#still getting used to their new names..............

[mosabsdr]

Hope Amid Hardship – We Need Your Support

Hello, my name is Mosab, and I live in Gaza with my family. Life has become a daily struggle, and I never imagined I would be in a position where I needed to ask for help.

The war has taken 25 of my loved ones, leaving behind pain that words cannot describe. We are doing our best to survive, but each day brings new challenges—finding food, water, and shelter is a battle we never expected to fight.

Your Help Can Make a Difference:

💔 We have lost everything. The war destroyed our stability, and without work, even the basics are hard to come by. 📚 Dreams have turned into survival. What once felt possible is now on hold as we focus on simply making it to tomorrow. 🙏 A small act of kindness goes a long way. Even a $10 donation helps us get closer to stability.

We have raised $809 so far, but we are still far from our goal of $90,000. If you cannot donate, please consider sharing this post—your support means more than you know.

With gratitude, Mosab & Family ❤️

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

FIRE BREATHING—wait, haven't i seen this before ?! - the dragon's route ☆ !

cashmoneyyysstuff's big 6K event!!

synopsis : big red horns, sharp fangs, fiery breath and a blazing temper—meet your new mate katsuki !! and.. the big ass whole in your wall ?!

you were hoping to start your day off like usual, but apparently it seemed the universe just didn't want it that way.

based on the something that had just blasted through the wall of your dorm room.

despite almost jumping to your ceiling, you're still in a daze. which is why when you managed to catch a mop of blond through your misty eyes—despite the big ass red horns and massive wings towering behind its back, the first word you uttered was a sleepy—

"kahsuki...?"

after which, you promptly fall back asleep.

when you wake up again. you jump to the ceiling again, but for a couple of different reasons.

you've definitely overslept and were no doubt going to have to rush to class.

your boyfriend was mostly likely already on his way to your dorm room and would definitely not be happy to have to wait for you.

it feels pretty chilly all of a sudden, you realise— only to then realise there was a damn hole in your fucking wall.

hole in the wall. something blasted through your wall. something was still in your room when you fell back asleep. you fell back asleep.

how the hell did you fall back asleep ??!!!!

"i was wondering when you'd awaken, you sleep like a log." the deep rumble of the something's voice startles you. you look to your right, only to see...

"katsuki ?"

except it wasn't...quite him. big red horns had sprouted along the sides of his head, his bored slanted eyes seemed just a bit sharper, just a bit redder. you could catch the glint of a little red earring, and you absolutely couldn't miss the mountains of jewellery he had dangling around his neck. nor the tribal looking tattoos (when'd he get those done ?) on his arms and his very exposed chest.

he hums, choosing to ignore your words to continue staring at you. "i'll ignore you using my name so casually, 'cus your face isn't..." he trails off, reaching a large hand out to smush your cheeks together "...too bad to look at." he settles.

you're absolutely, completely, positively, stumped.

"what are you talking about ?" you paw at his wrist to get him to release you. he doesn't let go, but he does relent and soften his hold slightly.

"how'd you get in my room ? and wha'd ya do to m'wall ?" you ask sleepily, bleary eyes squinting at your boyfriend's bored face.

"you called for me. so here i am." he answered simply. simple as that and it looked like he had absolutely no intention of elaborating. you, still being very sleepy, decide to say the only other thing on your mind.

"i didn't know you liked cosplaying..."

katsuki tilts his head, everything on him dangles "what the hell are you on about ? prattling on like that...you humans say some strange things."

you turn to look at the giant hole in your wall, really look at it.

you point towards the sun shining in your face, reminding you it was very much time to wake up "wha—ka'suki, my wall—"

"i'll fix it later." your boyfriend groans. "but why ?"

"i just told you—"

"but i didn't—"

knock, knock !!

you both perk up as a rather loud series of bangs rattle your door. oh god, katsuki was here and you still hadn't gotten dressed!! you can already hear him complaining—

wait but—

you turn to look at katsuki with the horns. he's let go off your face by now and his eyes are fixed on the door like he's ready to pounce.

you jump, leap up from your bed. grab a fistful of your handle and swing it open and—

"katsuki ?"

"the hell are doin' ? class starts in like, twenty minutes ! i swear, this is the last fuckin' time i'm coming to pick your ass up..."

he rambles and mumbles and you know he's lying cus this is the second time this week he's said this exact same phrase. but you feel like you've just been hit dead on by a sound grenade.

wait but—

"the fuck happened here ?!" katsuki's eyes immediately flit to your decimated wall, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry, and then his eyes flit past you to katsuki (?) already on his feet still in front of your bed. . . .

"AND WHO THE FUCK IS THAT??!!"

"MORE LIKE WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU ?!" katsuki barks. and you cannot believe it when your boyfriend starts bickering with...himself.

god, you wish you could go back to sleep.

"...can anybody tell me what's happening here ?"

"that's what i'd like to know !" you're boyfriend exclaimed from the your left, foot tapping impatiently on the floor, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed "sensei, you better deal with this weirdo 'fore i do it !" he warned.

"as if ! don't make me laugh, like a weakling like you could lay a finger on me." your boyfriend, the one on your right and with the— oh yeah —the horns and a tail—growled. arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed, legs spread out laying back like he was demanding dominance in the room, occasionally glaring at the other teachers walking in and out the lounge.

you have a margin of about .2 seconds, a singular eye twitch from your boyfriend before they're both shooting up from their seats, foreheads almost knocking against each other " HAH ?! you trynna talk shit wearin' my face, you faker ?! i'll roast you alive !" your (original ? is that what you should call it ?) boyfriend's already rolling up his sleeves, hands popping in warning.

the dragon barks out a loud laugh "try it if you want, i"ll rip you apart 'till there's nothin' left of ya !" he growls, cracking his knuckles menacingly.

all you can manage is a sigh while they bicker, missing how the both of them shoot you a brief look. until your homeroom teacher sends chills through all three of your spines, sending you a harsh glare and a singular rackle of his throat sends every ounce of killing intent in the room flying, overpowered by the dead eye of the man before you. you didn't sign up to have your fight of flight instincts kick in this early in the morning !

neither of them sit back down, but they do rip they gazes away from each other to look at the bigger threat in the room, occasionally sending each other nasty side eyes.

mr. aizawa rubs at his temples and lets out a very, very tired sigh, pushing his hair back "now...can anyone tell me what is happening ?" he starts up again, he sighs when no one seems to have an answer for him. the black haired man points to your boyfriend with the horns "you, answer quickly—what's your name ?"

the horned boy grumbles, but lowly growls out an answer "bakugou katsuki, better not forget it.." you hear your boyfriend let out a quiet scoff on your other side. aizawa sensei ignore it, quickly whipping a finger towards him.

"you. has anything happened to you recently ? have you had any strange interactions lately ?"

katsuki racks his brain, thinking for a moment before he grunts "mm, i guess...was out to get groceries last weekend and this weirdo bumped into me. started apologising like crazy too, somethin' about how 'the after effects shouldn't be too bad' or whatever."

"that's suspicious as hell !!" you gawk "why didn't you say anything when it happened ?!" you exclaim.

"i don't fucking know, thought he was just a crackhead or something ! how was i supposed to know this was gonna happen ?!" katsuki shoots back, pointing over to his doppelgänger. mr aizawa nods to himself, mildly intrigued.

"okay, so we've narrowed down our cause...the problem is what we do now." you bite your lip in thought. your boyfriend finally takes his seat back next to you and the beast stiffens, immediately shooting back down next to you as well and even scooting his chair closer to yours. getting an unimpressed eye-roll from your boyfriend, before he sneakily tries to do the same.

"ain't it obvious ? all we gotta do is send this bastard back where he came from." you turn to look up at the beast katsuki's shoulder pressed to yours. honestly as unbelievable as it was in this situation you couldn't help but be reminded of those cheesy otome games you used to like when you were younger. or those random 12 episode anime you'd watch where the main boys would fight for the girls love—except this was your boyfriend ! and if the room wasn't so tense this would kinda be a dream come true—but you needed to focus !

"uhm, well...katsuki..?" and both of them immediately turn to you, it almost makes you jump—snap out of it. "..how do we send you back ?" katsuki stares at you then sends you an amused huff.

"wouldn't know," he shrugs. and then he's already so close but leans in closer and if you hadn't backed up in time your noses would've bumped. "pretty bold of you to try and send me away after you called me, sweets. but you're not getting rid of me that easy."

your skin heats up despite your best efforts "i—keep telling you i didn't call you ! i don't even know how i would do that !"

he's so in your space, leaning in ever closer despite you trying to keep your distance and he talks to you lowly "if you're worried about these morons hearing you, rest assured i'll clear this place out in no time. no different from any old dungeon in here." he boasts proudly, you can practically taste your ticking time bomb of a boyfriend about to basically implode from next to you.

quickly, you place your hand on top of his leg basically by instinct. his leg stops bouncing but he still sounds anything but pleased, he practically burns behind you as he grumbles under his breath. you feel bad for your homeroom teacher who can only watch and sigh.

"anyway. we'll wait and see what happens after a while. l/n, this bakugou seems pretty attached to you so i'll grant you and excused absence to watch over him until we get this sorted out." the older man explained. your katsuki immediately straightens up.

"oh, fuck no ! i'm not letting' her stay with this creep ?!"

"i know it might not be ideal, but you can't exactly take him to class." your teacher sweatdrops. the blonde can't exactly disagree and he curses under his breath. you take this chance to reassure him, rubbing his leg soothingly.

"i'll be all good, katsuki. you don't need to worry." you smile

your boyfriend searches your face for any signs of distress, sends his clone one look then immediately looks back at you with hardened eyes " i'll stay with you then."

your teacher cuts you off before you can respond "i don't remember allowing you to cut class, bakugou." you both stiffen at his tone. you feel a bit bad when you see how conflicted he looks between being a secret goodie two shoes and wanting to watch over you.

"hey," you assured, "i'll be fine. besides, it's still you so it shouldn't be all bad." you tease. and even though he still looks a bit worried, katsuki resigns and sighs lowly saying "if he does anything to you i'll fucking kill 'im." you pat his shoulder in agreement and katsuki sets out to go to class (not before sending horned katsuki a very deadly glare you're sure would've killed anyone else if it wasn't to designated to...himself.)

your attention is brought back to your teacher who is also starting to make his way to class, grabbing his sleeping bag and complaining about being 'too tired for this...'

"well i'll leave you to it. l/n, if you need anything let me know." and though he stays deadpanned, the tone of his voice is warm and you know he means it, you nod, he sighs, then leaves you alone with katsuki...number two ?

you could make the best out of this, you had to until you could figure something out. "well, let's try to get along then, yeah ?" you smiled, reaching a hand out to shake his. katsuki scowls down at your hand like it was nasty before grabbing it and pulling you up with him until your pressed right against his chest, you can see the identical faded scar under his eye better now, your heart hammers hard against your chest. or was it his ? you can't tell the difference.

he presses his nose to yours "i won't accept you treating me like your comerade. you're mine, i'm yours, and you will treat me as such." he commands. he leans forward and bites your cheek softly "understand ?"

all you can manage is a dumb nod. katsuki seems happy with himself, and smirks. he squeezes your hand then tells you to lead the way. you nod robotically, and while you walk back trying to avoid crowded hallways, you remember.

"ah ! hey, about my wall..!"

"tch, i got it. told you i'd fix it didn't i ?"

as promised, katsuki had fixed your wall, somehow. you won't question it.

aside from that, it was just you and your literal other worldly boyfriend now.

currently, you've been allowed to skip class. seeing as it would be quite the hassle to bring what looked like a barbarian bakugou into class. he had already caused enough trouble in the teacher's lounge and your homeroom teacher had determined that if he worked like any other bakugou, he'd be manageable with you around.

your katsuki, your boyfriend katsuki, had used any free time he could find to check up on you through text, openly very opposed to leaving you alone with his clone (although the other katsuki insisted that your boyfriend was his clone.) but you managed to reassure him. and you'd really, really like to avoid another death match like the one from this morning.

so, it was currently just you and him.

"so what do you wanna eat, you must be hungry right ? we've still got left over pancake mix in here if you'd like !" you call from where your head is hidden inside the cupboard.

you're a little bit happy that you're able to properly have breakfast considering you did sleep in. you turn to see dragon katsuki (he insisted on the fact that he was in fact a dragon and not a demon.) still carefully scanning the common room with his eyes. looking around for anything off like a hunter as he slowly makes his way over to you.

"you don't have to be scared, y'know ? it's just us here." you manage to tease, you think you're only able to mess with him because he is your boyfriend...in a way. he huffs loudly, chest puffing out while he continues to scan the area "don't insult me, m'not afraid of nuffin'." he boasts.

yup, definitely your katsuki...

"alright, tough guy.." you hum. picking up all your ingredients to begin making your breakfast peacefully without kaminari around to try to catch a lick of the batter or a bite of your pancakes. dragon katsuki finally gets curious enough seeing you prancing around the stove and makes his way over to you, looming over your shoulder, he runs very warm and you will yourself to ignore it.

"want some ? " you ask, still whipping your batter around, adding some extra milk to make it extra fluffy.

"what is it ?" he asks, scrunching his nose up. he leans closer to your shoulder to sniff at the mix.

"pancakes—well, not yet, but it will be." you explain. "they're good." you reassure and he grunts. which with your katsuki, was usually meant as an agreement.

you freeze up for a moment when you feel him lay his head on your shoulder, before promptly continuing. is this still weird even if it's your boyfriend's clone ? other version from another dimension ?

"so...what brings you here ?" you spoke awkwardly. katsuki's breath hits the side of your neck when he turns to look up at you.

"i've told you a million times already." he almost whines.

"and i keep asking because you make no sense ! i didn't call for you, i would've just...used my phone if i wanted you over !" you spluttered.

"that flimsy piece of plastic is as useless as the rest of your human technology. that has nothing to do with it." he presses his hand to your heart and speaks lowly when he continues "this called for me, right here." you feel your heart hammer, no doubt he feels it too because a soft little smirk forms on his face. "so, i came." a bigger smirks builds on his face when he looks up at you "you should be grateful really, i don't give my time to just anyone."

you scoff, he banters exactly like your boyfriend too. "oh, i feel so honoured that you destroyed my wall." you deadpan.

he rolls his eyes with a whinge "but i fixed it, no ?"

"there was no need for you to destroy it in the first place ! talk about a first impression." you huff.

"you're mine, no need for first impressions if i already know you were made for me." katsuki grumbles.

your heart skips despite itself, you try to remain poised "yours, huh ?"

"you are, and you seem to like the sound of that, too." he smirks.

"do not !" you deny.

"your heartbeat has picked up again—oh, and again just now—" you shrug your shoulder to try and nudge him off, embarrassed. but all it does is make him laugh and wrap his arms around you. you try to ignore the fact he is very shirtless behind you. you pour your batter onto your skillet.

"it did not, you liar."

"ya forget my hearing is superior to yours, sweets. i hear every little sound you make. can't hide shit from me."

"la, la la—damn, this is sizzling so hard i just cannot make out a single thing you're saying !" you say dramatically loud. you feel katsuki shake his head and he leans up to nip at your ear like he knows it'll make you squeal.

yup, that's your boyfriend alright...

the dragon boy has destroyed about ten pancakes and two glasses of juice before he calls it quits. he's a bit of a messy eater, but you don't mind much. (that is one difference you've managed to find between him and your boyfriend.)

you're sitting across from him and now that you've calmed down you take your time to look at his features. you really look at him.

"what's your name ?" you ask. he raises a brow at your sudden question, gulping down a last bite of fluffy pancake.

"you know my name." he answers simply.

"just—c'mon !" you whine, he rolls his eyes but relents anyway.

"bakugou, katsuki."

" okay..." you continue warily " how old are you ?"

"eighteen."

built like that ?! although your boyfriend's always had a pretty...impressive body—you quickly shake these thoughts away. okay, same age as your boyfriend.

"favorite food ?"

"don't care s'long as it's spicy."

"what's your favourite colour ?"

"fuckin'—who cares ?" he grumbles.

holy shit, this was your katsuki.

"i just don't get it, you're both so much alike !" you marveled, stretching out across the island table, dragon katsuki makes a displeased face at your words but doesn't comment, licking his fingers.

"you look so much like katsuki, too—well, my katsuki, other than the horns.." you look down behind the high chair he's sitting at, his now missing tail. he'd told you he could tuck it away, somehow. things could not get any weirder than this, you're sure. "...and the tail."

katsuki pops a maple syrup covered finger out of his mouth to stare at you. "i am your katsuki. and if you're talking about the usurper you shouldn't worry, i'll have dealt with 'im soon." he spits out, scowling down at his plate. then he looks around the room. "where is he, anyway ?"

you sweatdrop "you don't need to worry about him right now, yeah ? it's just us two here." and you fail to notice the way his eyes zero on you at your words "and please don't do anything to him, i'd rather not have my boyfriend try and kill...himself ?" you wonder, running a hand across your forehead. too focused to realise the dragon boy had made is way over to you.

you squeak when you feel a hard head of hair knock against the side of your skull, nudging at you like a cat. and instinctively, you turn around to meet eyes identical with the one's you love so much. his eyes are sharp and fiery red as they fix onto yours.

"you're too focused on that guy...stop thinkin' about him so much when your mate's right in front of you, dammit..." he mutters, cheeks slowly turning pink and the hard base of his horns dig against your scalp. your heart thrums faster inside your chest. this katsuki was so different and yet so similar to the one you were used to. it simply felt like you got to see another side to the boy you loved.

"don't start getting jealous of yourself now, suki." you tease. you put a bit more of your weight against him and he pushes back with a low growl, closing his eyes and nudging against your head and neck. you could've sworn you just heard a sort of purr sound coming from him ?

"that sham is everything except me, quit insulting me." he shoots, you can feel his jaw tighten from where he's nestled in your shoulder and it's literally instinctive how your hand reaches up to pet his hair and—oh, there it is again, that rumble that comes all the way from his chest that you feeling radiating through your bones. he seems very happy.

you snort at his words and decide to mess with him "my sincerest apologies, is there anything i can do to make you forgive me ?"

but then he's leaning up to look at you and the atmosphere is tense, so tense. you're tempted to hold your breath. he looks at you intensely, studying your next move like you were actual prey.

"i mean..." he starts quietly "there is something you could do..."

oh, oh it's coming. you know that look.

god, he really is your katsuki. you quickly squeeze your eyes shut and wait, but what you expect doesn't come. you peek at him when you feel his forehead connect to yours again. he speaks, still just as quiet but just as intensely.

"promise me. promise me you'll be mine. forever." he orders, breathing getting just a bit heavier, or maybe that was yours—had it always been this hot ?

"y-yeah, yeah of course i am..." and he leans in to lick at your cheek, gnawing at it like a dog.

you giggle "yes, i promise !" he seems happy with your answer, a softer smile forms on his face as he looks at you like you're treasure.

"right, i'll hold ya to it then."

and the instant you blink—he's gone.

you're left alone to think about what the hell just happened, left with the extra dishes you'd made for your mysterious guest.

about a few hours later, your boyfriend—the non dragon one—practically charges into your room, almost destroying your door in the process. you'd heard him stomping down the hallway so you weren't too phased.

"where is he ?! where is that fucking overgrown, horned, lizard fucker at ?!" katsuki charges in like a bull—hands popping and ready for action, he's looks like he's sweating a bit too and you wonder if he ran here.

"he's already gone, suki." you giggle, putting your phone down to properly look at him "he left a few hours beforehand. i guess there's a sort of time limit to this quirk, huh ? but then i wonder why it acts so late.." you think to yourself out loud. you've just noticed that your boyfriend has been way too quiet when you suddenly feel your bed dip and his big hands drop down onto your cheeks to turn you around as he sees fit, ignoring your squeals of protest.

"what happened while i was gone ? did he do anything—did he touch you ?!" your boyfriend rambles. you grab his wrists with both hands and smile with puffed out cheeks.

"welax, an' lemme go ! m'okay !" your muffled voice squeals out, your laughter makes your boyfriend shake his head with a huff, releasing you softly although he doesn't let you go fully yet, leaning down a bit more to get to look at you better, both of his knees dig into your matress where you're laying between him.

"honestly, he wasn't a big deal. we just had some food and chatted a bit. he was nice, real sweetheart." you explained, your boyfriend's face scrunched up more and more as you do. you snort and reach up to pinch he's cheeks "don't make that face, you'll get wrinkles, handsome."

katsuki shoo's your hands off, scoffing but feeling himself blush at your petname. he takes his turn to grip your wrists.

"shut up, don't talk about that weirdo like that. bastard was a damn shape shifter an' your treating him like the love of your life 'r something..." he groused, you giggle.

"well..." you tease. katsuki immediately cuts you off with a sharp "don't." his eyes squinted and sharp but he rubs so softly at your wrists and blushes even harder. when he backs off of you, he flops back on your bed with a harsh sigh, he's still holding onto one of your wrists.

you play with a short strand of his hair in your reach, twirling it around your finger with a silly smile "it was kinda cool, though. it was so freaky how alike you guys were." katsuki's nose pulls up at your ceiling while you speak "he was just as much of a brat as you were, it was cute."

your boyfriend looks at you incredulously, squeezing your wrist in reprimand "you're such a weirdo. don't go sympathizing with a clone."

"actually, i think he might be from an alternate dimension."

"durr, actually, durr—" katsuki mocks you with a nasally voice "doesn't matter and no one cares—clone's a clone. and i'm better."

"oh, yeah. totally." you joked, chuckling when he looks at you skeptically. then, he flips over to lay on top of you with his full weight "oof ! fuh—katsuki !" you wheeze out. your boyfriend only makes himself more comfortable, letting out an exaggerated sigh into your neck like he hadn't heard you.

"well, anyway...i'm glad things have gone back to normal. as much as i do love you, i think one katsuki is more than enough for everyone." you manage, reflexively carding your finger through his hair, to which a happy noise rumbles out from his chest, almost like the dragon boy you'd talked to just a few hours ago.

you think having two katsuki would be too much for your heart to handle, as irritating as he is.

"got that right." your boyfriend said groggily, letting out a small yawn into your warming skin. " i'm the only katsuki you need anyway."

you don't know if he misunderstood you on purpose, but you feel him smirk against your shoulder when you burst out into laughter, and you think that's just fine.

"mhm, dragon or not, you can't out do the doer, hm ?" you tease.

"damn right." your boyfriend shoots back and you both share a laugh.

this day had been rather crazy, but you couldn't find it in yourself to complain about it. you're happy to find out even another version of katsuki was as annoyingly endearing as ever, and that you loved him just as much.

and most importantly, that everything was back to normal now.

and especially your wall.

taglist ! ( if your name is in bold i couldnt tag u :(( ) :

@jastoo46 @cecelia77 @erenstitanweave @closehereyes @stoned-anime-babe @taxavoider @yannvi @sugurusmoon @allurearia @kaerotica @wonubby @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @ita606 @andysdrafts @omitea @lili-of-the-vally @serpent-hearted @ghostorchidd @shewki @pirana10 @witch-craft-works @kanvis @okkotsuus @dragonscribble @emmiesarchive @screaming-dough @napbatata @cacaandweewizzsstuff @redollface @meowsannie @katszumi @m-inluv @monchurie @the-hangry-otter @starlostlaiba @moonshuul @katsus-mistress @dondeh-zedonutqueen @liluvtojineteyam @aspiringwriter1111 @redvelvetstan1 @niktwazny303 @nemisimp @kit-katsukii @alphasage @milktea-academia @qyuin

[etiolatedmutant]

logan seeing a picture of wade pre-mutation

he has a weird moment of “why tf is there a picture of that nicepool douche in my house” before he Realizes

and wade is like “oh great now That’s gonna be in his mind forever, what i used to look like before the ground beefing of it all, just what i fuckin needed” and he makes a joke (shocker) to stave off how insecure he is

“i was trying to make lepers fashionable, jokes on me i guess”

and logan just eyes the photo and says, “you look weird.”

wade’s Shocked. he was a fucking Looker back then, thank you very much. “there’s just no winning with you, is there?” he asks.

and logan turns the photo over and over in his hands, dis-fucking-pleased, before he flicks it back from whence it came. and he looks at wade, all green-eyed disarming honesty, and says, “i like my version better.”

and if wade didn’t Know logan, didn’t know the shine in his eye and the sincere timbre of his voice, he’d call bullshit. no one in their right mind would prefer him Now to the Him of 2016, right? nessa only put up with it because he was kinda grandfathered into that relationship and she liked his insides as well as his outsides (hey-o)

but he does know logan, and he knows that logan doesn’t mince words or sugarcoat Anything in the name of “sparing feelings,” so he sits there, digesting the compliment like gas station sushi — which is to say, not fucking well at all.

to make matters worse (or, well, better, he guesses) he finds a picture of Him Now and logan from nessa’s new year’s eve party magnetized to the fridge the next day.

it’s poorly lit, illuminated only by shattering fireworks overhead and a few yellow streetlights, and they’re both clearly smashed — wade’s eyes are glassy and red, logan’s cheeks are flushed, and the finer details of their faces have been smudged away thanks to shaky camerawork.

but they’re happy. wade looks happy — he’s smiling, a big, fat, candid grin, like he’d been laughing, and logan’s kissing his cheek, unashamed. he’d been wade’s first new year’s kiss in a long fucking time.

he buys a frame for that picture - a sparkly pink monstrosity from goodwill - and gives it a home on the nightstand next to their bed. and yeah, whatever, on bad days he looks at it and thinks eugh, still, because goddamn francis really did a number on him —

but most days, he’s just happy he gets to be that guy in the picture at all. the guy logan howlett stayed for. the guy logan kissed in front of dozens of people.

logan’s version.

[witherby]

I need anything and everything of jason being Mouses favourite. (The Littlest Wayne AU)

They get a snack/ meal - Jay Jay has to take a bite first before they eat

They have a new toy- Jay Jay has to see and play

I’ll take anything you can think of.

I am obsessed. The AU is amazing

-🤍💜

Say less! I love Jason Todd and so does Flittermouse! By the way the word count is 3100+ lol oops

The Littlest Wayne: Fist Bumps

Masterlist is Here!

"This is stupid."

"Shut up, you're just mad you won't get picked."

Tim kicks Damian in the shin, who retaliates by kicking him back much, much harder in the ankle. Tim cries out, about to start a fight, but one stern look from Alfred settles them both down. They continue to sit beside each other without fuss, and soon everyone is all neatly lined in a row while Hal uses his ring to keep you safely suspended in a bubble, playing with a little rattle.

"Alright," Dick says excitedly, "we're going over the rules one more time! No jingling any shiny objects for Flitty to chase after, no getting out of line to get closer to them, and Bruce, no bare skin! We're gonna have Hal set them down and see who they come to first."

"This isn't gonna go the way you think it's gonna go," Bruce says, endlessly amused. "Please, none of you get your feelings hurt."

"Nobody's gonna start cryin', relax," Jason says, lounging on the floor between Damian and Hal. "Kay, we ready?"

A chorus of agreement follows, and Hal gently lowers you to the floor. They all immediately call your name, or variations of your nickname, waving their hands and patting their laps to get you to come to them. Your eyes widen, startled by the sudden rush of noise, and turn your head to assess everyone across the room.

You lock on to the man you want, the binky in your mouth bopping up and down excitedly, and you start speedily crawling to Jason.

"I KNOW that's fuckin' right!" He yells, scooping you into his arms and gently tossing you in the air a couple inches, then peppering your face with kisses. "I'm the favorite you little freaks. Kiss my ass."

"Okay, whatever, we knew that already," Dick says, "now it's time to see who the second favorite is. Put them down and go away so we can play again."

"Be nice to your brother," Bruce says. Dick flicks Bruce in the ear and he scowls. "Ow. Be nice to me."

"Fine. Gotta know who my competition is for the number one spot in Mousey's heart, even if I'm winning by a landslide." Jason carries you across the room and sets you back down. "You stay for a sec, kay? Pound it." He picks up your chubby arm and makes you give him a fist bump, then walks away from you.

Before they can even start a second round of the game, you're shuffling after him again. Christ, it's adorable.

"It's because they can still see you, Todd," Damian says, scooping you up to put back in starting position. "Duck behind the couch."

Jason rolls his eyes but complies, bending down until he's out of sight. When the rest of the family calls for you again, you shuffle forward like you're going to crawl to Hal, but you veer past him and around to the back of the couch to get to Jason again.

"Oh my god, they've developed object permanence already," Tim says. Jason's triumphant laughter fills the room as he lifts you up to give you more kisses. His endless delight and your happy squealing softens the blow to everyone else's egos.

"This game sucks anyway," Dick mumbles, crossing his arms in defeat. "What idiot even came up with it in the first place..."

--

"You ask."

"Uh, no? You ask? I don't care."

"Yeah but he tolerates your questions. I don't wanna get my jaw blown off."

"Then don't ask, dumbass. It's so easy."

Jason clears his throat, causing the two goons to stiffen up and turn to face him. One of them looks upset that he was caught unaware, and the other looks one wrong move away from pissing himself.

"Hi, boss," they both greet.

"Whatcha talkin' about?" Jason asks, taking a half-step closer. "Cause last I checked, I sent you both over here to do quality control on our newest drug shipment. And I'm not seeing a lot of that gettin' done."

He turns to the more frightened man. If he didn't have his helmet on, he would've sneered at him.

"So what's the hold up? Need me to sew some mouths shut? Hmm? Want me t'cut out your fuckin' tongue? That'll motivate you real fast, I bet."

"We'll get right on it, boss," the other, clearly smarter, henchman states. "We were just. Uh. Wondering why there's... why there's a baby strapped to your chest."

Jason looks down at you. You stare right back at him, making a soft cooing noise around your Red Hood-themed binky, and reach up for his mask. He gently takes your hand instead, feeling your tiny fingers curl around the leather of his gloved pointer. He's smiling sweetly at you, despite no one being able to see it.

"This is M," he says by way of an answer. "Won't be an everyday occurrence — couldn't find another babysitter so I assured the dad I'd keep 'em safe for the night."

He doesn't mention that your dad is also his dad, and that when Jason tried to leave to do his vigilante work, you screamed the house down and would only calm down in his arms, therefore he had no choice. So here you are, strapped to his chest in a onesie padded with kevlar and vital-tracking tech, while your favorite brother carries your diapers and formula around in the same duffel he stashes his guns.

And because you're his favorite, too, he secretly hopes you throw more fits so he gets to hoard you all to himself again. Taking a few minutes to tickle your tummy or gently rock you in his arms stops him from losing his patience and blowing out the brains of several subordinates tonight — which his men clearly catch onto, because they all start telling him how nice it is to see such a cute and perfect and pleasant, life-saving baby hanging around.

Fuck yeah it's nice. S'cause you're the coolest baby ever. Jason gently makes you fist bump him.

--

"AHHH!"

Jason is out of his chair and bolting across the Manor before his brain fully registers your screaming through the baby monitor. There's surprised exclamations and footfalls not far from him as his thunderous steps stir up a commotion, but he doesn't care about that.

There are very few times in his life when he's moved this fast. Large, expansive rooms fly by him in a blur of color. He takes the stairs six at a time. If a door he needs to get through is closed, he's breaking it down with a well-placed hit with his shoulder and moving on.

When he gets to your room, he stops to yank the door open because he doesn't know if you're near it, and darts inside with a sharp shout of your name.

"What's wrong!?" He pants, zeroing in on you immediately. You've rushed into your wardrobe and climbed inside it, red-faced and crying as a crow flaps haphazardly around the bedroom. The shattered glass on the floor gives him the missing context, and he snatches the bird out of the air with more force than necessary while the adrenaline spike is still scrambling his nervous system.

Bruce is the second person to rush into your room just moments after, crouching by your hiding spot with furrowed brows and a soft, slightly winded voice.

"Are you hurt?" He asks. You whimper but shake your head, fat tears rolling down your little cheeks, and lift your hands. Bruce picks you up without hesitation and stands up.

"Jaylad?" He says, still in that gentle tone. "You alright?"

Jason doesn't answer. He's not alright, not really. The rage he'd built up thinking someone was in here hurting you is still burning through his veins, and with no outlet for it, he's struggling a bit.

Bruce doesn't take offense to his lack of response. He just offers you a small, reassuring smile and bounces you a bit in his arms.

"Let's go find Grandpa and snuggle up with some hot chocolate," he murmurs. "Jay-Jay will hang back and make sure your bedroom is safe for you."

"No!" You sob, leaning around your father's broad shoulders to reach for Jason. "Want Jay-Jay!"

"You can spend time with him in a little while, Mouse," Bruce says, starting to carry you out of the room. Your protests get louder and more frantic, pushing against him to no avail.

"Want Jay!" You repeat, sobbing openly. "Jay-Jay! Want, p'ease!! Jay-Jay!"

"Bruce," Jason utters through grit teeth. His father stops, only a few steps down the hallway, and turns back to him. "It's fine. I'll take 'em, you clean up the mess."

"...are you sure?" Bruce frowns, visibly cautious. He looks down at the bird still flapping helplessly as Jason holds it by the neck, firmer than strictly necessary.

Jason takes a step towards the broken window and tosses the crow out. After a second of frantic flapping, it straightens itself out and flies away with panicked sqawking.

He turns to you and holds out his arms. They're only trembling a little bit, but the edges of his vision are still tinged with green. Bruce hesitates to pass you over.

"I've got it," Jason murmurs, "I'm calm enough. Gimme my fuckin' sibling before you piss me off worse, B."

Bruce nods slowly. He brings you back into the room and hands you off to Jason. Your arms circle his neck and cling on tight, and you bury your face in his chest as you cry. It breaks his heart that you had such a bad scare. He can see the half-completed Lego build you were playing with on the floor in front of the window and hopes Bruce can get all the glass shards out between the bricks and carpet.

Jason carries you out of your bedroom and down the corridor to his. He leaves his door cracked open and flicks on lights as he goes, then brings you to the en-suite bathroom.

"Okay, Mousey," he mumbles, trying to set you on the sink's vanity. You clutch him tighter and whimper, and it drives a spear right through his chest. "Kid, I'm not goin' nowhere. Jay-Jay's right here, I just wanna make sure there's no glass on you."

A little more prodding and the compromise of you holding one of his hands gets you to relent. You sit miserably on the counter as your sobs slowly die down, and Jason tediously checks your hair and clothes for any bits of glass that may have landed on you when the crow crashed into the window. The slow, repetitive motions help quiet the last of his anger until he's just tired and concerned for you. He finds a couple tiny pieces, but your skin is unblemished and when he asks if you're hurt, you shake your head, which then calms him entirely.

"Alright, great job," he murmurs. "Come here, we'll go bother Alfie t'give us an icecream sammy before dinner and then cuddle in the main living room. Good plan?"

You sniffle, wiping the last of your tears away. Your cheeks are flushed and puffy. "Yeah, good pwan..."

Jason kisses the top of your head and offers you his fist. You gently bump yours against his, then lift your arms again to be picked back up. He obliges, refusing to put you back down for the rest of the day. When it's time for bed, you don't wanna go back into your room, so he spends the evening reading his current novel with a dim book light while you snooze away on his chest.

--

He's livid. Jason's got a hole in his leg and he can't run away from the rival gang leader pointing a gun at his head, and he's fucking livid.

"My first death was way cooler," he mutters. "Got blown up and everything."

"What the fuck are you saying?" The other man scowls. "I never could understand you through that thick-ass helmet."

"I'm saying, if you're gonna go down as the guy that killed the Red Hood, at least make the execution something fuckin' noteworthy," Jason rants, the pain making him bitchier than usual. He waves his hands for emphasis, pointing at the gunman much like a mother scolding her child. "Ohh I shot him and watched his brain splatter everywhere! So has every single marksman ever. I'm worth more than a bullet in an alleyway. The fuck do I look like, Bruce Wayne's folks?"

"Whoa, man," the shooter says, lifting his free hand to scratch the back of his head. "Let me get this straight. You're not mad I'm gonna kill you. You're that mad I'm not gonna kill you...in a cooler way?"

"Excellent listening ears, bucko! Gold star!" Jason coos, clapping. "Immolation, decapitation, tossin' me in an acid pit — fuck me, I'll take a stab wound over a bullet! D'you know how skilled you gotta be to get close enough to stab Red Hood to death!? If not for me, do somethin' that'll raise your own paltry street cred, shit. You're so fucking boring."

The man doesn't get another chance to weigh his options. The darkness of the alleyway pounces on him, sucking him into the void while he shrieks like an animal. Jason slumps against the wall and watches the shapeless darkness warp and twist, the gun abandoned on the ground in the gunman's initial panic. He feels his heart rate slow when you step out after a minute, wearing a thick jacket over your pajamas and a domino mask over your eyes as you hurry towards him. A flash of irritation makes him scowl as he realizes one of the others woke you up for this, when you aren't even a vigilante to begin with. The culprit's gonna get their ass beat as soon as he recovers enough to track them down.

"Okay," you stammer, kneeling next to him on the ground with a first aid kit. "Okay okay okay...Alf — umm, Agent A? I'm here, what do I do?"

"Remain calm, Flittermouse. All will be well," Alfred soothes you over the comms. Jason feels the adrenaline steadily exiting his body now that he's registered that he's safe. Now, it's a fight to stay conscious so you don't freak out even more than you're currently doing. He's so proud of you for coming out here despite the blatant fear.

Your hands shake as you pop the kit open and pull out the field tourniquet. Alfred instructs you on how to set it up, and Jason gently adjusts it when you wrap it a little too close to the bullet wound in his thigh. He grits his teeth as you tighten it, refusing to make a peep, and gives you a quick thumbs up when you tie it off.

"Okay, I stopped the bleeding. Do I bring him home, now?" You ask.

"As long as he has no other injuries, the medical bay is ready for you to transport him back to the cave."

"M'good, Mousey," Jason says, lifting his fist. "Sorry you had to come rescue your cool big bro. S'not your job."

"I was the one who could get here the fastest," you reply. After a moment's hesitation, you bump his fist with your own. "You're gonna be okay."

"M'gonna be okay," he echoes, knowing you need that confirmation. "Saved my life, kid. I'll do all your chores for the next week."

That gets a wet laugh out of you. You hug Jason tight and the shadows of the alley pool underneath your bodies. Jason closes his eyes and hugs you back, a steady anchor in the free-falling sensation entering your darkness gives him.

"My heroics are only worth a week of chores?"

"S'better than the rest get," he says. "They get one chore. Not even a whole day, just one chore."

You bury your face in his shoulder as the void swallows you and him up.

"You're my favorite, too, Jay-Jay," you mumble. Jason smiles as he loses the battle for consciousness.

--

"Good afternoon; welcome to Truce Juice. Would you like a moment with a menu or are you ready to order?"

Jason leans his hip against the counter and takes a menu off the small, laminated stack you've got sitting there, glancing over the options. Behind the helmet, he smiles as he remembers all the late nights you pulled him and your other brothers into the kitchen to taste test these drinks and snacks, desperate to make things that would appeal to many people. He remembers how proud you were to graduate from your culinary courses and the victory cry you let out when you found insurance willing to cover the building.

You smile warmly at him, waiting patiently for him to choose something off the menu for the first time in your brand new business.

"Black coffee," he says, voice warped by the modulator in the helmet, "two sugars."

"What size?" You ask, tapping it into the screen in front of you.

"Large. And a turkey panini, with avocado and pesto."

"Toasted?"

"What other fuckin' way would anybody get a panini?" He muses aloud. To strangers, he would sound angry, but you can tell he's genuinely asking. You just shrug and keep the soft smile on your face.

"You'd be surprised. Your total's on the screen; will that be cash or card?"

Jason reaches a gloved hand down. It glides past the pistol strapped to his thigh, eliciting nervous gasps from bystanders in the cafe, and into the pocket underneath, drawing out a plain, tri-fold wallet. He pulls out two hundred-dollar bills and huffs at you to keep the change, then saunters over to the pick-up counter to wait.

He crosses his arms and watches you scuttle around behind the counter, genuinely happy to make food and drinks for anybody that comes in. So far, you're uninjured and you've been able to stop any rising conflicts in seconds, which he's endlessly thankful for.

When his order is ready, you hand it to him with another bright smile.

"Alright, mister Hood, here you go. Have a great day!"

Jason nods, about to turn away, when he sees you hold your fist out in his periphery.

He grins, heart fit to burst, and bumps it back.

[i-wear-the-cheese]

"non-commercial fiction" is such a bollocks phrase too. walk into any Waterstones of medium to small size (meaning not the huge London ones) and you'll find the front tables stacked to the gunwales with literary fiction, crime, and "real world" settings alongside nonfiction commercial titles like cookbooks and biographies. These are what easily sells. The science fiction and fantasy will be in its own section, probably at the back, unless it's a new release hardback they have a lot of faith in. I would go as far as to argue that sci-fi fantasy is the literary genre because speculative fiction (which is sci-fi fantasy, get off the damn horse Atwood) has been the vessel used by Mary Shelley, H.G Wells, Aldous Huxley, George Orwell, (and of course Le Guin whom OP mentioned, to name the bare minimum before even getting into modern writers like Becky Chambers and Jasper Fforde) in order to explore social and political topics relevant to their contemporary readers and context that still resonate with us today. Tolkien was a university professor for crying out loud! Any creative writing professor who discounts fantasy is shitting on their own colleagues and predecessors in my humble opinion. OP I hope you find ways to undermine them whilst kicking absolute creative arse. you have my sword!

my creative writing prof also HATES fantasy. as in if she asks for an example of symbolism in a book, and you give something from a fantasy novel, she’ll ask for an example from a “non-commercial book” instead.

I dunno man, people can have preferences, but the second you discount the artistic merit of sci fi and fantasy I stop taking your opinion seriously. and there’s such a big culture in Canada of only valuing literary fiction, to the point where one of our biggest authors, Margaret Atwood, refused for a while to classify her books as sci fi or fantasy. she said they were “speculative fiction”, which is entirely separate and very highbrow (sarcasm).

and I could go on about how Octavia Butler and Ursula Le Guin wrote books every bit as intellectual (and honestly, even more so) than their literary counterparts, but I am also an enjoyer of schlock!! I think there’s artistic merit in animorphs, and in isekais where a japanese schoolgirl reincarnates into a magical spider who has to level up like it’s a video game! it’s like with everything, you can’t draw a clean line that separates ‘art’ from ‘non-art’ or even ‘lesser art’, and pretending you can do so just makes you look ignorant and goofy. in my opinion.

[gallusrostromegalus]

Random question, could you give some ideas on Irish names your family may have in the 1950-60s? I got a character with an Irish grandpa with 9 brothers and sisters (3 brothers and 6 sisters) and I only got the oldest sister name (soairse) and his name (Caine). I guess I could just name the rest some form of jack and Margret since those seem to be popular, but I wanted to see if there were some “interesting” names you found in your family tree that maybe one of the siblings got named after some ancestor?

Firstly for the sake of clarity: I'm American, not Irish. All of my ancestors for the last 4-5 generations have lived here, and while I like learning about the language/music/culture, I am absolutely not an expert. I HIGHLY recommend getting a sensitivity reader, I'm sure someone in the comments can wave at you if they're willing to take on the job.

Second, Triple-check the spelling, pronunciation, meaning and provenance of any names you do choose, and ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TRUST ANY BABY NAME WEBSITES, they're basically all AI slop at best. The best written-down lists and meanings are actually on Wikipedia.

Third: If you want to learn more Irish names, you can look up the names of like, any Irish musician or artist. I think spotify still has Genre Playlists, if you look up "Irish Folk" you'll get a shitload of names of Real Irish people- and hey, if Hirohiko Akari can name all his characters after 80's pop bands, you can make a subtle ref to modern musicians. Also you'll get a bunch of fun music! --- So while I was writing this, I somewhat departed from the intent of this response, and am putting the last point under a cut because the post got long. And weird.

So there is a thing in Irish-american families, and I think it's true in the British isles still where there are "Family Names", where the same set of first names is recycled over and over and over across generations. My dad's family has exactly three male names that they rotate through over the generations: Roy, Emmet and Jack*. In that order, where the son takes the father's first name as his middle name. My great-grandfather was Roy Jack Surname, my grandfather was Emmet Roy Surname, and my dad is Jack Emmet. My sister and I were AFAB, so the names skipped us and my male cousin in my generation is now Roy Jack. In the event that there are more than three living men with the same surname in the family, that's when they start reaching for the Given Names Of In-Laws We Like and might introduce a new name into the lineup.

*Names changed for privacy above and hereafter, but you get the idea.

So if any of your characters are descendants of that grandpa? They may share a first or middle name with one of his siblings. in fact, they may share the SAME first and middle name with a living relative, and be called "Junior" or "Young Firstname" to distinguish them from the relative they were named after.

My mom's family is from England and has a similar tradition: any new girl born into that family gets a name that is based on the name of one of her living female relatives, usually by sharing the same first letter or syllable. Elanor after Eloise, Vivian after Virginia, and also Jenny after Virgnia via 'Ginny' and every variation of Margret ever, which there are way more of than you'd think.

I cannot recommend doing what they did with Male names though: Name literally every boy Bob* for like five generations, and distinguish individuals by middle name (Bob-Howard and Bob-Benjamin) surname (Bob-Jones and Bob-Bailey) or Honorific (Captain Bob, Dr. Bob, Bob Jr.) when yelling out the kitchen window.

Most families have to good sense to not have the same name repeated in a generation, even if it has a shitload of nicknames. A mother and daughter might both be Margrets (with different nicknames), but two sisters or cousins wouldn't be.

If you've got in-laws you like, but their surname didn't carry over to their kids, you can also just use their surname as a first name! "Regan" is a first and last name, as are Riley and Bailey. This works out in some cases but not in others:

I have a pretty rare surname- last time I checked, there's only 14 people with it worldwide. It's similar to two other VERY COMMON Irish Surnames, but spelled different and from a different region. It's also Very Definitely A Surname- nobody would see my surname alone and think its a firstname.

Since I don't want to bandy it about, we'll pretend that it's "Breathnach", which has a similar vibe.

My Iowa family is Enormous and all descended from my Great-Aunt Lilyanne, Emmet-Roy's sister. Being a good catholic girl, Lillyanne took her husband's surname when she married, and most of her descendants still have that surname, and none have Breathnach.

After the last of my grandfathers grandchildren were born my Iowa family was sad- all but one of Emmet-Roy's grandchildren was female, and my male cousin has his father's surname. Assuming that we would all marry and take our spouses names, the Iowa family despaired that that the Breathnach name would die out!

So one of my second cousins decided that she would Carry On The Family Name, by giving it to the son she was carrying as a Firstname.

Yeah.

Being "Breathnach Surname" is bad enough, but this was compounded by the fact that the Iowa family's surname is Thomas.

YEAH.

My poor cousin Beathnach Thomas, who always has to re-do his paperwork because NOBODY ever puts the names in the correct boxes, who had his first name printed on every jersey he ever had because the uniform place went "that can't be right!", who cant buy his own beer because he's had so many drivers licenses confiscated because liquor store owners and bartenders think his ID is a fake, who has to not only spell his name to everyone he meets, but explain it too.

Then I made it worse.

I ran into cousin Beathnach in Bozeman, Montana quite by accident a few years ago, and while catching up, I mentioned that I was married.

"You know, it's a real hassle, but I'm kind of glad I've got the name I do. I'd heard you sister changed her name, and now with you married- I'd be sad to think we were running out of Breathnachs, you know?" he laughed.

I had to explain.

I married the most wonderful man in the world, who has an extremely common first and last name. Which was kind of a problem, because he shares it with some truly rotten people that always come up during background checks and he has have to explain he's not THAT asshole. It also sounds like and is only a letter or two off a lot of other very common names so his mail is constantly sent awry.

My husband will shortly abandon his too-common-for-comfort surname and become the newest Breathnach, taking the total to 15 (the paperwork takes a while).

...So the name lives on through us anyway, and poor cousin Breathnach Thomas went through all that for no reason. He got very quiet, got up from the table and walked outside to the veranda of the restaurant we were in to stare into the picturesque scenery for a while.

"Well, it's not like people change their first names..." he sighed, when he returned to the table.

"...You know how my sister changed her name? She only changed her first name. She's still a Breathnach." I explained quietly.

I've never seen a man look so haunted.

"I know lots of people who've changed their first names, actually. Mostly for transgender reasons, but a bunch because they just didn't like the one they were given." I added, because if he's going to get his world turned over, it's best to flip it all at once.

His brow furrowed at the ponderous speed of a continental collision, approaching the idea with caution. "...I'll have to think about it."

It's been about a year, but since then, I'll get a text from him every few weeks, auditioning a new given name. I do my best to be fair- I give him the meanings of those names, how they're likely to be misconstrued (some are tolerable annoyances, some pose a safety risk), and if he'd be sharing that name with anybody notable or troublesome. The first few were clearly based on Breathnach, but he began to branch out, and the trend of names has indicated that the idea of Naming Himself is causing my cousin to examine himself, and come to some Realizations (TM).

I realize I have gotten completely off-topic from your actual ask, but I urge you to really get into the nuance of nomencalture, because a name can tell a fascinating story.

[roosterforme]

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

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

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@solacestyles

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[leonardalphachurch]

Burnie’s AMA podcast about Rooster Teeth’s revival is now available to the public and so I’m going to summarizing the relevant questions that were answered here.

Why?

“It’s because we could […] If we don’t do it who will?” Throughout the episode, Burnie also mentioned: not wanting RT to become lost media; wanting to create opportunities for himself/past employees of the company; wanting to work with old properties again; being able to collaborate with new talent; and the Rooster Teeth brand being good marketing. “One of the main motivators for this was preserving the media, and I’m happy to say, it is preserved.”

Also spoken about over multiple questions, Burnie says that Warner Brothers might have been planning to sell off the whole company, including employees etc., and he did not want (/couldn’t afford) to buy it then. It was only after the shutdown, after it became clear the WB was selling off individual shows, that Burnie started trying to buy things. I mention this specifically because I’ve seen a lot of people talk as if the company itself is coming back; it is not. What Burnie owns right now is the brand and IP rights to a lot of the properties. The actual “company” of Rooster Teeth is actually Burnie’s production company “Box Canyon Productions” and right now only has two employees.

What properties does Rooster Teeth still own?

“It’s a very, very long list.” Burnie says they have the rights over 50 shows, some specifically named ones being The RT Podcast, Red vs Blue, and The Know. Most of the shows that were hosted on the Rooster Teeth YouTube channel were a part of the acquisition. Nothing from Achievement Hunter, Funhaus, or RWBY are owned by RT anymore. Heavy emphasis was put on AH no longer being under RT’s brand anymore.

Are the scope of these new projects going to be more in line with smaller content like the RT Shorts, or is the hope to try and focus on larger productions like Day 5, The Schedule, or Lazer Team?

“The sweet spot for scale is going all the way back to the early episodes of Red vs Blue.” The focus is going to be on “compelling writing and great characters,” and making projects with smaller productions. Throughout the episode they reiterated that their main focus is going to be on individual projects and shows.

Does this mean there are hopes of getting a complete boxset of RvB?

“I also would love a complete boxset of Red vs Blue.” Burnie says he wants to do this, but doing physical media in 2025 is complicated and a financial risk, so they’re going to have to figure out how it would be done. He mentions possibly doing a preorder for it.

What happens if this just fails again?

“It’s not bulletproof, but I don’t know what it would take for us to have to shutter this thing at this point.” Burnie says that they’re already profitable, that they maintain themselves, and that unless they do something that would put them in tremendous amounts of debt, as long as YouTube still remains a platform that lets them host videos, he’s not worried about the company shutting down.

Could this lead to some of the old RT merch being available again?

“Yeah, it would have to be within the brands we’re talking about.” They talk about there being a lot of old merch, so figuring out how to provide the specific pieces that people want will be a challenge. Burnie how his personal philosophies on making merchandise in a way that does not produce “junk” may also make selling merch more difficult. Ashley says it is going to be a “slow start.”

More questions were answered and things discussed on the episode but this is what I found to be important to share here.

The TL;DR of RvB news: They do own the Red vs Blue IP. There was no confirmation or denial of any future continuations of the show, but we will very likely be getting a boxset and some old merch returning.

[woozinhos]

Doing it raw first time with mingyu after getting married + P.s I always wait for your post😭🥹🫂

Notes: awww anon thank you so much I’m happy to have got back into writing hope you enjoy !!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.

Mingyu held you close as you both lay on the bed, your wedding clothes discarded on the floor. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the moon shining through the window. He looked at you with a mixture of love and desire, his eyes roaming over your body. "I can't believe you're mine," he whispered, tracing his fingers along your curves. "I'm so lucky to have you as my wife."

You blushed at his words, still in disbelief that you were now officially married to the man you loved. "I'm the lucky one," you replied, snuggling closer to him. "You're everything I've ever wanted and more." Mingyu smiled and kissed the top of your head. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long," he said, his hands moving lower to caress your thighs. "I've wanted to make you mine in every way possible." You could feel his arousal pressing against you, hard and insistent. Mingyu's touch was becoming more urgent, his lips finding their way to your neck and collarbone.

"I want you," he growled, his teeth grazing your skin. "I want to claim you as mine completely, with no barriers between us." You shivered at his words, your body responding to his touch and his possessiveness. "I want that too," you whispered, your fingers tangling in his hair. "I want to feel you inside me, all of you."

Mingyu groaned and flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him. "Are you sure?" he asked, his eyes dark with lust. "There's no going back once we do this." You nodded, looking up at him with trust and desire. "I'm sure," you said firmly. "I want to feel you raw, to be connected to you in every way." Mingyu smiled and kissed you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours. He positioned himself between your legs, his cock throbbing with need. "I love you," he murmured against your lips as he began to push into you.

You gasped as he entered you, the feeling of his bare cock stretching you open completely new and intense. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he slowly filled you to the hilt. Mingyu let out a low moan, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel so good, baby," he said, his voice strained. "You're so tight and wet for me." Mingyu had to stop for a moment, his body trembling with the effort of holding back. He had never felt anything like this before, the sensation of being inside you without a condom was overwhelming.

"Fuck," he cursed, his hips bucking involuntarily. "I don't think I'm going to last long like this." You smiled up at him, understanding the effect you were having on him. "It's okay," you said softly, stroking his cheek. "We have all night. Just let go and enjoy it." Mingyu nodded, his eyes locking onto yours as he began to move again. His thrusts were slow and deep, each one sending waves of pleasure through your body. "I love you," he repeated, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "I love you so much." You moaned his name, your fingers digging into his shoulders as he picked up the pace. The feeling of him moving inside you was pure ecstasy, every nerve ending in your body alight with pleasure.

Mingyu was losing himself in the sensation, his control slipping as he chased his release. "I'm gonna cum," he warned, his voice ragged. "I'm gonna fill you up with my cum, baby." Mingyu thrust into you with a fierce intensity, his hips slamming against yours as he reached his peak. With a deep groan, he spilled himself inside you, his hot cum coating your walls. You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, pumping you full of his seed. You held him close, your body shaking from the aftershocks of your own orgasm.

"You came so much," you whispered, your voice filled with awe. "I can feel it all inside me." Mingyu chuckled, nuzzling your neck. "I think I've found my new addiction," he admitted. "I love the feeling of being inside you, bare and raw."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing a Fictional Monster

From Count Dracula to Ramsay Bolton, some of the most memorable characters in literature are monsters. Use these examples and tips to generate great monster ideas for your own writing.

Characteristics of a Monster

The word ‘monster’ stirs up various ideas of traits and psychological aspects of creepy creatures people fear, but there are a number of ways monsters can be portrayed:

Physical characteristics. Monsters can be massive and powerful, like King Kong or Mothra. It can have slimy body parts, rows of sharp teeth, tentacles, a coat of thick armor, or be a completely small and unassuming sort of thing. The physical characteristics of your monster aren’t just for effect, either. Your monster character design should make sense with the background you’ve provided. For example, if it has wings, it should use them to fly. Monsters aren’t decorative—they're reflections of peoples’ deepest rooted fears.

Psychological traits. Some believe that the true monsters are the ones that lurk inside our own minds. Monsters can scare us when they play into phobias, like Pennywise from Stephen King’s It (1986), who appeared as a vicious clown but also took the form of the main characters’ greatest fears. Monsters can also be symbolic or emotional manifestations. Sometimes monsters don’t need to interact with the characters at all—the characters build the fear around the idea of the monster themselves—which can amplify the terror that readers and viewers feel along with them.

Its targets. Does it feed on children? Is it attracted to despair? Does it get violent at the scent of blood? What triggers your monster? When does it appear, and why? Knowing what motivates your monster is the key to figuring out why it behaves the way it does and creates a sense of understanding for your audience.

Its weaknesses. Is there anything that can vanquish your monster? Is it able to be defeated? Does it hate daylight? Giving your monster its own rules and limits can help establish a believable creature. However, lacking a weakness can also be part of your monster’s horror as well.

How to Write a Monster

If you’re looking for how to make a monster of your own, there are a few guidelines you can follow to make your new monster feel like a real monster:

Provide a little background. Your monster may not exist in the real world, but it still needs some logical follow-through. Where did it come from? Why does it look the way it does? Is it man-made like Dr. Frankenstein’s monster in Mary Shelley's Frankenstein (1823)? Or is it a natural creature like Beowulf’s Grendel? You don’t have to answer every question about your monster in your writing (sometimes the unknown is just as scary), however, the audience should know a little background information to envision a full enough picture.

Leave space for the imagination. Even though you want the audience to get a complete picture of your monstrosity, a person’s own imagination can always be scarier than anything someone else could create, like the Jabberwock from Lewis Carroll’s nonsense poem The Jabberwocky (1871). Leaving room for your reader to fill in the gaps may result in them imagining their own worst personal fears in conjunction with whatever horrors you’ve already laid out.

Give it a name. Personifying a monster draws it a little closer into real-life, and giving something a name makes it feel more tangible. Sometimes the fear of a name lies in its ambiguity, like John Carpenter’s ‘The Thing,’ or it can be a name that feels scary and powerful, like Tomoyuki Tanaka’s ‘Godzilla.’ Or sometimes, it’s the existing name of a horrific mythological villain like ‘Typhon.’

Make it hard to kill. Sometimes a monster is relentless and needs to be physically fought, and sometimes there’s a secret or trick to killing it that is unknown until later on in the story. Monsters that cannot be defeated easily create big moments of tension and anticipation for readers and viewers alike. The harder to kill, the scarier they become.

Examples: Monsters in Literature

Monsters can be science fiction creations with gaping maws and poisonous fangs, but they can also be like human beings as well, like a rogue android or possessed parent.

Count Dracula: Infamous vampire from Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1897).

Balrogs: Menacing monsters of fire and shadow in J.R.R. Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series (1937).

Mr. Hyde: Evil alter-ego of the character Dr. Jekyll, from Robert Louis Stevenson’s Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1886).

The Giant Squid: The monster from the depths in Jules Verne’s classic, Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea (1872).

Jack Torrance: The alcoholic father from Stephen King’s The Shining (1977).

Source ⚜ Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[enhani-ki]

Omg I hope I don’t sound sick but would you do Niki x Jake’s girlfriend (Jake is aware of it but dose mind because Niki is his makne)🤧

he knows - ni-ki x reader x jake

warnings: smut, nsfw, cheating, drinking alcohol, cursing, etc.

ni-ki always find it amusing how you act around him. you're polite and reserved with everyone else but with him, you were comfortable. he's the only person you ever spoke to and the only one who could make you laugh.

whenever he cracked a joke, you'd giggle behind your hand, your cheeks would turn pink and whenever he teases you or he'd throw subtle flirty remarks, you'd get all shy and quiet, looking anywhere but at him.

and whenever someone else tried to talk to you, you would just bow politely and walk away, sometimes outright ignoring them.

you had been rushing through the hallway so you could go home early when you accidentally bumped into someone.

"ah- sorry!" you winced, quickly bending down to pick up your fallen things.

you heard a warm chuckle along with pair of hands that helped you gather your belongings and when you looked up, you were met with a pair of kind, familiar eyes.

Sim Jaeyun.

he tilted his head with a curious expression. "oh?" he muttered, studying your face then his eyes lit up. "you're y/n, right?"

your heart skipped. "h-how…?"

jake grinned. "i think i saw your picture with ni-ki." he laughed.

your face heated up instantly. "ahh…"

"he told me lots of things, you know?"

you groaned playfully, shaking your head. "he must've called me ugly again, right?"

jake let out a short laugh before shaking his head. "but you're not, though..." he continued, "you're very pretty."

"wha- what?"

he smiled, completely unfazed by your flustered face.

this is jake sim... and he just called you pretty.

you knew jake is a flirt and it was just a simple compliment, but still, it feels really good to be called that every once in a while.

you laughed awkwardly, really unsure how to react.

"you should hang out with me sometime." he said, pulling out his phone and casually handing it to you.

you hesitated, staring at the device in his hands.

then he gave you that look... soft, expectant puppy eyes. it's actually unfair.

handsome boys just might be your weakness.

"...okay." you smiled, typing in your number.

now here you were, standing beside jake, looking all shy as he introduced you to the rest of their friend group.

you felt nervous, not because you weren't used to meeting new people but because these weren't just any people. these are THE people. heesung, jay, sunghoon, sunoo, jungwon and ni-ki...

and judging by their curious smiles, you thought that they might be trying to figure out why jake, of all people, had chosen you.

i mean, he asked you out, he kept texting you, and not to mention, he's literally perfect... who are you to say no?

"my girlfriend, y/n." jake said smoothly and laughed shyly, throwing an arm around your shoulders.

ni-ki barely heard the surprised "oohs" and teasing from the others because all he could do was to focus on you... how your cheeks turned red, how you avoided his eyes, and how you nervously fiddled with the hem of your sleeve.

since when?

since when did you start dating someone and why the hell was it jake?

"wait, i feel like i've heard that name before…"

jake nodded, "yeah, probably from ni-ki 'cause they're classmates."

"oh, that's right!"

you glanced at ni-ki, who's unusually quiet. he just stood there, staring at you and jake.

he smiled weakly and nodded at everyone before walking away.

then ni-ki didn't talk to you for days.

you weren't one to approach people first, and now you have a boyfriend… but ni-ki is your friend, you should at least check up on him, right?

you: hey, how are you?

no reply.

he wouldn't look at you, wouldn't say hi, and wouldn't acknowledge you at all.

plus you were super "shy" to push it further.

is he upset?

you sighed, the ache in your ribs refusing to go away, it pressed against your lungs, making it hard to breathe.

you pulled one hand out and rubbed your chest, fingers pressing over your heart like that would somehow ease the strange, suffocating feeling inside.

after class, you stood by your locker, stuffing books into your bag when you felt a tap on your shoulder, you chose to ignore it.

another tap.

you exhaled sharply, rolling your eyes but can't help to smile a little bit. you didn't even have to turn around to know who it was, you guessed he probably stopped acting nonchalant.

another tap.

"ni-ki!" you said excitingly, but instead of ni-ki, you found yourself staring at your wide-eyed classmate holding out your pencil case.

"you- you left this in class!" he stammered before shoving it into your hands then ran away.

the hallway got dead silent. dozens of eyes were staring at you, some students whispering, and others were just staring.

your stomach dropped and then, just when you thought the situation couldn't get worse, you caught sight of ni-ki who had stopped in his tracks after hearing his name from your mouth. he's just a few feet away, staring at you awkwardly.

a confused look appeared across his face for a second. then he scoffed, smiling widely before walking away.

you closed your eyes and swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around your pencil case. you shook your head and lightly bashed your head into your locker. "that's so embarrassing..."

later, you were staring at everyone's pictures stuck to the fridge.

you were just waiting for jake to finish getting dressed, when someone opened fridge door beside you, nearly making you jump.

ni-ki.

he didn't acknowledge you, he just grabbed a bottle of water and cracked it open, like you weren't even standing right there.

you pouted. he's so rude.

and when you turned to look at him again, you realized he was already watching you, even as he lifted the bottle to his lips.

your heart skipped then you quickly looked away, suddenly feeling nervous.

he smirked and before you could even process it, he was already stepping closer.

"hey…" you greeted, still nervous.

ni-ki then leaned in tilting his head before he kissing you slow and passionate as if he was savoring you. his lips were cold from the water, but he tasted so good, it's so right.

when he pulled away, the sound of your lips parting was loud, sexy, and intimate.

then you looked at his eyes, you started panting.

you panicked at the sound of footsteps approaching. you shoved ni-ki away, your face burning as you ran outside.

he watched you disappear with an amused smirk on his lips.

he turned back to the fridge just as jake walked in.

"where's y/n?" jake asked, adjusting his watch.

ni-ki grabbed another bottle of water and popped the cap off before shrugging, "i don't know."

you avoided everyone after that.

it was wrong. all wrong.

why did he do it?

and it's also wrong that you're thinking about it while on a karaoke date with your boyfriend.

"jake, i have to tell you something…"

he smiled. "hold on, i gotta sing this."

then started singing while looking at you, his voice warm and full of energy. he was so sweet, it made you want to cry.

it's always fun with him.

and on the way home, jake couldn't stop talking to you in English, excitedly rambling about random things. "i like that i have someone like you who i could talk to about this." he said, joked that he was tired of speaking with his friends.

you laughed softly. "well, i'm happy to listen."

jake smiled before tilting his head. "is it true? i remember ni-ki saying something like you don't like anyone touching you?"

you heart raced hearing his name but you forced yourself to stay calm.

"no, not really." you replied. "but it's not that i don't like it. i guess i just like it better when i'm really comfortable with someone."

jake stopped walking and stared at you. "look at you…"

you blinked. "huh?"

"you're already opening up to me."

you chuckled after feeling the warmth in his voice then he reached for your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours.

you smiled weakly.

"i gotta warn you," he grinned. "i'm really clingy."

then you laughed, letting yourself be in this moment with him that you actually forgot about what happened with you and ni-ki.

you were hanging out with everyone but you only had your eyes on jake. you were laughing weakly, hands tracing his arm as you leaned into him. his touch was warm, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

ni-ki sat quietly across the room, watching. his jaw was getting tighter the longer he observe.

he had been patient, biting his tongue, but when you nearly stumbled forward in your drunken state, only for Jake to catch you with an amused chuckle, ni-ki finally had enough.

"hyung," he said abruptly, standing from his seat. "she needs to go home."

you blinked, your laughter fading as you turned to look at him and alcohol made it hard to focus but you still managed to send him a hazy glare, eyes narrowing.

jake frowned as he glanced at ni-ki. "oh, is that so?" he raised a brow, clearly entertained by ni-ki's sudden concern.

ni-ki didn't back down, he wasn't playing games. "yeah." he said, his tone unwavering. "she's too drunk."

jake gave him a confused look. you're with him, your boyfriend. so what?

"hey, woman. should i tell your mom you're drinking?" ni-ki asked you.

then jake chuckled, brushing his fingers soothingly over your back. "okay," he murmured, pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. "i'll come see you tomorrow, alright?"

ni-ki exhaled through his nose, stepping forward as if ready to take you himself. jake noticed but didn't react, only smiling softly as he helped you up.

and since he's too drunk as well, he asked ni-ki for help.

he held your arm carefully. "take care of my girl." he said lightly, as if provoking ni-ki.

but ni-ki didn't respond, he just led you forward. he sighed, adjusting his grip on you as you swayed slightly against him.

it was cold outside so you were practically glued to him, your fingers clutching at his sleeve because if felt like you'd float away if you let go.

why did jake let you drink this much?

"ni-ki..." you called out, "kiss me again." you said suddenly, soft but insistent.

ni-ki stiffened, halting for a moment. his grip on your arm tightened as he let out a slow breath. "you're drunk," he muttered.

"i can't stop thinking about it..." you admitted, stopping in your tracks and looking up at him with big, glossy eyes.

he clenched his jaw, clearly fighting himself. "you'll never ask or tell me that when you're sober, right?" he smiled.

you giggled, leaning closer, swaying again. "because i'm smart when i'm sober."

ni-ki scoffed, rolling his eyes. "right. and you're real dumb right now, huh?"

and instead of answering, you grabbed at his sleeve again, tugging like a stubborn child. He groaned, clearly exasperated, but there was no real bite to it.

"stop moving so much," he muttered.

but you just pouted at him. "kiss me," you whined, repeating your words.

ni-ki let out a long sigh, like he was actually debating whether to listen to you or throw you over his shoulder and carry you home.

but he gave in, leaning down and pressing a long, firm kiss to your forehead.

you wanted it on the lips but you immediately melted, your eyes fluttering shut as you wrapped your arms around his waist. his arms came around you too, pulling you in even closer.

next day in class, you were back to being yourself again, as if you hadn't been all cheeky, clingy, and asking ni-ki for a kiss last night.

he leaned back in his chair, watching you from across the room as you quietly wrote in your notebook, acting like nothing had happened.

he got up, grabbed a chair, and dragged it beside your desk, resting his head on the surface. "why are you still here?" he asked.

"i'm waiting for jake." you answered simply, not looking up.

ni-ki rolled his eyes before he pulled out his phone and texted jake.

ni-ki: she's waiting for you.

jake: omg, i forgot. my head still hurts.

clicking his tongue, ni-ki set his phone down and looked at you. you were still writing, completely unaware. "you look dumb."

you laughed it off, brushing off his bluntness like you always did.

"do you wanna go to our house? he's there."

you paused before finally looking up at him. "he's… not coming, is he?"

ni-ki nodded. "sorry."

you shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. "it's fine. not your fault. i've got things to do anyway."

he reached out and gave you a quick pat on the head. you blinked up at him in surprise.

"let's eat then i'll walk you home."

"huh?" you hesitated, blinking up at him.

he laughed. "you're gonna sit here all day looking dumb?"

you glared at him. "i said i have things to do."

ni-ki raised an eyebrow. "yeah? like what?"

you opened your mouth, then closed it, unable to come up with anything convincing.

"come on. let's go."

you pretended to think about it for a moment before finally standing up. "fine." you said, grabbing your things.

later that night, as you lay in your bed, your phone rang with an incoming call. it's jake.

"hello?"

"did you get home safely?" he asked, yawning because he just woke up.

you sighed softly. "yeah, ni-ki walked me home."

there was a pause before jake let out a small scoff. "ni-ki… that kid…"

you frowned. "what?"

"he's not gonna take you away from me, right?"

your eyes widened slightly. "that's ridiculous..." you muttered, your voice quieter than you expected.

jake hummed. "i should confront him."

"wha-"

"i'm kidding, i love that guy..." he laughed. he added, "i miss you..."

you rolled onto your side. "i wish that was true."

jake laughed again, a little softer this time. "of course it's true. i'll make it up to you, i gotta go now."

you chuckled. "okay, bye."

he hung up, leaving you staring at your screen.

he's not gonna take you away from me, right?

you pulled out your phone and typed a message.

you: i should thank you.

ni-ki: hell yeah.

ni-ki: jk, it's good :p

you smiled, shaking your head.

you: you want coffee or something?

ni-ki: what's the something?

you: anything you want.

then moment passed before he responded.

ni-ki: bet. see you.

you stared at your screen for a while, your fingers hovering over the keyboard before you sighed, locking your phone.

and when you and ni-ki were finally alone, he quickly shut the door behind him, locking it with a soft click.

you watched as he took off his jacket, tossing it aside. you gulped, "so- so… do you want something?" you asked, your chest rising and falling with excitement and anticipation as he slowly walked closer.

"yeah, i want this…" he panted, cupping your cheeks before pressing his lips to yours.

you gasped against his mouth, your hands gripping onto his arms as you kissed him back. the familiar warmth of him, the way he tasted, the way he held you, it made your stomach flutter.

"i miss you, ni-ki." you murmured between kisses, barely pulling away before diving back in.

then he smiled against your lips. "i miss you too." he whispered, deepening the kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. "you should say that more." he added.

you moaned softly in response, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sleeves.

this was so wrong.

your body was longing for ni-ki.

his hands began to wander as he pressed his body on top of yours, you could feel how much he wanted you with the evidence of his arousal hard against your thigh.

"ni-ki," you whimpered, tilting your head as his lips trailed down your neck. he nipped and sucked, but not enough to leave marks.

"we shouldn't..."

"we- we shouldn't." he repeated, continuing his kisses on your skin as his hips began to grind against yours. the pleasure in the friction made you roll your eyes, hands coming up to tangle in his hair.

ni-ki's hands slid down to your ass, giving it a squeeze as he picked up the pace. you bit your lip to hold back a moan while feeling yourself growing wet already.

it felt so good, his strong body pinning you down.

"i want you," he panted, the movement of his hips were stuttering.

you nodded breathlessly, too far gone to protest.

he lifted you up slightly, encouraging you to wrap your legs around his waist which you did so eagerly, the new position allowing him to grind harder against your clothed cunt.

his thick bulge rubbed against you with each roll of his hips, you squeezed your eyes shut, really overwhelmed by sensation.

you were both groaning, moaning, and panting now, completely lost in the heat of the moment. his lips found yours again and you gave him sloppy kisses.

all thoughts of wrongdoing were forgotten because it was replaced by the all-consuming need to have ni-ki closer.

ni-ki adjusted his grip, one hand sliding between your bodies to palm at his straining erection through his pants. he groaned on his own touch, bucking into his hand.

"i'm gonna cum like this."

"hmm, i can't wait." he replied, kissing you.

your hips rolled shamelessly against him as you feel the pressure building, very tight in your core.

he was really going to make you cum just from this. just from dry humping him.

"ni-ki," you called out his name, fingers clutching at his shoulders. "i'm gonna-"

he panted, picking up the pace then he quickly slid his fingers in your underwear and started moving his hand skillfully.

"cum, y/n... i wanna feel you." his words pushed you over the edge and you came with a silent scream, convulsing in his arms, creaming all over his hands and you could feel the wet heat of it, soaking through the fabric of your pants.

for a moment, you just clung to him, coming down from your high.

then ni-ki had to go to the bathroom for a good five minutes. probably jerked off because he came out with a tired arm.

you both avoided his eyes, the reality of what you'd just done sinking in but ni-ki didn't seem to care, he pulled you close and kissed your forehead.

then you tried. you really did.

you rehearsed it in your head a dozen times, thinking of every possible way to say it. to tell jake the truth about you and ni-ki, about what's been happening.

but every time you tried, jake never gave you the chance.

you took a deep breath, gripping the hem of your sweater while sitting beside him.

you swallowed. just say it.

"jake, i need to talk to you about something." you started, voice steady despite the way your heart pounded.

he would interrupt you before you could even get another word out. asking about what to call each other, "do you prefer love? baby?"

"jake-"

his hands trailed up and down your sides, "ugh, it's been so busy lately, it’s driving me crazy."

your heart clenched.

"you love me, right?"

"what?"

he pulled back to look at you, his eyes full of affection, it's making you feel so guilty you thought you might drown in it. "you love me," he repeated, more certain this time. "so whatever it is you're stressing about, it doesn't matter. we're good."

the courage to tell him was gone.

but ni-ki could tell something was off, jake was being distant.

they're really close, so he noticed right away how jake would leave the moment he would join them and how he barely acknowledged him. it wasn't obvious to everyone else, but ni-ki could tell.

though others noticed jake acting strange too but they brushed it off, not thinking too much about it.

does he know?

ni-ki's chest tightened at the thought.

he might be an adult now, taller than most of them, stronger even but these were still his friends, his brothers and despite everything, he still felt scared sometimes.

fuck.

the house was loud. music, laughters, banters and clatters of bottles as they knocked against the table.

some of the guys were already wasted, slurring their words, and their voices were overlapping each others as they rambled about the dumbest things.

jake is really really drunk, his head was already resting against the couch but still grinning as he took another drink.

somehow everyone ended up talking about relationships, sharing stories, teasing each other about past flings, you know, the usual drunk banter.

"bro, i mean..." he started, voice slightly slurred but still clear enough for everyone to hear, "fucking your friend's girl behind their back is really crazy, right?"

the room fell silent.

whatever's happening, all of it died instantly. everyone exchanged glances, awkwardly moving in their seats.

"why- what are you even saying?" Heesung laughed, his eyes were darting around the room as if trying to gauge the situation.

jake let out a loud laugh, shaking his head. "i'm just kidding!" he grinned, waving his hand dismissively.

the others forced out laughs too, brushing it off as another one of jake's drunken jokes but some were annoyed that he had to kill the vibe.

then the conversation slowly picked back up, though the energy wasn't quite the same.

ni-ki didn't laugh. he didn't even move.

and when jake and ni-ki were the only ones left in the kitchen.

he exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before finally speaking. "hyung…"

jake scoffed, not even sparing him a glance. "what do you want, asshole?"

ni-ki clenched his jaw. jake's mad and he wanted to be mad too, he wants to throw something, to say something that would make jake lash out at him just so they could get this over with.

"i'm sorry." he said. that's all he could say.

jake let out a cold laugh. "keep that sorry and don't talk to me."

ni-ki swallowed, staring at him, searching for something. jake didn't look drunk anymore. he looked sharp and clear-headed like he had been waiting for this moment.

"you know i liked her first, right?" ni-ki said quietly.

jake went silent.

he had known before even meeting you. before anything had even started.

but he only smirked. "i guess you're too slow, ni-ki." he said, adding, "she's not leaving me so you should probably leave her alone."

"i can't."

jake knew. he knew what happened in this kitchen, he saw the way you looked at ni-ki when you thought no one was watching, he also knew what you've been trying to tell him and the truth was, he thought he didn't mind because he also loves ni-ki.

he believed and hoped that maybe you'd grow to love him the same way but i guess it's exhausting, and it's gonna hurt all of you if he let it continue.

"fuck you." he walked away, leaving ni-ki standing right there with his heart pounding and his head spinning.

jake was laying on your chest, his arms were wrapped around your waist while you were playing with his hair.

he was talking about something, one of his usual dumb stories where you wouldn't stop laughing.

"that's so stupid." you giggled, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

he is stupid, cuddling, laying on his cheating girlfriend's chest...

jake started propping himself up, his eyes met yours and then he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

it was the first time he had ever truly kissed you. "jake?"

he didn't answer. his lips trailed down, pressing aggressive kisses to your neck, tightening his grip on your waist.

"j- jake…" you said as you tried to pull away.

"is this how ni-ki does it?"

your entire body tensed.

you pushed him slightly, sitting up with your heart hammering through your chest.

jake scoffed, he was angry, frustrated and... hurt. he leaned in to kiss you again.

and when he felt you weren't kissing him back, he pulled away with a quiet sigh.

"what did i do to deserve this?" he asked you.

you swallowed hard, tears forming in your eyes. "nothing. you did nothing…"

he forced a small smile and reached out to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "sorry, y/n. i-"

you grabbed his hand, holding it tightly while tears slipping past your lashes. "no, i'm sorry..."

you didn't know what else to say. jake hugged you.

maybe it was your fault for saying yes in the first place and for letting things get this far despite loving ni-ki.

maybe it was ni-ki's fault for being a coward and only realizing what he wanted after he saw you in someone else's arms.

or maybe it was jake's own fault for falling for you despite knowing his friend had already set his heart on you.

he hugged you tighter, afraid that if he let go, you'd slip away completely.

jake took you somewhere, a quiet place with a beautiful view where you talked, you laughed, and where things felt okay.

then ni-ki showed up.

"hyung?" ni-ki called out, his voice was uncertain and despite calling his friend, his eyes locked with yours.

jake sighed, patting ni-ki's back with a chuckle. "you're so late."

"hyung…"

"it's okay, idiot. you go get her." he said, adding. "i'll leave you two."

ni-ki sat on the edge of the bench, his hands were resting on your waist as you stood between his legs, your arms wrapped around his shoulders.

he looked at you, unsure. "y- you're mine now, right?"

you nodded without hesitation.

relief washed over his face and he let out a quiet breath before resting his forehead against your shoulder. "ni-ki,"

he hummed.

"sorry for letting you go through that situation." you apologized.

ni-ki leaned back to look at you, "sorry too…" he cupped your cheek, tilting your face slightly before giving you a kiss. and when he pulled back, he brushed your hair away from your face. ni-ki stared for a moment, taking you in, your eyes, your lips, the way you looked at him now compared to before.

you ducked your head and buried your face in his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him again because you felt suddenly shy.

ni-ki chuckled at your reaction, his hands sliding around your back to hold you even closer.

he was already mentally preparing himself to be the other guy. like, really ready to sneak around and everything but luckily, jake is smart.

"you know," he laughed, "i figured i would have to be all stealthy, careful and sneaking out the back door but he figured it out right away." he said, joking.

you groaned in disbelief, burying your face in your hands.

"oh my god..."

a/n: ni-ki is a snake T T and i hate you here. this was painful (cause i don't want to hurt jake) but fun to write. i didn't go crazy with the smut, i hope you'll like it <3

[covenofagatha]

Do I wanna know? (Part 4)

The final two weeks before Agatha moves to Albany

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of sex, fluff

The following Sunday, Agatha drives you to Albany so you can look at apartments with her. She found three online that she really likes and is hoping that she can sign a lease today. 

Since her new job starts next week. 

You’ve never exactly known what she does for a living — you never really cared to ask when she was married to your dad and once you got together, she just kind of assumed that you already knew — so you have to ask about three times for what this new position entails so you can try to work it out. 

So far you’ve gotten that she advises the company on how to raise capital, financial modeling, legal and compliance issues, and general advice. She did try to explain what she does when you found her looking over a contract one night, but it went so far over your head you didn’t realize she had stopped talking until she kissed you to bring you back to earth. Agatha did say investment banker once, but even with all the job descriptions, you’re still not sure you actually understand. 

“All right, here’s the first one,” she says, squeezing your hand that’s interlocked with hers over the center console, and parallel parking on the street in front of a high-rise building with floor-to-ceiling glass windows. You peer into the lobby to take in the crystal chandelier, dark floors, and mahogany wood panels on the wall by the elevator. “See, it’s not that bad of a drive. As long as you leave pretty early Saturday morning, you should be able to get here in under two hours.” 

You look at her and shoot her a smile. Agatha’s been overly nice to you the past week, telling you how pretty you are and how lucky she is and buying you flowers and cooking you all your favorite foods, so you’re trying to just sit back and appreciate it. 

She took the job. You told her it was okay. All that’s left to do is accept it. 

“It’s really nice,” you tell her, turning back to the building. “It’s in a good area, too.”

Agatha turns the car off and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Only about ten minutes from the office, so even better. And it’s not too far from the interstate for traveling to and from here.”

Another thing she’s been doing is talking about how much you’ll be able to come visit and vice versa. It should be reassuring, but it just feels like she’s overcompensating slightly to make the move sound better than it is. 

It’s not fair to still be upset because Agatha is trying. And you are feeling good about this, you feel secure that what you two have is real and strong, and you’re going to start working on your application to the University at Albany this week. If you get in, you’ll start in January, which really only means four months of long distance, and you know you’ll both make an effort to see each other on the weekends and during breaks. 

When you put it like that, the pit in your stomach lessens. Your tendency to overthink and blow up problems in your head is definitely something you need to work on. 

The moment you step out of the car, the first thing you notice is the smell, almost like rotting plants and sewage. You wrinkle your nose and Agatha walks around to you, the same expression on her face. 

“Think you’ll ever get used to that?” you joke and she solemnly shakes her head. 

“Guess I’ll just need to bury my nose into something else until I forget it,” she says with a wink and you laugh before following her up to the glass door of the apartment complex. 

There’s a man sitting at a desk, maybe about ten years older than you and wearing a flannel shirt, typing something at his computer, and he doesn’t look up at you until Agatha clears her throat and taps her fingers on the counter. 

He raises a bushy eyebrow, unimpressed and annoyed that someone dared interrupt him. “Can I help you?” 

Agatha tosses her hair back over her shoulder and straightens up. “My name is Agatha Harkness and I made an appointment to see a two-bedroom.” 

The man sighs and taps his mouse. “Yo, Dottie,” he calls, swiveling in his chair to face an open door to the right of him, “I’ve got a ‘Harkness’ here to see the two.” Whoever Dottie is, you hope she’s friendlier than this man. Even his mustache seems to be frowning at you. 

A tall, blonde woman steps out of the room, beaming brightly at you two, wearing a brightly colored floral dress. She walks around the desk, shakes both your hands, and introduces herself. 

“Wonderful, wonderful,” she claps her hands together and you wince at the loud sound in the otherwise-silent lobby, “let me get the keys and then I’ll show you and your daughter the model apartment on the seventh floor and then the one that’s open, which could be yours! We also have some specials on leases if you sign one within twenty-four hours of your tour, which I’ll go over after this.” 

Dottie waves you along and you catch Agatha’s eye behind her back, mouthing your daughter? at her with an amused smirk. Agatha playfully rolls her eyes and swats your arm. 

You still remember the first time she took you out in the spring, when the waitress had assumed you were a couple. You had choked and almost died from coughing so hard, flabbergasted at the thought that anyone would look at you two and see anything other than a mother and her daughter, even if she was your step-mom. 

But now, it kind of bugs you that someone does see you that way. You’re almost tempted to see what Dottie would say if you kissed Agatha or if Agatha squeezed your ass. 

Dottie’s rambling about the safety features of the elevator as she presses the button and you stare at the reflection of yourselves in the bronze doors, blurring the sound of her voice out. You watch Agatha nodding attentively and you probably should be paying attention, but you just can’t. 

Something about looking for apartments with Agatha seems so surreal. You had helped her pick out the one in Westview and it felt like you were picking out a place for the two of you, even knowing you were going to live at the dorms. 

But now, you’re picking it out for her and she’s breaking her lease on the apartment you shared. 

It’ll be back to being both of yours in January, you remind yourself. 

The elevator doors slide open and the three of you step into it, the tile a fancy black marble with gold cracks and the walls a dark wood with the top half covered in mirrors. Dottie touches the fob to a pad and then presses the button for seven. 

“It only lets you get to the floor that you live on, and the roof for the pool and the game room. We take our security very seriously,” she explains and Agatha hums before looking at you for your approval and you nod like you’ve been paying attention this whole time. 

She takes you down the hall and pauses in front of a door, fumbling with the key ring and then finally inserting one into the lock. She pushes it open and lets you and Agatha step in first. 

The floor is a cool gray color, all white walls except for the blue accent in the living room, and it’s pretty spacious. The kitchen has an island with quartz countertops that match the other counters against the wall, all stainless steel appliances, a double oven, and a hood over the stove. The backsplash is green and blue and gray tiles. There’s a deep sink and three pendant lights over the island.  You have to admit it looks really good.

“Wow,” Agatha says, tracing her fingers over the countertop and crossing the threshold into the living room, where the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook the city of Albany. It’s the model, so there’s comfortable-looking couches around a coffee table and a rug, facing a television on an entertainment center. Even with all the furniture, it’s easy to imagine exactly where Agatha’s stuff would go. 

You follow her into the first bedroom, the bigger one. It has the same windows as the living room and your only thought is that Agatha will certainly need to invest in some curtains if she picks this place. It’s a huge room; Dottie tells you that the bed in there is king-sized and there is still plenty of space for the nightstands and lamps and dressers. The walk-in closet is probably half the size of your dorm room right now, and there’s a standalone shower next to a tub across from the double vanity in the bathroom. 

“This is nice,” Agatha whistles and you nod your head in agreement. 

“Let me show you the other bedroom,” Dottie says and leads you to the other half of the apartment. “This door closes off the hallway to the second bed and bath, so plenty of privacy. Will your daughter be living with you?” 

It’s hard not to laugh when you and Agatha glance at each other out of the corner of your eyes. “Um, no, I go to college in New Jersey. But I’ll be visiting a lot,” you answer, and then, just for the fun of it, add: “How thick are the walls, though? Like, apartment to apartment.” 

Agatha stifles a laugh that turns into a cough and Dottie looks back over her shoulder. “We don’t get a lot of noise complaints. If you’re worried about the TV being too loud, it shouldn’t be a problem because the living room is in the middle of the two bedrooms. But if you’re watching something in either bedroom, there’s a chance a neighbor might be able to hear a bit of it.” 

“That’s exactly what I was worried about,” you mumble and Agatha nudges you, even though she’s smirking too. 

The second bedroom is a bit smaller than the other, but still a good size. This one has a window-sill and only one long window and the closet is only about half as big. The bathroom has an alcove tub and matching countertops to the other bathroom and a lot of cabinet space. 

Dottie also shows you the three extra closets for extra storage and then takes you to the empty apartment on the ninth floor. 

Agatha walks around, gesturing wildly with her hands and pointing out where things could go, while you trail after her like a lost puppy, occasionally adding a yeah and I like that and I think that’ll look really good. 

Seeing her plan the space feels like a hammer in your gut going it’s happening it’s happening it’s happening over and over again until it almost overwhelms you, but Agatha is so engaged in it that she doesn’t even notice. You’re being completely irrational. Everything is fine.

“So, what do you guys think?” Dottie asks when Agatha finally stops and comes to stand next to you as you’re leaning on the island and picking at your fingernails. She puts a hand on your lower back and you stiffen, eyes darting up to look at Agatha, who’s looking back at you inquisitively. 

“Could you give us a second, Dottie?” It’s clear from Agatha’s tone that it’s not a question and Dottie gives you both a tight smile before leaving the apartment. 

You rub your forehead, trying to stave off a headache you can feel slowly budding, and walk over to the windows. Her footsteps are soft and then she’s wrapping an arm around you to pull you into her and kiss your head. 

“You know what I’m thinking about?” she asks and you hum inquisitively. “Fucking you against these windows so anyone down below could look up and see how well you take me. See how good of a girl you are for me.” 

A burst of heat flashes through you but you smirk, not being able to pass up the opportunity to make a joke. “That’s quite an inappropriate thing to say to your daughter.” 

Agatha snorts. “Good thing Dottie isn’t here.” And then she softens against you. “Do you like this place?” 

You shrug. “It’s pretty nice. Aren’t we going to go look at the other places though?” It’s a stupid thing, but you feel like it’s not real until she signs a lease. And maybe you just want to keep it not real for a little bit longer. 

She makes an equivocal sound. “This one did look the nicest online. And honestly, I really like it. I can definitely see myself living here. I can see us living here.” 

“Okay,” you say softly, melting on the inside. As long as she’s picturing you here with her, you’d be good with anywhere. “I think this is the place, then. Let’s go tell Dottie, mommy.” You go to move but instead, she turns you by the shoulders and grabs your cheeks, pulling you in for a long kiss and then gives you another one for good measure. 

“You are so perfect,” she says against your lips. “I l—” 

The door opens and you jump back from Agatha and whirl to find Dottie standing there. Your cheeks heat up, but she doesn't look scandalized so you’re guessing she didn’t see anything. “How’s it going in here, ladies?” 

Agatha gives you one last look-over, giving you all the time in the world to object, but you just swallow hard and nod. “Dottie, we’ll take it,” she says and you plaster a smile onto your face when Dottie gasps and exclaims excitedly. 

She ushers you back to the lobby and leaves you sitting at a desk while she runs off to go print out papers. You’re tapping your foot impatiently when your phone buzzes. 

Thinking it’s just one of your parents — you didn’t actually tell either of them that you were going to New York — you pull it out of your pocket. 

Hey, it’s Carol. Want to get dinner tonight? You vaguely remember giving her your number the night of the party last week. You’ve only seen her once or twice since then and the first time, she asked how you were feeling, and the second time, she shot a finger gun at you. 

“Who’s Carol?” Agatha murmurs, having leaned over your shoulder. You fight the instinct to turn your screen and type back, Sorry, out of town tonight. Rain check? before slipping it back into your pocket. 

“Just this girl that lives in the dorms. She was the one who drove me to your place when I was hammered last Sunday.” 

“Ah.” She’s opening her mouth to say something else when Dottie comes back over and plops down a thick packet and starts rattling off the rules of the complex, the extra fees, and where to sign. Dottie says because you’re not living here full-time, you don’t have to fill anything out and you inwardly sigh in relief. 

Agatha barely looks at the papers before signing her name in big cursive letters and you can’t help but long for that kind of financial security and stability, where you don’t even have to worry about the cost of rent. When you do transfer and if you do end up living with her at any point, you know she won’t let you pay for anything, but you make a mental note to start looking at jobs, maybe even just part-time, so you can buy her things with your own money. 

“Perfect, let me just run a quick background check on you, make sure your credit is good, and then I’ll get back with you. And you want to move in…?” 

“Next Saturday would be great,” Agatha says and your foot starts bouncing even more erratically. Dottie leaves to go back into the office and Agatha’s head drops back to look up at the ceiling. “That means I need to set up electricity, water, internet, I need to schedule movers, I need to talk to my complex.” She groans and sits back normally, rubbing her face with her hands. 

You’ve done the whole moving thing a few times and it absolutely sucks so you reach over to pat her leg. It’s the first time you’ve seen her even the slightest bit overwhelmed with all this and it’s honestly refreshing. “I’m here. Anything you need, I want to help.” 

She gratefully smiles and leans across her chair to give you a kiss on the head. “How did I get so lucky?” 

“Um, you married my dad.” Agatha wrinkles her nose but laughs anyway, resting a hand on top of yours that’s still on her thigh. It’s an anchor for both of you and neither of you move until Dottie comes back about five minutes later. 

“All right, you guys are all good! We will see you next week. Any more questions?” 

Agatha stands up and shakes Dottie’s hand. “I think we’re okay. Thank you so much for all your help.” 

The drive back to Westview is filled with mindless chatter and no mention of the move. You make plans for the week — you’ll stay with Agatha every night, she’ll cook dinner, movie night on Tuesday, picnic in the park on Thursday. She knows that school is starting to pick up for you, so it goes unspoken that you’ll be doing homework with her. 

“And of course, plenty of sex,” you add when she asks you if there’s anything else to plan for. 

“Oh, sorry, was that not implied?” Agatha simpers and her hand sneaks its way into your lap, dipping under the seat belt to play with the elastic of your leggings. 

You let her slide inside and let out a small moan when she brushes a finger against your clit through your underwear. “Better keep your eyes on the road, mommy,” you say tightly.

“I can multitask.” 

She rubs your clit and you shift in your seat to give her easier access to you. It’s an odd angle — her wrist is bent in a way that is surely uncomfortable — but Agatha is determined to make it work. She teases you slowly and before long, you can feel how wet you’ve become. Your breathing has deepened, cheeks hot, and you start to roll your hips to get more stimulation. 

“Mommy, please,” you beg, and she looks over at you to say something when the car in front of her stops suddenly. Your stomach lurches. “Watch out!” 

Agatha slams on the brakes, sending you both flying forward, the seat belt putting an immense amount of pressure on you, and she yanks her hand out of your pants to put her arm in front of you. 

The car screeches to a halt about two feet from the one in front of you. You’re both panting and Agatha tosses her hair back before assessing you. 

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly. You nod, still gripped by a cold sweat. She takes a deep breath and puts both hands on the steering wheel when the cars begin to move again. “I think we’ll save car sex for another time.”

You huff out a laugh in agreement. “It went pretty well that one time. But we were in a parking lot on the way to get pizza in rural New Jersey, not on an interstate in New York.” 

“Who would’ve thought there’s a big difference,” Agatha quips and the tension from almost getting into a wreck lifts the more she drives. You’re back to giggling and talking in no time, although you both keep your hands to yourself. 

The rest of the day passes quickly, with Agatha busy setting up everything she needs for her new apartment while you finish up some homework for the upcoming week. 

On Tuesday, you’re leaving your dorm after your third class of the day to go to Agatha’s for the night when you run into Carol. She brightens when you see her and you give her a quick smile, determined to keep moving. 

“Hey, where are you off to? You still owe me that dinner,” she says, catching you by the arm. 

“Yeah, sorry, this week is going to be a little tough,” you tell her apologetically. “My…girlfriend is moving on Saturday so I'm just trying to spend as much time with her as I can.” You’ve never really had to define your relationship with Agatha, but it seems natural to call her that. 

A stormy look flits across her face before she’s back to normal. “The same girlfriend who broke up with you?” 

You hadn’t exactly found the time to fill her in on the whole story. “Turns out she wasn’t cheating, it was me jumping to conclusions. She had a job interview in Albany and she got it! So she starts next Monday.” 

“Be careful with long distance,” Carol warns, instead of being happy for you like you thought she would be. You raise an eyebrow. “It always starts out so nice and happy and everything is okay…but then the distance sets in. Texting and calling aren’t the same as just being able to see them and talk to them in person. Traveling becomes exhausting. The traffic makes you mad and then you’re in a bad mood and you can only think about the drive back and—”

“Stop,” you snap, stepping away from her. This is possibly the worst thing you could hear right now and you can’t take it any longer. “That’s not how this is going to go, okay? Agatha and I are different. We’re solid. And besides, it’s probably only going to be like this for a few months. She trusts me and I trust her. We’re going to be fine.” 

Carol scoffs, a cold look in her eyes. “You trust her? Is that why you were so quick to believe she was cheating on you?” 

The blow knocks the wind out of you and you just stare at her blankly. Who the fuck does she think she is? 

She softens, realizing that she cut deeper than she intended to. “Shit, I’m sorry. This is your relationship and I should’ve stayed out of it — I’m sure you’re right, okay? You guys will be fine.” 

But you don’t want to hear anymore from her, so you turn on your heel and walk to your car. The rest of the night, you’re a bit out of it and you can’t stop cursing Carol for putting those thoughts in your head. 

The next few days fly by in a blur with classes and homework and avoiding Carol around campus, but your evenings are absolutely perfect with Agatha.

She keeps the light low in the kitchen while she cooks for you each night while you sit at the table and ramble on about whatever you’re learning. She hums at all the right times, but when you take a break to look up at her, she’s staring at you with a fondness in her eyes that you’ve never seen before. 

Each time it happens, you think it must be what love looks like. 

Growing up with parents that should’ve been divorced, you never had a good model for what love was. You used to think that everyone’s parents were like yours — cold, didn’t actually like each other, and just stayed together for their children. You thought that love meant complacency, or even that maybe there was no such thing as it. 

You weren’t sure if you’d actually be able to fall in love and be loved back. But with Agatha, there’s an intimacy your parents never had. You didn’t know what that was like until her. 

And you know that you love her more than anything in the entire world, and when she gives you that look, you think she might feel the same. 

The three words are constantly on the tip of your tongue, but for some reason, you just can’t say them again. You don’t even say it when she makes you cum, which is a lot of times over the week. 

She bends you over the countertop and fingers you. She shoves you against the wall after you get back from your picnic on Thursday, gets on her knees, and eats you out. She makes you sit on her strap while you finish your essay and then pushes you onto all-fours and pounds into your pussy until you’re crying. She fucks you in the kitchen, in the bedroom, in the hallway, in the living room — even in her car and your car. Both while you’re safely parked in an abandoned lot, of course. 

It’s like she’s determined to give you as many orgasms as she can before she moves, and she’s doing an excellent job of it. 

Saturday, after everything gets moved into the new apartment and you’re finally done unpacking most of the stuff, Agatha takes you to a fancy Italian steakhouse in Albany. The atmosphere is romantic, with classical music playing softly and candles lit at every table. Agatha looks absolutely stunning in a tight black dress and curly hair, and you’re wearing your best outfit as well. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are?” she asks and your cheeks heat up as your head ducks down shyly. 

“Once or twice,” you answer coyly, finally meeting her gaze again. 

She holds out her hand across the table and you take it, feeling the normal electricity that her skin on yours always gives you. “We’re going to be okay, you know that, right? I know you’re more worried than you’re letting on. I know how you’re feeling — I know how easy it is to get swept away with doubts. But I really appreciate you telling me to take this job and I promise we’ll be okay. I care about you far too much to let anything happen to this.” 

You nod and squeeze her hand. “I do know. I feel the same.” 

“Oh — that reminds me. I got you something,” she says and digs around in her purse before pulling out a small black box with a red bow neatly wrapped around it and handing it to you. “You might want to open it beneath the table. Might be embarrassing if someone sees it.” 

Brows furrowing in confusion, you dip the box under the white tablecloth and undo the bow quickly before lifting off the lid. Your mouth falls open and your eyes shoot up to meet hers. 

“Agatha,” you hiss, flushing. 

Resting on stretched out cotton in the box is a small, purple vibrator, curved to be able to rest on your clit while also vibrating against your g-spot, with a gold engraving along the side that goes inside you: Mommy’s cunt. Your clit throbs.

She holds up what looks like a small key fob and presses a button and the toy starts vibrating. You drop the box into your lap while gaping at her and she smirks triumphantly. “Works from anywhere in the world,” she says casually and your stomach sears with heat. 

“Oh, fuck,” you rasp. You’re suddenly feeling very excited about this move. Something about the distance, about the anticipation and the teasing and the pining that it will bring, doesn’t seem so bad anymore. 

Suddenly, the food can’t come fast enough and then you’re both in the car, Agatha speeding while you sit on your hands so you don’t distract her, and then she throws the car into park and you both race into her apartment. 

Her mouth finds yours the moment you step through the door, pushing you against the wall as a muffled oomph slips out of you, and she sucks on your tongue and then bites your bottom lip and then kisses her way down your neck. Your brain is going foggy and your underwear is soaked and you quickly tug her into the bedroom. 

Agatha tears off her dress and then pounces on you, knocking you onto your back on the bed, hands coming up to cup your breasts and you keen. 

“God, Agatha,” you groan and she scrapes her teeth against your neck. It’s so good, but it’s also your last night before everything changes. “Wait, fuck, stop.” 

She jumps back like she’s been burned. “What — is everything okay?” 

You nod, panting, and run your hands up and down her hips. “Yeah, everything’s great. I just…can we just cuddle tonight? I just want to be close to you.” 

Agatha runs her tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, her eyes going glassy for a moment before she blinks, and she chokes out, “Of course, honey. Whatever you want.” 

Smiling gratefully, you take off your clothes and slide under the covers next to her so you can feel all of her warm skin against yours before she tucks an arm around you. You nuzzle into her body and your face twitches with restrained emotion. 

“I’m going to miss you,” you say softly and she presses a kiss to your head. “I know it’ll be okay though. I’m almost done with my application to the University at Albany.” 

She hums and kisses you again before breathing in your scent deeply like she’s making sure she doesn’t forget it. “I have no doubt you’ll get in. And then it’ll be us in our own little world.” 

“That’s right.” 

The two of you lay like that for what feels like hours, and eventually, Agatha’s breathing starts to even out. A quick glance up at her face confirms that she fell asleep. 

You know you should too, but you’re reluctant to let this moment go. Right now, it feels like you’re frozen in time, just the two of you. 

So you stay up as late as you can, just soaking in the feeling of her. 

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg @m1vfs

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[imaginespazzi]

All Fell Down ~ Part 3 ~

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

* masterlist in collaboration with @azzibuckets *

summary: paige and azzi have never really been just best friends

a/n: Hello, hello my lovies <3 I'm so sorry; I literally just fully forgot to post this part yesterday because life has been so very hectic. But I think having an Azzi Fudd masterclass before this chapter is probably ideal. As always let me know your thoughts my loves!

Azzi should have expected the deafening silence that follows Paige’s name leaving her lips. If it wasn’t for the sound of the other girl’s breathing -staggered and heavy- she’d have thought perhaps it was a phantom call with no one on the other end of the line. And really Azzi doesn’t know what she was expecting; doesn’t know why she’d expected anything but exactly this when she’d picked up her phone. But when Paige’s CallerID had flashed on the screen, the buzzing of the ringtone cutting into Azzi’s pity party, there hadn’t been much else in her brain other than this sudden burst of hope. It had taken barely two rings before she was scrambling across her bed, grabbing her phone and hitting the green answer button with far too much vigor. It was one syllable but she’d wrapped Paige’s name in a desperate mixture of i just miss talking to you and please can can we fix this. And she’d gotten nothing in return.

“Paige?” she tries again, fighting the fresh new set of tears threatening to fall from her eyes; she’s lost count of how many times she’s cried tonight. 

There’s a sharp intake of air on the other end but still no response and whatever thin string had been holding the remnants of Azzi’s heart together seems to fray even more.

“Okay,” she breathes out, closing her eyes as she digs her fingernails into her palm, “okay Paige,” she repeats, her tone resigned and ready to accept something that feels a little too much like defeat, “I get it. I guess this was um- this was an accident or something so I’ll uh- I’ll hang-”

“Canyoucomepickmeup?” Paige’s words come out hoarse and slurred together as she cuts Azzi off.

“What?” the brunette’s eyes widen, unsure if she’s heard wrong. 

Azzi hears Paige gulp; can almost picture the blonde chewing at her lips like she usually does when she’s nervous, “I asked if- if you could um- can you come pick me up?”

“I-”

Paige begins to ramble before she can say anything, “it’s just uh- it’s just that the rest of team seems to be having a lotta fun and I- I think maybe I drank too much and my head’s throbbing and Evina says I should go home but-”

“Okay.”

“I can’t drive myself and I don’t- I don’t wanna ruin anybody else’s night-” Paige cuts herself mid sentence, taking a second to process what Azzi had just said, “wait- okay?”

The brunette has already slipped off her bed, rummaging around her bedside table for her car keys. She thinks she’s probably giving in a little too easily, thinks she should probably be more pissed at Paige’s audacity to not speak to her for two weeks and then call her out of nowhere to ask for a mundane favor. But it’s Paige. Her Paige. And Azzi knows that if the blonde asked her to show her the stars, she’d find a way to steal the whole night sky for her.

“Okay,” Azzi confirms as she slips into her sneakers, “I should be there in a couple of minutes.”

“You’re actually coming,” Paige’s voice is slightly dazed. 

There’s a pang in Azzi’s chest at the slight surprise in her best friend’s tone. It’s a testament to how much has changed between them. Those unspoken promises of we’ll always be there for each other that had been the solid foundation of their relationship seem to be clouded by fears of are we still the same us? It hits her then the depth of the abyss between them. They’re stranded on opposite sides of it and Azzi just hopes they still have enough strength to build a bridge over it and get to each other again. 

“Do you still want me to come?” she asks timidly as she steps out into the wintry Storrs air. It’s freezing cold but Azzi thinks it’s nothing compared to the way she knows her heart will ice over if Paige says no. 

That familiar silence lingers between them as Azzi waits for Paige to say something. It feels like that’s all she’s done for the past two weeks. Waited. She’d waited for the answers to her list of ever-growing questions as Paige had pulled further and further away from her. She’d waited to catch her best friend’s avoidant eyes so she could try and decipher the storm brewing in them. She’d waited, arms outstretched, for her Paige to come back to her. But she thinks that if Paige says no now, if Paige decides to keep building this wretched wall between them instead of helping Azzi tear it down, then she won’t wait again. Because the weight of waiting is just too much and there’s only so much longer that Azzi can hold on. 

“Evina said to go home,” Paige’s voice trembles when she finally speaks, “she said to go home and all I could think of- was you.”

“Paige,” Azzi whispers. 

“Azzi,” and that same desperation from before echoes in Paige’s tone, “please come take me home.”

[possessedmen]

Gym Gem

The front door slammed shut. Boots hit the floor hard. Then a thud—something solid dropping onto the couch. Heavy breathing. Low, predatory.

"Baby," a voice rumbled, deeper, rougher than usual. "Get the fuck over here."

His boyfriend looked up from his phone, brow furrowing. "Who the—?" His eyes went wide. "Oh shit."

The man in front of him was not the cute guy from the neighborhood that was possessed by his alien boyfriend he was used to seeing. This was someone new. Someone massive.

Thick, broad shoulders filling out a sweat covered body. A powerful chest rising and falling like he’d just run miles. Veined forearms. Big, heavy hands. A face framed by a trim salt-and-pepper beard, green eyes flickering with something not human.

His boyfriend swallowed hard. "Who the fuck—?"

"Me," the alien cut in, a grin stretching across his new face. "Like the upgrade?"

There was a pause. Then: "Where the fuck did you get that?"

The alien laughed, voice low and dirty, running a hand down his own chest, like he was still getting used to the sheer size of himself. "Elevator," he said, casual as sin. "Was on my way to the gym, and fuck, this guy—" He gave a mocking groan, eyes rolling back. "Sweat, musk, veins poppin’ like they were begging to be squeezed—man was built to be taken."

His boyfriend let out a slow exhale. "You possessed a daddy in a gym elevator?"

The alien grinned wider, teeth flashing. "Not just possessed." He rolled his shoulders, cracked his thick, knotted neck, then—fast—he lunged, planting a knee on the couch, hands gripping the backrest hard. "I took him, babe."

His boyfriend’s breath caught. "Shit." He was hypnotized. Mouth slightly open, hands roaming over solid, flexing muscle, his fingers squeezing and tracing every cut and ridge like he was trying to memorize it.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he muttered again, eyes locked on the throbbing weight in his hand. "I can’t— Who even is this guy?"

The alien smirked, rolling his thick shoulders, watching the way his pecs tensed under his own skin. He flexed an arm—thick, vascular, the kind of strength built over years—then spread his lats slightly, watching his boyfriend drink it in.

"Name’s Daniel," he rumbled, flexing again, turning his hips just enough to make his cock sway in his boyfriend’s grip. "Thirty-eight. Divorced. Two kids. Fuckin’ straight as a steel beam—until I got in his head." He ran a rough palm down his abs, then gripped his own length, stroking once, slow and heavy. "Used to be a cop. Now he trains ‘em. Big guy, big hands, big fuckin’ mouth when he’s barking orders."

His boyfriend’s grip tightened, knuckles going white. "Holy shit."

"Right there in the elevator. Big fucker—strong as hell—tried to fight it." The alien dragged a palm down his new chest tracing the solid ridges of his abs. "His hands? Fucking huge. Clamped onto my shoulders like he was about to throw me off." He chuckled darkly. "Didn’t matter. I was already inside."

His boyfriend swallowed. "What happened?"

The alien leaned in, voice dropping to a growl. "I entered him with a kiss." A sharp inhale. "Hard."

His boyfriend shifted, thighs clenching. "Fuck."

"Man grunted—real deep—tried to rip me offa him, but I had his spine wrapped around my fingers, had his brain drowning in me. I made him feel it. That heat. That pull. That need—fuck, I felt his cock twitch in his shorts." He smirked.

"Jesus."

"Mm. And when I finally let go?" He licked his lips, slow. "Man stumbled out of the elevator like he’d been fucked already. Shaking. Breathless. He tried to burn me out with a workout, but I was there—curling in his muscles, whispering in his nerves, making every rep feel like my hands were still on him. By the time we hit the locker room? Motherfucker couldn’t take it."

His boyfriend’s voice was tight. "He had to jerk off."

The alien’s grin turned feral. "Hard. In a stall, fist tight around his dick, muttering ‘what the fuck’ while he pumped himself dry." He exhaled slow. "And now? Now he’s gone. And this—" He ran his hands over his new thighs, squeezing. "—this body’s mine." The alien smirked. "Oh yeah, babe. You’re about to get fucked by a whole-ass cop daddy."

His boyfriend licked his lips, gaze hungry. "Show me."

The alien laughed, low and thick. "Oh, babe," he rumbled, reaching out, gripping his boyfriend’s wrist, dragging him forward until they were nose to nose. "You’re about to feel exactly what this big-dicked motherfucker can do."

[heliosunny]

What if lucky egg with Cealus + Stelle as twins / 2-in-1 combo (although I just found out you gave the girls their own series of sorts so idk if this works) or maybe there are others that can be a wambo combo of 2-in-1 disaster

I thought about this, and even considered making one for Robin and Sunday since I think someone will ask eventually. Maybe I'll have a seperate fic for them x reader. But here is:

Yan!CAELUS x Reader x Yan!STELLE

The garbage dump wasn’t the most glamorous place to scavenge, but you had always believed in second chances. What others discarded, you saw as potential. A chair missing a leg could be fixed. A rusted lamp might just need rewiring.

And today, you found something, or rather-someone, far more unexpected.

Two figures lay slumped amidst the wreckage, their bodies still, almost lifeless. At first, you mistook them for broken mannequins. Their skin was too flawless beneath the layers of dirt and bruises, their limbs unnaturally still. But as you stepped closer, you saw it—the slow rise and fall of their chests.

Your heart lurched as you knelt beside them, brushing away debris. They were young, their silver hair matted with grime. A boy and a girl—twins? Their identical golden eyes flickered open at your touch, unfocused and glassy.

“…Hey” you murmured. “Can you hear me?”

The girl blinked sluggishly while the boy stared at you in eerie silence.

What were they doing here? Why had no one come for them? The sight of them abandoned like this sent a pang of anger through you. No one deserved to be thrown away.

You chewed your lip, debating what to do. The smart thing would be to call someone, maybe the authorities. But something about the way they looked at you, so empty yet searching, made you hesitate.

With a sigh, you made your choice.

"Alright, let's get you out of here" you said, offering your hands.

The moment you did, they moved. Their fingers curled around yours, too tightly for mere exhaustion. Their gazes locked onto you, too intense for simple gratitude. And as you led them away from the ruins of their past, you failed to notice the way their grip refused to loosen.

The walk home was unsettling.

You had taken in strays before—wounded animals, abandoned junk, things most people wouldn’t bother with. But never people. Never like this.

Caelus and Stelle walked in eerie silence, the only thing they told you was their name, their golden eyes fixated on you the entire way. They barely reacted to anything around them. No questions, no complaints, not even a sign of discomfort despite their tattered clothes and dirt-streaked skin.

Most people would have stumbled, wavered, maybe even clung to you for support. But they followed your every step without hesitation, as if they had known you for years instead of mere minutes.

Still, they needed help. That was all that mattered.

When you reached your small, cluttered home, you pushed the door open and stepped aside. “Come in. I’ll get you both cleaned up.”

They entered without a word.

Inside, the place was far from pristine, but it was yours. A mix of salvaged furniture and makeshift repairs, old things given new life. You had always loved fixing things—maybe, in some foolish way, you thought you could fix them too.

“Bathroom’s that way.” You pointed down the hall. “There’s a shower. I’ll get you some clothes.”

Caelus and Stelle exchanged glances. Then, without warning, Stelle reached forward and hugged you.

“…Thank you” she murmured, voice hoarse as if unused for a long time.

Caelus followed. “You saved us.”

“It’s nothing. Just get cleaned up, alright?”

They obeyed, disappearing into the bathroom. As you searched for old clothes that might fit them, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had invited something into your home that could never be thrown away again.

And somewhere behind the bathroom door, two golden-eyed figures whispered to each other.

“They’re ours now.”

Years passed.

Mornings in your home always started the same way.

You woke up sandwiched between two warm bodies—Caelus on one side, Stelle on the other. It didn’t matter that you had a bed big enough for space, they always managed to close the gap, pressing in until you were trapped between them.

Stelle stirred first, arms tightening around your waist before she nuzzled against your shoulder. “Morning...” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.

You groaned softly, trying to shift, but Caelus’ grip on your arm kept you from moving far.

“Stay a little longer” he murmured. His voice was barely above a whisper, but you could hear the plea beneath it.

You sighed. “I have to get up.”

Neither of them moved. Stelle only curled around you tighter, while Caelus, still half-asleep, buried his face against your sleeve.

Moments like this were common. You had once thought their closeness was because of what they had been through—that it was a lingering trauma response. But over time, you started noticing that it wasn’t just that. It was them.

They refused to let you slip away, even for something as simple as getting out of bed.

“Breakfast” you tried again, pressing against them lightly. “Come on, I’ll make your favorites.”

That worked—partially. Stelle was the first to relent, stretching lazily before finally rolling off of you. Caelus was slower, but he eventually let go, though not before stealing a lingering touch against your wrist.

You quickly got out of bed before they could pull you back in.

Breakfast was another ritual.

You stood in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while they sat on either side of you, never leaving your space for long. Caelus hovered by the counter, offering to help—though ‘helping’ mostly meant standing too close and watching your every move. Stelle sat on a stool, chin resting on her palm as she studied you.

“What are we doing today?” Stelle asked, eyes locked onto you.

You glanced over. “The usual, I guess? Cleaning, fixing up that old chair. Nothing special.”

Caelus hummed. “We could go out.”

Your hand froze mid-flip. “Out?”

Stelle smiled, but it wasn’t entirely innocent. “Yeah. You never go out without us anyway.”

You knew what she was doing. The reminder was subtle but deliberate—you never go anywhere alone. It wasn’t a rule you had made, but it had become an unspoken law in your home.

“…I just feel like staying in.” you replied carefully.

Caelus leaned against the counter, watching you with those sharp golden eyes. “Are you sure?”

You forced a smile. “Yeah. Just one of those days.”

They didn’t look convinced, but they didn’t push.

The day started out normal.

Breakfast, cleaning, fixing up the old chair—just like you said. Caelus and Stelle hovered around you as always, their presence never far, their gazes always lingering. But you had long since grown used to it.

What you weren’t used to was the sudden knock at your door.

You rarely had visitors. You weren’t sure if it was because you lived on the quieter side of town or because Caelus and Stelle had a way of making people… uneasy.

So when the knock came, you froze. Caelus’ head snapped toward the door. Stelle immediately straightened, her expression sharpening.

“Stay here” she murmured, already moving before you could say anything.

“Wait—”

Too late. She was already at the door, opening it just enough to peek outside. You stepped closer, but Caelus blocked you with a firm grip on your wrist. He wasn’t rough, but he didn’t let go either. His golden eyes flickered toward the entrance, but his body stayed positioned between you and whatever was outside.

“…What do you want?” Stelle’s voice was flat.

Whoever was at the door hesitated. Then, a voice you didn’t recognize spoke.

“I’m looking for Y/N.”

You tried to step forward, but Caelus held you firm.

“They’re not available.” Stelle said, tone cold.

A beat of silence. Then, the person outside sighed. “Look, I just need to talk to them. It’s important.”

Something in their tone made your unease worsen.

Who was this? What did they want from you?

You finally pushed past Caelus, ignoring the way his grip tightened before reluctantly letting you go.

Stelle’s expression darkened the moment you appeared beside her. A man stood outside. Dressed in dark clothes, hands tucked into his pockets.

“Who…?”

His gaze flickered over you before he smiled.

“There you are” he said.

Before you could respond, the door slammed shut.

You flinched. Stelle had shoved it closed in an instant, her hand pressing against the wood like she was restraining herself. Caelus was already moving, locking every latch with precision.

“Who was that?” you whispered, heart pounding.

Stelle didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned to you.

“You don’t need to worry about it.”

Caelus stepped closer, his fingers brushing against yours. “We’ll handle it.”

You had the sinking feeling that whoever that man was… he wasn’t going to get a chance to knock again.

You didn’t sleep well that night.

The stranger’s voice echoed in your head, his sharp gaze burning into your thoughts. He hadn’t looked random. He had recognized you. But from where? And why?

Caelus and Stelle had refused to speak about it after locking the door. Every time you asked, they brushed it off. You don’t need to worry. We’ll handle it. That was all they said.

And that terrified you more than the man himself.

Because you knew them. You knew what they were capable of.

You had seen it in small ways over the years—the way they seemed to know things they shouldn’t, the way people who got too close to you disappeared.

You had never questioned it. Maybe because a part of you had been too afraid to.

But now? Now you were in the dark, and you hated it.

So you waited until the house fell into silence, until you were sure they were asleep. Then, carefully, you slipped out of bed.

Your heart pounded as you moved toward the front door, every step light, careful.

You just wanted answers. That was all.

But as your fingers brushed the doorknob, a hand caught your wrist.

Caelus stood behind you, his grip firm, his golden eyes half-lidded with sleep—but even in the dim light, they gleamed with something sharper.

“…Where are you going?” His voice was soft.

“I just… I needed air.”

A second later, arms wrapped around you from behind. Stelle pressed against your back, her chin resting against your shoulder.

“Liar” she whispered.

Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t even heard her wake up.

Caelus’ fingers brushed against your palm, slowly prying your hand away from the door.

“You don’t have to worry about him anymore” he murmured.

“What… what do you mean?”

Stelle’s grip tightened, her lips barely ghosting against your ear.

“He’s gone.”

Gone.

But the question lingered, gnawed at the edges of your thoughts. Who was that man? What did he want from you? And more importantly—what had Caelus and Stelle done to him?

You kept your routine normal, or at least, you tried to. Breakfast. Cleaning. Small talk. But things had changed.

They were watching you. Not in the casual way they always did—this was different. Tighter. Sharper. Like they knew you were thinking about him. Like they were waiting for you to break the silence.

And you almost didn’t. You almost let it go.

But the moment you stepped outside to take out the trash, you saw it.

The street was empty, quiet. But something was missing.

That man.

The stranger who had knocked on your door the day before—there was no trace of him. Not even footprints. Like he had never existed.

You turned back toward the house, only to find Caelus standing at the doorway, watching.

You jumped slightly, pressing a hand to your chest. "God, don’t do that."

"You don’t have to think about him anymore."

"Caelus—"

Caelus stepped closer. "He was looking for you."

"Why?"

Stelle’s voice came from behind you, and you nearly flinched when she wrapped her arms loosely around your waist.

"Does it matter?" she murmured.

"Yes."

Silence. Then, reluctantly, Caelus spoke.

"He said he was… an investigator. Looking into missing persons."

Missing persons?

Your mind whirled. That couldn’t be right. You weren’t missing. You had no family looking for you. No ties. No reason for someone to be searching.

Unless—

He wasn’t looking for you.

He was looking for them.

"What did you do to him?"

"He’s gone" Stelle said simply.

"He wasn’t going to take you away" Caelus added."We made sure of that."

You never brought it up again.

Days passed. Then weeks. You pretended everything was normal, smiling when they smiled, laughing when they laughed. You played the role of the devoted one—their precious savior, their home.

And for a while, it worked.

They eased up. They didn’t watch you as closely. They let you wander the house without standing behind you every second. And one day, when they said they had something to take care of, they left you alone.

It was your first chance in a long time.

You had to take it.

The moment they left, you went straight to their room.

It was strange being in here alone. Their space was eerily neat—too perfect. But you didn’t have time to dwell on that. You needed to know.

Who they really were.

What they were hiding.

And most importantly—what they had done to that man.

You searched through drawers, shelves, anything that could hold information. At first, it was just the usual—spare clothes, little trinkets they had taken an interest in. But then, tucked away in a locked box under the bed, you found it.

A stack of old ID cards.

You picked one up, your hands trembling slightly.

Caelus. Except… the name on the card wasn’t Caelus. It was something else. A name you didn’t recognize.

Your stomach twisted as you checked another.

Stelle. But again—wrong name.

These weren’t their real identities.

And there were more.

More names. More IDs. Some with different faces. Some that looked eerily like them, but off, like versions that weren’t supposed to exist.

Then, at the very bottom of the stack, you found a file.

You flipped it open, your heart pounding.

And there he was.

The investigator.

The man who had knocked on your door. His face staring up at you from a report—marked MISSING.

Your hands started shaking.

Missing. As if he had never been there. As if he had been erased completely.

Who were they?

What had they done?

And more importantly, if they found out you knew…

What would they do to you?

The front door creaked.

They were back.

You shoved everything back into place as fast as you could, heart hammering. You barely managed to step away when the bedroom door opened.

Caelus stood there, golden eyes scanning the room.

Then, he smiled.

“We’re home.”

And just like that, you were trapped again. You couldn’t look at them the same way after that.

Every time they touched you—every time they smiled, whispered soft words, curled around you like you were the most precious thing in the world—you could only think about the IDs. The missing investigator. The way they had erased everything, rewritten themselves into something else.

Caelus and Stelle weren’t just lost souls you had saved from the junkyard.

They were something bigger. Something worse.

And the worst part?

They knew you were starting to figure it out.

Stelle would brush your hair behind your ear and murmur, “You seem different lately.”

Caelus would linger a second longer when he hugged you, fingers pressing into your back as if testing your heartbeat. “You’re thinking a lot.”

They didn’t ask what you were thinking about. They didn’t need to.

But the real moment came one night.

You were sitting on the couch, pretending to read, when Caelus suddenly dropped a stack of books in front of you.

Your stomach twisted as you saw the titles.

Psychology of Fear. How to Spot a Liar.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you looked up.

Caelus smiled. “I thought you might find these interesting.”

“You’re so smart, you know?” Stelle murmured. “You always pick up on things.”

They were testing you.

And one day, the opportunity came.

Caelus and Stelle had stepped out for something. They didn’t say what, and you didn’t ask. But the moment they were gone, you were back in their room, digging.

This time, you looked deeper. Past the ID cards. Past the stolen names.

And then—at the bottom of the box, tucked beneath everything else—you found it.

A document.

One that wasn’t fake.

One that wasn’t changed.

One that detailed who they really were.

Your eyes scanned the paper, your heart pounding.

It was about a program.

You read faster, hands shaking. They weren’t just runaways. They weren’t just nobodies. They were experiments.

Altered. Engineered. Created.

And the program that made them? It had been shut down. Destroyed. Every trace erased—except them.

They weren’t supposed to exist.

But they did.

And now, they had you.

They weren’t lost souls who needed saving.

They were ghosts of something much bigger and they had made sure that you were theirs. No wonder people had been looking for them. No wonder the investigator had come. And no wonder he had never come back.

You clamped a hand over your mouth, trying to steady your breathing.

They had killed for you.

You were tangled in something so much bigger than you ever realized.

And as you slowly, carefully placed everything back where it was—one thought kept pounding in your head.

They already suspected you knew.

And when they confirmed it—

You wouldn’t be able to run.

The front door creaked open.

You barely managed to slip out of their room before they saw you.

But as you stood in the hallway, trying to act normal, you heard a soft voice behind you.

“You’ve been busy.”

You turned to see Stelle- stood there, eyes half-lidded, her usual lazy smile in place. And beside her, Caelus tilted his head, watching you in a way that sent chills down your spine.

“You’re thinking again” he murmured. “A lot.”

They knew.

You were out of time.

A sickening tension filled the room, thick enough to choke you. Caelus and Stelle stood just a few steps away, but it felt like you were cornered. Like a rabbit caught between two wolves.

“You’ve been snooping” Stelle mused.

"I don’t know what you mean."

A soft hum. Then—before you could react, her fingers brushed your cheek. "Liar."

Caelus sighed, stepping in behind you. “We didn’t want you to find out this way.”

You forced yourself to stay still. If you ran now, if you panicked—it would be over.

"Then tell me the truth."

“You already know the truth, don’t you?” Stelle said,

"You're not who I thought you were."

"You saved us" Caelus corrected. "That part was real."

"Everything else was a lie" you shot back.

Stelle let out a soft laugh, her fingers trailing down your arm. “Is that so bad?”

You flinched. "You—you killed that man."

Caelus sighed, resting his chin on your shoulder. "He was going to take you away."

"He wasn’t after me."

Stelle’s fingers suddenly curled around your wrist, grip tightening. "It doesn’t matter" she said. "You belong with us. We couldn’t let him ruin that."

"What now?" you asked, voice barely steady.

Caelus exhaled softly "Now? Now, we make sure you don’t get any more bad ideas."

Stelle pressed closer, her lips barely brushing against your ear. "Don’t worry" she murmured. "We’ll take care of you. Just like you took care of us."

You felt it before you saw it. The dizziness. The way your thoughts started to blur.

"What… what did you do?"

Stelle tilted her head. "Oh?" she hummed. "Something wrong?"

The world swayed around you. You tried to piece your thoughts together, but they were slipping—memories flickering like a dying light.

The file. The IDs. The investigator.

You knew something important. Something terrifying.

But—

Why couldn’t you remember?

You stumbled back, gripping your temples. "What did you do to me?!"

Caelus stepped forward, "Shh, it's okay."

Your vision blurred. Your knees buckled, and before you could hit the floor, Stelle caught you, lowering you into her arms. She pressed her forehead against yours, her warmth suffocating.

"We didn’t want to do this" she murmured.

You struggled to hold onto something. Anything. But the more you tried, the more your mind felt like it was slipping into water, sinking into something deep and dark.

When you woke up, the world was… quiet.

Warm sunlight filtered through the window, and the scent of breakfast filled the air. You blinked slowly, your body feeling oddly heavy.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

You turned.

Stelle sat at the edge of the bed, smiling.

Something felt… off.

You frowned slightly. "I…"

What had you been doing?

Your head was foggy, like a dream you couldn’t quite recall. There was something important. Something you had been searching for.

But the harder you tried to remember, the more it slipped away.

Caelus peeked his head in from the kitchen, beaming. "Breakfast is almost ready."

Warmth filled your chest.

…Right. That was normal.

You lived with them. They were always here.

Everything was fine.

Stelle leaned in, brushing her fingers along your forehead. "You’re thinking too hard again" she teased. "Relax."

Caelus chuckled softly, watching as you settled back into the sheets, the last bits of resistance fading from your gaze.

"It’s okay" he whispered. "You’re safe with us."

And somewhere, buried deep in the part of your mind they had locked away, a voice screamed.

But you would never hear it again.