#tall and broody (on the outside) ? CHECK

[acurseonyourwholefuckinbloodline]

Omg this but Jin-Woo and Jin-Ho

don't destroy his self-esteem 🐦😆

[feinv]

jealous/possessive low honor!arthur morgan x hyperfem reader... he's so hot sorry,,, arthur doesn't like other men having their eyes on u or something??

-🎀

low honor!arthur morgan who is mean to everyone but you. that right there. that’s how i die. — arthur morgan masterlist.

ᯓ it’s very grumpy x sunshine undertones you two got. he is this mean, rude, six foot tall outlaw who is literally wanted for murder and people advise not to get close to him when spotted outside. and you are his sweet little thing, kindest and purest soul, always so full of love. and you got him swooning after you. <3

ᯓ the thing is. he loves showing you off. he wants everyone to see how mesmerizing you are. and that you chose him. but he wants them to see that from afar. anyone flirts with you at the bar or even tries to start up a flirty conversation would just be signing themselves for a trip to afterlife.

ᯓ it’s not unusual for prying eyes to find you two, a rather odd couple. a broody looking man dressed in dark with an angelic sweet lady hanging by his arm. so he doesn’t mind when people stop their doings to stare. but once that stare turns into lust and you got men checking you out, it’s a disaster.

ᯓ he knows that in contrary to him you hate when he gets into fights, so he will always try to keep his calm with you, shooting silent but deadly daggers with his eyes at others.

ᯓ absolutely smiles at you while you rumble his ears off when the two of you are in a saloon just conversing over drinks. but that smile is reserved for you only. you are not sure others even know he can physically form a smile.

ᯓ would absolutely beat someone who dared to throw a perverted comment at your direction to an unconscious state before finding your trembling body at the corner and coming to hold you with one hand on your waist, the other caressing your cheek, his bloody fingers leaving stains on your pretty pink dress. :(

“y’know i would never hurt ya, sweetheart. but those bastards need to know you’re mine,” kissing you softly before it progresses into a hungry make out session.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Simon relationship hcs ♡

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I may have gone a little off the rails, and this sort of turned into a little bit of a psychoanalysis for Simon lol

I just had a lot to say, okay

Hope you like it <3

The ask is here ♡

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The only way I can ever see Simon getting in a relationship is through friendship.

First of all, no one would realistically ever approach him, he's a scary looking fella. I know I would be scared shitless lmao (love you, simmy)

The tall, dark and broody aura with cold brown eyes, almost like the freezing dirt you'll be buried in if you look for a second too long. Or that's what it feels like. The skull mask doesn't help either, it's sort of odd, but who are we to judge, right?

I know a lot of people say he doesn’t know how to talk to people, and while I think that is definitely true to an extent, I also think that he just doesn't want to. He doesn't see the point in it, and that's the thing.

This man can't do anything without reason. There needs to he a reason or a point to doing something, otherwise it's just a waste of time in his eyes.

The only exception is going out with the boys or hanging out occasionally. I think he very much feels like he doesn't deserve happiness, so any simple pleasures are immediately shut down.

I mean, this man is literally the king of self-destructive behavior.

He locks himself away on leave, again, only does what he needs to on base (or what he feels he needs to), and that's it.

But he's also very responsible, so I don't think he'd ever do anything self destructive wise that would be considered irresponsible.

He takes care of himself on a physical level, and he needs to, but his mind is an absolute train wreck. His job keeps him in check, and that's good.

Otherwise, he'd be down a hole the size of the Mariana trench.

He chronically needs to have noise playing. Whether that's music, a movie, or just the dishwasher running, just something. He would spiral so fast if he had time to be alone with his thoughts, so he keeps himself busy.

In comes Riley (the best boy). Simon has something to do, to busy himself with, and he actually gets outside sometimes because of the pup. He's got a cuddle buddy, a weighted blanket, and a steady presence in his life all at once. Dog of the year award goes to Riley.

Anyway, you somehow got into their little circle. Probably through Johnny or Kyle. They start taking you along to the nights at the pub or the football games at one of their flats because you're fun to hangout with. They like to have you around and let me tell you, Simon is not thrilled at first.

How dare you just inject yourself into their group, and come along during their hangouts. He's annoyed. Not at you, necessarily, but just that he needs to deal with change now. Which isn't usually a problem considering he needs to be kept spontaneous and alert for his job, but once he's away from that, change is like his worst enemy. He hates it.

Things are fine like this, good almost, why do they need to change? He's very cold and sharp with you for the first few months, he just needs time. He sees that you're not a threat after a while.

You didn't disrupt their dynamic as much as he thought you would. You're a fun addition, but you don't steal all the attention from his friends. You know when to back off. After a hard mission, they all need to decompress, and they just can't guarantee they won't snap at you and hurt your feelings.

You respect it, and with a quick "don't be stupid. Stay safe" text the conversation is done.

You don't ask about their job. You don't really care what they do, and they obviously don't feel comfortable telling you too much, but as long as they come back safe, you're good.

You bring a more caring presence into the group, something which they all need desperately. Simon is caught off guard. He never expected something like this, but it feels... nice. We all know you melted his cold heart and he's putty.

But not an overexaggerated amount, just right where he can crack a smile or huff a laugh, and it doesn't feel weird. He even starts to hang out one-on-one with you. It starts off somewhere in public, a cafe or the local pub. The idea of coming to your flat is still a little uncomfortable inside his chest, but you don't push. You're just happy to spend time with him.

And then, out of nowhere, he invites you to his flat. All on his own, comfortably, and you have to stop yourself from being too excited that you finally cracked him.

Simon does feel a little nervous when you first get there, but you're so chill about it (you're probably freaking out on the inside as well), and you just hang out like you normally would.

Riley is so excited to have a new friend!!! No matter how old he is, he jumps around like a puppy, overjoyed to get a visitor.

The second he sees how you're acting with Riley, he's smitten. Not necessarily in a romantic way just yet. You're giving him scratches and pets and talking in The Doggy Voice and it makes Simon's heart all fuzzy.

Riley is essentially his best friend and family, having been there through some of his worst times and to see how infatuated his pup is with you makes him so happy.

I mean, now you just have to come over more often, right?

He always talks about how Riley misses you (all an excuse, he misses you, but he won't say that) and that you need to come over to hangout soon.

When he's deployed again, he leaves Riley with you. That's the equivalent of someone trusting you with their newborn child for Simon, but he trusts you fully. You've earned his trust, respect, and adoration. (Cue Simon giving Riley a serious pep talk to keep you safe but it all slides off, Riley's got smooth brain)

When he comes by to pick Riley up and he steps inside your home for the first time, he gets smacked in the face with a feeling he can only describe as home. It's so warm and cozy and you.

That's when he knows he's fucked. He never wants to leave. It's so much better here, with you and Riley, than his flat. Sure, he can call that home too, but not in the way he can call you home.

It's a very subtle love that slowly starts to bubble up. He enjoyed being your friend, you made him feel normal for once in a while. He was just a guy with a job and friends. Not lieutenant Riley. But how could he have not fallen for you? He wants to be more than just friends, he wants to be yours.

He's never felt more taken care of than when he's with you, and he's slowly letting himself feel the good things again. And you're the best thing. For him and Riley. The pup probably thinks you're his mum already tbh

He gets touchier too. An arm slung around your shoulders, your thighs touching when he's sitting next to you or brushing his fingers against yours. He craves your touch so bad, he even starts hugging and the boys absolutely lose their minds

He feels like you're soothing all that has ever made him feel pain or weird. So, basically, he's utterly in love with you. But he will never ever say a word about it. His fear of your potential rejection almost paralyzes him.

He can't lose you and he'd rather stay silent about his feelings than mess up what you have.

Now, the boys are trying to get into his thick skull that you're also head over heels for him, but he's so far in denial, you could call him a crocodile ( hehe de-nile, get it?)

You confess. Your willpower just can't rival Simon's, and you crumble. How much you like him, how amazing he is in your eyes and how when he came to pick up Riley you almost felt like a little family.

And at that, he breaks. He doesn't know what he's doing, he's never been in love before, he's walking in the dark but he can't care about that when it feels so right. I imagine he probably just stares at you for a while while you're sweating buckets because he doesn't know what to do.

Does he say something? Does he kiss you? Does he hug you? Does he propose-

He's so caught up in his head, playing all kinds of different scenarios that he forgets that he didn't answer you.

Simon gently pulls you into a hug and you can feel the love oozing from his touch. He's not a man of many words, so all he says is a quiet

"be mine."

And the deal is sealed, ladies and gents!!! You just hold each other for a while, feeling the relief wash over your hearts.

Simon loves so fully it makes my heart all fuzzy just thinking about it.

It may not seem like that to other people, but he loves you so much it's insanity. Now, he's not about any grand gesture but the little things that will make your life that much easier. Of course you do get the occasional bouquet and don't get me started on the dates he takes you on, but he will do the dishes after dinner.

He'll fold the laundry. He'll feed the dog. He'll sweep the living room. He'll grocery shopping. And if you're someone who tends to get a messy room very quickly (like me lol) He'll help you set up a system to keep it functioning and neat.

Simon brings the structure, helping you get through your days better while you show how him to enjoy things.

The little things. Like the little dance parties you have with Riley. Like the late nights with the moon shining down on you. Like the sunny day in the park that led to the best afternoon nap ever. You balance each other perfectly, and Simon loves that about you.

You loosen him up. He's still Simon, and that's perfect, but seeing him crack a smile more often doesn't only warm your heart, but the ones of his boys, too.

He's not big on PDA but at home he has now issues with showing how much he loves you. A kiss here, a peck there- he can't ever pass up an opportunity to kiss you.

Now jealousy.... I do think he gets a little more secure the longer you are together but he will still kill anyone with his stares that dares to even look at you suggestively.

He's very possessive. He's always been possessive, not wanting to share with his brother or being very particular about who gets to touch his things. But you? Christ, that's another level. You belong to his heart, and not in a weird objectifying way. You chose him despite everything that he was and is and you're willingly his so of course he won't let you go as long as you want to stay.

It still baffles him everytime when some bloke comes up to you, with Simon obviously being pressed to your side, and asks for your number. He always had the problem of being noticed a lot with his size and now he's suddenly air??

He'll step in everytime, pulling you closer and wrapping himself fully around you. Simon will definitely say something as well, but his absolute favorite thing is when you beat him to it.

"I'm taken, Thank you. I'm very happy with Simon. Say hello, Simon!"

You smile innocently at the drunk man in front of you just to make it extra awkward and Simon has the biggest grin underneath his mask before he presses a kiss to your temple.

What you didn't see was the death glare Simon shot him, making him scramble away to presumably bother another poor woman.

He can get overly jealous if you don't get the hint sometimes, but he would never ever take that out on you. He'll be grumbly for the day until you can get out of him what the problem is.

But at the end of the day, you're in his bed and that's all the reassurance he needs.

He loves cuddling you. He'll knock out in seconds if you're in his arms or vice versa. He prefers to be the big spoon because he needs you pressed against his chest, but he won't deny you the pleasure of being his lovely jetpack.

Simon LOVES to get kissed on the cheek. It's so sweet to him, a little token of your appreciation or a good luck smooch. It makes his nose scrunch up slightly and it's the cutest thing ever.

For you, he adores placing little pecks on your nose. Mainly because you complain that it tickles and he thinks you look adorable, but nothing can beat your lips on his.

Holds your hand in his sleep. It's more of a subconscious thing, but it's so endearing. You're not sure if Simon knows that he does it. You haven't told him. You're just gonna keep this sweet little secret to yourself.

You'll end up getting married because he knows you're the one. He doesn't want anyone else ever.

You're all he needs and wants.

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If you want my NSFW hcs on Simon, just pop into my inbox and ask for it!! This post is already so long, I'll make a separate one for the spicy stuff if you want it :)

More Cod works and other stuff --> 🐝💫

~Fi 🩷

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[43110there]

Headcanons: Taking Care of Them When They're Sick/Injured <3

Pairing: We’ve got Hunter, Rex, and Echo. 

Summary: Your soldier is sick! Some of the boys are better at accepting help than others. Just some fluffy drabbles with the lads <3

Warnings: nah

A/N: These read more like stories with headcanons sprinkled in them, so bear with me. Actually, these are hardly headcanons at all. Maybe I’ll get better at them in the future. Also you cannot tell me that Hunter wouldn’t have allergies. 

Next one will have Fives, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair.

Hunter

You could tell the moment the ramp opened up on the new planet that Hunter was in for it.

No one else picked up on it, but it was the way he took a deep inhale and suddenly held it. Like his whole body detected something in the air that it didn’t like. 

You did your best to hide a smile, which didn’t go unnoticed by Hunter, when he scrunched his nose and tried to mask his discomfort. 

Your “dark and broody” soldier was more than a little grumpy, whereas the rest of the batch walked down the ramp, happy for the clear skies and open fields that covered the planet’s surface. 

Hunter tried to keep his senses under control while Omega took to the field running. 

“Hunter, look!” Omega grinned, poking her head out of a particularly tall patch of flowers. You almost couldn’t keep a straight face as you watched the pained expression on Hunter’s face, trying to pass for a weak smile.

It was all over when he opened his mouth to respond and instead replied with a fit of sneezes.

From there on out, Hunter stayed inside the Marauder. He tried to protest, but you both knew that Hunter’s allergies tended to be pretty severe. You both agreed that he should at least get some meds first before seeing if the surrounding area was manageable for his enhanced senses.

You went with Tech and Wrecker to find supplies in the nearby villages while Echo watched over Omega outside. By the time you got back, you saw that Echo was teaching his sister how to make a flower crown. Wrecker ran ahead to join Omega, and they both started working on a new one immediately.

You left the batchers outside while you went in to check on Hunter. Your soldier was slumped in the pilot’s chair, his feet propped up on the control board. He was lucky Tech was outside correcting Omega’s flower-crown-making technique or else he would have gotten an earful. 

Hunter sat pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand, eyes scrunched shut. You gently removed his hand and placed a quick kiss between his eyebrows, kneeling beside the pilot’s chair so that you could gently rub the bridge of his nose. 

He let out a sigh the moment you touched him and eventually opened his eyes. 

“Find everything ok?”

“Mhm.” You assured him, handing him a small bottle of local medicine. “You better take some of these. I’m pretty sure Omega is making you a flower crown out there.”

You both shared a laugh, during which Hunter pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Lucky me.”

Rex

“Lots and lots… of rest.” You read the report out loud, glancing up at your captain. You leaned against the wall while Rex sat on the couch in your apartment on Coruscant. At a glance, Rex didn’t look too bad. But anyone who knew him could recognize the brave face he was putting on. You walked up to him and placed a hand on his forehead, frowning at the skin that burned under your touch. You kept reading.

“Won’t sit still and keeps reopening the wound. Kiss it better, Y/N. That’s an order.” You chuckled to yourself. “Not all of this sounds like Kix. Did Fives get his hands on this?”

You tilted your head to look down at Rex, who was lost in thought.

“I don’t understand why they needed to send me home,” he muttered. 

“Maybe they needed someone who could actually give you orders,” you mused, and gave him a kiss where your hand had been. “Let’s get you in bed.”

Rex was definitely more cooperative than some other clones when it came to physical injuries. He could try to put up a fight with you, but you both know that he’s never won. Not once.

“Mesh’la, really, I’m fine,” he told you while you got things ready by his bedside. He stood in the doorway, watching you fluff up some extra pillows and arrange the right combination of meds on his nightstand. 

When you didn’t respond at first, too focused on making these arrangements, he slowly shuffled his way to your side. He held his side where the wound was, trying to be more careful about it with your presence weighing on his conscience. 

“Oh, perfect timing!” You said when he joined you, and you gently pushed him into bed. 

“Wait wait wait— Mesh’la, that’s not—” But it was too late. He grumbled to himself while you kissed him on the forehead and left to fetch a glass of water. When you got back, your captain looked more drowsy than ever. You closed the curtains and turned off the lights, instead leaving a dimmer light on in the corner. 

BONUS:

When you eventually joined Rex in bed, he was already asleep. But you decided to stay awake a little longer. You rested your back against the headboard and read on your datapad for a little bit. 

When Rex felt your presence in bed, he turned over on his side towards you and nestled his head in your lap. He basically cuddled your leg until you decided to go to sleep, sinking down to his level and molding yourself against his sleeping form. 

Echo

It just wasn’t his week. You got a call from Hunter that they had just gotten back from a mission. It was only supposed to take a few rotations, but it ended up lasting an entire week. And Echo came back more beat up than the rest of them. 

You were at work when you received the call, but you told them to meet at your place and to get him settled there. You would take care of the rest.

You got off work as quickly as you could and found his brothers and sister trying to navigate your apartment for supplies. Echo was snug in bed, Wrecker gently dabbing a wet washcloth on his forehead. Hunter and Tech were debating on what food he could eat that he could keep down. Omega watched Echo from the doorway of your room, scared for her brother and unsure of what to do.

As soon as you arrived, everyone eased up a bit. You smiled weakly at Hunter and Tech and approached Omega, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Hunter followed you into the room, pulling you aside to fill you in while Wrecker walked out with Omega.

Echo and Wrecker were separated from the group and got into a scuffle that caught them both by surprise. Only Wrecker had the physical endurance to take the damage that he did and still walk out of there. Echo, on the other hand, didn’t fare so well. 

Both of his prosthetic legs had been damaged. Not only did they have to remove the prosthetics, but the skin and muscle that remained was severely injured as well. He had had a feverish temperature ever since they removed the prosthetics, and the medicine they had on hand on their way back from the mission was only doing so much. 

Your experience as a medic kicked in, and soon you got to work on patching up your beloved soldier.

The process took weeks. Echo was bed-ridden for most of it, but you eventually got him a supplemental pair of prosthetics while new ones were made to replace the original pair. You loved being able to see him for such a long period of time, but your heart ached at the circumstances. Echo seemed to feel the same, taking your wrist whenever you were close to keep you from rushing off to grab more supplies, or something you thought he might need. A lot of your time together was spent in thoughtful silence, just basking in each other’s presence.

One night, you stayed up watching a holofilm in the living room to give Echo some privacy and much needed rest. You assumed he had fallen asleep, and were on the brink of sleep yourself, when you heard a faint shuffle from down the hall. 

You noticed Echo shuffling into the living room long before he spoke. He emerged with a blanket wrapped around his head, which only covered half of his body. His sleepwear hung loose from his body as he leaned on the wall for support. The sight would have been funny if he didn’t look so much paler than normal. 

“Love,” he muttered. His voice was so strained that you leapt to your feet immediately. “Could you help…? My legs… I can’t.” 

You rushed to his side and let him hold onto you however he needed to. He eventually held onto your arm for support, and you both slowly made your way to your couch.

You sat him down and got him settled. He immediately tried to take off his current prosthetics, but you eased him to rest against the couch cushions and got to work on it yourself instead. His limbs healed nicely over the past few weeks, but he still got phantom limb pain every so often. His current state didn’t help whatsoever, and you immediately began massaging the skin where his prosthetics usually began.

Doing these massages was starting to become a normal routine, one that he didn’t ask his brothers to partake in. Echo often confessed that he felt most comfortable doing it with you.

Echo looked up at you while you worked, completely miserable, but happy in your presence. After a while, he slowly grabbed your wrists and stopped you from continuing.

“Thank you, love,” he sighed. “That’s a lot better.”

You eased up beside him, making sure that he was comfortable before snuggling against him. You swore you could feel the tension leave his body with you there. 

“You’re doing great, letting yourself get the rest you need,” you mumbled into his neck as you closed your eyes. “It’s not an easy thing to do.”

You felt him shrug. “It’s a lot easier with you here.”

You both dozed off, tangled in each other, soon after.

<3

[myhusbandsasemni]

Cursebreakers- Beau's intro

Author's note: Sup! It's almost spooky season! I'm very excited. This has nothing to do with the story, I just like spooky season.

Masterlist - Desiree's Intro

...........................................................

Beau was out watering the wyverns fledglings when his mother came looking for him. 

He glanced over his shoulder at her as he stroked a golden wyvern’s head who clacked and chirped at him. “Hi, ma!” he said with a warm smile. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Just comin’ out to check on ya,” Kate replied, coming over to stroke the back of one of the young wyverns, reddish black in color and very intent on his food. 

Beau leaned into her, kissing the top of her sun bleached hair. “No customers today, then?”

“Your father has blocked off the whole day for that son’o’biscuit from the other side of the ocean.”

Beau snorted. “Seamus? Good call on da’s part. Folks like Seamus really make us work for our keep.”

“That they do,” she sighed. “Your da could use some help with him, actually, if you have the time for it. But I wanted to talk to you first.”

“About you two leavin’?”

“Don’t make it sound like we’re never comin’ back,” Kate said, turning to cup his cheek in her hand. “We want to go investigate what happened to that other cursebreaker family, and it’s about time you learn to handle all this on your own. We won’t be around forever.”

Beau huffed. “But why do all the aunties and uncles have to go too?”

“Because whatever could take out a whole cursebreakin’ family is not something to be played with, boy,” she replied. “You can handle this all, can’t you?”

“I can try,” he replied with a soft sigh. 

“Good. Now, I’ll finish up with the wyverns here. Go on over to the shop and help your father.”

He nodded and took a step away but stopped, looking back at his mom. “You’re sure I’ll do alright without you two? What if I mess up?”

“You’re a smart boy. You’ll fix it. Now, run along.”

Beau nodded and turned, heading across the yard and scaring off the blue and purple chickens as he made his way over to the pen that held his own fully grown Wyvern. 

He clicked his tongue to get Abby’s attention from where she was busy considering a nest. The wyverns had all been getting broody as it was about time to mate and lay eggs. Usually, one would have to be careful approaching a wyvern’s nest, but Beau was practically a part of Abby’s flock. Sure, tiny and weird and unable to fly, but powerful in ways the wyvern was not. 

She dropped down a bit to let him up onto her back and he held onto her spines, riding her bareback as she took to the air, winged arms moving powerfully to carry them both up. 

He tapped the sides of her neck to direct her where to go, and tapped her left side when the shop came into view to tell her to start descending. 

She landed in the wyvern corral, more to keep people from getting too close to a moody wyvern than to keep them in, what with their wings. The wyverns around here were all too well trained to leave their corrals anyway. What was the point, leaving a steady supply of food and belly rubs?

Beau dismounted to see his father and the representative from the Eastern Artifacts Committee of Parfact, Seamus, having a smoke outside. 

“Do you all go about riding those things?” Seamus asked, pointing at Abby. 

Beau hopped over the fence as his father shrugged. “I hear you lot keep brownies as pets. I don’t see the difference.”

“The difference is brownies aren’t as tall as a house,” seamus said, scowling. 

“You’re Seamus, right? I’m Beau,” the younger cursebreaker said, offering his hand. 

Seamus took it and nodded. “Charmed.”

Beau fought a laugh as his father, Garret, nodded towards Seamus. “He’s brought a cabinet with him. Wanna take a look?”

“Sure,” Beau said with a smile. “In the viewin’ room?”

“Yup.”

Beau headed in, past Seamus’s scowling eyes. A lot of the cursebreakers or artifact dealers in other parts of the world acknowledged that the Keeler family was renowned for their abilities with cursed objects in particular. It was well known that there was no cursed item that Keeler couldn't get sorted out. The issue was that many people saw their family as podunk meddlers, a bit uncouth and uneducated. At least, that’s what they preferred to tell themselves and their coworkers. Garrett said they just couldn’t stand being treated like the varmint they were. After all, if you were honest folk, you were treated quite well around here. If you came here with your preconceived notions and offended sensibilities, you weren’t likely to receive any grace in turn. And Seamus was one of the worst when it came to being easily offended. Hence why they were out there smoking and not in here having the good Phoenix Whiskey. 

The viewing room was a completely warded room that made it much easier to deal with curses. The runes on the walls and enchanted objects all had a focal point on the center of the room, where the cursed item was placed. When encountering a cursed item in the wild, it could be very dangerous to even approach it as it could grab onto your jewelry or clothing and yank you about, but here, it was safe to even touch the item most of the time. 

Beau walked up to the cabinet, hand hovering over the wood as he circled the cabinet counterclockwise six times. Back in the day, it was superstition that the curse would reveal itself because of the magical properties of six. Nowadays, it was well known that certain curses had some ability to react to stimuli. The curse revealed itself because it was spinning in circles watching you and trying to get to you, unbinding slightly from the wood so it was easier to sense it. 

The curse on the cabinet was complicated and old enough that it made Beau whistle to himself. It was a cruel one, too. One that would have horror stories written about it. It seemed to be most effective on children, calling them in and drawing them into its depths with visions of wonder and magical creatures on the other side, only to close on the child and feed on their fear until they died, at which point…. Something was recorded about them. He wasn’t sure what that meant, exactly. He’d have to open it to figure that out. 

He opened his eyes when he heard footsteps and found himself still alone. He glowered at the cabinet. “Creepy thing, ain’t ya,” he told it, annoyed at the trickery it tried to play on him. “If you think I’ll be stickin’ my head in you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

The cabinet was silent, though Beau felt unsettled, like someone was watching him. 

He walked backward to a wall, keeping an eye on the cabinet and touching a carved wyvern statue, enchanted with protection wards and carved with purification runes. 

He kept the cabinet in sight as we walked backward out of the room, only turning his back when he could no longer see it. 

He walked through the main part of the shop, something that looked like a regular magical pawn shop, and out to the front where his father was keeping Seamus busy. 

“That’s a monster you have in there,” Beau commented as they looked up. 

Garrett nodded. “Feel it too, then? All those children?”

“Yup. Can’t imagine what lowlife would build such a thing.”

“Well, that’s your job,” Seamus said, narrowing his eyes at Beau. 

“My job? What, are we usin’ that old thing to hunt down its maker?”

“That’s exactly it,” Seamus replied.

“But that thing is so old!” Beau nearly squawked in surprise, causing Abby to look up in alarm at his tone. 

He waved a hand to calm her down as Seamus said, “Yes it is. 300 years, to be exact. We have substantial evidence to say that the man who built that cabinet has used black magic to extend his life, possibly through the use of such curses, feeding on the lives of children to keep himself young. And we need to track him down.”

“Trackin’ a serial killer through a curse he left on an object 300 years ago?” Beau asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seems a bit…. Well, I would expect to watch that on a Crystalvision, not actually see it in real life.”

“So, the Keelers can’t do it?” Seamus asked, raising an eyebrow. He clearly wanted them to back down from the challenge. 

Beau looked to his dad, confused and rather startled. 

His father caught the look and said, “Seamus, would you give us a minute?”

The agent from across the world shrugged and Garrett put an arm around Beau’s shoulder, leading him back around to the yard behind the shop. 

“Da, I’m going to be runnin’ the shop by myself. Are you tryin’ to finish this before next week?” Beau asked, confused. 

“No. You’re gonna be workin’ on it.”

“Me!?”

“Yes, you. I believe that you can take care of the shop, but I don’t want you to just watch over the shop and the ranch, okay? You’re a Keeler. You need to be addin’ onto the knowledge of our ancestors. Not just usin’ what you already know, alright?”

Beau looked down and nodded a little. “I understand, but trackin’ a serial killer usin’ dark magic through an old curse? That doesn’t sound very safe, never mind that I’ve never even heard it done.”

Gerrett sighed, putting his hands on Beau’s shoulders and forcing him to look him in the eyes. “I want you to be the greatest cursebreaker this family has seen, and that means doin’ impossible things. Stop seeing things in the realm of what has been done, and start thinkin’ about what might be possible. And don’t stop until you’ve learned all you can and more, understand? Do not quit.”

Beau almost pushed it off with another denial, but he paused to let his father’s words sink in. That was right. Curses and cursebreaking were only possible because someone had looked at magic and asked what could be done with the rules they had been given by the universe. And how they might break those rules. 

He looked at his dad, more resolute, and nodded. “I’ll do it, then.”

“Good,” Garrett said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Very good. I let you talk everythin’ over with Seamus and you can get started. I’ll help you get started, but when we leave to investigate that disappearance of the Packer family, you’re on your own.”

Beau nodded, ready to face the challenge and they went around back to the front of the shop. 

“Looks like I’ll be taking your case, here,” Beau said, watching with smug satisfaction as the hopeful glee on Seamus’s face slid right off. “Tell me everythin’ you know about the creep that made that cabinet.”

Agatha's Intro - Coming soon

Cursebreakers Taglist: @mr-orion @scatteriskity

[adonis-koo]

wish you were mine

Summary: in which you may or may not be secretly in love with your hybrid but you refuse to cross that line....except he’s secretly in love with you too

Pairing: Rabbit hybrid!Jungkook/Reader

Genre: hybrid AU!! fluff, smut

Word Count: 3k

Tags: jungkook is a giant flemish hybrid, so he’s ummm big, in more ways then one :’ ), masturbation, hinted subby Jungkook, talk of heats,

Note: y’all actually liked the lil blurb I did yesterday so here you go 😭 this is probably gonna be an ask based AU mainly so pop off in my inbox if y’all are curious on their dynamics after this. unless y’all really want me to commit to this as a series then 😳

~ unedited ~

Most mornings, especially when the colder weather came around, were like this. You’d usually say goodnight to Jungkook before going to your room. But more days then less, you went to bed alone and woke up with the admittedly warm hybrid practically crushing you beneath him. Soft fuzzy ears rubbing into your skin and you could hear his teeth clicking gently in a purr of contentment.

It wasn’t really his fault, hybrids often liked sleeping with their owners, bunny hybrids particularly were high maintenance, constantly craving affection and they were massive PDA lovers, it took the first six months for hybrids to become familiar enough and comfortable to sleep with owners so Jungkook living with you for three years made sense that he’d have no problems curling up against you at night no ask needed.

“Bub, I gotta go.” You groaned as you checked your phone, Jungkook shifted on top of you as you heard a discontented sigh from him, his body curling as if to make himself smaller, sometimes you’d wake up to a little bunny sprawled out on your back, not that you didn’t think it was adorable. But Jungkook preferred being human more than rabbit.

“It’s Saturday!” Jungkook slurred with a whine, nudging against you as his fluffy ears tickled against your skin, “Can’t you skip?” He whined again as he shifted to lay completely on top of you as you huffed. Most bunny hybrids were considerably petit in nature but Jungkook...well not your Jungkook, he was a giant flemish making him...well giant...You could still remember the way he used to loathe his size, making him unsaleable to many and unwanted to venders.

But after being with you his mindset slowly changed, suddenly with your job he was glad he was tall and naturally filled with muscle.

Jungkook was a very proud hybrid now, often going to the gym when you dropped him off, always standing tall and shuffling closer anytime he thought you could be in potential danger. He secretly loved it, loved being able to completely wrap himself around. He whined once more as he felt you shift beneath him, his nose nudging back into your neck, the soft smell of jasmine and fresh rain against his nose, he often associated this smell with home... it was your scent after all.

The only thing that smelt better on you was him. “It’s mandatory Bub,” Your voice amused, no matter how big and bad Jungkook might consider himself he was still your little whiney bunny, “Come on, I need to go shower.”

After a final whine he reluctantly rolled off you and onto his back, his temperature rising quickly as pain shot through his body causing a sharp whimper to escape his lips that caught your attention as you turned to face him as you stood up, “Are you okay bub?” Jungkook debated on lying and saying no if it meant you’d stay with him, putting a hand on his forehead you sighed, “You’re burning up, it’s almost your heat isn’t it?”

You silently berated yourself on how you had forgotten, not all hybrids had monthly heats- most didn’t. But bunny hybrids had a double douse, not only was the original dog DNA the reason for all hybrid heats but also the strong urge of rabbit DNA to procreate, Jungkook had it pretty bad with monthly heats.

Luckily your friend Yoongi has a bunny hybrid as well that served as heat partners to one another. Jungkook however was...stubborn...to say the least about mating with Hyuna. Until his heat hit at least. Jungkook only curled up, grabbing your pillow as he sharply inhaled your scent that always comforted and calmed down his raging hormones. Grumbling he roughly nudged the pillow, letting you know that his shift in hormones would soon pass from whiny and clingy to aggressive and broody. It wasn’t like he could help it, not really, closer to his heat he often got aggressive over you. Aggressive and protective, always brooding and leering over your shoulder and glaring at anything he thought was a potential threat.

Clacking your tongue you made note to call Yoongi later today as you grabbed a change of clothes and walked down the hall to the bathroom to start on your shower.

He would also be aggressive towards you, never in a violent way, but it was so jarring the first time he experienced his heat while living with you, he was nothing like his usual self. But after a short research you quickly found out that it was just his animal instincts coming out, often his aggressiveness was a way of asserting his dominance over you- not that he ever got far into it before you began reprimanding him.

During the week leading up to his heat there were a lot of outlandish displays of aggression, as you had read- it was usually in show of who you belonged too and who owned you. The article nearly made you snort. This was the same man who nearly cried every time you woke up to him rutting into your back until he came himself.

Sighing you ran your hands through your hair as the warm water poured down your back. Jungkook often whined about not wanting a heat partner, ‘Why can’t you just help me?’

Tension always ensued after questions like those before you’d give a string of excuses, work being the big one but also the fact that he was a hybrid and you were a human and technically he was licensed as your pet you didn’t agree by any means with the legal system. Jungkook was living breathing human who just so happened to have two long ears and a fluffy puffball tail, but that didn’t change the fact that...that...wasn’t that technically a form of bestiality?

You mentally cringed as you began to wash your hair. Hybrid human relationships weren’t unheard of, but usually it wasn’t consenting, and if it was it would get drowned in hate and be frowned upon. It wasn’t like you didn’t want too, but that was the part that frightened you, you wanted it. And you got Jungkook didn’t see it the way you did, heat partners were very casual and Jungkook had never not once mentioned Hyuna outside of heats but…

You didn’t even want to go there with him, boundaries were good, they were healthy. And more than anything, you didn’t want to take advantage of Jungkook, who didn’t have anyone to turn to or to go too if things went sour between you both. You would never put him in a compromising situation. It was already bad enough the days you woke up to him rutting against you that you actually entertained him.

You could feel your breath hitch at so many memories of drowsily pulling his throbbing cock from his sweats, it was so thick and heavy, his size was absolutely not close to a regular human, he was 6’4 after all.

And yet despite him being able to double your weight in bench press he’d be so teary eyed and dilated while rutting his cock into your hand, you can still remember how his head was weepy with pearls of precum, the base of his cock was so tender and trying to swell into a knot. His body thrashed and he was whining and crying about wanting to cum. You groaned as you felt slick arousal form between your legs, how did you ever have the self restraint to keep yourself from crossing lines you constantly toed?

Letting your hands run up your body you squeezed your tender breasts, pinching at your nipples as your breath hitched. You’d never forgot the way he’d twist and turn and help, his hips chasing the way your hand would stroke up his cock while you edged him. God you felt sick, the sadistic side of you getting wet at the sight of his tears and his begging, it was making you wet right now and without enough time to properly take care of yourself. Groaning you let your fingers swipe through your lips, glossy arousal coating your fingers as you carefully set your leg on top of the edge of the bathtub, the hot water making your mind fog as you let your fingers circle around your sensitive little bud.

You could remember clearly that morning, the way his thick imprint was snug against your ass, his hips rutting frantically and he moaned whimpers against your neck. You had woken up tired and asking for him to stop only to realize he was asleep. It wasn’t the first and it certainly wouldn’t be the last you turned to face him and sneak your hand inside his sweats.

Your fingers quickly swiped against your clit faster as they have a seeming thrust for something that wasn’t there as you bit your lip in frustration, the memory of his high pitched moan when your hand stroked his throbbing length in his pants, hips becoming more frantic before you pulled down his pants down his hips, his cock was thick and girthy, not massive in length but a good size that complimented his insane width.

No matter how big your bunny was he was so small when you poured a little oil in your palm and stroked him, the way he’d whine and whimper waking up to his hips rutting into your hand as he moaned relentlessly.

Your free hand quickly shot down your body, your fingers frantically rubbing your clit as pleasure throbbed but it wasn’t nearly enough, pushing two fingers inside yourself you squeaked out at the feeling of your walls clenching harshly. You still remember straddling his thighs and telling him how much of a good boy he was. The way he’d curl and strain, his cheeks on fire and tears trickling down his face when you’d deny him before ruthlessly stroking his tender base that was trying to swell so desperately.

Soft moans fell from your lips, your walls clenching around your fingers as you pumped them inside you, your other hand working your clit before finding your sweet spot causing a short yelp to escape you. Just the memory of his fat purple head leaking precum was causing your thighs to shake while you stroked down to his base, gently stroking the little bump on his base as you told your good bunny to cum for you.

The way his hips lifted off the bed in chase of your hand as he sobbed, cum spewing from his little slit as pleasure took over his body in ecstasy

You let out a squeal that was a little too loud as you harshly came, your walls wrapping tight around your fingers as you moaned, slumping against the cold wall as your hips rode your fingers in chase of your pleasure. One orgasm wasn’t even close to enough to satisfy you after vividly remembering the handjob you gave Jungkook last week but you were already gonna be late as it was because of your hormones. Feeling your walls relax around your fingers before clenching you sighed. God you hated yourself.

Little did you know the bunny hybrid who always had sensitive ears could pick up on every little noise you made while shamelessly jerking himself off outside the bathroom door before cum painted against the wall.

-----

“Have you confessed to her yet?”

Jungkook let out a sigh as he buried into his arms, the tickle of the hair from his ears against his skin at Taehyung’s consistent pestering, the dog hybrid’s nose wrinkling a little as he spoke, “What’s the worst that could go wrong?”

Jungkook could’ve went over to see Taehyung, but he had promised you he’d stay home today, always knowing how worried you got when he went out on his own. Hybrid walkways were made to keep them safe for passage but hybrid catchers weren’t uncommon. You’d know better then anyone given that was the cases you were usually working in.

Technology was wonderful though, being able to video call Taehyung who’s owner- Seokjin who just so happened to be your partner was also at this mandatory meeting, “Oh you mean other than ruining my relationship with her as is and how she’d kick me out and tell me I’m disgusting and that she never wants to see me again?”

Jungkook deflated, growling a little as Seokjin popped up in his mind again, grinding his teeth in annoyance, you better not let him scent you or touch you at all. Realizing what he was thinking he swallowed thickly, running a hand through his wet locks from his shower as he sat up in bed. His heat was getting closer, he could tell. It was a struggle every month, Jungkook had a hard enough time as it was keeping himself off you.

It was downright humiliating the way he acted towards you every month and every month you took it graciously but it was still embarrassing for him to cling to you and get pushy and sour. He couldn’t help it, it would be so much easier if you were the one with him during his heats. He wouldn’t be so aggressive if he could just mate with the person he wanted.

“She wouldn’t do that to you!” Taehyung objected in your defense, the german shepherd hybrid loyal to the very end, to be fair Taehyung had known you longer then he had, jealousy oozing in the back of his mind at the notion, “Look, it’s just better to be honest with her about it and you guys can go from there.”

“Easy for you to say.” Jungkook grumbled as he laid back down in bed, sharply inhaling as he felt his cock stirring once again at the moans he didn’t mean to listen to this morning, but he intended on going to the kitchen to make breakfast for you when he passed by and…”She should be home soon. Look, we’ll talk later okay?”

Taehyung frowned before shrugging, “Alright cool, isn’t your heat coming up though? Are you gonna spend it with Hyuna again?

So many fucking questions, Jungkook felt annoyance prick in him the imprint became thicker, the need to ruthlessly jerk himself off raising as he replied, “Only because I don’t have a choice,” He brooded, “But yeah, should start in a few days.”

“Just talk to her man, i’ll see you later.”

Jungkook gladly ended the call as he groaned, hand immediately pushing down beneath his waistband, talk to you about it, what a joke. Leaning over he poured a little oil into his hand as he groaned, pulling his cock from the band of his sweatpants as he gave a tug at his base, thighs stiffening as his jaw clenched.

The sweet smell of jasmine suddenly hitting his nose as he jumped up from your bed, the faint sound of jingling causing him to hurriedly tuck himself back into his pants and pounce into the bathroom to clean up his hands frantically to greet you. Had the meeting get done early.

Excitement lit through his veins and his cock tightening causing a sharp whine to escape him, tugging his loose shirt down to hide the embarrassing sight before quickly walking down the hall.

“Bub I’m home- Oh!” You had your back turned to shut the door when arms suddenly wrapped around you, a cute rounded nose rubbing into your neck as you let out a laugh, “Jungkook stop!” You grabbed the large arms that wrapped around you, the loud purr erupting as his teeth clacked, furry ears rubbing along your skin before a growl escaped him, “Why do you smell like Hoseok.”

He instantly demanded, turning you around as you raised your brows, your neck bending to look up at the tall demanding bunny, “He gave me a coffee when I got to the station…?”

Jungkook was immediately back against your neck as his lips twitched, “You smell like him.” He growled lowly as he roughly rubbed his scent gland along your skin. You gave an exasperated sigh as you paused, knowing any sort of movement would be taken as resistance and would earn you a snappy snarl.

After a minute he paused before pulling a little away from you and giving you a sniff before smiling, “Better,” That earned him an eye roll from you as he gave a semi sheepish smile, feeling a lot better now that your scent was drowned in his musk to ward off any competition, “Can you make some kimbap please.” His soft doughy lips tugged into a pout as if he didn’t just snap for you to be still five seconds prior.

Sighing you offered a weak smile, “Of course bub.” You reached your hand up, not even close to reach his head but Jungkook immediately leaned down a little, a purr of his teeth clicking as you rubbed your fingers into his hair, letting your nails gently dig against the base of his ears.

After making lunch you sat out on the couch, Jungkook immediately collapsed on top of you making you wheeze, grabbing your hand he placed it on his head as he gave a little whine, the way he often did when he wanted attention, “You left me all morning! Please.” He cried out, making you chuckle before giving in, yoru fingers slating through his soft dark locks of hair before stroking against the base of his ears.

His body melted into yours before you heard a thump against the couch, the smile crinkling on your lips as you watch his foot thump, Jungkook oftened hid a lot of his more bunny tendencies outside of home, he despised being treated like the tender stereotype that was often portrayed.

But in the comforts of his home he was relaxed, loved your fingers scratching along the base of his ears, his leg thumping in contentment and a toothy purr from his mouth. He absolutely preened for your attention.

His upcoming heat was only making him more needy than usually, wanting all of your time and affection, but luckily it was the weekend and now that your meeting was over you’d be all his for the next two days. Nudging against your soft breasts Jungkook sighed, closing his eyes as he let out a whine. He didn’t want to be with Hyuna, he wanted to share his heat with you.

Maybe, Taehyung was right, maybe he’d finally have that conversation with you.

[shutupaboutandraste]

“Hear this now — I will always come for you” for Fenders? <3

OKAY so like. I saw this and was just immediately inspired and knew exactly what I wanted to write so I hope you like it!

It's more pre-ship, buuuuut still Fenders.

Words: 3203 Pairing: Fenris/Anders For @dadrunkwriting

ACT I

To say Fenris didn’t trust Anders would be an understatement. An abomination through and through, he would never understand Hawke’s trust in him. Perhaps, it was because of her sister-- Bethany always seemed to vouch for him, something else that made Fenris’ head spin. Never before Bethany Hawke had he seen a mage so in control of themself. Yet, there was Bethany who shined in beauty, grace, and kindness all without being possessed or resorting to blood magic. He had only known her for a short time since he was approached by Hawke’s motley crew.

Still, he stuck by them, despite it all. Hawke had become a good friend in the short time he had known her. Even if her taste in women was… questionable. Anyone with eyes could see the tall warrior had affection for the Dalish blood mage of all people. Of course, that did exclude the elf in question. Merrill seemed entirely blind, even when Hawke told her that she was free to call her Aingheal. To everyone else, that name seemed off limits and Merrill seemed content to leave it that way for herself. Strange woman…

There were days he thought about leaving. Danarius could arrive any day on the doorstep of his borrowed mansion any day. The thought of leaving, however, left the taste of ash in his mouth. Little things were what he would miss-- Hawke coming to check in on him, coming back to the mansion to find little plates of food from Merrill, Isabela’s flirting, all of it. Loyalty threaded into Hawke’s group, evident in the way they watched each other’s back in battle to those little gestures Fenris had grown fond of in the past few months. Echoes of his days with the Fog Warriors sang softly within him.

These thoughts tumbled and toppled over each other with each passing day. Fenris took each one in and compartmentalized it within. These were the people that he had thrown his lot in with, for better or worse. Yet, he never knew if Merrill would be possessed by a demon, or whether Anders would suddenly turn on them to fulfill the desires of Vengeance. So, when Anders was still glowing after an encounter with a Tal Vashoth mercenary group on the wounded coast, Fenris leaped into action.

His brands lit up as he reached for Anders. Justice’s glare flashed his way, but he did not flinch. The only thing that stopped him was Hawke’s sword in his way. His heels let him skid to a stop just in time to avoid phasing through it. There was always a chance that phasing through a weapon would just wind up with him impaled.

“What the hell, Fenris?”

Varric whistled, “Easy, Broody! That one is friendly.”

“Hardly,” he snarled, “Why is your demon still active, mage?”

“I AM NO DEMON,” boomed that voice that both was and was not Anders. Still, it didn’t argue further, seemingly releasing Anders for its thrall.

Anders snarled at him, “Justice was fine! You could have killed me!”

Fenris crossed his arms, holding his head high, acting as if he could stand down the taller man, “And you could have killed Hawke.”

Hawke scoffed, “I can fight my own battles. Thanks. Justice doesn’t scare me.”

There she went again, trusting the fool mage and his demon. Even though Fenris had warned her of all he saw in Tevinter, Hawke insisted that she knew better. One day she might live to regret it. Fenris hoped that he didn’t live to see that day. For all his terse nature, he did want Hawke to be right about Anders. So, he let the argument brewing inside him die.

Hawke was a harsh woman. When she spoke, there was no argument, one simply followed. That did not make her unkind, simply firm. It was one of the many things Fenris found himself respecting, all but in awe of. Leadership decorated Hawke like well-fitted armor. There was very little she could do now to waiver his trust in her. The group began heading out, Varric and Hawke immediately taking to counting out the loot as they walked.

Fenris came up to walk beside Anders, “You may have favor with Hawke, mage, but hear this, should you betray her--”

“Why are you so sure of my guilt long before I’ve committed a crime?”

“Should you betray her, hear this now-- I will always come for you. That is a threat.”

ACT II

Putting trust in Hawke was far from misplaced. Long after the Deep Roads, she still remained his friend, helped him when Hadriana came knocking, and trusted him in return. Fenris was a regular member of her party, trusting him even about Aveline whom she had known for far longer. Hawke was a natural, but ruthless in her efficiency. Fenris respected that, even when he wasn’t sure he agreed. Sometimes, Fenris caught Hawke with a wild, angry glint in her eye as she plowed through enemies with an almost sadistic glee. Fighting was the happiest he had seen her bar her time spent with Merrill or after she was permitted a visit with Bethany at the Circle.

Yet, still, Hawke persisted with Anders. The mage had only grown more rebellious and unstable since they had met. Fenris did not despise him, but Anders set his teeth on edge in a way Fenris had not known in some time. Yet, she had left him to deal with the wounded as healer and protector while she fought the Arishok.

Upon the kill, Fenris thought she might cut off the Qunari leader’s head and hoist it up as a trophy. If she was, she never got the chance as she was rushed upon. The word ‘Champion’ echoed about the halls of the Viscount’s Keep. Before Fenris’ very eyes, the city seemed to be turned upside down. In the chaos, he managed to stumble out of the building, attempting to follow Merrill and Varric as they both rushed after Hawke.

Bethany was outside, tailing Orsino under the watchful eye of Meredith-- Shit. Where was Anders?

Templars milled about outside, keeping watch over mages who were working on healing the wounded while Aveline’s guard began lining up the dead, human, dwarf, elf, and qunari alike. There was no mess of dirty blond hair among them. No matter what he thought, Anders did a service in Darktown. Without him, the Ferelden refugees would be worse off. Instead of following whatever parade was forming around Hawke, he ducked down a side street, attempting to search for Anders.

Smoke still filled the air, making Fenris cough as he attempted to plunge ahead. Loud wailing was still echoing in the streets, amid the cheers of victory. Loss had still struck everyone fiercely. While he searched for Anders, he also kept his eyes peeled for Isabela. Wherever she had left to go to, he had a sinking feeling that she was never coming back.

Neither deep black curls nor a dirty blond mop was what caught his eye. Instead, it was Aveline’s flash of bright ginger hair. And, safe from templars, Anders was next to her. Fenris found himself surprisingly sighing with relief. He had worried for nothing. Carefully, he approached them.

“This is your fault,” Anders snapped, teeth grit as he tried to control Justice.

Aveline snarled, “What? Saving you from templars?”

“No! The Qunari attack!” he replied, “Much as I appreciate you getting me out of there.”

“Isabela stole that tome,” muttered Aveline, crossing her arms, “That’s what started this.”

“Isabela stole that stupid book ages ago. Then you let that… that monster get away with raping a girl!” Blue crackled at the edges of Anders’ eyes, which he shut, quickly as he tried to slow his breathing. His self-control after a long day of casting and healing was reaching its limit.

Aveline rubbed her nose bridge in frustration, “Anders, honestly, I don’t know what you expect me to do--”

“Punish the guard?” offered Anders, “Or would that be too much effort because the victim was an elf? I didn’t realize we were in Tevinter.”

“That was uncalled for,” snarled Aveline, clearly close to losing her patience.

Quickly, nearly fade-stepping to get there, Fenris went forward, taking Anders by the shoulders. Justice flashed, but Anders merely looked alarmed at being touched. His eyes narrowed on Aveline, who instead just looked relieved that someone else had interrupted them. He nodded at her slowly.

“Hawke asked me to escort him back to Darktown,” he said, “Go to your guards.”

“Be safe,” she said before turning to leave.

Anders scoffed, pulling away from Fenris and trudging ahead, “I should be out there healing.”

“You can deal with the injured that make it to the clinic,” sighed Fenris.

He crossed his arms, trudging forward, “Did Hawke really ask you to come check on me? I figured she’d send someone else. Varric, maybe, or--”

“She’s too busy entertaining the masses,” admitted Fenris, “I wanted to make sure you did not get caught by the templars.”

“Me?” Anders scoffed, “Why do you care?”

Why do you care about the lives of elves? Fenris wanted to ask. Yet… He knew why. While the Spirit within Anders could ebb and flow between Justice and Vengeance, Fenris knew that the Anders had originally allowed a spirit in him. Anders had stories of Justice and their time with the Grey Wardens as separate people. Letting the guard go unpunished was unjust, no matter who the victim was, but as usual it was elves who saw the short end of the stick.

Despite every notion Fenris had of the other man, Anders continued to prove himself dedicated to the people, even if those people were usually mages. Everyone was welcome at his clinic, from refugees to the Seneschal himself. Many things Anders did annoyed Fenris, but his dedication and passion were to be admired. To see a spark of joy when healing, that was something Fenris could respect. Maybe he even wanted to, if he would just let himself.

Hawke expected his loyalty-- she had it, of course, but she still expected it. When that loyalty was questioned, she made sure you knew about it. When he had run off after killing Hadriana, she had made her position known. If Fenris wanted to do that again, he better damn well wait until they got back to Kirkwall so they weren’t romping across the Wounded Coast without help. Her anger had shamed him.

A few nights later, he had brought Anders dinner. The practice was not uncommon among the group, but it happened when Anders failed to show up at the Hanged Man. Usually, they played a round of Wicked Grace to see who took the meal. Fenris had been the first out, thus the man to take the meal. Anders had been finishing up with a patient-- a little elven girl with a scraped knee. The injury was hardly worth the time of a healer with Anders’ caliber, yet Fenris watched as he distracted her with jokes while healing her knee. Once he was done, he patted it, making her smile before he dug around for a bit, pulling out a sweet. Most of them were stale, but the refugee children hardly cared, always pleased that the healer had candy for them.

When he saw Fenris, Anders had asked him if he was okay. There was no yelling about Fenris’ comment about how magic spoiled everything--though Anders had made a snide remark when he had spoken it. No, concern lined the wrinkles of Anders’ face as he graciously took the meal, double and triple checking that Fenris didn’t need healing or something to help. Once that was over with, Anders huffed, told Fenris he was stubborn, thanked him for the meal, and reminded him to clean the up mansion before he caught something from the corpses.

“Hear this now,” he said, “I will always come for you. That is a promise.”

ACT III

Smoke had a horrible, overwhelming scent. After the Qunari attack, he didn’t have the stomach to even enjoy a good campfire anymore. But watching the rubble of the Chantry smolder before him sent a revulsion through his gut. Why did Anders always have to be such a fool? Why couldn’t he just wait for the conflict to run its inevitable course?

Hawke did not ask for their opinions. Sebastian was furious-- so was she. Merrill had her hands clasped at her heart as they watched Aingheal Hawke walk around Anders like a predatory animal. For prey, he looked remarkably calm, sad, even.

Run, you idiot. Petrify her and run for your life.

Anders didn’t move. He wanted to die. Fenris felt sick.

“I trusted you,” hissed Hawke, “I made you part of my family; I protected you. Then you LIE to me, have me help you do this.”

“The war is inevitable,” said Anders, “Justice and I have done what had to be done. Kill me if you will and be done with it.”

“You put my WIFE in danger! You put my SISTER in danger!” Hawke raised a fist, bashing it across the side of Anders’ head.

“Vhennan, no!” exclaimed Merril, “Don’t kill ‘im. He can help us protect the mages, please.”

“He doesn’t deserve to live!” bit back Sebastian.

Hawke growled, “Do not speak to her that way! Merrill, I can’t. He’s too dangerous. He’s… He’s not the Anders we knew. Not anymore.”

Fenris felt his fist clench at his side. These theatrics were ridiculous-- there was a city to save. And, to be frank, either they chose Anders to die as he pleased or they went with Merrill’s plan. Hawke had seemingly chosen the former. Tears streamed down Merrill’s cheeks as she looked away, her wife hoisting her greatsword high. Fenris felt his insides twist.

He remembered the Anders he thought he knew. Once upon a time, that man had been an abomination, just a foolish mage playing Maker. Then, things had shifted. As much as he wanted things to be simple, Anders never allowed anything to be so. With his manifesto and ranting, came the healing and the gentle touches. Even when he himself forgot to eat, he never let anyone else forget. He would risk hair and hide in battle to protect others.

One night, not long after Hawke had been dubbed the Champion, Anders had admitted to Fenris that he had not always been so selfless. Justice was what brought out the best in him-- that if Fenris hated him now, he would have loathed the Anders of the Circle or the Grey Wardens, all flirt and wit and self-serving. Somehow, Fenris doubted that was the whole story.

Each passing day over the last three years, he found he craved it more. Was Anders really so different? Or was he exaggerating in an effort to self-loathe everything about himself? One minute he was witty and charismatic the next he seemed to gain ten years from exhaustion. Yet, each day, that wit and charisma faded away. A demon-- not a traditional one, but some sort of sickness of the mind-- had taken hold of the healer. Had anyone tried to help him?

Varric, perhaps, refusing to give into such demands like taking a pillow that meant so much Anders. Yet, no one else knew what to do. None of them knew how to cope with this shell of their friend. But he was still there. After Danarius, Hawke had clapped him on the back, asked him if he was alright, and went on her way.

Anders had shown up that night, barging his way in, double-checking injuries he had already healed while Fenris pushed him away. It didn’t work, of course. The mage had always been too stubborn for that. No matter how easy it would be for Fenris to kill him, Anders had never feared him. He treated him like any other friend. Only a week ago, he had invited Anders to eat dinner together… privately.

And then Fenris, cowardly, had failed to show.

Showing up would not have changed this event. No, Anders was too far into this plan, he was sure. Yet, now, he could not find it in him to overthink. Firelight glinted on Hawke’s as it arched its way down. Far faster than he knew that he could run, Fenris found himself knelt at Anders’ side. His hands clutched the other man’s shoulders, before shoving him forward. Lyrium flickered to life.

Hawke’s sword passed through him. Phantom sensations touched him, but did not harm him. Anders looked at him from where he had fallen, gathering himself up as he stared at them all. His feet slid backward, his mouth attempting to make Fenris’ name. Behind him, Hawke seethed.

“Run!” he ordered, urging Anders, “Run! Hear this, I will always come for you! I will find you! Go!”

Anders nodded quickly, life suddenly seeming to spring forth in his eyes. Oh, how long had Fenris longed to see that glint again. He had not realized he had ached for it until he saw its gleam. The mage took off, rushing away and into the chaos of the street. Once he was out of sight, Fenris turned to face them. Sebastian had his bow cocked at his head while Hawke looked disgusted.

“You bastard,” she hissed, “What had gotten into you?”

“What has gotten into you?” he repeated, “Anders was your friend. More-so than he ever was mine.” And yet, his stupid, treacherous heart and all of its longing had found the sympathy to save him.

“You were right,” she sneered, “He was always an abomination. I was blind.”

“Your wife is a blood mage,” snapped Fenris, “Shall you put her to the sword next?” Merrill gasped, but he glanced at her, trying to show her that it was not something he wanted. Hawke looked appalled at such a suggestion, thank the Maker, and lowered her sword.

Hawke did not circle him like a prey animal as she did Anders. No, instead he raised her nose to him. Golden eyes, just a bit hazel and always piercing, cast their judgement down on him. In an instant, without thinking, she saw what he had done as throwing away her loyalty to save Anders. And Hawke always expected his loyalty.

“I loved you like a brother,” she said, shaking her head, “Get out. Get out of my sight. If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you both.” Merril sobbed, Varric quickly tending to her, looking unusually surly at Hawke. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t so unusual. Hawke was always funnier in his tales than she was in person. Perhaps Fenris had been blinded to something Varric had always seen.

Fenris did not say goodbye. Instead, he walked away with pride, head held high, a free man who would not be tethered to a woman who confused loyalty with ownership. Fenris owed her much, but she did not own him. And a free man was allowed to walk into whatever fate he damned well please.

Fenris chose Anders, and he knew he would keep choosing Anders every day after. All he had to do was find him.

[kesleyjo]

Hi! This is a prompt for I’m Sorry For The Things I Said When I Was Hungry! Reggie, Jughead and the evolution of their manderstanding from Betty’s, a random creative writing student’s and/or Reggie’s landlord’s pov. If it tickles your fancy!!

Oh lordy this was one heck of a trip back in time. What a fun fic and scene to revisit.

Check out @riverdalepromptathon for more works for this wonderful event and if anyone wants to revisit the original fic its here.

Enjoy the manderstanding through the view of our thirsty friend Mac:

Mac’s nook was his favorite place on campus.

It was quiet, made no sense architecturally, and was a prime nest to spy on unknowing passersby in the hall. The building was crawling with aspiring writers, and as such was inherently dramatic. In one day he saw at least one breakup, two clandestine meetings, and a whole hell of a lot of meaningful eye contact.

It was delicious.

But today’s scuffle was far more aggressive and ripe with toxic masculinity than usual.

In one corner you had Reginald Mantle. Tall, perfect chin, and supposedly straight (suspiciously). Oddly perceptive writer, but not the best at self-editing.

In the other was Jughead Jones. Slouched, brooding and artificially tortured. Horny only for a long-time girlfriend (or so he heard). Smart and thought outside the box, but had an unfortunate love affair with overwrought metaphors.

In Mac’s opinion, the entire scuffle was a waste of homoerotic subtext, but he would write an alternative fic of the encounter later.

It began with Jughead rushing up to Reginald and shouting, “Are you sleeping with my girlfriend, Reg?!” All the while crinkling Reggie’s beautiful linen shirt. It was distressing.

Reginald looked unperturbed as he removed Jughead’s paws from him. “Well, I don’t see how that is possible Jones, since you don’t have a girlfriend. Anymore.”

Ooooo. No wonder Mr. Broody was cranky. He only got it up for this mystery girlfriend, and apparently she was warming the bed of tall, dark and foolish.

God this was better than General Hospital.

“Where. Is. She?”

Their spat was drawing a crowd, enough that his view was being blocked by two girls gossiping to one another.

By the time he shooed them away with splashes of water from his water bottle, the fight had ended and Reginald was nowhere to be seen.

Jughead meanwhile looked like he had just been told Hemingway was a fraud.

Mac sighed with disappointment. He had still been rooting for them to settle this all with a kiss and maybe a little light petting.

Sigh. There was always tomorrow.

[planetesastraea]

On the tip of his fingers

Geraskier, Modern AU -  Mature - 6 277 words - Warnings: none

First meetings, himbo Geralt, bisexual Geralt (even if he’s just finding out), bottom Geralt (that too), top Jaskier, first time, handjobs, banter, praise kink, consent kink

Betaed by Micaela Dawn: she’s a wonderful artist and beta, check out her work!

Read on AO3

-

The bar was oddly crowded for a Wednesday night and Geralt was trying his best to not look as out of place as he felt. He had to be there, were Yen's words. And once Triss and Sabrina heard he was trying to get out of the team’s celebratory night out, his fate had been sealed.

"You deserve this too," Yen had said. “You’ve been working your ass off as much as we’ve all been and you deserve to blow off some steam.” 

“I can blow off some steam at home.”

“Playing Skittles-stake Gwent with our teenage daughter doesn’t count. Also you promised you’d spend more time with the team outside of  work-”

“I actually never agreed to that,” 

“-so you’re coming.” 

  And so here he was, wearing one of his black button down shirts and a comfortable pair of jeans with an empty beer bottle in his hand, making casual conversation over the slightly too-loud music and praying to the highest powers that the girls wouldn’t try to get him to dance. Triss and Yen had met him in front of the bar to make sure he wouldn’t turn away once he had a look inside the place. As soon as he had been close enough, Triss had reached a hand out to his collar, making a tsk sound. 

“What are we going to do with you, hm?”, she had whispered to herself as she had opened the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled his collar a little wider. 

“Hey, be gentle,” Yen had cut in softly. “At least he lost the tie.” 

They had cackled in unison as he rolled his eyes, yet unable to fake annoyance as a smile drew itself on his lips. With one of the women clinging to each of his arms, the three of them comfortably slid together as they walked into the place. 

He liked being around them. Over the years things had been several levels of complicated and then some, but the three of them had found their pace eventually. Triss and Yen liked to mock him and he liked to act dumber than he actually was- well, most of the time. His social skills still didn’t reach that high.

As it turned out, you could learn a lot about people by staying at the office several nights in a row working a gigantic case, taking turns on who would get to doze off for twelve minutes on the couch and who was to blame for the soy sauce on page 86 of the Claremont contract. And damn did Triss and Yen know him well. Which was why they had dutifully waited for him outside the bar. Claiming he looked for them but gave up because of how packed the place was would definitely have been among his top three excuses to go back home and relieve Eskel of his Uncle duties. (Both he and Ciri would have been terribly disappointed and that was about 75% of the reasons why he had made it to the party).

  They had been here for a couple of hours now, had done a good amount of talking and heard some more-than-other alright bands take to the stage. One of the junior associates further away from him called “Hey, here’s Sabrina!!” and Geralt turned towards the sound of Sabrina’s voice going “You guys are not going to believe this!” when something, or, well, someone, slammed right into him.

“Owww, holy shit I’m so sorry, you alright?” 

The man was carrying two pints that had probably been full to the brim before he collided with Geralt. Luckily most of what spilled had hit the floor (he didn't need a repeat of the 2017 "Wet-Shirt Contest Winner" from when a sink pipe had blown up in the men's room. Lambert had walked in, taken a thousand pictures and emailed memes to the whole floor for weeks). 

Geralt’s shoes had been fairly sticky with booze already so it wasn't much trouble. 

“I’m fine,” he said and that’s when he noticed the other man had come to a full stop, eyes locked on him intently, lips slightly parted. The eyeliner around his eyes was a bit smeared and Geralt recognized him as one of the singers from earlier. 

“That you are,” he murmured in a low tone, almost to himself. Geralt blinked.

“Yes. I am,” he said back louder in hope to maybe clear out the odd look on the other man’s face. Just because he was tall, well-built and, well, apparently, somewhat broody, people expected him to get pissed at the slightest things. 

“I’m Julian," the guy said and Geralt smiled politely, unsure why the stranger would introduce himself.

“Geralt,” he replied at the same time Julian went “But you can call me Jaskier!” and then “I’m sorry, what was that?” 

It was like his words were running faster than his thoughts.

“Geralt. My name is Geralt,” he repeated.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, Geralt.” Jaskier’s lips rose to one side and he tilted his head slightly. Geralt was way more used to people trying to avoid looking at him, he had his unusual colored eyes to thank for that. They were easily disturbing and while people didn't always show discomfort, they at least showed restraint. Jaskier didn't have an ounce of it and Geralt had absolutely no idea what to do with that. 

“Can I get you another drink?” Jaskier blurted out. 

“Mine was already empty. That’s your drink on the floor,” Geralt replied as the other man chuckled, eyes looking down briefly.

“Right,” he raised his eyes and licked his lips. “Offer still stands. Can I get you another drink?”

“Hm,” Geralt said, his well-known wording skills kicking in. “My friends are-” he turned around thinking he’d find Anica and Tiff where he had left them only to realise they had disappeared among the crowd. In the far back he recognized Triss and Yen dancing on a table like nothing in the world could stop them and any back-up plan he was about to use evaporated. 

Jaskier raised his eyebrows, eyes twinkling. Give other people a chance, Yen’s voice said in Geralt's head and the line of his shoulders softened. Jaskier’s eyes hadn’t moved from him for even a second. Maybe it wasn’t that bad. 

“Sure,” Geralt aimed for a neutral tone but sounded nervous even to his own ears. The other man’s smile widened. 

  They found two empty stools that felt oddly closer than those in Geralt’s bars usually were - but then again most of Geralt’s bars were hotel lobbies on work trips or the kind where he could take a whole bottle for himself and sit in a corner where no one would dare bother him. (He hadn't been in one of those in a while. He didn’t miss it.)

Jaskier set an ale in front of him and Geralt faintly wondered who it was originally destined for. 

“So what are you doing here tonight? I’ve never seen you around,” Jaskier started. 

“Celebrating,” he said, in a voice that hardly sounded celebratory. 

“Is it your birthday?”

“No,” he replied, vaguely gesturing to his group of friends who were lost to the crowd, “with colleagues. We closed in on a deal." 

"What kind of business do you work in?" The other man seemed way more interested in learning about Geralt than actually drinking the ale. Geralt shrugged, a wordless version of his usual ‘hm’.  

“All of them. We're a law firm.”

“Oh! Well, congrats by the way!" Jaskier said and then leaned in and using a secretive tone he added, "I mean, you didn’t help a dangerous criminal get away with it, did you?”

Geralt grimaced and prepared himself to lose Jaskier’s interest in his job entirely. 

“Not that kind of lawyers.” 

“What kind, then?” 

“Corporate.”

To his surprise, Jaskier kept nodding.

“So what was the deal about? Please tell me you’re the kind of firm on David’s side and not on Goliath's.”

“It’s rarely as straightforward as that,” Geralt mused and took a drink of his ale.

Jaskier hummed softly.

“What was this one anyway?” 

“I can’t disclose any details,” he hedged and Jaskier chuckled. 

“Oh, you can’t disclose any details, can you?” he leaned again, this time his arm and shoulder pressing against Geralt's. 

“No, I can’t,” Geralt articulated again to make sure Jaskier would hear him. Music rarely ever left anyone’s hearing intact after a few years, maybe that was why the man kept leaning closer. 

“Anything I’ll hear about on the news?”

“The local ones, maybe.”

“Well aren't you a man of mystery.” Their shoulders bumped again. Geralt didn't remember at which point he had rolled up his sleeves but his forearms felt oddly comfortable being that close to someone else's skin. It had been a while since he had even given thought to someone else's skin.

There was still a band playing on the stage out of his sight, a crowd surrounding them, people all along the bar calling for the bartender’s attention, noises and lights everywhere and yet, somehow, in the ocean of stimuli, his attention was focused on Jaskier.

"Maybe I should take your number then?" Jaskier said, wriggling an eyebrow. "As legal counsel. For when law enforcement catches up with me." 

“What would they catch you for?” he asked, willing to take the bait. 

“Oh, there’s quite the list,” Jaskier said. “I’m afraid I have a rather criminal past. There’s the illegal bus riding, parking in client-only spots,” he counted on his fingers, adding each theatrically. “I once shook a vending machine to get my chocolate bar and got a second one I didn’t pay for.”

“Hmm. I think you might get away with those,” Geralt answered, taking a drink from his pint.

“Well I guess all is left is the case of indecent exposure.”

The man had a nonchalant demeanor about him but his eyes were focused on Geralt and definitely didn't miss the way he almost choked on the ale. Geralt only then realised how much of Jaskier’s chest was visible. He registered vaguely how he’d never had an interest in other people’s collar bones before and realised he had forgotten where they were going with this. 

"Hmm,” he cleared his throat, trying to look unbothered. “Like I said, not my area of expertise."

He saw Jaskier lick his lips and something in his eyes reminded him of the decisive moment that came with all his negotiations. 

"How about we get out of here and you show me your area of expertise?" 

"What?" He couldn’t have heard that right. Jaskier’s eyes softened and his hand hovered over his bare forearm.

"I'm saying I want to take you home.” There was a beat and Geralt swallowed, the taste of ale still on his lips. His conversations with other people definitely didn’t go like that. The peak of panic might have been obvious on his face because Jaskier’s fingers touched his wrist and he spoke into his ear.  "I'm making a move on you, Geralt,” he said kindly, “and I don’t know if you’re too polite to decline or if I’m being too subtle-” he pulled back to look at him and his face was so fucking close. “Which, honestly, would be a first! So... What do you think?” 

What did he think? His mind was an uninhabited fish tank. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a light flicker. He blinked again, looking at Jaskier’s lips. His brain whispered pretty, and right then, because life always loved fucking with him, the lights and the music went out.

There was a deafening silence for a moment when everyone held their breath and then lights as bright as day came on. The crowd booed. "Oh for fuck's sake, it's the third time this month," Jaskier grumbled. “Sorry my dear but duty calls!” 

He stepped down from his stool only to hoist himself up onto the bar. "Not to worry, gentlepeople!" he called out like he was standing on a stage rather than a drink-sticky counter. "The lights will go down and the music back on again as soon as our beloved Essi, Mistress of the house, puts that freaking generator back on! And in the meantime, if you would please allow this humble bard to entertain you,” he took a dramatic bow and rose up again. “Someone please toss me a folk guitar; drinks are on me!"

The crowd cheered and Jaskier got down behind the bar as one of the crew members passed over the guitar. He went off in a cheery song some people started singing along to, bathing in the crowd's energy like he breathed that very element. 

Something funny and complicated was happening in Geralt's chest when a hand gently grabbed his arm.

"Come on, let's go!" Yen. "It was getting boring anyway!"

Geralt squinted at her.

"You were dancing on a table,"

"Yeah, exactly!" 

It didn’t make the slightest sense but most of his conversations with Yen ended with her radiating with knowledge and him feeling stupid anyway.

"I was talking with someone," he said and instantly felt like a small child very proud to say he made a friend.

"You were what?" her voice pitched up and Geralt could tell she was a bit on the tipsy side. "Where are they?" 

He looked around and back towards the other side of the bar where Jaskier was singing and playing among the crowd, flawlessly winking and flirting with every person around.

"You're right,” his voice sounded strained even to his own ears and he had to blame it on the sleepless nights. “Let's go."

  -

  It had been two weeks since they had secured the Jackdows contract and Geralt was still deep in paperwork. He'd taken yet another two-hour video call with Alveaenerle and he was starting to think that maybe Triss was right and the woman was mostly dealing with him for his looks rather than for the sake of legal liaison. 

He heard the elevator doors open and checked the clock. It wouldn’t be the first time he had worked through the whole night, only noticing at 4am when the janitor came in that he had forgotten to go home. Since then, he had promised Ciri he would try to get decent amounts of sleep while she was away at Yen’s and he didn’t like breaking his promises. 

When he looked through the glass wall of his shared office, however, he didn’t see the janitor. Instead, and he checked twice in case it might have been a case of insomnia-induced hallucination, Jaskier was standing in the hall. He seemed hesitant, looking right and left for any indication that he was in the right place until he saw Geralt through the office’s glass walls. 

They blinked at each other, seemingly unable to move until Jaskier slowly raised a hand and waved. Geralt kicked himself and walked out of his office. 

“Hey,” Jaskier said, looking a bit sheepish. "Remember me?"

“What are you doing here?” Geralt asked, straightforward as ever.

“Uh,” Jaskier said. “The security guy let me in. He must have thought I was a delivery boy or something. I uh, I got your favourite,” he raised a hand holding a paper bag that Geralt had been too distracted to notice. “From across the street? Oh! Your friend Tiff was at the bar. She said you were still at work so I thought you’d like to have dinner maybe? And like, not with me, necessarily, just, you gotta eat right?” His words were starting to run together, and Geralt didn’t see any end in sight. “And so I figured, the place across the street, they had to know your favourite. ‘Big lawyer man with long white hair’ doesn't fit many of their clients' profiles. Anyway, dinner. For you. I could stay too, if you want, I mean I am simply starving-” he emphasized the word and then looked panicked again. “Wait, was that a yes, by the way? You know who I am, right? Otherwise this is going to get so awkward-”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupted.

“Yes!" He beamed. "That's me. Jaskier."

“I’m still not sure what you’re doing here.”

Jaskier froze for a moment, losing his shine. “We didn’t get to finish that conversation the other night. I thought that maybe...” Balancing his weight from a feet to another, he looked younger in the office light. He didn't finish his sentence, and looked like he was waiting for Geralt to respond.

“I’m working.”

“Right.”

“I��m at work,” Geralt gestured back at his office.

“Yeah, I know, I just thought- I- You're right, this was a stupid idea. Invasive, even. God what am I doing-” he took a frantic step backwards, and then thrust out the paper bag in some sort of peace offering. “Well, you should have this anyway, I mean- you have to eat, right? I said that already. Did I say that already?” He put the paper bag down on the closest cubicle desk then started walking backwards. “Sorry for,” he gestured vaguely, “showing up like that. Uh. It won’t happen again.” 

Jaskier turned around, starting towards the elevators with his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and Geralt thought he heard him swearing under his breath something that sounded very much like ‘such a fucking idiot’.

An uneasy feeling filled Geralt’s chest as he watched Jaskier walk away. He didn’t know what he was doing and he didn’t know what he wanted or why he wanted anything but he knew he didn't want this.

“Jaskier,” he called and felt so very glad no one else was working late on his floor. 

“Yeah?” Jaskier turned back instantly, his face lit up by a beacon of hope.

“Do you… Do you do this often?” he asked hesitantly and felt stupid about it as soon as he heard himself. There was a beat of Jaskier looking around at the empty place before he walked back towards Geralt slowly.

“Chasing down a guy I talked to for thirty minutes because I just can’t fucking stop thinking about him? No. No, I don’t. First time, actually.”

Geralt watched the musician, noting the soft, hopeful smile forming at the corner of his lips, the closing and opening of his hands at his sides, and the way the office light was reflecting in Jaskier’s eyes. 

“Twenty minutes? I need to wrap something up. Then I’m free. For dinner.” Geralt amended.

Jaskier let go of the breath he had been holding and a full smile slowly graced his face again.

“Sure. Take your time. We can heat up the food at my place.”

If twenty minutes had been a promise, Geralt would have broken it. Ten minutes later, he was done with work for the day and on his way to Jaskier’s.

  -

  “So which one are you?" Jaskier asked, leaning over his kitchen counter after discarding the take-away wrappings. "VGB or Morhen?” 

“Neither,”

“Oh. I thought you were.”

“Disappointed?”

Jaskier chuckled. “No. Well, a bit, I mean," he raised a shoulder lazily and faked disappointment, "I thought you were one of those big-shot lawyers.”

“I am. I’m just not a name partner.” 

"So you're a regular partner then?"

“Just barely." 

"Is that a thing?"

"Hmm." Geralt took a whole second to think about it and found himself oddly relaxed with answering the question. “I have a daughter.”

“Oh.” Jaskier’s voice was oddly tight. 

“Yen and I have a deal. She leads the boat on the job side, excels and enjoys herself in the career she’s always wanted and worked so hard for. I pull the hours she needs me to but our focus is our daughter.”

“You and Yen.”

“Yes.”

"Wait, like Triss's dancing on tables Yenna?" Jaskier’s eyes were widening in realisation. 

"Yes."

"Is she Morhen?"

Geralt shook his head. "Vengerberg." 

"And she’s your ex."

"Yes."

“Are you still-”

“Friends, yes.”

Jaskier nodded slowly and seemed to be thinking about something. He put his glass away and leaned against the counter, closer to Geralt. “Do you know what you’re doing here, Geralt?” he asked so low it was almost a whisper. 

Geralt couldn’t help but cast a look at his lips. “Not really.”

Jaskier slowly slipped his hand up Geralt’s forearm and the hair at the back of his neck rose.

“I was thinking maybe I could kiss you. Can I kiss you?”

Geralt found himself suddenly very much too out of breath to answer.

"Geralt?"

"Yes."

"Yes, as in you're still with me or yes-"

"Both." Geralt interrupted before he had the chance to change his mind. 

Jaskier looked surprised for a second then stood up on his toes to close the small space that was left between them. He pressed his lips against Geralt's; chaste and dry and sweet. When was the last time Geralt had been kissed like that? With care?

Jaskier's lips moved with his and Geralt felt the tip of the other man’s tongue against his lower lip, asking for permission. He granted it without question.

"Geralt?"

Geralt kissed him again and couldn't help the sigh that escaped when Jaskier's teeth grazed against his lips. 

"Hmm?"

They shared another kiss.

"Couch?"

And another.

"Sure."

  They parted only for the short time it took Jaskier to walk around the kitchen island. He led Geralt to the couch, pushing him slightly backwards to make the man sit so he could straddle his lap. Jaskier’s hips were thinner than those of Geralt’s usual partners. His shoulders were larger, his back more muscled, his arms- his whole body was fucking delightful and yet so very different, so very new. 

"Jask?" 

A kiss.

"Yeah?" It was more of a sigh of pleasure against his lips than a whisper.

"Remember when you asked-" Fuck, it was good. "About my-" 

"Sorry, do you need me to stop?"

Something rumbled in Geralt’s chest, his voice almost a growl. 

"No."

His hand found the back of Jaskier's neck and they sort of crashed again into each other. They kissed and kissed again and Geralt just didn't want to stop but things had to be said.

"Expertise," he finally managed.

"What?" Jaskier let go of his mouth and came back again for a peck before he sat back on his ankles to look at Geralt. His lips were red, his hair in disarray, his hand still hot on the side of Geralt’s neck. Geralt was fucked.

"Expertise," Geralt said, sitting up a bit straighter, settling his hands on Jaskier’s hips. "The other night. You asked about my area of expertise."

"Uh. Right."

Jaskier had a look on his face like someone had just interrupted his hot make-out session to talk about corporate law. Geralt would know, that had happened to him more times than he would admit.

"This isn't it."

"What?" Jaskier looked bewildered. His face was an open book of unguarded emotions and it made Geralt want to kiss him even more. 

"My area of expertise. This isn’t it."

"Oh." Jaskier answered, distracted by a strand of hair that fell over Geralt's eyes. He plucked the strand up between deft fingers and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear. Then he blinked and backtracked. "Wait, kissing?"

"Men," Geralt said. "Men aren't my areas of expertise."

"Oh,” Jaskier said. His hand was suspended in the air behind Geralt’s ear. “Okay, you- Oh. Okay.” he whispered again, his hand dropping down to Geralt’s shoulder. 

Geralt wasn't sure why Jaskier was the one blushing.

Sexual orientation had never really been a topic of conversation for Geralt growing up. Emotions were already a complex enough subject to tackle, anything that went further than caring for his brothers was not recommended. Exploration was limited. As a young man, he had gone for what society told him were the easiest ways to get sexual release when he needed it (women) and then his life tangled with Yen's and other partners faded out from the realm of his interests. When Ciri had entered their life, his very own life had taken a whole new meaning. There was little that mattered except making his daughter happy. His own personal relationships were more of an afterthought. 

"Well," Jaskier started again. "We don't have to- I mean it's okay. It's good. It's all good, darling. Do you- Do you need a breather? Do you- do you even want to be here?"

"I followed you willingly, didn't I?" Geralt asked, raising an eyebrow. Jaskier chuckled.

“It’s just- What if I mess up and deter you from ever enjoying another penis ever again?" he exaggerated, the dramatic flair evident in every line of his body. Geralt snorted.

"Hey! I have a duty to the penis community and I take it very seriously," Jaskier continued as if Geralt hadn’t brushed the thought off.

"The penis community," Geralt repeated, fake awe dripping in his voice.

"The penis kingdom, actually."

"The penis continent." Geraly offered, helpfully.

"Oh, that reminds me, talking about dicks: Nilfgaard, yay or nay?"

"Argh, shut up," he grabbed Jaskier's face unceremoniously and Jaskier laughed in the kiss. His hand brushed Geralt’s cheek and everything about him seemed to slow down. Jaskier broke apart from him, a smile still on his lips, and looked at Geralt steadily like any doubt and hesitation were forgotten.

"Just tell me what you like, darling,” he said. 

"I like kissing you.” 

"That’s a good start," he replied and granted Geralt’s request.

Jaskier lay his hands on Geralt’s shoulders and the muscles melted under the soft weight of them. He raised onto his knees and pushed Geralt back into the couch. Jaskier was slightly taller kneeling over him, and Geralt found something delightful in having to look up at someone. 

Jaskier leaned in and caught Geralt’s lips between his. His kisses were softer, slower, deeper than a minute before. Like he was taking his time to enjoy every second, to make Geralt enjoy every second. One of Geralt’s hands moved from his hip to his lower back, inviting him closer, and Jaskier slid his hands around Geralt’s neck, arching slightly into the touch. There was an intimacy about it that Geralt hadn’t expected nor experienced in a long time. 

Jaskier pressed his forehead against his at every breath, his hands caressing Geralt’s cheeks, sliding into Geralt’s hair, slowly making him shiver. 

Jaskier’s arms were distracting. The shirt he’d been wearing on that evening at the bar hadn't given away any clue as to the gems that were hidden underneath those sleeves. There was something feral lying deep in Geralt’s belly that was definitely ready to be manhandled.

Geralt found himself sliding his hand under Jaskier’s shirt, feeling the hot skin under his fingers, tracing the muscles along his spine. 

Jaskier quickly got the message and took his shirt off between breathless kisses. He started tugging at the buttons of Geralt's shirt while Geralt’s hands made themselves at home on every inch of skin they could find. He felt goosebumps form on Jaskier’s skin and used the distraction to start laying kisses on his neck, licking and sucking the skin and taking note of the softest noises Jaskier made. The tip of his fingers slid down the hairs of Jaskier’s chest as he nibbled the man’s collarbone, and found one of his nipples on the way. Geralt caressed it tentatively and felt the shiver that went through Jaskier’s whole body when he did. Jaskier’s fingers pulled abruptly at his shirt. 

“Oh god, take your goddamn shirt off, please!” The request was more of a thready gasp than an actual sentence. Geralt laughed at his enthusiasm and finished unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Is this okay?” Jaskier asked as he slid the shirt off Geralt’s shoulders. Geralt hummed approvingly and raised his arms when Jaskier grabbed his undershirt. They kept kissing until he felt Jaskier’s hands slowing down, tensing slightly against his chest until they were barely just touching him. He saw the look on Jaskier’s face when he parted from him and realised why he had stopped. Jaskier’s eyes were fixated on his torso, fingers hovering over one of his many scars. 

“I can put the shirt back on if you want,” he offered and Jaskier’s eyes jumped back to his face.

“What? No, darling, no,” he rushed and grabbed Geralt’s face kindly, kissing him again. “I was just surprised. Is this okay? Can I- can I touch you?”

“Yeah. Of course you can,” he kissed Jaskier softly. “They haven’t hurt in a long time.” 

“Can I ask- I know this isn’t the best of times but-" he bit his lip with hesitation. "Did someone do this to you?” 

“Not one person in particular,” Geralt shrugged it off.

“Geralt,” Jaskier’s brow furrowed. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he brushed his nose against Jaskier’s. “It’s in the past.” 

"Okay," Jaskier whispered and then, trying to lighten the mood he added, "was it, like, your secret service past?"

"I am not at liberty to say."

Jaskier snorted.

“Just tell me you’re not in a fight club.”

“In a what?” Geralt asked, frowning. 

“A fight club.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, seemingly clueless. 

“You know, a fi- oh, you ass!” Jaskier yelped, slapping him lightly on the pec and Geralt laughed, grabbing the back of Jaskier's thighs right below his bottom to make him slip even further into his lap.

“How would you like to take care of my ass?” 

Jaskier almost choked on his own breath and turned an even deeper shade of red.

"Are you- do you mean literally?"

"I'm not a blushing virgin, Jaskier,” Geralt said matter-of-factly. 

"I know, I just mean- well if you've never- I mean are you sure you want to? With me?"

It was a sensible question but Geralt didn't want to think about it for too long. Thinking would mean trying to make sense of things -feelings, desires. It would lead to labelling and wanting to belong and- he just hated words. Words had a tendency to make things real and unmovable. Actions were so, so much better.

"You're the one who knows what he's doing, here,” Geralt said. “I'd rather it be you doing the work."

"Uh," Jaskier said thoughtfully. He probably had a PhD in literature or something based on the improbable number of books and manuscripts lying around in his flat. Geralt had even seen a couple ones in the cereal cupboard which was apparently where Jaskier’s glasses went.

"Alright then. Just. Tell me if something is not working for you, alright?"

"I will. Now can we get back to business?"

"To defeat-"

"If you start singing right now I am getting out of here," he grabbed a handful of the musician’s ass.

"Oi!!" Jaskier complained in the fakest way possible. "Wait, hold on, does that mean you've seen Disney movies- what's your favourite one?"

Geralt raised yet another very serious eyebrow. 

"Do you often discuss topics that make people think about their kids when they're trying to bed you-"

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry," Jaskier laughed and hid his face in Geralt's neck, full of shame. "How much do you hate me right now?" he muffled.

"Hmm," Geralt pondered, slowly sliding his fingers up Jaskier's spine. "You should probably find a way to make me forget about it."

"Hmm," Jaskier imitated, kissing the side of Geralt's neck and slowly making his way up to the man’s ear. "What if I took your pants off?" he whispered.

"Could be a start," Geralt admitted. 

"What if we moved to my bed?"

"I was beginning to wonder if you had one of those."

"I can still fuck you over the kitchen counter if you're disappointed."

Geralt’s pupils dilated as he pictured himself bent over the piece of furniture, holding onto whatever he could while Jaskier pounded him restlessly. 

"Bed. Now." 

  -

  Geralt only got a quick look at the room (more books, more notebooks, cord instruments of all sorts and sizes) before Jaskier grabbed him by the belt and pushed him onto the bed. He followed quickly, straddling him and kissing him senseless until Geralt’s head hit the mattress. 

"Can I t-" Jaskier started and Geralt tried to sit up, cutting him off with a kiss. He reached for his own belt, planning on taking his trousers off before Jaskier pressed against his shoulders and made him lie down again. He slid his fingers between Geralt’s, caressing his knuckles softly. 

"Oh please, give me the honor."

Geralt almost growled with impatience and reached a hand out between Jaskier's legs, palming him through his jeans.

"Oh sweet Edith Eleanor Diana Poulton, you are not playing."

He got Geralt’s belt out of the way and undid his trousers. Geralt’s underwear followed halfway when Jaskier took the trousers off, leaving his ass bare on the sheets and the hem of his briefs so low on his hips it was practically at the base of his cock. He tried taking his briefs off entirely, feeling silly and oddly vulnerable being halfway undressed but Jaskier batted his hands off and kissed him again. He slid a hand through Geralt’s pubic hair and slowly, incredibly slowly, down, and after what felt like a thousand years, finally closed his hand around Geralt’s cock and pulled. 

Geralt pushed the back of his head into the mattress and closed his eyes as if he was at risk of losing sight if he left them open. Jaskier kissed him through the first moan of pleasure and quickly was all over him. Jaskier was kissing and licking and touching and stroking and Geralt was having quite a hard time trying to do much more than let his hand grab onto Jaskier’s hair and do his best not to sound too desperate. He was absolutely failing. 

“Is this good, darling?” Jaskier whispered, kissing his neck up to his jaw and softly biting the skin there as his hand kept stroking him. 

"Hmm," was all Geralt could manage and he felt Jaskier smile against his skin.

"Tell me?"

"Ah,” Geralt’s hands were moving somewhat erratically, trying to hold onto any part of Jaskier that would make him feel anchored and not as if he was going to lose his mind before he got the man’s socks off. “Yes."

"You're so good darling,” Jaskier’s kindness, Geralt vaguely decided, was fucking obscene. “You're doing so good."

Geralt felt himself blush, having no idea how any blood could flow to his face since he was pretty sure all of it was rushing to his dick. He wasn't going to last long at this rate.

"I want- I want to touch you too."

Jaskier let him open his jeans and moaned into his mouth when Geralt finally got his hand into his underwear. 

“Jaskier,” he warned and Jaskier slowed down the working of his own hands. 

“You alright, love?” he whispered, voice broken with pleasure. 

Instead of an answer, Geralt sat up and pulled Jaskier's trousers to get his point across. Jaskier took his hands off him - the loss was fucking unbearable - to finally get rid of all remaining items of clothing and pressed himself against Geralt again, his hand on his neck. Geralt immediately got his arms around his middle to cradle him closer. Jaskier rocked slightly against him, their cocks pressing against each other and Geralt couldn't help but get a hand on both of them.

"Show me?" he croaked hoarsely and silently prayed that Jaskier wouldn’t make him beg for it because he definitely would. Instead Jaskier joined their hands together and guided him, pressing on Geralt's fingers to make him hold his cock tighter, moaning when Geralt's wrist angled exactly how he liked it.

"Oh god, yes. You're so good to me, love," he moaned. 

It felt like forever and it felt like a blink. They rocked and they kissed and they moaned and Jaskier kept breathing sweet nonsense into his neck, praises into his ear, about how good he was and how good he felt and how well Jaskier would take care of him and how much he wanted to make him moan through the night but in the end, what got him over the edge was Jaskier digging his fingers onto the soft flesh of his ass, sliding in to brush against Geralt’s hole, and absolutely, definitely had nothing to do with Jaskier crying out, “Oh love, you’re beautiful!”

Geralt lost a few seconds or maybe a minute or five over which Jaskier had apparently come all over his stomach too. Jaskier was catching his breath, lying with his forehead against Geralt’s chest, trying his best not to lay all his weight over him. Geralt found the back of Jaskier’s neck, his fingers going up through his hair and drawing a comfortable groan from him. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pushing on his arm to lie a few centimeters away, his head propped over Geralt’s shoulder, their legs still intertwined together. Jaskier’s arm stretched over Geralt’s middle and the tingly waves of left-over pleasure washed over them both with every breath, content tiredness slowly taking over. 

A few minutes later Geralt extracted himself from Jaskier’s grasp, not without some difficulty, and convinced himself to clean up. Washing his hands in front of the bathroom mirror, Geralt looked back at Jaskier’s face hovering over his shoulder as Jaskier pressed his chest against his back. Eyes closed, Jaskier asked: “D’you want to stay?”

Vaguely wondering about the last time he felt as comfortable as this with someone and then pushing the thought away, Geralt’s eyes lowered, looking at Jaskier’s arms settled around his body. 

He felt Jaskier’s lips move into a loopy smile against his skin when he answered:

“Hmm.”

[goulets]

Heartland

Chapter: 2/8 Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson Additional Characters: Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Barbara Gordon, Alfred Pennyworth Rating: T (for now) Case Fic/Kid Fic a03 link

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake the baby, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

(jason)

The first suggestion is that Jason move back into his old room, just down the hall from Bruce's which is met with an unequivocal not on your fucking life, Bruce.

“Let's get one thing clear: I am not 'moving back in',” Jason hisses, glaring around at all of them. He's whispering so as not to wake Danielle, and it doesn't come off quite as intimidating as he'd like. “I just need a bed to sleep in, that's it. Don't do me any fucking favors.”

Dick says, “There's an empty bedroom next to mine, it's not that big, and the bathroom is shared, but – ”

“Sold,” Jason says, and again, the infant sleeping in his arms makes a good old-fashioned broody storm-off kind of impractical.

“Okay,” Dick nods. “I'll, um, just show you then.” Bruce looks impassive, and Tim looks like he doesn't quite know what to do with himself, as Dick walks past Jason and Jason follows him up the steps to the main part of the mansion.

Jason doesn't like following behind Dick. It's partly the principle of the thing, because he literally had to die and rise from the grave to get out of Dick's shadow, and even then, it's a matter of distance, and little more. He's far enough off the path of righteousness that the light that shines like a beacon onto Dick doesn't even touch him. So it feels like old news, a habit he grew out of long ago, walking behind Dick, tracing his footfalls, but it's so familiar he half expects to see those stupid fucking pixie boots on his feet when he looks down.

Then there's the other familiar part, the part he’s been struggling not to acknowledge, the awareness that’s been growing in the back of his mind since he set up camp in Gotham. Simply put, Dick is hot. His ass in spandex was the source of way too many semis popped Jason's stupid, flimsy little Robin shorts, and his ass in faded pajama pants is nothing short of miraculous either. But it's not just his body, although Jason wishes it was, not just the shape of his ass and the curve of his spine and the span of his shoulders – Dick is beautiful. He's elegant when he moves, when he laughs, when he's angry, when he's worried, when he's a fucking mess. It's impossible not to look at him, the attention he commands is probably partly due to the fact that he was raised a performer, and partly because that's just Dick.

Jason knows he's one in a long, heavily annotated list of people to fantasize about Dick Grayson. It used to keep him up at night when he was a kid, and not just in that way. There hadn't been a lot of tolerance in the streets for homosexuality – sure, it existed, Jason'd even been on the receiving end once or twice in the unlucky parts of his youth – but you didn't talk about it. So he'd suppressed it, save for those late night visits from his hand in the dark, and then he'd died. Been sprung from the grave, grew up a little, and came back to find that, surprise surprise, the world had grown up a little bit too, and not entirely for the worse. And since then, he's had encounters with men, women, couple aliens, and all that is whatever. This thing with Dick doesn't bother him on account of Dick, well, having a dick. Not anymore.

No, it bothers him because it's Dick fucking Grayson. Golden Boy, Boy Wonder, or as Jason likes to refer to him, Stupid Fucking Bastard With Stupid Fucking Sticks Who Just Won't Fucking Quit. Out of all of them, Dick's the most unchanged. Bruce is hardened, less trusting; Tim is broken; Jason is – whatever the fuck he is, beyond all hope, maybe; but Dick's never lost the spring in his step. Jason thinks he'll probably backflip right into death with a smile on his face, and he won't come back, because Dick is too damn good to be reanimated like some freakish perversion of nature. Jason calls Tim “Replacement” because it's true, Jason was replaceable, but Dick never was. Not that Jason had ever wanted to be his replacement – he hardly knows what he wanted to be to Dick then, even less what he wants to be to Dick now, but it sure as hell isn't some bullshit co-parenting gig with the whole family breathing down his neck.

Of all the fucking days he had to drag his ass down here to gossip.

Dick says, “So, this is it,” and Jason realizes they're outside his new room. The room he's staying in. The room the baby is staying in. That's all it is.

It's not small at all, of course, and the bathroom he's sharing with Dick is also not small, with a stand-up shower and a jacuzzi sized tub, because that's necessary, two sinks, and a ridiculous amount of storage space. He doesn't look at Dick's room, just takes in the furnishings of his own, a queen bed with slate-grey sheets, closet, dresser, desk, bookshelves with a good number of books already on them, and a little windowseat that for some reason makes the back of his throat feel itchy to look at.

Danielle makes a small noise in his arms, and something occurs to him. “Um, where's she supposed to sleep?” He's not an expert, but he's pretty sure babies need cradles – actually, and a lot of other shit, like diaper cream, special baby soap, pacifiers, those sling contraptions he sees people walking around with, and probably a billion other things he has no freaking clue about.

Dick says, “Huh. Good question.”

Helpful, Jason thinks. She can't sleep with him, can she? What if he rolls on top of her? What if she rolls off the bed? What if he has a nightmare and pummels her to death in his sleep? The thought makes him want to be sick, what is he thinking, trying to be some kind of fucking caregiver –

“Jason? You okay?”

Jason blinks. It dawns on him that he's been frozen in place for several seconds now, mind overloaded with the sheer volume of information he doesn't know, endless blank pages supplemented by a thoroughly sourced index of his fears. It's not like he planned for this – ever – he's pretty sure parental ineptitude runs in the family, because his mom sure as fuck never read What to Expect When You're Expecting.

He says, “Doesn't she need some kind of special baby doctor?”

Dick nods. “Bruce'll have Leslie come by and look at her soon. According to the hospital records, she missed her three-month check-in, so.”

“Dick.” Jason tries, and fails, probably, to keep the overwhelming helplessness he's feeling out of his voice. “What the fuck, man – this is crazy. I can't – I don't – where is she supposed to sleep?”

“I can answer that,” comes Alfred's clipped tone from the doorway. Jason turns to see the older man hauling an enormous, tall box into the room.

Jason says, “The hell?” at the same time that Dick rushes forward and says, “Here, let me help you,” and that about sums it up, he thinks.

“Her sleeping quarters,” Alfred says. He and Dick lay the box down, and Jason feels his stomach churn unpleasantly at the picture on the front of a smiling, drooling blonde-haired baby standing in a white wooden crib, fat little fists wrapped around the railing.

“You work fast, Alfie,” Dick comments, hauling another box into the room. This one says Changing Table on the side, and then Alfred pushes a rocking chair in, and Jason will be damned if it isn’t a whole fucking matching baby bedroom set.

“Where the hell did you even get this?” he asks, incredulous. He’s been at the manor two hours tops, hardly enough time for even Alfred to go out shopping for an entire room’s worth of furniture.

“Same-day delivery,” Alfred says smoothly. “I find that being a frequent, loyal customer expedites the process somewhat.”

“You don’t fucking say,” Jason mutters under his breath. Dick is now bringing in box after box of diapers, six huge shopping bags full of baby crap Jason would rather do just about anything than sort through, and some disassembled swing-looking contraption that promises “15 soothing melodies and nature sounds”. The room, suddenly, doesn’t seem so big anymore.

“Hmm,” Dick frowns, looking around. He must be noticing the same thing as Jason. “Honestly, I don’t see all this fitting in here. Alfie, what do you think?”

“You have the adjoining room, do you not, Master Richard?” Alfred replies. He surveys their haul, looking satisfied. Jason feels a tiny bit like he’s going to have a nervous breakdown, which is more or less where he’s been since Danielle was placed in his arms to begin with.

He’d been deadly serious when he’d told Bruce that he’d take her and protect her, but true to half-cocked form, he hadn’t even begun to parse out what that meant. Now that he’s standing in a room that looks like a Babies R’ Us blew up in it, with a human being the size of a loaf of bread snoozing and twitching in his arms, he doesn’t know what he could have possibly been thinking. What Bruce could possibly have been thinking, letting him walk away with her.

Well. Actually, Jason thinks, that about tracks for Bruce’s idea of fatherhood. In Jason’s experience, anyways.

“We’ll put the crib here, I think,” Dick says, leaning the box against the wall opposite the bed. “Changing table can go next to it, and I guess put the rocking chair in the other corner? Bottle stuff should go in the bathroom, and, hmm…” he trails off. “Yeah, we’ll just put the swing in my room. Don’t worry about it, Alfie, I’ll take care of it. You’ve done more than enough, seriously.”

“I’ll leave it to you boys, then,” Alfred says, picking up some of the discarded shopping bags and tucking them under his arm. He gives Jason a long look, like there’s something he wants to say, but seems to think better of it. Jason doesn’t know whether or not to be disappointed.

The silence that falls once Alfred leaves is awkward, bordering on oppressive. Dick doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps opening boxes and stuffing things in drawers and putting on a show of looking like he knows exactly what he’s doing. Jason knows better - can see how haphazardly he’s putting things away, how he’s moving around just to avoid being still. It’s a relief, in a way, to know that he’s not the only one completely out of his depth.

Still, he can’t deny Dick is being about a billion times more useful than him. What else is new.

“I’m just gonna stick this in the closet,” Dick says about a box containing a carseat. “We’ll figure it out later.”

Jason frowns. His car right now is a piece of crap Volvo that certainly shouldn't be hauling around anything as fragile as a baby. Not like he can take her on the bike, either. If they have to make a quick getaway, he’s looking at one-handed free running, or getting some new wheels posthaste.

Danielle grunts and yawns, stretching her tiny hands up and clawing at the material of his jacket. He pats her back, and she settles back into the crook of his arm. It tears at him, a little, watching her burrow into the leather, mouth occasionally opening and sucking, leaving little damp spots in her wake. She’s warm as hell now, practically a furnace, and he frankly wishes he had taken the damn jacket off before she got all comfortable, but he’d rather eat his own gun than put her down. It’s shocking to realize, but he wants her to be closer, wants to hold her right against his skin, against his heartbeat. He’s never felt this way about anything before, about anyone.

He clears his throat. “You seem bizarrely familiar with all this crap,” he says to Dick. “How do you - I mean, I don’t even have a clue what that thing is,” he gestures to the piece of fabric Dick is holding. It looks like the world’s longest scarf.

“It’s a wrap,” Dick says. “It’s for holding the baby. Or ‘wearing’, I think they call it. It’s nice for keeping your hands free. Roy had one for Lian, but it had a lot more buckles than this.”

Jason blinks. Roy, of course. Roy’s told him how much Dick has helped him out when he got full custody of Lian, back when she was still a baby. No wonder Dick is able to snap into action so easily. Jason’s spent a little time around Roy’s daughter, but she’s usually with her grandparents when they get together. For the best, since most of his team-ups with Roy have ended in shootouts and/or catastrophic explosions.

Just another reason he has absolutely no fucking business being anywhere near an infant.

“Hey,” Tim says from the doorway. “Um, here’s this pillow thing.” He holds out a box labeled Infant Lounger, and Jason is officially calling bullshit, there’s absolutely no way babies need this many goddamn surfaces to simply exist upon when, as far as he can tell from his one hour of baby experience, there’s no chance you’d ever want to put one down anyways. It’s all just one big racket - except for the diapers, probably.

“Thanks, Tim,” Dick sighs, opening the box and pulling out the lounger. It’s covered in a cutesy little whale pattern. “Well, that’s adorable, isn’t it?”

Tim looks skeptical. “If you say so.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You didn’t come up here just to deliver a whale pillow, Replacement.” Dick shoots him a reproachful look, but screw him. “What’d you find out?”

Tim, to his credit, looks relieved to have an excuse to get to the real reason he’s there. “Well, we can officially rule out anyone from Intergang as a suspect. Their whole operation is a bust now. Word is Mannheim is pulling all the survivors out and regrouping, probably off-world.” He nods to Jason. “We’ve ruled the League of Assassins out, too.”

“So, who does that leave?” Dick asks. “Locals? Who are the major players in the East End?”

“There aren’t any,” Tim says. “The whole neighborhood’s been a power vacuum since...well.”

“Since me,” Jason snorts.

“It’s all small-time gangs, nobody with the firepower or the logistic capability to pull something like this off,” Tim goes on. “Which means we’re either looking at somebody new, or there’s a major territory grab that we somehow haven’t caught wind of.”

“Who patrols the East End now, anyways?” Jason asks.

“Nobody, unless Barbara sends the Birds out there. Used to be you,” Tim says mildly.

Jason works his jaw. “Last I checked, your boss is the one who wanted me out of there.”

“Last I checked, you didn’t take orders from him,” Tim replies, voice cool and even. Jason suddenly understands what an infant lounger is for - it’s a safe resting spot to hold your baby when you need both hands to throttle your aggravating family members.

“Oh, knock it off, both of you,” Dick says irritably. “Tim, are you running down leads for this?”

“I guess so,” Tim shrugs. “I was here on the Intergang expansion in the first place. Bruce and I are going to check out the bodies later this evening, get ballistics reports and see what else we can find. The paperwork is coming in pretty slow on the law enforcement side of things.”

Jason twists his mouth in disgust. “GCPD, dragging their heels? Shocking.”

“Pretty much,” Tim affirms. “They’re just happy the Intergang faction’s dealt with. I don’t think they want to look into it too closely.”

Even with a baby on the hit list, Jason thinks bitterly. It’s enough to make a person want to pick up and move altogether.

Danielle moves suddenly in his arms, stretching her tiny body and kicking one leg out against his ribs. She whines, twisting her head away, and when she turns back to look at him, her brown eyes are wide and watery.

“Shit,” he murmurs. “Dick, help. She doesn’t look happy to see me.”

Dick appears at his shoulder. Danielle whines again, flailing her limbs against Jason’s chest.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Dick coos, right in Jason’s ear. Oh, sweet Jesus, Jason did not think this one through at all. He feels his face flush, and has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Dick to back the fuck up.

“Look at you,” Dick goes on, oblivious. “You’re awake now, huh? You need some attention, sweetie?” His breath is warm against Jason’s neck. Jason is going to crawl out of his skin.

Danielle’s eyes flicker towards the sound of Dick’s voice. She grunts, then turns abruptly and mouths at Jason’s armpit. Jason feels like his heart is gonna jump out of his goddamn throat. It’s been - God, he doesn’t even know, months? The better part of a year? - since he was this close to another person without his helmet on. His brain is screaming at him, escape, fight, neutralize, but even louder, there’s a piece of him overriding everything, a fist deep in his chest clenched around something he thought he’d left back in the Pit.

Danielle whines louder, kicking, and the fist clenches tighter.

“I don’t - ” he starts to say. His voice comes out breathy and ragged, he stops. Swallows. Get a grip, for fuck’s sake. “Maybe you should take her, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m doing.”

“Just rock her,” Dick suggests. His arm comes around to Jason’s elbow, and now Jason can’t help it, he jerks away violently. The little body in his arms goes stock still for a moment, hiccups, and then the sound of wailing fills the room.

Jason swears. “I’m sorry,” he tells her, like that means a damn thing to a baby. “Shit, I’m really sorry, Danielle.” He holds her upright against his shoulder, rubbing her back like he’s seen Roy do with Lian when she’s upset. “I’m an asshole, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She hiccups again, and makes a displeased noise that sounds vaguely chastising. Fair enough, he deserves it. Anything is better than crying.

Dick is looking at him, overbright, and Jason averts his eyes. Briefly, he makes eye contact with Tim, who looks incredibly uncomfortable. Good.

“I think we’ll leave the morgue investigation to you guys,” Dick says to Tim. He seems to have realized he overstepped. “There’s a lot to do here, and I still have my regular patrol. I’m guessing you’re going to the docks this evening,” he addresses Jason.

“I want to, but.” Jason rocks Danielle pointedly. “Kinda got my hands full here.”

“You don’t think we can leave her for a few hours?”

“What the fuck, no,” Jason says, incredulous. “Even if she wasn’t being targeted by some psycho, you can’t just leave a baby, what’s wrong with you.”

“Even I knew that,” Tim says, obnoxiously.

“She wouldn’t be alone, jeez,” Dick protests. “Alfred is here.”

“I’m protecting her,” Jason reminds him darkly. “Alfred has enough shit on his plate.”

“Okay,” Dick says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “She’s pretty attached to you anyways, so you’re right, it’s probably best if we do that.”

Jason isn’t sure whether or not he’s being patronized, but flips Dick the bird just to be safe. Dick pretends not to notice.

“Drake, your input is being requested in the Cave,” Damian announces from the doorway. Christ, it’s a whole fucking family reunion, and he can’t escape. “Personally, I hadn’t even noticed your absence.”

Tim’s expression goes from vaguely aggrieved to fully constipated, which soothes some of Jason’s irritation. Bruce’s demon spawn is a complete and utter terror, but he’s so like his mother that Jason can’t help liking him. He’s not stupid enough to look down on him in a fight - he heard secondhand what Robin did to Victor Zsasz - but his heart’s just not in it when he spars with Damian. So sue him, he’s got a soft spot for kids, no matter how lethal they are.

“Keep me updated,” Jason says to Tim.

Tim nods, one hand on the doorframe as he exits. “Will do. Sure you don’t want to come along? Autopsy is daytime work.”

Jason grimaces. “Been there, done that. You guys can poke at dead people, I prefer to get my answers from ones that are breathing.”

Damian scoffs audibly. “Breathing until you finish with them, you mean?”

Jason ignores him. He turns his attention back to Danielle, who is starting to mouth at the collar of his jacket more aggressively. Shit, he probably shouldn’t let her do that. This jacket isn’t too old, at least, but he’s smoked his way through a dozen packs of cigarettes in it already, not to mention all the bad guy spatter it’s probably absorbed. Surface cleaners can only do so much.

“Perhaps you’d like to offer her this,” Damian says imperiously, holding out a bottle. “You know, children her age require feeding every three to four hours.”

“...Thanks,” Jason says, suspicious. He doesn’t think Damian would attack him when he’s holding a baby, but he looks like he’s considering it. Warily, he takes the bottle. It’s warm. “Did you make it?”

“It’s infant formula,” Damian replies bitingly. “It requires no scientific mastery.”

Alfred made it, then. Jason exchanges a look with Dick, who quirks an eyebrow almost imperceptibly.

“You don’t need to stay, Damian,” Dick says. “I’m just gonna be putting together furniture. You probably have homework to do, right?”

Damian looks affronted. “My studies aren’t so taxing, Grayson. What furniture?”

“Baby furniture, for Danielle. Nothing you need to worry about.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “You’re dismissing me because you want me to argue, so that I’ll stay and help you.”

Dick is the picture of innocence. “I really don’t need help. I assembled all the furniture in my apartment, I know what I’m doing.”

“I also know what you’re doing.” Damian walks to the box holding the crib pieces, hands on his hips. “A simpleton could do this.”

“They make it pretty user friendly.”

“I’ll get my tools.”

Dick looks quite pleased with himself as Damian rushes off. Jason can’t help but laugh.

“Nice,” he says, shaking his head at Dick’s impish grin. “Hold her for a second, I’m gonna take my jacket off.”

Danielle whines more insistently when he passes her to Dick, and doesn’t stop when he takes her back. He cradles her upright in one arm, bouncing her a little to keep her distracted, and touches the nipple of the bottle to her mouth. She latches on eagerly, and he tries and fails not to smile at her enthusiasm, the delighted kicking of her legs as she eats, her eyes trained on his face like laser beams. He feels - full, almost, like a balloon in his chest is slowly filling up, a window he’d nailed and soldered shut is being pried open again.

There are holes in Jason’s memory, things the Pit couldn’t restore, fragments of his life that were beaten out of him, or left in the ground, or atrophied and rotted away during his lost year after waking up. When he first came back to Gotham, he’d filled all those empty spaces with rage and spite, but he’d burned through it all in a few months and found there wasn’t enough left over to keep filling them, to stop him from noticing the edges of remembering in his mind, the sensation of familiarity that would abruptly fade into nothing. He’s learned to navigate around them, but there’s never been a moment that he hasn’t known they are there. They’re a constant reminder that he died Jason Todd and came back Almost Jason Todd, the same person but without all the pieces.

The feeling he has, feeding Danielle - the warm smell of her, the force of her gaze, so human and yet so alien, the clutch-and-pull of her small hands against the fabric of his shirt and the scarred skin of his hand - it’s like she’s reached right into the center of him and dragged forth the memory of being whole. He isn’t, he won’t ever be, but he can remember it, and it absolutely takes his breath away.

“You good?” Dick asks, softly.

Jason swallows. “Uh-huh,” he manages. It’s a damn good question. Jason isn’t frequently good, he’s often satisfied, often pissed off, often (less often, now) steeped so deep in madness he’s out of his mind. This is something else, he thinks. Something close to shattered, but it’s also close to good, because even though he’s in a thousand goddam pieces, the pieces, for once, are all there.

“Wow, Jay,” Dick murmurs. “You’ve really got a way with her, you know.”

Jason waits to answer until he’s sure his voice won’t betray how shaken apart he is. “She just doesn’t know any better yet,” he says. “Probably at this stage, it’s all the same to them.”

“She didn’t eat this well for me,” Dick says, and Jason can’t tear his eyes away from Danielle to look, but he can hear Dick smiling. “Face it, Jaybird, she chose you.”

“Shut up,” Jason replies, but it’s so subdued it’s practically a whisper. He can’t even deny it - she did choose him, and even if he can’t fathom why, even if it terrifies him, he can feel it all the way down to his bones. He’ll do anything for this little girl. Shit, she’s already got him shacking up in the last place he’d ever want to be. She’s got him thinking about sensible family cars, for Christ’s sake. He hasn’t even known her a full day, but she chose him, and he knows he’d die for her as instinctively as breathing.

“This had better not take long,” Damian says, reentering the room with his toolbox in hand. “I have training to finish.”

Dick laughs, but it’s a little off, somehow. Jason still doesn’t look - if he had to guess, he would say that Damian managed to surprise Dick, but that doesn’t seem very likely.

“Sure thing, Dami. The changing table is probably the easiest, if you have things to do.” Whatever Jason thought he heard, it’s not there anymore. Dick’s voice is back to being smooth and casual, pointedly so, which probably means Damian’s about to -

“In other words, you want me to assemble the crib,” Damian says flatly.

“Pretty sure I said changing table,” Dick repeats, exasperated.

“Enough with your mind games Grayson. They aren’t subtle, you’re embarrassing yourself. I’ll assemble the crib, since you seem to think it’s too challenging for you.”

“If that’s what you want,” Dick says evenly. Jason finally catches his eye, and he winks. “I’ll start working on the changing table - the way she’s eating, we’re gonna need it soon.”

Anxiety flits across Damian’s face, and he scowls hard at Jason a split second later. Jason shrugs one shoulder at him peaceably. He’d be lying if he said he had no reservations about changing diapers either, but hell, he signed up for this, didn’t he? People even more dysfunctional than him must have figured it out over the years. And considering his extracurricular activities, he can hardly be getting squeamish over a little baby poop.

Danielle, having paused her eating to look around, makes a short fussing sound and then latches onto the bottle again. Jason adjusts his hold and brings her up a little higher. She curls into him automatically, the fingers of her little hand splaying against his shirt, right over the intersection of scar tissue fanning across his chest. He’s never let anyone touch him there before. It doesn’t feel….bad. At all.

It feels like waking up after a long, disorienting dream. Like climbing down a mountain and taking the first breath of oxygen-rich air.

It feels like being home.

***

(tim)

“Here’s what we know,” Bruce says, pulling up the footage from Oracle. “One month ago, Cy Reynolds and a couple dozen henchmen took over the Eastern port for Intergang. They demo’d the warehouses the Dragons were operating out of, and the old Falcone hotel. They brought in tech, weapons, and what appears to be equipment from Apokolips to construct a boom tube.”

“Just what we need,” Tim mutters.

“Two days ago, Cy Reynolds, his wife, and their adult son all turned up dead. Each was shot twice in the head, execution style. Oracle, any update on ballistics?”

“Negative,” Barbara’s voice comes through the computer speakers. “Forensics are taking their sweet time.”

“We have sixteen other bodies, identified as Reynolds’ second tier of command within Intergang and their respective families.” Bruce pauses. “This includes three children. A fourth was targeted, identified as the child of Mitchell Howard and Linda Torres, but she somehow survived.”

“And made it all the way to St. Aden’s in Coventry,” Tim finishes. “Records say Torres lived on the edge of Little Italy.”

“Has your group seen any signs of new groups operating on the East End?” Bruce asks. “There’s a short list of suspects who could have pulled this off in two days.”

“If there are, they’re way underground,” Barbara says. “You can rule out the Golden Dragons, most of the ones left in that area joined up with Intergang. They’re focused on turf wars in Chinatown, they wouldn’t bother defending the Eastern port.”

“That fits with our intel,” Tim says, trying not to sound annoyed. This started as his op, and he’d ruled out the Dragons from the very beginning. Bruce’d had barely a passing interest until Jason got involved, and now Tim has been demoted to pinch-hitter on his own case. He’ll deal, but after the year he’s had, it’s a little hard not to take it personally.

“The killers’ modus operandi ranges from shooting to stabbing, which suggests human suspects,” Bruce says. “Targeting families suggests the mob.”

“The Falcones used to control the whole east side,” Tim says thoughtfully. He’s surprised it never occurred to him. He’d been so focused on new territory feuds, he hadn’t stopped to think that it might be an old territory feud. Maybe he deserves to be a pinch-hitter. “Any chance they’re making a comeback?”

There’s a flurry of typing on Barbara’s end. “Funny you should mention them. We had five bodies from the Falcone family turn up over the past six months. Some of these could be accidental, but I tagged it as suspicious after the third one.”

“So, a rival family,” Tim says, slowly. He racks his brain for a list of crime families in Gotham’s history. Who’d even bother going after the Falcones these days? They haven’t been truly active in Gotham for over two decades, but, Tim supposes, some rivalries never die. “The Maronis are locked up….maybe the Odessa Mob? Could they be making moves?”

“Nightwing would know if they were expanding past Bludhaven,” Bruce says. Fair enough. Wouldn’t make sense for the Russians to stage a hostile takeover when they’re barely holding ground across the harbor, anyways. “Who are the victims from the Falcones?”

“That’s the weird part. They were all straight, as far as I can tell. One shoe store manager, two housewives, a scuba instructor, a graduate student, and an entrepreneur. Barely a drug charge between them.”

“Could they be unrelated?” Tim asks, glancing through the reports..

“No,” Bruce says decisively. “It’s too much of a coincidence. These murders are all connected.”

“I agree,” Barbara says. “Based on proximity alone, but combined with the destruction of the old hotel, it’s all adding up to something.”

Tim doesn’t argue. They’re right - if there’s one thing he’s learned, it’s that coincidences are never just that in Gotham. The connection is there, they just need to find it.

“That hotel was Carmine Falcone’s crown jewel, back when he was in power,” Bruce says. “If the Falcone family is behind this, they could have been retaliating.”

“That’s a hell of a lot of bodies to drop just in retaliation,” Tim says doubtfully. “And to what end? If it is them, it has to be more than that.”

Barbara puts new footage on their screen. “Here’s what I pulled from last night’s traffic cams. Looks like the person who killed the baby’s parents is the same one who dropped her at the orphanage.”

Tim studies the grainy figure on the screen. They’re wearing a hood and limping slightly, but from the approximate size and shape, they appear to be -

“A female assailant,” Bruce says. “Not a pro. This person couldn’t have taken down a man like Reynolds.”

Tim stretches his arms over his head. “So, multiple killers.”

“Fits the mob angle. Give me an hour or two, and I’ll have an ID,” Barbara says. “Oracle out.”

Tim watches Bruce pull stills from the footage and run them against his video backlogs. On a separate screen, he watches Colin draw baby Danielle out of the Safe Surrender box, look around at the camera, and then hurry out of view.

“Red Robin, what exactly is going on over there?” Barbara asks quietly over the comm in his ear. She must have opened a private channel, because Bruce doesn’t show any indication he’s hearing her too.

“I’m gonna hit the training mat,” he says to Bruce. He gets no acknowledgement, which is more or less what he’s learned to expect.

“It’s been kind of a shitshow here,” he replies, once he’s out of earshot of Bruce. “What have you heard?”

“That Robin brought home a baby, and Red Hood adopted it, and now he’s moving back in to take care of it.”

“You’re pretty much caught up, then,” he says, stifling a laugh. “And Nightwing is helping, which is even weirder.”

“No shit,” she muses. “He’s helping Red Hood?”

“I guess? I was just with them, they’re kind of getting along, actually.”

“They had a decent rapport going when Nightwing took over as Big B,” Barbara says. “Robin wasn’t crazy about it. I think he wanted N all to himself.”

Tim considers this. “I always thought Robin didn’t like Hood because of his methods.”

“I’m not about to psychoanalyze Robin on a line I know he could hack if he wanted to,” Barbara says dryly. “But I’m sure that’s part of it. Hang on, B is lighting up the family line.”

Tim switches over. Bruce says, “We’re going to have to make some adjustments to patrols, while Danielle is in our care.”

“Black Bat and Batgirl are still in Florida,” Barbara says. “They should be wrapping up their case in the next day or two. I’ll put them on the South End when they get back.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “Signal should also be back in Gotham by then. Red Robin, you’ll need to put activities with the Titans on hold. I’ll have you covering the Northeast corner, including Crime Alley and the Bowery.”

“That’s my turf,” Jason snarls over the comm. “You can’t just go giving away my patrol. I gave you the East End, and look how that fucking turned out.”

“I wasn’t finished. Red Robin will cover those areas when Red Hood is otherwise occupied.”

Tim closes his eyes for a long second. Great. Now Jason will be gunning for him, again.

“Nightwing, your coverage of Bludhaven is non-negotiable. Robin will join you, temporarily, and fill in for you on the nights you need to be absent.”

“Really?” Dick sounds pleased. “Hey, Robin, did you hear that?”

“Of course I did,” Damian says. “Father, I accept this assignment.”

Unfair, Tim thinks, petulantly. He thinks Barbara’s probably right about Damian wanting Dick all to himself, but they all want Dick all to themselves. It’s complete bullshit that Jason and Damian, by far the least deserving, are the ones getting him.

“Oracle, we’ll need the Birds to fill in the gaps.”

Tim can almost hear Barbara rolling her eyes. “That’s what we’ve been doing, Batman. I’ll ask Huntress to keep her eyes on the Narrows. I’ve already got half my monitors dialed in to the East End. If anything happens there, I’ll be first to know.”

“Good,” Bruce says. “We’ll debrief again after tonight.”

There’s a long pause, and then Jason says, “Replace - Red Robin, we better talk if you’re taking my patrol tonight.”

Tim swallows. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask B to assign me.”

“No shit you didn’t. No one in their right mind would. No idea why he’s gone off the fucking deep end about this, like we haven’t dealt with way worse.” Jason sounds aggrieved. Tim can hear baby squealing noises in the background.

“Twenty bodies in one weekend isn’t nothing,” Barbara says. “This only happened because we were lax on patrol. No one was covering that area while Red Robin was gone.”

“I had informants on the ground,” Tim protests. “We were in touch.”

“It’s not your fault, Red,” Dick says immediately. “Oracle didn’t mean that. We should have been covering. It’s our bad, not yours.”

“I could have been covering,” Jason grumbles.

“Last time there were this many dead gangsters on the docks, you were covering.”

“Oh, fuck you, Boy Wonder.”

“Boys,” Oracle says, none too pleasantly. “I’m muting the family line now, so you’ll have to bicker like schoolgirls in person. Oracle out.”

Well, if he’s on the training mat anyways, he might as well get a workout in. Tim grabs his bo staff and scrolls through the training menus on his phone until he finds one that’ll thoroughly kick his ass. It’s stressful, having this many people in the manor. Tim doesn’t have a single clue how to act around a baby, much less how to act around Jason Todd with a baby.

Conner will find this hilarious, he thinks, whenever he gets back to Earth. Not the murders, obviously, but he’s always taken particular delight in Tim’s family drama. He’ll have to tell him about it next time they see each other - if they ever see each other - if Conner is even talking to him -

Tim shakes his head roughly. He’s been doing so well at not thinking about Conner, and truth be told, a hiatus from the Titans will probably do him a world of good on that front. He can’t take any more of Bart’s overcompensating, or Gar and Cassie’s whispering when they think he isn’t paying attention. At least when Bruce and Damian second-guess him, it’s not because they think he’s heartbroken, or whatever.

Because he’s not.

Probably.

The program starts, and then immediately ends when Tim takes a holographic missile to the chest. Crap. He hits the restart button, pushes everything else out of his mind. Dealing with his encyclopedia of dysfunctional relationships can wait. This, at least, he knows how to do.

***

[wickedlehane]

@tall-dark-n-broody

Not the first time she’d made a run for it, ass half-beaten. Faith seemed to have a habit of ending up in trouble, even where she wasn’t looking for it. Hell, prison had been the safest place for the reforming murderess until it really wasn’t. It started slow at first- a yard fight with a glamored demon, a vampire sneaking in on the night shift. Someone giving a few other prisoners ritual knives with which to strike at the Slayer. And the guards weren’t doing shit about it- if Faith didn’t step up, she was going to end up another sad statistic about women’s correctional facility fatalities.

Faith knew since Day 1 that she could break out any time she wanted, and there was little they could do to hold her back. But like she’d said to Angel, she really did want to make a reform. To walk that road to redemption- it just seemed the forces of darkness had other plans. And after the second attempt on her life, Faith coldly realized that she held the Slayer legacy still- no wonder someone wanted her dead. Well, wasn’t it more selfless of her to protect that power from abuse, even at the expense of her otherwise overall standing in society? Plus, it’d be better to protect the other inmates, she told herself.

They’d never understand the Slayer thing. This was for the best, really.

She’d be the first to tell you it sure as hell wasn’t easy being a wanted fugitive six hours north of your nearest contact with the outside world- but Faith managed to scrape by, just long enough to end up at Angel’s place in LA. He came to visit frequently enough, gave the girl regular updates. She knew he was around, and he’d never turn her down if she came needing help.

Right?

“Angel, open up,” she said, banging at his door. It was the dead of night, so surely the vamp was awake. Probably not expecting company, and Faith checked over her shoulder to make sure no creepy crawlies had followed her this far- she was fighting freaks and dodging law enforcement the whole way from Stockton. “It’s... I really need’ya help.”

[rheawritessometimes]

Ooh matchups!! I am here lol 👀

May I get a romantic matchup w one of the adult male characters?

Personality:

I come off as very friendly and sociable bc I'm too socially awkward to gracefully turn down a chat lmao. Don't get me wrong I do like talking with people but bc I'm too anxious to interrupt people when I have my own thoughts I often end up listening to the other person go on and on and it feels like they're just talking at me :/ I would very much appreciate someone who realizes this and actually pauses to ask for my opinion to make me feel included in the conversation

On the other hand, if the other person is willing to listen, I will ramble for hours about my own interests (and also go on like five tangents before I inevitably lose my original point lmao). I'm a biologist so point out any living thing to me and I'd probably have several fun facts ready to share

I almost always have a smile on my face when I'm out in public or anywhere I'd see another person. I just really don't want to come across as rude so I smile at everybody lol

This unfortunately has the side effect of making me hide my negative feelings from my friends. It's not that I'm actively trying to — if they caught me in the moment I'd at least be honest about my feelings — but I tend to push all the negativity to the back of my mind whenever I'm out with friends and only really address it when I'm alone at night. I also have a hard time showing any sort of weakness to anyone, despite my philosophy of "always talk to your friends about your problems." It's just that I'm supposed to be the one who has it together, so I feel like I have no one to go to when I need help. I'm trying to change this habit but it's been difficult lol

Likes/Dislikes:

Communication is so important to me. As someone who's very nonconfrontational I try to do all I can to avoid an argument. And honestly, being honest with each other will solve like 99% of the misunderstandings that people regularly have anyway

I love pretty much all creatures (tho my favorites are cats and also dragons even though they're not real) prob bc as a biologist, I have an appreciation for all living things and the roles they play in the world. I'm the type of person to trap the spider and bring it outside. These little critters are just trying to live like the rest of us!!

As for dislikes, I'm not a fan of jealousy in a partner. I guess some people find it hot when your s/o gets possessive of you but I'd rather just trust my partner and have them trust me? And when you do feel jealous like,, talk to your partner about what's making you uncomfortable?? Idk maybe it's just me lol

Hobbies:

I love drawing, writing, and piano!

I also love learning new things. Idk if it's really a hobby but I do enjoy adding to my collection of random trivia

Extras:

My love language is quality time and physical touch

I tend not to pay attention to my day to day life so I end up forgetting a lot of details about what happened the past few days. If someone brings it up I'd be like oh yeah that happened!! But if they were to ask me what I did last week I'd draw a blank lmao

I'm pretty sure all the tall boys in Genshin are a good head taller than me so do w that what you will lol

I absolutely make kissy faces and baby talk at cats and dogs

I tend to be pretty awkward with kids bc I don't know how to communicate with them. I can't even talk to adults who can articulate their thoughts you think I'm gonna understand children??

Dskgjsjd okay this was,, very long I'm sorry ;; but I hope it gave you a lot to work with haha!! Thank you in advance :D

I match you with...

Diluc!

Diluc is the type to regularly ask for your input and opinions when talking with you. He’s very aware of the fact that if it’s just him talking, it’s not a conversation. Even with other people, if he feels like you’ve been ignored he’ll divert the conversation to you as smoothly as possible.

Listening to you is a way to get to know you better, he’s keen to store details about your interests in his mind. Will he write them down in a hidden journal to make sure he doesn’t forget the most important parts? Maybe.

If you’re just looking to ramble about your interests to someone, he’s happy to listen to you talk while he’s doing paperwork and similar activities. His full attention may not be on you but he retains some of the details and will perk up and comment on anything that he finds particularly interesting.

The juxtaposition between smiling you and broody Diluc as you walk down the street together is *chef’s kiss*. It’s not that he’s necessarily unhappy, it’s just kind of become his neutral look over time.

I’m gonna be honest, it takes this man a while to figure out that you tend to hide your feelings. But! Once he does figure it out he regularly asks you how you feel. He just wants to check up on you and if he can help you with something that’s bothering you, he absolutely will. He doesn’t think you should rely on each other, but you should absolutely support each other.

Diluc is a very honest man, but sometimes he can be a bit blunt in expressing himself. He doesn’t mean to come across as rude or anything, but he’s not always the most delicate when using his words. Diluc would say “This is bland.” rather than, “I think we can improve this by adding some spices. :)” He usually means well, though.

Entirely indifferent to animals but if it makes you happy he will move spiders outside instead of squashing them. Even when you’re not around.

Diluc isn’t exactly the jealous type when it comes to other people giving you attention but he does absolutely take notice and is paying extra close attention if someone starts flirting with you. He gets a little more annoyed if you’re actively interacting with him when it happens, but when you’re more on your own he can’t really blame anyone for taking interest in you. Diluc won’t do anything about it and will let you handle it yourself however you see fit unless the person starts getting pushy. Mostly just concerned for your comfort and safety.

This man absolutely knows how to play the piano. If you’ll let him, he wants to listen to you play and if you play the piano with him? Makes his heart so happy, his smile will be so soft. Absolutely thinks about proposing when you play together.

Something about being in the same room as you when you’re writing or drawing and he’s reading or doing work feels so right to him. Even if you’re not interacting, peacefully spending time together while being productive is time well spent, he thinks.

You being smaller than him isn’t something he really pays much attention to. It doesn’t make much of a difference. His thoughts on it are pretty much just, Well, it does make it easier to pull you out of danger. That’s good.

Diluc feels conflicted when you’re babying animals. On one hand, he finds it very adorable. But, it is one of the only times he feels moderately jealous over the fact a cat is getting your attention and not him. He doesn’t get jealous when you spend time with other people or even when you interact with animals in any way other than this. Why does he feel like this? Nobody knows. But it’s true, I feel it in my bones.

Equally awkward if not more so with children. Luckily for him, he’s ‘weird and grumpy’ so kids don’t really seek him out much. It might even keep kids away from you when you’re with him, unless they really like you.

It wasn’t often Diluc wore a pink shirt, actually, you were pretty sure he had never worn one. You don’t recall ever seeing one on him and it was hard to imagine him going out and making the purchase. The sight was unusual enough that when you saw him wearing the pale pink button-up while looking over a few papers in his study, you couldn’t help but ask about it.

“I didn’t know you owned any pink shirts. Is it new?”

Crimson eyes flicked up from the papers in his hand to you. He placed the papers down, leaning back in his chair. You could see his cheeks turning a bit pink, too. The pause he took and his flushed face made you think he was embarrassed about it.

“One of… There was a mixup and one of your red items got mixed in with my white clothes. I don’t have any other clean button-ups at the moment,” he told you bashfully. The bit of color was different from his usual black attire, but you didn’t think it was anything for him to be quite so embarrassed about.

“It looks good,” you assured him, “Maybe you should wear pink more often.”

[corallp]

So I thought of a cowboy au for tfatws and @ja3hwa hyped me up to do this. A few place names are made up and hopefully you all enjoy my cowboy adaptation of tfatws.

Chapter One - Meeting Old Friends

The sun stands high over the small town of Della. The red dirt stains everything in sight, the buildings, the horses, the clothes of cowboys and dresses of women. Della is a blink and you'll miss it town, nothing big, nothing too small for a cowboys liking. Saloon, general store, hotel and sheriff's office.

Outside the saloon, Sam Wilson stands lazily smoking his cigar. Dressed in dark red clothes with a white long coat over the top, hiding his pistols that hang on his waist. The red Della dirt stained coat also hides his sheriff's badge on his chest. People of Della know who he is but new comers wouldn't expect a black man to be sheriff.

His white hat hangs low over his eyes, keeping the blinding sun from giving him a bigger headache. He really isn't in the mood for any bullshit today so he's just hoping that none of the boys decide to be pests. But today had gone smoothly enough, just hoping he hadn't jinxed it just yet.

A minute passes by and he curses under his breath as he hears a chippy voice call out to him.

"Sam! Sam!"

Deputy Joaquin Torres rides up to him on his small filly looking like he just rode from the other side of the state. He wears black and green clothes with shiny new boots that Sam is curious where Torres has the time to purchase them. A red bandana is tied around his neck and a single pistol hangs from his hip. Sam watches him with furrowed eyebrows as he hitches his horse. Torres wasn't meant to be back until the next day after tomorrow.

"I found the Johnny Boys!" Torres says puffed and huffed as he skips up the stairs to the saloon.

Sam's lazy posture stiffens and he stands up straight, almost dropping his cigar. The Johnny Boys. Just over the hill at Terra Creek.

"How many?" Sam quickly asks. He's already moving to his horse and Torres quickly does the same.

"Only three of them. I wasn't able to see the fourth," Torres informs as they both mount their horses.

Sam doesn't waste anytime, digging his spurs into his horse and riding off with Torres close behind. Out of all the days, today the Johnny boys had to pop up. They had been causing trouble for the last few weeks in Della and Sam had had enough of it and wanted them taken in by the law. He had sent Torres out, his best tracker he knows to go find them. It must of taken Torres less time to find them then he had originally thought. He had undermined the kid.

"What's your plan of action!?" Sam shouts to Torres. His heart is pounding in his ears because maybe finally, finally they'll get the Boys.

The deputy begins leading the way and turns his head back to Sam. "They're on the bank where the fallen tree is. They looked pissed as parrots so I say we sneak in from on top of the bank and get them from there at gun point!"

"What about the fourth!?"

"We'll figure that out when we get there!" Torres replies back with a large smile on his face.

Sam frowns but nods. Torres chuckles to himself as he leads the way and Sam can't help but let the smile that comes to his features. Torres has been by Sam's side for a good few years now. Ever since Steve left them, it's just been Sam and Torres defending Della. No other law has come to assist them but he's well aware of why no one has come and offered a hand.

As they near, gunshots and shouting can be heard. Torres glances back at Sam before they rush to the creek on their horses. Sam's horse is taller and has lanky legs and gains in front of Torres. The creek comes into sight and on the tree line, a tall black horse can be seen tied to a tree.

Sam knows that horse from a mile away. He curses as he throws his cigar down in the dirt and he kicks harder, riding faster ahead leaving Torres far behind. His headache only gets worse as he realizes the day he's about to have. He pulls on the reigns and comes to a stop just before the bank drops straight down to the dry creek bed below.

And down in the rocks stands James Buchanan Barnes. His boot is currently crushing one of the Johnny boys chest as he hovers over them. His long black coat is worn and torn and covers what Sam knows is a full artillery under there. Two of the Johnny boys lay dead and bleeding in the creek bed while the fourth is slowly crawling away leaving a trail of blood along the rocks. The third being under foot.

"BUCKY!"

The man's gaze quickly shoots up and he stands to his full height, reminding Sam why he was such a feared man years ago, still is. His hair is now short from when Sam saw him last but he still carries revolvers and rifles on top of his all black clothing. His left coat sleeve is tied off, a sad reminder of what happened a life time ago.

"Leave the man alone, Buck!" Sam shouts.

"See!" Bucky quickly lands a punch to the man under him, knocking him out cold. "You don't get to call me Buck after all this time!"

"Steve use to call you that!"

Bucky chuckles with a shake of his head and begins walking over to the half dead man. Sam finds a way down to the creek with Torres closely behind. Bucky doesn't seem to notice as he grabs the Johnny Boy and rolls him over. He grabs the front of his shirt with his one hand and pulls him face to face.

"Where is he!?" Bucky seethes.

The Boy wheezes and his eyes are glazed. But he manages to rasp out, "I have not a clue. But- but Seph. Yeah Seph is where we last heard he was but that-" the man coughs out and Bucky flinches back in disgust. "But that was a month ago. Long gone by now."

Bucky throws the man down and reaches for his revolver but Sam is quick to his side. Bucky glances to him before walking away with a scowl on his lips. He feels exposed, not having his long hair or any hat to cover his features.

"Seph? Who's in Seph, Bucky?" Sam asks firmly.

"No, you don't get to play that game, Sam. Come and act like we're good friends again," Bucky snaps.

Sam frowns as he watches the broody man shuffle around the Johnny Boys camp for rations or other things. It's odd, seeing Bucky now. The last time Sam had seen Bucky was last year, and that's when he had convinced the man to stray from the life of an outlaw. Hang his hat from being the Winter Gunslinger. But I guess some habits die hard.

"I'm not asking you as a friend, Bucky. I'm asking you as sheriff. Who's in Seph?" Sam asks, walking over to the man that is knocked out cold.

Bucky doesn't answer as Sam checks the Boys pulse. Still alive. And hopefully with medical care that other Johnny Boy should live.

"Torres can you get these two men on the horses while I have a chat to my good friend here?" Sam tells more than asks, his gaze never leaving Bucky.

He looks sadder, a hollow of a man he once was. Sam almost feels pity for him. Steve wouldn't of wanted what Bucky became, wouldn't like to see this Bucky stand stand before him now. But he can't keep pity for the man when he's responsible for his own actions.

Bucky stands up and turns to Sam with a blank face. "Zemo is in Seph."

Sam almost chokes. "Why are you after, Zemo!?"

Bucky doesn't answer again, only stares. Sam shifts uncomfortably under the gaze and looks over to Torres who is tending to the wound of the fourth Boy. When Sam looks back, Bucky is gone from where he stood and instead he's already halfway up the bank of the creek. For a man with one arm, he climbs up it quickly.

"Torres I need you to look over things for a week," Sam calls back.

Torres perks up and jumbles over his words before spitting out, "Where are you going!?"

"To Seph."

[ravenpaw-93]

Detention and Declarations

A little Drarry Amortentia oneshot 🖤

Draco was stomping down the corridor toward the potions classroom glaring daggers into the back of Harry Potter's head who was walking a ways ahead of him. It was his fault they had to do this stupid make up lesson or detention, whatever Slughorn wanted to call it. Draco preferred to call it Hell, because it was. Three hours locked in a classroom with Potter was going to be torture, they could barely get along enough to make it through a regular lesson. 

Which is what got them into this in the first place. If Draco was being honest with himself, which he was loath to do, it had been him that knocked over an entire cauldron of Hiccoughing Solution, which led to them bickering back and forth with each other, flinging progressively nastier insults until Slughorn had had enough and docked them forty points each and given them detention with a chance to make up their lost work for a lesser grade. But, even that was Potter's fault. First of all, the idiot was so bloody fit it was incredibly distracting, which infuriated Draco to no end, he cannot have some pathetic pash on Harry fucking Potter. Secondly, he kept insisting Draco try chopping ingredients his way and when he refused, Potter tried to wrestle the knife from his hands, like a complete Neanderthal, and Draco's arm had sent the entire cauldron crashing to the ground. He then proceeded to call Draco an insufferable, stubborn arsehole. Draco called him a fucking hamfisted imbecile, and really it all just went downhill from there. He hesitated a moment outside the door and took a deep breath to steady himself, swung it open and sauntered through, just in time to hear Slughorn's booming voice.

"Harry m'boy!" He called jovially, and then more curtly, "Mr.Malfoy."

"Sir." Draco said in a polite, bored voice, barely restraining an eye roll.

"Well, your instructions are on the board, up there. Get to work. I'll be back to check on you, this classroom had better still be in one piece when I return." Slughorn instructed as he waddled across the classroom and out the door.

"Harry m'boy!"  Draco repeated sardonically, he expected Potter to have some quick comeback for him, but instead he laughed. Really laughed, not a scathing sarcastic one he usually directed toward Draco. He rather liked the sound of it.

"Sorry. I just hate when he calls me that." Potter explained offhandedly, shuffling over to the table that had their potions supplies waiting for them.

"Thought you loved having the entire Wizarding world kissing the very ground you walked on." Draco retorted joining him at the cluttered table.

"Shows what you know." Potter muttered bitterly, pointing his wand to light the cauldron.

"You really don't like it." Draco said stupidly. Why he couldn't just keep his mouth shut was beyond him.

"No. I don't."

There was something broody about Potter these days that intrigued Draco. He tried to tell himself that was where this silly infatuation with him had come from. That it was merely a coincidence that Potter was his type; tall and fit with pretty eyes and an attitude problem. He shook himself mentally, attempting to guide his thoughts away from Potter and back to detention. He'd be better off just brewing the bloody potion so he could get away from Potter and go back to ignoring the conflicting feelings he had for him.

"Well let's get this over with. Maybe if we finish early he'll turn us loose." Draco sighed squinting at the board in the dimly lit room.

"Oh what the fuck? Do you see what he's got us brewing?" Potter groaned next to him.

"Amortentia." Draco said with distaste. Why? Why was this his life? "Barmy old codger." 

They set about preparing the potions. Draco allowed Potter to do the chopping this time whilst he did the measuring. Much to his chagrin, he saw that Potter had been right about his chopping techniques. For the sake of trying to be a better person, he ought to apologise.

"Sorry, I suppose I should have listened to you yesterday. You're having a lot better luck than I did." He admitted grudgingly.

"I'm not as stupid as you think, you know." Potter retorted.

"Yeah, I'm getting that. Since I'm apologising I'm also  sorry I called you a hamfisted imbecile." Draco added pouring ingredients into the cauldron and stirring.

"Yeah that one was creative." Potter snorted, the corners of his mouth twitching upward into a hesitant smile. "I probably shouldn't have called you an insufferable, stubborn arsehole. But I meant it more exasperatedly than insulting. Only you went and got in a snit over it and got me going." 

Why was Potter being so friendly all the sudden? They'd been civil at best most of the school year. Draco was rather suspicious. 

"Why are you being nice to me? Draco asked with narrowed eyes, unable to curb his curiosity.

"Why not?" Potter shrugged "Try adding two counterclockwise turns. I know it doesn't call for it, but trust me." 

"What do you mean why not? We've never exactly been friends." Draco countered, taking Potter's suggestion and adding two clockwise turns and was pleasantly surprised to see the potion change colours immediately.

"I dunno. Just because we weren't friends before, doesn't mean we can't be now. If you could get past that habit of thinking everything I say to you is meant as an insult. Half the time I'm only teasing."

"You want to be friends?" Draco asked slowly arching his eyebrow. 

"I'm just tired of hating you, it's exhausting." Potter sighed, and he had a point. 

Draco had to admit Potter wasn't entirely unpleasant to be around, when it was just the two of them. He was actually quite funny sometimes, not that Draco would ever tell him that. They sat in silence with the potion simmered, the only sound was the bubbling of the cauldron. From the corner of his eyes he could see Potter stealing glances at him through the steam rising from the cauldron. Potter added the last of the ingredients, slowly stirring them in and Draco watched as the potion took on it's signature mother of pearl sheen. He inhaled through his nose, the scent was pleasant but unique, he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Treacle tart, broomstick wax and bubblegum?" Draco saw Potter's head turn slowly toward him. A sense of panic welled up inside him, realising far too late that he had spoken the words aloud and what they meant. 

Draco got swiftly to his feet and sped from the room, Slughorn and his detention be damned. He needed to get far away from Potter as quickly as possible. Mortified was not a strong enough word for how Draco felt. He could hear Potter's rapid footsteps behind him and his voice calling his name but he couldn't look back.

"I smelled lavender, okay? Like your hair. And books and chocolate and that scent, just after the rain when everything is fresh and green." Potter called, causing Draco to stop dead in his tracks. "The potion smelled like you."

Potter was closer now, as Draco turned to face him he was only a few feet away, his emerald eyes bright and wide behind his glasses. 

"It smelled like me?" Draco asked quietly, not daring to believe it. Potter had to be taking the piss.

"Well, yeah." Potter replied, giving him a crooked grin that made his heart skip a beat as he stepped closer.

"Why?" Draco asked stupidly. 

"What do you mean why? Why else would it?" Potter countered with a huff of laughter.

"No, I mean why me?" Draco clarified, his brow furrowed, he just couldn't wrap his head around it.

"You've always gotten under my skin in one way or another. I dunno, I guess that line between hate and something else is a lot finer than I thought."

"Fine line." Draco squeaked, his brain unable to come up with anything more eloquent, due to the shock. Was Potter actually admitting to harbouring feelings for him? The same sort of feeling he had been desperately trying to stifle for the better part of four months?

"Okay then. Maybe I shouldn't have said anything, I thought you smell- you know nevermind. Forget I said anything, I'm an idiot. I'm just gonna g-" Potter stammered as he began backing away looking crestfallen and a bit embarrassed.

"Potter." Draco said, grabbing his wrist, holding him in place, finally meeting his eye with a grin. "Shut up."

In a moment of impulsivity he closed the space between them and pressed his lips to Potter's, whose hand came up to curl gently around the back of Draco's neck. Draco's skin tingled and he felt the familiar rush in his abdomen he usually only got when he flew. Had he known detention with Potter would lead to him being pressed against the wall and snogged breathless by him, Draco would have spilt a cauldron months ago.

[theanarik]

Day 1: Welcome to Hyuga Antiquing

Happy SasuHina Month everyone! I’m gonna try to participate the whole month, that’s my personal challenge.

Day 1: Antique Shops.

Welcome to Hyuga Antiquing

You can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24489868

When Hinata started working at the Antique Shop her father owned, she thought that every single day would be dull and boring. Sure, there have been days where the only thing she wanted was for someone to come in and just take a look, someone she could talk to. Well, she talked to the dolls, sometimes, but one-sided conversations weren’t really that gratifying. There were days upon days that no one would come inside, and then there were other days where she had five to ten costumers. Those were her happiest days. She really enjoyed working at the Antique Shop, most of the time she could just, tune out the rest of the world until the door bell rang, daydream or do homework, or just forget the outside world existed for a bit.

When she was little, her mom would take her through the shelves, would let her play with the dolls, would let her pick vinyl after vinyl and they would enjoy the music, and dance, and sing, and laugh. Hinata always felt like the Antique Shop was a completely different world. It was hard going back, after her mother died, but her dad made it through and he brought Hanabi and her every single day, and he would let them play with the dolls, and would let them play music, and laugh, and have fun. But he never walked through the shelves with them. Always staying behind and letting them play however they wanted. Hinata remembers hearing sobbing, the sound echoing through the walls. She never said anything.

As she grew up, she found the Antique Shop to be quite boring, some other things taking up her time and she just… stopped enjoying it. She would come to visit her father to bring him lunch, or just to talk, but she wouldn’t go through the shelves, or play music, or check the dolls. After she started college, though, her father got sick and she decided, along with her cousin, Neji, that they would man the front desk while he got better. And one month became two, and two became three, and three became four. After working at the Shop for four and a half months, and her father not getting better, Hinata decided that maybe, just maybe, she would stay longer.

*

There were lots of things she enjoyed about working at the Antique Shop, one of them were when her friends came to visit. Kiba and Shino enjoyed checking the new stuff, organizing it with her, joke around and asking for payment, make her laugh when they used the dolls to reenact some shitty movie they saw. Another thing she enjoyed was making small talk with the regular customers. There were five of them: Kaho, Kurenai, Sarutobi, Tsunade and a boy around her age, that she still doesn’t know the name of.

He’s tall, dark and broody, doesn’t say much and always looks like he’s ready to murder someone. The first three times he came in, she didn’t say anything to him, mostly because he had this look on his face where he pretty much told her that if she came to talk to him, he would kill her. Hinata has had her fair share of difficult customers, she’s learned that if they need help, they’ll come to look for her. Also, he was way too attractive for her to turn into her work persona. So, when he does come to ask her for something, she is decidedly not surprised (and a lot more collected). After that, she starts to keep tabs on his interests. She does that with all her regulars, just so she knows where to put the new stuff when it comes.

Kaho loves doll houses, so when a new one comes in through the back door, she makes note to call her when everything is settled. It takes her two to three days to come, and most of the time she takes them with her. Kurenai loves custom jewelry and comic books. She comes regularly to check them out and maybe buy them, if she doesn’t, she just stays for longer chatting with Hinata. Sarutobi loves first edition books. They have three whole shelves full of them and he comes once a week to check them out, he probably knows all the tittles by now. Tsunade, on the other hand, she loves postcards. She says they remind her of a time when she would send them to her lover. Hinata wonders a lot how old she really is.

The brooding man, though? Yeah, no, he doesn’t stick to one thing.

He’s bought books, guitars, jewelry, porcelain, videogame consoles, comic books. He once bought a doll house. Though Hinata is pretty sure it was for his girlfriend or something like that. He came to return it after a few weeks though, which made Kaho very happy. Hinata thinks that maybe he’s just buying gifts for his loved ones, and she wonders how he manages to get that much money every single time he comes, which is pretty much once a month.

One day, she learns his name. He comes in with a blond boy. He has the loudest laugh she’s ever heard – and she’s friends with Kiba – and the bluest eyes she’s ever seen. He is, decidedly, the most attractive guy she’s ever seen. Well, aside from Tall, Dark and Broody, of course. Tall, Dark and Broody’s name is Sasuke. And he seems just so relaxed around the other boy that she just can’t help but stare for a few seconds.

“Welcome to Hyuga Antiquing,” she says, automatically. “Please tell me if you need any help.”

“Thank you!” Blond boy says.

“Actually-.” Sasuke says. “Naruto, can you go check the shelves?”

“Why?”

“Just go.”

Sasuke walks to her, and she gets out of the front desk to meet him, he seems… nervous, and that’s something she never quite thought she would say about TDB.

“Yes?”

“My mother’s birthday is coming up, and the last time I was here, I saw you had some lockets on display?”

“Oh, yeah!” Hinata says and motions him to follow her. “We moved them beside the dolls, it was uh… a last-minute decision.”

Kaho and Kurenai met, and that’s all Hinata’s going to say. She’s a romantic, sue her.

Sasuke follows her in silence and when they arrive to the jewelry section of the store, she grabs one of the displays and turns around.

“These are all the lockets that are in the shop, please tell me if you need any help?”

“Uh, sure.”

She goes back to the front desk and passes Blond Boy, Naruto, who’s looking at the guitars like they came from another world. Most people get that look when they check out the prices.

“Can I help you?” she asks him, offering a smile.

“Uh, no, I’m just… Sasuke gave me a guitar for my birthday this year, he’s a big gesture guy like that, I just… I didn’t know they were so expensive.”

“He must really appreciate you, then.”

“Sure, he does! I’m basically his brother from another mother.”

“Stop telling her nonsense.”

Hinata jumps at the voice behind her. She didn’t hear his footsteps and that’s something. Everything echoes inside the shop. It’s creepy sometimes.

“You’re a ghost, dude.” Naruto says, clutching his heart. “And what do you mean ‘nonsense’!? It’s true!” Naruto says fake hurt.

“Uh huh.” Sasuke rolls his eyes and denies with his head. Hinata wants to laugh at the theatrics Naruto is pulling.

“Did you find the one you wanted?” she asks, instead. This is her job, after all.

“Yeah.” He says, showing her a silver locket.

“Ooohhh, that’s pretty!” Naruto says, trying to grab it. Sasuke snatches it away. “Hey! I just want to see it!”

“See it, not touch it.” Sasuke shows it again and Hinata gets a proper look.

It’s the locket that was far, far back in the display. Silver, round, a flower of eight petals engraved and an overlapping branch of a cherry blossom tree. It’s, by far, one of the most beautiful lockets she’s ever seen, and she wonders if Kurenai ever saw it.

“Mikoto’s going to love it.”

“Stop calling my mom by her first name.”

“You call my mom by hers!”

“I use her tittle first.” Sasuke says, turning around, and she goes to follow him to the front desk

“I use her tittle first.”, Naruto repeats, mocking, and Hinata fakes a cough to cover up her laugh. The look Naruto gives her tells her that she failed at that.

*

Sasuke comes back alone, five days later, and he looks just as relaxed as he looked when he came in with Naruto. She wonders if good things are happening to him.

“Hey, how can I help you today?” Hinata says as he comes closer to the front desk, and he asks her about porcelain.

“My mom loved the locket, and she was saying that she wanted new porcelain this morning. Can you show me?”

“Sure!”

He buys a set of four teacups, their plates, a tea pot, and teaspoons.

*

It… kind of becomes a regular thing after that? Hinata doesn’t change most of the stuff in the store, but Sasuke keeps coming to ask for her help to find something, without even looking for it himself. She’s pretty sure he has the entire shop memorized and it’s not like the thing is too big. But he just… he just keeps asking for her help, and then he asks how her day is going, and then he just continues to talk to her; and soon enough, Hinata leaves behind her work persona once he enters the shop and she’s not just talking to the dolls but to Sasuke. And yes, sometimes it becomes a one-sided conversation, along with some stuttering and sometimes with too much emotion, but Sasuke keeps humming and nodding and saying just the right thing at the right time and it makes her feel… different.

They exchange numbers one afternoon after Sasuke hasn’t been able to come to visit for almost a week. He has dark circles around his eyes and seems stressed out. He tells her that his brother is sick and that he needs surgery, that he’s been staying with him at the hospital, and that when he came, there was another man at the front desk. Hinata explains that that’s her cousin Neji, as she offers him a cup of tea and he tells her about his childhood, when Itachi would come home tired and still go out with him to play. Hinata tells him about her mother, and how she would carry her on her shoulders, and they would walk around the shelves and check the highest books and speculate together about what they were about.

Sasuke kisses her after that, after she finishes telling him one of the things she invented about the books, after she tells him how embarrassed she was with herself when she finally read the book, after she laughs and blushes and stutters as she asks him to say something.

*

When Hinata started working at the Antique Shop her father owned, she thought that every single day would be dull and boring. As she takes Sasuke’s hand and laces their fingers together after closing the shop for the day, she thinks, I couldn’t be more wrong.

You can also read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24489868

[hecohansen31]

Can I request some Roman ? Maybe he’s working really late on a night that’s supposed to be date night so you bring up a lil picnic basket and force him up on the roof for food and a lil make out sesh overlooking the city. He promises to see you at home soon🥺🥺🥺🥺

(A/N): Hello there, sweetie!

I love one hectic and chaotic babe, like I just want to kiss him and cuddle him and just have a nice make out session...

So I hope you’ll like this that came out, lovely!

WARNINGS: Mention of Dirty Talk/Overworking/Just Fluffity Fluff.

You looked around, as you parked your car in your parking spot at the White Tower, finding Roman’s beside yours, a sign that he was still working, although it was past midnight.

It had been ongoing for a week: Roman would stay till late in his office, plotting with Pierce, meanwhile you waited home for him, eventually falling asleep on the couch.

And if Roman did come back from work, he would gently lay you up in his bed and then go back in the kitchen to work a bit more.

It had gone to the point that you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in two days and, not only you were missing him, but you were also worried that he might have been ruining his body and health.

Hence you had thought about a surprise trip to him, so that you would be able to check on him and feed him something, since you were pretty sure he was going on cigarettes and alcohol.

You were welcomed by Pierce, who told you that Roman was busy in his office and to avoid disturbing him, since he had ‘almost eaten up the last intern’.

You had simply smirked, before wiggling lightly your eyebrow, mumbling about ‘not being a simple intern’, but as you stopped outside Roman’s office, you checked yourself one last time: you had worn Roman’s favorite outfit, a simple straight skirt, lightly a bit too short, where you had tucked in a white blouse, all topped with the elegant Louboutin shoes Roman had gifted you, for your last birthday.

You had minimum make-up, but the lightly childish pink lipstick you had donned, knowing it made Roman’s mind go to some pretty interesting places.

You knocked, being welcomed by a mumbled ‘come in’, a dark fury, hiding under that tone, and you walked in, lightly fearing Roman’s reaction: although he loved you, he might not want you around.

Maybe he had been doing this all, because he didn’t want you around anymore…

You shushed all your insecurities and tried, with your steadiest step to walk in the office, immediately being welcomed by Roman’s surprised eyes, a light twinkle appearing in them, before his rough voice mumbled.

“Are you a fucking vision?”

“Always classy, Godfrey” you giggled and moved over to him, quickly passing away from his desk to reach him for a quick kiss, meanwhile his hands proved you weren’t ‘a fucking vision’, as he gave your ass a light pat for good measure.

You giggled in his mouth, as he adjusted himself back in his chair and you sat onto his lap.

“What brings you, here, at this grim hour?” he joked, and you couldn’t help but be glad that he hadn’t screamed at you, yet.

“I was looking for my boyfriend: have you seen him? He is tall, handsome and extremely broody” you joked, meanwhile he scrunched his nose, at the ‘broody’.

“… I am not ‘broody’” he mumbled, jokingly, leaning up to peak your lips.

“… you are”.

“… am not” he shot back, childishly and you simply surrendered yourself, pushing up your shoulders “… and although I am glad you are here, I think you should go back home, lovely, there is nothing interesting being done here”.

“You are interesting” you shot back and made him smirk.

“That was awfully corny” he replied, sending you a sincere look “… but seriously, I have so much more things to do around here… and stuff has been… tough, so I don’t think you should be here”.

“And neither should you” your tone matched his serious note “… Roman you have been constantly away from home, and I haven’t seen you in a week, I miss you”.

“I miss you too, babe” his smile had some nostalgic note “… but things here are important, things are constantly… happening and… this is a disaster”.

“I know, Roman” you put your hand onto his, and gently brought the other under his face, pushing it up so you could meet his eyes “… I just… I know things are tough, but please don’t let them ruin your health and find a bit of time to spend on your own, without a laptop or paperworks”.

This seemed to suddenly dawn on him, as if he hadn’t thought about it, in the slightest.

The hand which had been interlocked with his, gently tightened your grip onto it, and he pushed it to gently kiss it, before he muttered softly.

“… you are always right”.

“You are dating me for a reason”.

“I thought I was doing that because you have a pretty face and a firm ass” he joked, getting slapped in the chest “… ok ok, I am joking, of course I am dating you for your brilliant personality, babe!”

“You just lost your privileges to the delicious snack I bought you” you chastised him as you jumped down from his legs.

“… oh, and poor me who thought you were the snack”.

By the end of the night you had both taken upon one of your long-time-lasting traditions, happening since you had started dating: you and Roman would end up on the roof of the White Tower, since you weren’t allowed to eat inside (… and you loved seeing Hemlock Grove from there), snacking and talking.

And making out, since Roman seemed to be equally touch-starved as you, and once he had kissed you, coming a bit close to you with the pretense of shielding you from the cold air, he hadn’t been able to stop.

He gently interlocked his big hand with your hair, grateful you had left them loose, meanwhile his lips teased yours, since he couldn’t help but want a taste, keeping you on edge, till he softly sank his teeth onto your lips, in a slight mark that made you moan in his mouth.

You giggled, once you had to separate for the need of air, and he gently continued onto kissing all down your neck, drawing a burning line, which made you moan, even more once your hand crashed into his hair, directing him where you needed him the most.

“I state again that I don’t need a snack, when I have you” he joked, meanwhile his hand went in your skirt, making you immediately slap it away “… oh c’mon, don’t you remember all the quickies we had here?”.

“Such a romantic soul, babe” you joked, meanwhile you pushed him away, and got the little snack you had brought him out of the bag, his eyes gleaming at the sugary goodie, and for a minute you had to swear that you were almost jealous of that snack.

“Only for you, pretty girl” he smirked, softly before he dipped his teeth in the baked goodie “… and shit, this taste good”.

“I knew you would appreciate it” you replied, a giggle in your tone and more importantly kissing his cheek, cherishing those beautiful moments together, wanting to remind Roman what he had back at home, solely waiting for him.

“… but I know that something tastes better” again his hands wandered under your skirt and this time you promptly raised up, linking your legs to his waist, sending him a teasing smirk, before you sprinted out, Roman on your tail.

“For that you need to come at home, love!”.