on the lips—firm but tender, grounding and real.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but your breath caught in your throat, melting into the kiss. It was unlike anything you’d imagined—something more, something you hadn’t realized you needed.

He pulled back just slightly, his Scottish accent thick and warm as he murmured, “Now, does that feel like ruinin’ anythin’ to ye?”

You blinked, your heart fluttering wildly. No—this felt right. More than right. And you couldn’t help but smile, your hands gripping the edge of his jacket slightly.

“No… it doesn’t” you whispered, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest.

Hazard smirked again, leaning in just enough so his breath brushed against your ear. “Good. ‘Cause you’ve got me now, and I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

You felt a rush of relief—of certainty—that this wasn’t just a fleeting moment. This was real.

And finally, you let yourself believe it.

[jimmy-johns-was-taken]

Hihi!! Do you think you could maybe do father figure tim wright reacting to his kid (reader) sneaking out? :> Thank u! ^^

MORE ANGST??? MORE DAD ANGST???

cooking up something devious rn >:)

Idk what to Title this :)

Walking alongside the beat up pavement, you slowly dragged yourself toward the inevitable. Tim had texted you a few hours ago, asking where you had been. After you saw the notification on your Lock Screen, you knew that you were done for.

It had been a quiet evening in the small cabin. Toby and Brian were out and about, some random last minute mission. Kate was currently away at another mission, while Cody had locked himself away to work on a science project. You, bored out of your skull, had only been mindlessly scrolling through social media when you decided to leave.

Thinking a little, you knew that Tim wouldn’t want you leaving this late (unless it would have been work related). So, you took to being a normal and reckless teen, opening your window and jumping down, running off into the woods.

That was three hours ago.

You had been laying on a rock, looking up at the star, mapping out the galaxy in your mind. The constellations captivated your mind, allowing their stories to play out in dramatic scenes. You smiled, taking notice of the brightly lit North Star, remembering how it had saved you on many occasions.

A loud ‘buzz’ had knocked you out of your daze, glancing down at the phone to see a message from Tim. Without even reading it, you knew you were screwed. Something just screamed at you, telling you that he knew you had snuck out and would be in loads of trouble.

Picking up the device, you unlocked it and looked at the message. ‘Get home. Now.’ It was simple and too the point. Letting out a sigh, you took one look back up at the stars before making your way back to the cabin.

That brings us to the present, standing in front of the dimly lit run down cabin. From the outside, it didn’t even look inhabitable. Walking up the stairs, each one creaking under your weight, you grabbing your key. Unlocking the door and turning the knob, you took a few breathes, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the lecture.

Pushing open the heavy door, you could see Tim sitting out the kitchen island, his face hidden in shadows. You swiftly entered and shut the door behind, locking it and straightening your posture.

“Uhh…hey,” you murmured. Was he angry? Upset? Worried? The shadows cast down on Tim made it impossible to even see his face.

“Where’d you go?” The southern drawl to his voice ever apparent as you shuddered. He was so serious!

“Just for a walk,” I responded, slinking up to the island and grabbing a glass out of the cupboard. “Wanted to get out, clear my head,” you stated as you filled the cup with water.

“Listen, I’m not going to lecture you,” your eyes widened slightly at his response, “but please, you have got to tell someone when you leave.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head to the side, earning a sigh from him. He rubbed his hands over his face, massaging the area around his eyes.

“Just…tell someone where you’re going, ok? I understand that you…you aren’t a little kid anyone,” the words were quiet and soft, uncharacteristic from the normal gruff tone.

“Yeah, I’m basically an adult,” you giggled, walking over and resting on the counter.

“Not to me, to me…you’re a kid,” Tim looked up at you, a tired look in his eyes. “I can’t control you, what you do, say, think. You’re getting older, and I have to accept that,” he sounded almost heartbroken. A soft smile made its way to your face as you looked at Tim, seeing his glaze casted downward.

“You’re a kid to me, always will be,” he said, referring to how young you were when you first met. You really weren’t that young, only 14. But that had been so long ago, it felt like a lifetime.

“I might not always be your little girl who you get to show how to use a gun,” you smiled, looking at the water in your glass, “but, I’ll always be your kid. Blood or not, you’re stuck with me.”

Tim laughed, rolling his eyes at you. He didn’t want to get rid of you, and he’d kill anyone who tried to take you from the little family in the woods.

[saysflora]

If you ask Mush, winter is one of the best times of the year, but it seems he's one of the only people in the lodgings that feels that way. What starts as a way to take Blink's mind off of the now cold, dark months ends up being a bigger scheme than even he was imagining, and he's more than happy to take the opportunity to plan a celebration that'll have everyone raring with holiday spirit. With help, of course.

OR: Mush throws a Christmas Party.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[araneitela]

Me: Talks about the significance and intimacy (not automatically romantic, folks, but also there's an inherent romanticism) of hands, and touch and who you let into that space of comfort. Pinterest: Did you say hands? Here, we've adjusted your home feed you so that you. cannot. possibly. escape. them. you're. welcome. Me: I just wanted— what did I want, again?

... Did I end up rambling about anything but hands in my tags? Yes. Welcome to me, this is what you sign up for. Not my portrayal, not my writing, my tag rambles.

[perilusjax]

Dc x Dp

The Gate Guardian

The JL is transported to the Infinite Realms and are trying to find their way back. As they travel, they meet ghosts, both friendly and not. It wasn't until they met the dragon princess Dora that they got a lead.

"The only portal that can get you back home is Sir Phantom's. It has been many years since we've spoken, so I know not how he may recieve you," Dora spoke, finally giving them a way home.

"You have done more than enough, sister my companions and I will do our best to convince this Phantom," Diana replied, as she hugged the draconian princess before departing with her fellow heroes.

As they followed the trinket, pointing torwards Phantom's lair. The team couldn't help but feel worried. Thinking of what ifs and worse case scenarios.

As they approached, the location the JL were met with a shocking sight. It was a galaxy, the ever present neon greed transitions into a deep purple, as galaxies swirled within.

They stopped right infront of the pocket of space, yet before they could decide what to do. Two giant green eyes stared down at them through the front window

"Oh?" A voice reverberating all around them

[plutotheplum]

Winter's Kiss

sylus x fem!reader

summary: luke and kieran rope you into spending christmas at the n109 zone (and kissing their boss).

cw: fluff, soft!sylus, kissing under the mistletoe, luke and kieran being idiots, found family

wc: 2.7k

a/n: merry christmas eve/christmas my lovelies!! some fluff for the holiday season! here's to hoping sylus turns up under our christmas trees :)

also on ao3!

Somehow, you’d ended up in the N109 Zone for Christmas.

It wasn’t like the barrage of texts from Luke and Kieran had weighed upon your decision, the rapid influx of messages from the twins demanding your presence for Christmas. That coupled with the image of Sylus alone on Christmas night hadn’t made your stomach churn and heart ache at all.

The year had been a tumultuous one. Wanderers, disturbing visions and wanted criminals had you on edge these past few months, so perhaps unwinding with said, now somewhat mellow, wanted criminals was warranted in some way. 

You heft the presents under your arms, moving your fingers to stabilize the wrapped goods when you feel one of them begin to slip. Shopping hadn’t been too difficult, although choosing a gift for Sylus had proved to be somewhat of a challenge. You weren’t sure whether to get him something heartfelt or to gift him a refurbished gun with new prototyped features that were advertised to the Hunter Association. 

The glittering streams of tinsel drags you out of your thoughts, a smile pulling at your lips as you imagine Luke, Kieran and Sylus decorating. You hear panicked, hushed whispers when you turn the corner, a laugh spilling out of you when you see the sight before you.

Luke perched atop Kieran’s shoulders, Kieran grumbling irritatedly when Luke flails and misses the tip of the Christmas tree, the golden star falling off only for Kieran to shift and have Luke catch it.

“It’s not that hard, you idiot,” Kieran grunts, his knees bending in an attempt to readjust to Luke’s weight.

“Then you try!” Luke protests.

“I thought you two were meant to be in tune,” you muse, stepping closer, over the strewn wrapping paper and bending down to add your presents to the growing collection under the Christmas tree. 

“We are,” they both say in unison, their eyes landing on you.

“You made it!” Luke says happily, squirming, “Boss will be glad.”

“ Really glad,” Keiran adds, his annoyance forgotten momentarily. “We’re glad too.”

You smile at them, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s nice to see you guys too. Maybe you should try holding the star at the tip, Luke?”

“That’s what I told him!” Kieran says, letting out an aggrieved sigh. 

Luke huffs indignantly, adjusting his position yet again as Keiran steps closer to the tree, giving Luke some more leverage. It’s another failed attempt and Kieran is rolling his eyes, dumping Luke onto his feet unceremoniously. 

“You do me now.”

“What about her?” Luke asks, pointing at you.

“You could ask Mephisto,” you offer, pointing at the mechanical crow that was currently preening his feathers. “What do you say, buddy?”

Mephisto gives an indignant squawk, his little head turning away arrogantly, tending to his feathers with care.

“Nevermind,” you sigh, before looking towards the twins. “Kieran is taller than me, though.”

“Just get on,” Luke whines as he bends his knees, waiting for you to climb up onto his shoulders.

You open your mouth to protest, but there’s a warm hand curling over your hip, pulling you back gently, flush against a firm chest. “Let’s not badger our guest, hm?”

Deep and velvety, you have no doubts as to who this voice belongs to. Your head tilts back to find Sylus smirking down at you, his expression amused.

“Glad you could join us, sweetie. The N109 Zone isn’t usually so… festive.”

“Yeah, well, apparently you were missing me, so I figured I’d drop in,” you tease, a sly smile spreading across your face.

Luke and Kieran snicker until Sylus’ stern expression silences them, his hand squeezing at your hip in warning.

“I never said that.”

“Must’ve been the wind,” you murmur.

“Right,” Sylus deadpans.

You squeak when the red mist wraps around you, lifting you off of the ground, the golden star being thrust into your hand by the same swirling mist. The trio of men beneath you seem amused as the tendrils sweep you higher, closer to the top of the tree, giving you enough height to place the star right where it needs to be.

Sylus’ Evol dissipates as it sets you down onto your feet, the mist sweeping across playfully and making your dress flutter. 

“That’s one way to do it,” Kieran remarks, slinging his arm over Luke’s shoulders before they shoot each other knowing glances and disappear from the living room.

“You came,” Sylus says once the twins have left, his arms crossing over his chest.

“I did,” you reply, peering up at him, your hands clasping behind your back, “too bad you never sent me a personal invitation.” Sylus smiles, and you can’t help but think he looks softer in this light, the ruthless leader of Onychinus replaced by a man who seems less intense and more accommodating than usual.

“I figured Luke and Kieran would’ve gotten through to you,” he muses, his head tilting as he lets his gaze dip over you.

You do the same, taking in his sweater and trousers, trying to quell the inconvenient yet undeniable pull of attraction you feel towards him. 

“Well, they did,” you sigh, managing to drag your gaze back up to meet his, “although I can’t say I appreciated how many texts they sent.”

“The twins tend to get excited,” Sylus replies, reaching out towards you, his fingers tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s hard to not notice how Sylus’ touch lingers for a moment, his expression looking a little absent-minded as though remembering something from the past. Your brows furrow, unable to decide between asking him or letting his touch linger further. His hand drops away after a few moments before he clears his throat. 

“I made dinner,” he announces.

You laugh, eyes lighting up at the thought of Sylus in the kitchen. You don’t quite believe him though, not when Sylus had enough money to hire at least a dozen personal chefs.

“You’re not serious,” you say, head tilting in amusement.

“I am,” Sylus smirks, his hand landing on your lower back as he guides you forward, towards the hallway, “Luke and Kieran pitched in.”

“Now I feel special,” you muse.

“I suppose you are,” Sylus replies, his expression sobering, “to all of us.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity in his words, heart giving way to a flutter that you attempt to squash down by pinching yourself, not that it helps. This sense of belonging isn’t what you’d planned on, warmth blooming in your chest as you stare up at Sylus and remember the twins. It’s nice, really, to be valued like this. You can’t help but think you could get used to it. 

Laughter echoes through the hallway as you and Sylus move through it. You startle when Kieran shouts, his voice urgent. 

“Don’t move!”

“Oh, look at that ,” Luke sighs dramatically, feigning innocence as he peers upwards, directing his gaze above you and Sylus.

Bewilderment flashes across your face until you hear Sylus let out a low laugh. You tip your head back, eyes narrowing when you spy the sprig of mistletoe hanging right above where you’re standing. Mephisto adds in something that sounds like a suspiciously happy squawk, and you stare at the crow, realising you’ve been betrayed. 

“Funny,” you say drily, shaking your head. 

Kieran sighs just like Luke, as though he can’t quite believe the situation. The cunning expression in their eyes gives them away. 

Devious, little brats.

“Well, you can’t move now,” Luke says, sounding positively aggrieved. 

“I suppose you’ll just have to kiss, isn’t that right?” Kieran says, looking towards Luke. Luke nods, a self-satisfied smile settling on his face. “Those are the rules.”

“What rules?” you shoot back, glaring at the pair of twins, “there are no rules. I could quite literally just walk away.”

“Christmas tradition !” Luke and Kieran both argue, their faces looking a little crestfallen when they hear the tone of your voice, “you have to kiss!”

You can feel your heart twinge at the earnest tone present in their voices, your eyes flickering up to meet Sylus’. Strangely enough, he doesn’t seem to have any protests, his gaze boring down into yours expectantly. 

“You seriously have nothing to say?” you grouse, head tilting.

“It’s just a kiss, sweetie,” he replies, his arm wrapping around your waist to bring you closer to him. “What’s the matter, hm? Afraid you’ll fall for me?”

“The thought is laughable,” you retort, trying to ignore the soothing squeeze of his hand against your side; the unrelenting warmth that was currently seeping into you and melting your hardened resolve.

“I suppose we’ll find out,” Sylus murmurs, his fingers gripping your chin to tilt your head. “We have time.”

“Move a little to the right!” Kieran calls out, waving his hand.

“What for?” you ask exasperatedly, feeling Sylus step closer, moving you with him.

“For- for the aesthetic !” Luke huffs out.

The twins look a little impatient as you stare at them, your brows furrowing further when you see Kieran whisper something to Luke.

Sylus doesn’t let you dwell longer on the twins’ antics, his calloused hand cupping your cheek to turn you towards him. 

“Merry Christmas, sweetie.”

Your eyes flutter shut as his lips slot over yours, your hand curling around his wrist. Sylus kisses you like he means it, lips soft yet insistent, his thumb smoothing over your cheek. You forget where you are momentarily, knees feeling weak as you fist his sweater pulling him closer, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kiss better.

Sylus tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Your stubborn resolve weakens pitifully and you can only think about how perfect this moment is, how good Sylus’ lips feel, how warm his embrace is-

There’s a blinding array of flashes, white sparking out from under your closed eyelids until your eyes snap open, head turning to the side to find both Luke and Kieran with cameras in hand.

“Oh, shit,” Luke begins.

“I thought the flash was off,” Kieran mutters, frowning.

You grit your teeth, taking one step towards them, your eyes narrowing. “Give that to me.”

Luke and Kieran hug their cameras to their chest protectively.

“Christmas memories,” Luke laughs nervously when he sees the determination in your eyes. “Wouldn’t- wouldn’t want to lose those.”

Kieran nods in agreement.

“Boss!” They cry out when the cameras get swept out of their hands by Sylus’ Evol, one of them landing in your hands.

You click through the images, heat blossoming in your stomach when you see how intimate the kiss looks, Sylus’ body pressed firmly against yours, his hand on your cheek. It’s romantic, your somewhat eager response, Sylus’ tight hold, all captured closely through the lens.

“‘s nice,” Sylus murmurs, his chest pressing up against your back as he peers down at the little camera screen.

“ No ,” you shake your head vehemently, “it’s not nice.”

“We look good,” he whispers, his voice dropping lower, lips brushing over the shell of your ear.

You try to ignore the way his hands feel on your hips, his body pressing a little closer into yours. It’s hard not to agree with him the longer you stare at the images though, you do look good, and Luke’s interjection about Christmas memories has you feeling a little forgiving. 

“Fine, keep them,” you sigh, handing the camera back to Luke whilst Sylus does the same to Kieran, “but don’t share them, please.”

Luke and Kieran nod enthusiastically and you snag onto Kieran’s arm before he can leave, your voice dropping to a low whisper.

“Send them to me,” you whisper, “and not a word to anyone.”

Kieran smiles deviously and you roll your eyes, reaching up to ruffle his hair. 

“You’re such a jerk, Kieran.”

“C’mon,” he whines, “you love us.”

You smile up at him, your arm hooking with his. “Maybe just a little.”

He snorts and you let out a laugh, following after Luke and Sylus who had left earlier, talking about something else. Dinner goes smoothly enough and you refuse to tell Luke and Kieran what their presents are, despite their whining.

You feed Mephisto little bites of your food, your finger petting his little feathery head gently every now and then. He preens at the attention, letting out an odd sounding chirp every now and then when you tap his little beak and offer him some more food.

Sylus is seated beside you and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to stop stealing glances at the side of his face. The longer you stare, the more you can feel yourself falling deeper, a pressing crisis unfolding in your mind. 

Fuck . You think you might like him.

Deep rooted feelings of yearning never lead to any good, and yet, you were too impatient not to act on them.You wait patiently, fingers playing with themselves in your lap, for the perfect opportunity. 

It presents itself when Luke and Kieran break out into an insignificant quarrel, their eyes moving elsewhere. Sylus is already looking towards you and you’re leaning forward, cupping the back of his head to bring him closer, lips meeting his in a slow, sweet kiss. 

“What was that for?” Sylus murmurs when you break away, his eyes roving over the flush settling on your cheeks.

“No reason,” you reply nonchalantly, leaning back in your chair.

Sylus scoffs out a laugh, behaving seemingly unaffected. There’s a light flush dusted across his cheeks however, his tongue darting out to taste the remnants of you on his lips.

“This is for no reason too,” he says, grabbing your chin and pulling you closer.

You sigh contentedly when he kisses you, arms wrapping around his neck, your lips working against his a little feverishly as though you can’t get enough.

A cacophony of protests breaks out from the twins when they see you and Sylus kissing at the table.

“Gross! Get a room!”

You roll your eyes, breaking away from Sylus to peer over at them. 

“You were the ones that made us kiss,” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, we didn’t mean all the time,” Luke corrects.

“Deal with it,” Sylus interrupts, brushing a kiss to your cheek.

You hum happily, Sylus’ hand warm as it encases yours under the table. Luke pouts and Kieran mirrors him, both of them slumping back in their chairs.

You and Sylus get a little more privacy when you step outside, snow dusting across both of you, covering the shrubbery and trees. Mephisto swoops through the air, his mechanical wings flapping as he lands on a tree branch above. The icy chill of the wintery air isn’t so bad, not when Sylus is stepping up behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder as he holds you close to him.

“It was bound to happen,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek again as you stare up at the night sky, glittering with stars.

“You seem awfully sure of yourself,” you reply, squeezing his forearms.

“Let’s just say… I had an inkling. I know you, sweetie.”

“I don’t understand what you mean sometimes,” you sigh, peering up at him, head resting on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to,” he whispers, dropping a kiss to your temple.

You sway gently in his arms, pressing yourself closer, eyes slipping shut. You’d kill for more moments of peace like this.

It never seems to last for long.

The beginnings of torn wrapping paper begin to fill your ears and you peek through the glass window to find the twins tearing at their presents.

“Oh, these are sick !” Luke announces, beginning to twirl around the pair of knives you had gotten him.

“They have to wait!” you protest, reaching for the door, “Sylus, they have to wait!”

“Let them,” Sylus murmurs, dragging you back into his arms, his chest rumbling with laughter.

You can’t help but let out an exasperated noise, smiling up at him. Sylus lowers his head and you nudge your nose against his gently, pressing a tender kiss to his lips.

“What?” he asks quietly when you trace the curve of his cheek, your fingers splaying across his skin.

You kiss him again, revelling in the softness of his eyes when you pull apart. There's a strange warmth in your chest, an unknown pull in the back of your mind as though something familiar were evading you.

You feel like you know him too.

“Merry Christmas, Sylus.”

[j-jared]

This is why you don't sleep with the Tyrant King - The consequence is children

Constantine avoids involvement with the Infinite Realms for two reasons.

Who wants to deal with all those Ancients in the first place?

He’s avoiding yet another unhinged ex of his.

Of course, hooking up with Pariah Dark wasn’t really an actual relationship, more like a one night stand via dream walking (Nocturn owed Pariah, but seeing as it would be insane to release the Tyrant King from his endless sleep, he’d give him a dream partner every couple centuries) - regardless, Constantine doesn’t want to deal with that.

So yeah - the fact that the Justice League is attempting to summon the High King into the Watchtower has him wanting to drink more than usual.

Of course he gave warnings, but they’re dead set on doing so. A green folder had appeared in the secure “cursed artifacts” vault with no trace of whoever left it there. How else were they gonna find out how it got there?

So Constantine’s stuck there to set up wards, and is trying to find his way out of this one.

When the summoning circle worked, no one expected the teenager to pop out of it. 

Instead of Pariah Dark, or even the sarcophagus showing up, there was a white haired ghost boy with glowing green eyes the same color as the flames of the Crown of Fire. Except he didn’t look exactly like the others ghosts. He had a human skin tone, his proportions were exactly like a human teenager’s, and he was wearing a black and white hoodie with black sweatpants, for God’s sake. 

… Were ghosts able to reproduce with humans?

Before any of the Justice League can get into questioning, Constantine speaks up:

“You’re not the Ghost King.”

Green eyes settle on him, lighting up with recognition - Danny knows exactly who this is, with the amount of complaints on his desk about the blonde. Clockwork also informed him (he didn’t want to know but now he does) of the man’s stint with Pariah. 

Daniel “Commit to the bit” Fenton chooses to do just that.

“Of course not,” The confusion crosses the face of the heroes present- “That’s just because I haven’t had my coronation yet! I’m the Crown Prince, it’s practically the same thing!”

Oh, and the dread and realization crossing Constantine’s face is almost enough to make his core purr in amusement. 

“Now I will gladly answer all your questions, but first!” His eyes swept over the heroes before raising his hand and pointing accusingly at the British warlock.

“John Constantine,” his voice boomed, the temperature of the meeting room dropping as his face stretched with a smile too big and too pointy, “You owe me fifteen years of child support.”

[misswynters]

Ma Meilleure Amour

featuring. ekko x fem!reader

a/n. doing my duty as a writer to fill the ekko tag with fics of him only (it’s translated to my best love)

inspired by. the song Ma Meilleure Ennemie and the scene with ekko and jinx in act iii (listen to it while reading)

Everything felt different. The streets of Zaun had the ever-present haze of smog seem softer, its grim edge dulled by the warm hum of neon lights. The streets bustled with life, as they always did, but the night gave the chaos a certain charm. The glow of green and pink signs reflected off damp cobblestones, while the occasional flicker of a malfunctioning lamp sent ripples of color through shallow puddles.

You walked side by side with Ekko, your steps slow and aimless, as if the two of you had all the time in the world. You didn’t, of course. With how Zaun always had a way of reminding you that the clock never stopped ticking. But right now, under the swirl of lights and the faint hiss of steam vents, it felt like time had paused just for the two of you.

Ekko’s hand brushed against yours every so often, and though he wasn’t one to initiate touch easily, you could tell he didn’t mind the closeness. He always had this way of being effortlessly cool, his swagger and wit making it seem like nothing fazed him. But you knew him better than most. You saw the weight he carried, the pressure of being a leader, a fighter, and a kid all at once. And tonight, you were determined to remind him what it felt like to just…be.

“Ever think Zaun’s kinda pretty at night?” you mused, breaking the comfortable silence.

Ekko glanced at you, one eyebrow raised, before looking around. “Pretty? Dunno if I’d call it that. More like…gritty with a side of a green glow.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Says the one waxing poetic about this place,” he shot back, his grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, maybe I’m seeing it through rose-colored glasses. Or maybe I just like walking around with you.”

That earned a chuckle from him, the sound low and warm. He shoved his hands in his pockets, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned closer to you. “Well, when you put it that way…” The two of you wandered through winding alleys and across rickety bridges, the air thick with the scent of metal and oil. Every so often, Ekko would point out a shortcut he’d used for one of his time-bending escapades or share a story about an adventure with the Firelights.

But then he led you down a narrow path you hadn’t noticed before, his fingers brushing yours briefly to guide you. At the end of the path, you stepped into a beautiful hidden oasis. A rooftop garden tucked away from Zaun’s usual grit and grime. The first thing you noticed was the lights. Strings of mismatched lanterns crisscrossed the space, casting a soft, golden glow over everything. Tiny fairy lights were woven through the vines that climbed up makeshift trellises, their warm flicker like little stars in the night. The plants themselves were a mix of scrappy greenery and surprisingly vibrant flowers, their colors popping against the muted tones of the city below.

“Woah…” you breathed, turning to him with wide eyes.

He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the faint blush on his cheeks gave him away. “It’s nothing fancy. Just a spot I’ve been working on.”

“Are you kidding? It’s perfect,” you said, your voice filled with awe.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze darting away from yours. “Figured it’d be nice to have a place to get away, y’know? Somewhere quiet.”

You stepped forward, taking it all in. A small wooden bench sat in the center of the garden, its surface worn but sturdy. Around it, the plants swayed gently in the cool breeze, their leaves catching the light just enough to shimmer.

“Come on,” Ekko said, his hand lightly brushing the small of your back as he guided you to the bench. “I didn’t bring you here just to stand around.”

You sat down, the wood creaking softly under your weight. Ekko settled beside you, close enough that his knee pressed against yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the lights and the distant sounds of Zaun filling the space. It was a working pattern. There was always a comfortable silence between the two of you.

“How long have you been working on this?” you asked softly.

“Couple months,” he said, leaning back with his arms stretched across the bench. “Takes a while to get plants to grow in a place like this. But I dunno…it feels good to build something, y’know? Instead of just tearing things down.”

You glanced at him, your chest tightening at the softness in his voice. Ekko didn’t let people see this side of him often though. I mean this was the boy who dreamed of a better Zaun, the one who carried the weight of his community on his shoulders.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just like you.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and a little shy. “You’re laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just telling the truth,” you said, closing your eyes as his warmth seeped into you.

The two of you sat like that for a while, wrapped up in the stillness of the garden. Ekko’s hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt natural, like you were always meant to fit together.

“Hey,” he said after a while, his voice quiet.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks. For, y’know…being here.”

You lifted your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his eyes. “Of course,” you said softly while winking. “You’re worth it, Ekko.”

His gaze lingered on yours for a moment, the golden light casting shadows across his face. Then he smiled. It was real, genuine smile that made your chest feel light and full all at once.

“C’mere,” he said, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting on your shoulder as you leaned into him.

“This is nice,” you murmured, your fingers tracing absent patterns on his arm.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice a little muffled. “It is.”

There it was again, the comfortable silence. The garden was quiet, bathed in the golden light of the mismatched lanterns. You rested your head on Ekko’s shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his breath against you. His fingers were still intertwined with yours, his thumb brushing small, absentminded circles against your knuckles.

It was peaceful, almost too perfect for Zaun, where tranquility was a rare luxury. The hum of distant machinery and the faint chatter of the streets below were a backdrop to your own private world. You thought this was it, that the night couldn’t get any better. But Ekko had other plans.

Suddenly, he shifted away from you, his weight leaving the bench as he stood. His warmth leaving your body. You blinked up at him, confused as he turned to face you, his signature grin tugging at the corners of his lips. He extended a hand toward you, palm up, the glow of the garden lights reflecting in his dark eyes.

“Dance with me,” he said, his voice soft but brimming with an irresistible playfulness.

You tilted your head, a laugh escaping you. “Dance? Here?”

“Why not?” He wiggled his fingers, urging you to take his hand.

You hesitated, glancing around. “Ekko, there’s no music.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Oh, ye of little faith.”

Reaching into his pocket, Ekko pulled out a small, beaten up speaker, a relic salvaged from some forgotten corner of Zaun. He fiddled with it for a moment before a warm melody crackled to life, filling the air with a gentle rhythm.

You stared at him in disbelief, your lips parting in surprise. “You planned this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it cool but failing miserably as a proud smile broke through. “Maybe.”

Shaking your head with a soft laugh, you placed your hand in his, the warmth of his palm grounding you. “Alright, Clockstopper,” you teased. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Ekko pulled you to your feet, guiding you to the center of the garden. The music swelled around you, soft and sweet, a contrast to the chaos of Zaun. His other hand found its place on your waist, and he held you close, his movements easy and unhurried. At first, you tried to match his rhythm, your steps tentative as you followed his lead. But it wasn’t long before your foot accidentally landed on his.

“Oh, sorry!” you gasped, pulling back slightly.

Ekko winced dramatically, clutching his chest as if you’d mortally wounded him. “You’re killing me here,” he said, his voice laced with mock pain.

You rolled your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Don’t be such a baby.”

“Baby?” He laughed, spinning you unexpectedly. You stumbled slightly but caught yourself, the sound of your shared laughter echoing in the garden.

The two of you continued like that, swaying and spinning under the lanterns. Every so often, you’d step on his foot again, and he’d exaggerate his reaction, making you laugh until your cheeks hurt. But then, as the song shifted to a slower melody, Ekko’s movements became gentler, more deliberate. He pulled you closer, your bodies impossibly near. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, the faint scent of zauns atmosphere lingering on him. Your eyes met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The golden light reflected in his eyes, making them shimmer like they held their own constellation. There was something unspoken in his gaze, something raw and real that made your heart stutter.

“Ekko…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

He didn’t say anything, just leaned in slowly, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips meeting his in a kiss that was soft and sweet, filled with everything words couldn’t express. Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around your waist. The world seemed to tilt, the glow of the lanterns and the soft hum of the music swirling around you in a haze of light and sound.

Time felt irrelevant—ironic, considering who you were with. All that mattered was the way he held you, the way his lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure.

Your heart swelled at his words, a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the lights around you. Smiling, you leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I love you too,” you said, the words as natural as breathing.

Ekko grinned, his hands tightening around your waist as he pressed a series of quick, playful kisses to your face—your cheeks, your nose, your forehead. Each kiss was accompanied by a soft giggle from you, his affection spilling over in a way that was so uniquely him.

“Ekko, stop,” you laughed, trying to pull away as he kissed the corner of your mouth.

“Never,” he said, his voice full of mock defiance as he caught your lips in another kiss.

The two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, the rest of the world forgotten. The music played on, the lights flickered, and Zaun’s ever-present hum seemed softer, almost distant. As the night stretched on, you found yourselves back on the bench, your head resting on Ekko’s shoulder as he absentmindedly played with your fingers. The garden felt like a dream, a little slice of peace carved out of the chaos. And in that moment, with Ekko by your side and the glow of the lanterns above you, everything felt right. Almost perfect.

banners. @anitalenia

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @thesevi0lentdelights

[cocklessboy]

The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

[swordsandholly]

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”