#that would make a pretty good band name actually

[cosycryptid]

Cold, Shiny, Hard Plastic - Part 2

Steve's mouth gets him in trouble, but also earns him a new friend. Also on AO3 [here]

When Steve passes by Billy’s car the next day, he’s leaning against it, a group of girls around him trying their best to get his undivided attention. Steve’s about to roll his eyes at the sight but then notices the ends of Billy’s hair are suddenly looking a lot softer than they did the day before. He stifles a grin.

“Morning Hargrove, finally discover conditioner?” he teases as he walks past. The group of girls standing around Billy giggle a little and he scowls.

“Fuck you, Steve!” Billy spits.

“Only in your wet dreams, Hargrove,” Steve retorts. “And that’s King Steve to you.”

Steve honestly thinks he would cringe so hard his soul would leave his body if anyone whose opinion actually meant something to him called him that. Something about the idea of having a bunch of bravado filled, ego driven idiots like Billy, Tommy and their friends address him as such seems too good to pass up though. It kind of gives him a bit of a power trip if he’s being honest.

Word seems to have spread about the scene in the gym and the lunch hall the day before. Steve can feel people’s eyes on him as he walks to his locker.

They’re curious, like people don’t know what to make of him yet, whether he’s cool again or just like any other social outcast who happens to be good at running their mouth. That’s fine, for once Steve doesn’t care if he proves himself or not, just the catharsis of being able to say exactly what he thinks of the people who annoy him is enough. It felt so freeing to just let it out.

Steve supposes he should probably start preparing himself in case words ever turn into physical altercations if he’s going to keep up this new attitude. At some point, people are bound to get used to his cutting remarks and be less impacted by them. The ones who think with their fists might be a challenge as soon as the surprise factor wears off as they also tend to have the most fragile tempers.

With his nail bat, Steve is a pretty formidable fighter, but he can’t exactly carry that around in public. Also, as much as people like Billy Hargrove infuriate him, he doesn’t want to kill or maim anyone, it’s just fun destroying their overly inflated self-importance a little. He decides to look for self-defense classes or something soon, just in case.

“Hey, trumpet girl! Where are the rest of your band nerds today?” A voice calls somewhere behind Steve as he reaches his locker.

He peers over his shoulder as subtly as possible to see what’s happening and notices a girl he thinks he shares a history class with. She’s holding a stack of books and is cursing under her breath as two jocks approach her. Steve doesn’t remember their first names because they’re not in his grade and not on the swim team, but he knows of them and has heard them referred to by their surnames in the past.

They almost look like carbon copies of each other with pretty much the same height, same build and same shade of brunette hair, but there are some differences. The one guy, Sweeney, has blue eyes, slightly longer hair and a blank look on his face, like there’s nothing but tumbleweed drifting through his brain at all times. His friend, Kelly – if Steve remembers correctly – has short hair, brown eyes and seems a little more switched on, but that’s only if Steve’s being extremely generous.

They go to a lot of the same parties as Steve, and he’s heard some rumors about them from people who run in the same circles. He’s also overheard his mom gossiping about their parents to the ladies she does brunch with. The rumors are ones they probably wouldn’t want to get out, but whether they will or not remains to be seen.

“I don’t know, have you tried checking in your mom’s bed?” the girl retorts. Steve barely holds back a laugh.

“You really messed up turning my friend here down, Bucky,” Kelly says, gesturing at Sweeney, who is leaning on his shoulder.

“First of all, it’s Buckley, but it’s not like I expected you to have listening comprehension skills,” she answers with a sneer, like they’re both nothing but a bad smell lingering under her nose. “Second, would it kill you guys to use someone’s first name occasionally? it’s Robin, by the way,” she points out. “I know we’ve been in the same grade for years now, but I thought I’d help you out since you don’t have the best attention spans.”

“Okay then, Robin. It doesn’t matter what your name is, you’re gonna regret saying no to a date with my buddy Sweeney,” he reiterates. “You’re a loser and he’s at the top of the social ladder, you’re not gonna get an opportunity like this again.”

“Oh no! how will I ever go on? I can’t believe I messed up my one opportunity to go on a date with a guy who smells like an old sweaty sock and doesn’t know how to read!” She puts on an overly dramatic, woeful voice as she says it. “What will I ever do now I no longer have a future as Mrs. Robin Sweeney? I was so looking forward to washing his jockstraps for him while he sits on his ass and asks me what's for dinner.”

Steve can’t help the smile that takes over his face. He’s been sitting in front of Buckley in history class since the start of term and he never realised she was funny. Maybe he should try talking to her next time.

Thinking she’s got the situation handled, Steve turns back to open his locker. However, the next sound he hears is the loud smack of a hand coming down on top of her pile of books followed by scattering and sliding noises as they drop to the floor. He whips around to face them, no longer trying to hide that he’s watching as they’ve now drawn the attention of a number of curious onlookers.

Steve’s finally able to fully see Robin’s exasperated and slightly anxious expression. For a moment, his brain dredges up the memory Barbara Holland sitting by the side of his pool and looking at him and his friends as if they would hunt her down like prey if she made the wrong move. He hates that he didn’t do anything to make Barb feel more included then, and part of him will always carry guilt about the way things ended. So, he’s not about to let another nerdy girl feel isolated now.

"Hey, you’re name’s Sweeney, right?” Steve asks, stepping forward to insert himself into the conversation.

Robin watches him with wide, nervous eyes, like she’s afraid he’s come to join forces with the two meatheads harassing her. He tries his best not to look in her direction, hoping she’ll realise his vicious smile is not directed at her.

“Yeah,” Sweeney says, his signature confused expression written across his face. “What did you want, Harrington?”

“Nothing really,” Steve replies, feigning nonchalance. “I just was wondering if you were the same Sweeney who has a micropenis according to the rumors. What’s that like, dude? Can’t imagine it’s easy finding a girl who won’t laugh at you as soon as you take off your pants. Maybe that’s why you need your little buddy here to play wingman and avenger for you.”

Sweeney’s face pales and he attempts to stutter out a defensive response, giving entirely too much away about the validity of the rumors with his inability to form a rebuttal. Robin makes a sound halfway between a laugh, a snort and a choking noise.

“Wow, what a catch,” she comments.

“That’s not fucking true!” Kelly pipes up. “It was JUST a rumor started by some ugly chick who was butthurt he didn’t want to sleep with her.”

“Why are you running defense so strongly, Kelly?” Steve questions. “It’s almost as if you owe him for some reason. Weird. You know, I kind of remember hearing something about-”

“Don’t,” Kelly grits out, his eyes both furious and frightened.

“Maybe I won’t,” Steve says. “But only if you both fuck off out of here and don’t bother Robin again. You got it?” They both nod. “Good. Now run along. You’ve got classes to fail.”

The bell rings as if on cue and the jocks scamper off down the hallway. As soon as they’re out of sight, Steve shifts to his knees to start helping Robin gather her scattered books and papers. As he reaches out to pick up a particular notebook that’s open and face down, Robin seems to instantly go into panic.

“Wait! Not that-” Robin drops to the floor to reach for Steve’s arm. It’s too little, too late, he’s already turned it to reveal two pages full of hearts. Most of them have ‘RB & TT’ written in the middle, but there’s one particularly big heart in the middle of the right page with ‘Tammy Thompson’ written in a delicate, looping cursive that leaves absolutely no room for interpretation. “-one.”

Robin looks positively shell shocked, like her whole world is coming down in flames around her. Steve knows how it must look to her. He used to be top dog within the popular crowd. He’s captain of a sports team, goes to parties and generally steers clear of any activities that are thought to be for nerds. In Robin’s mind, he’s not much different from Kelly and Sweeney. She must be terrified that he’s about to hurt her or do some other fucked up shit.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay, I’m cool,” he says quietly, so only Robin can hear. He quickly snaps the notebook shut before anyone else can catch a glimpse of the incriminating pages. Robin doesn’t seem to react, a horrified look still on her face as her breath comes out a bit too quick for comfort.

Upon inspecting the surroundings, Steve notes that the hallway is now considerably emptier, but there are still a few stragglers hanging around. He makes an executive decision to finish collecting Robin’s belongings and move the conversation somewhere quieter. He rises to his feet and motions for Robin to follow him. She seems reluctant at first but eventually goes along with it and follows him to the nearest empty classroom.

As soon as the door shuts behind Robin, she backs up into it and slides to the floor.

“Look, if you’re going to bribe me for your silence, you should probably know I’m broke and there’s not much I have that I think you’d be interested in.”

Steve sighs and sets Robin’s books down on the nearest desk before moving to sit on the floor opposite her.

“I’m not going to bribe you,” he promises. “I just have to ask or it’s going to bug me for the rest of the year...” he takes a deep breath and levels her with a critical look. “Tammy Thompson? Really? Of all the girls in this school – or shit, even just our class - you could have chosen from, she’s the one you’re drawing hearts in your notebook over?” he asks. “Not to mention that’s just a little bit obsessive, Robin. Might come off kind of stalkerish.”

“Oh, you don’t even know the half of it, that’s not the only page,” Robin groans, pressing her hands to her face. A couple of seconds later, she seems to fully process what Steve’s said and her hands abruptly drop to her lap, revealing an astounded expression. “Wait, you’re not-”

“Homophobic? No, it’s none of my business if you like boobies.”

“Okay, never say that to me again.”

“What that you like boobies?” Steve asks with a mischievous grin. “It’s true though, isn’t it?”

Robin runs her hands through her hair and exhales loudly. “God, this is so weird. Steve Harrington’s an ally and he’s saying the word boobies at me.”

“An ally?” Steve asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, like you support queer people, Dingus.”

“No, I know that,” Steve says, frustrated. “Robin, I don’t know if you happened to be there yesterday or hear about it, but I very openly implied to Billy Hargrove in front of an entire cafeteria full of people that he would be my type if he took better care of his hair. I don’t support queer people; I AM queer people.” Steve stressed, pointing to himself for extra emphasis to really get it across to her. “I’m Bisexual.”

Robin was staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“Like I get that everyone else wouldn’t think anything of it because jocks say and do some pretty gay shit, especially the straight ones.” Steve says. “But I thought as a lesbian you were supposed to have a sixth sense for other queer people.”

Robin rubs at her temples, her expression a mix between surprised and distressed. “So, let me get this straight because I’m starting to feel like I’ve either slipped into a parallel universe, or you’re pulling a really elaborate prank on me,” Robin says. “You... like wiener?”

“Now who’s using embarrassing words?” Steve asks. “But yes. No pranks or any other kind of fuckery. I like wiener and boobies. And I expect you to keep that secret the same way I’ll be staying quiet about you. Otherwise, I’ll have to find some dirt on you to expose because I’m not about to out someone, that would be a dick move. Do we have a deal? Can we pinky promise on it?” he holds out the pinky finger on his right hand.

“You won’t find anything else on me Steve, my record is squeaky-clean.” Robin says with a wicked grin. “I have a condition in return for my silence instead.”

“Everyone has something in their past,” Steve argues. “But what is it?”

“I want a ride to and from school for the foreseeable future, starting from today,” Robin demands. “I can’t take one more day on that school bus. It’s literal torture.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Steve pretends to think about it for a moment. “But sure.”

“Okay then, deal,” Robin smiles, linking her pinky with Steve’s. “I’m making a pinky promise with Steve Harrington. What is happening right now?” she questions. Then a strange look crosses her face, her eyes narrowing. She drops Steve’s hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Billy Hargrove? Really?” Robin questions in a flat tone. “You had the nerve to criticise my taste in women over Tammy Thompson, but ‘openly implied’ your type is Billy Hargrove?”

“I said ‘would be my type’, Robin. I don’t have a crush on the guy, ew, that’s gross. He has the personality of wet garbage,” Steve protests as he stands and offers his hand to Robin to help her up, which she accepts with a grateful expression.

“It’s just that I can see that he’s objectively attractive looks wise because I have functioning eyes and I’ve showered naked in the same room as him,” he explains. “Tammy Thompson is a total dud, Robin. You could have picked someone so much more interesting than her.”

“I think you’re protesting too much Steve, you’ve definitely had at least one weird dream about Billy Hargrove. Also, fuck you, Tammy’s a complex and interesting woman,” Robin argues as she picks up her books from the desk and begins to head to the door, turning her head to speak to Steve over her shoulder as he follows. “She has dreams, she’s going to move to Nashville to be a singer.”

“Yeah, and they’ll send her right back when they hear her singing voice,” Steve deadpans. “She sounds exactly like a Muppet, Robin. Come on.”

“No offense, but you’re kind of a bitch, Steve,” Robin points out, turning to face him as they re-enter the hallway.

“Am I wrong though?” Steve questions. “Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m wrong.”

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, both waiting for the other to back down. At a certain point Robin’s lip twitches, and then they’re both gone, both almost doubled over laughing.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Robin admits. “Shit now I’m going to have to rethink my choices.”

“I’m willing to help you find better taste in girls,” Steve offers. “I know a lot about the babes around here.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that about you. Slut.”

“And I’m the bitchy one?” Steve says, putting on his best wounded expression.

“Maybe we’re just two sides of the same bitchy coin,” Robin suggests.

“Hmm,” Steve ponders. “We should exchange notes. I could always use more creative insults.”

Robin takes him in for a second, as if she’s meeting him for the first time and starting to get a good read on him. A wide smile takes over her face. “You know, Steve. I think this may be the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“Me too,” Steve agrees, feeling warmth spread through his chest at her words. “I’m looking forward to terrorising the assholes of this town with you, Robin Buckley.” He reaches out to shake her hand.

“The feeling is mutual, Steve Harrington.” She accepts the handshake. “Now I’ve got to go because you’re not making me late for next period too, but don’t forget that your side of our bargain starts now. I expect you to be outside by your car waiting to drive me home at the end of the day.”

“Why do I feel like I’ve sold my soul to the devil?” Steve rolls his eyes, but this time he does so with a smile. “See you later, Robin.”

“See you later, Steve.”

Steve should probably have considered sooner that he might one day fly too close to the sun on his metaphorical new bitchy wings. However, this whole thing is a learning process and he’s still finding his feet, clumsy like a newborn deer. He’s testing the waters and figuring out just how far he can take things.

Turns out, maybe teachers are not to be messed with, no matter how shitty they are.

He’s in math class when he makes a crucial misstep in his journey. They’re copying down instructions from the board in their notebooks as Mr. Mundy comes around to collect their homework.

As he reaches Eddie Munson – he had listened out for the guy’s name as the register was being taken – Steve stops writing and watches curiously. Eddie looks up at Mr. Mundy with a sheepish expression. He seems more tired than the last time Steve saw him, there are dark circles under his eyes indicating he hasn’t slept. He also generally seems more stressed and twitchier than usual, like he’s constantly prepared to dash out of the room at a moment’s notice.

“Mr. Munson,” Mr. Mundy addresses him, leaning over in a way that makes Steve wince in sympathy because Eddie can definitely smell his potent coffee breath at that angle. “Do you have the homework or not?” he asks.

Steve immediately takes a dislike to the impatient tone he uses. Can he not see that Eddie is clearly going through something?

“I’m so sorry, Sir,” Eddie says, sounding genuinely regretful. “My uncle’s sick at the moment and I didn’t have the chance to do it because I was looking after him. We don’t have any other family around to-”

“Save me the sob story, that’ll be two weeks detention,” Mr. Mundy interrupts rudely. “You’re on thin ice, Mr. Munson. I’ll have to fail you if you keep this up.”

Eddie’s face drops. “Yeah, that’s fine.” he mumbles.

“No, that’s not fine,” Steve blurts out, drawing the full attention of the otherwise quiet class.

“Excuse me, Mr. Harrington?” Mr. Mundy says slowly, taken aback. “Do you have a problem with the way I run my classroom?”

It’s clear that he expects Steve to back down in the face of his authority. However, authority’s kind of a weak deterrent once you’ve fought monstrosities that shouldn’t exist and lived. It only serves to make Steve want to double down.

“Yeah, for a start you need to crack open a window open or start using some deodorant once in a while because it’s hard to concentrate on learning when all I can smell is your body odor,” he says, internally delighting in the red hue Mr. Mundy’s face takes on. “But aside from that I don’t get why Bobby back there gets a ‘bring it in tomorrow’ when he literally told you he accidentally ran over his homework in his car, but someone who has a good reason is given two weeks detention and threatened with failure? Math is supposed to be about logic, right? How is that logical?”

His peers are staring at him, bug eyed, and the teacher is locked in a silent state of fury. Steve chances a glance at Eddie and he’s already looking in his direction with a stricken expression.

“Have you decided to take out your resentment over your miserable life on Eddie or something?” Steve presses.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Eddie mouths at him, his face anxious.

Mr. Mundy lets out a long, slow, suffering breath, and Steve can almost hear him counting to ten in his head in an attempt to calm himself down.

“Steven Harrington,” he says quietly. Steve scrunches his face up because it sounds exactly like how his dad addresses him when he’s got a stick up his ass about something. “Do you or do you not have your homework?”

The swift pivot in the conversation catches Steve off guard, but he quickly catches on. Mr. Mundy’s clearly not issuing fair treatment here at all. Steve should be on his way to the principal's office right this second, but it’s clear that Mr. Mundy is trying to hold back. Most likely because all the teachers are well aware of Steve’s parents’ standing in the community. Somehow, Steve finds that only further irritates him.

Looking Mr. Mundy dead in the eyes, Steve holds up the sheet of paper with his homework on it and tears it in half, then tears the two halves down the middle. He lets the pieces flutter to the floor, still looking directly at Mr. Mundy, challenging him to do something about it.

“Oh shit, I guess not,” he shrugs.

The pure rage that Mr. Mundy eminates is strong enough to rival his aforementioned body odor, which is truly saying something.

“Congratulations, Mr. Harrington,” Mr. Mundy says, his voice dripping with venom as he strides to his desk like he’s on a mission and begins furiously scribbling out two detention slips. “You just earned yourself a spot in detention with Mr. Munson starting next week, and a phone call to your parents.”

The first part doesn’t faze Steve, but the second sends an ice like chill down his spine. Maybe he would have benefitted from keeping his mouth shut this time.

Part 1 -

[eviemonroeer]

The Monroe Effect: Chapter 6

Set during Season 5, Episode 7 of ER. Spoilers if you haven't seen the show.

Warnings: canonical mention of abortion, mention of family drama/trauma, blood, angst

WC: 1.7 k

ER story belongs to original creators, just adding on my own original charter.

Taglist: @pleasecallmeunhinged, @rainmg, @arigoldsblog, @queenslandlover-93, @hagarsays, and @antisocialfiore

Main Story: prev | next

Snapshots: prev | next

“Hey Evie. Want to know your porn star name?” 

                  I stopped in my tracks and turned, raising an eyebrow. “Jerry, that is such an odd thing to ask your co-worker, especially so early in the morning.” 

                  “Oh, come one Evie. It’s just good fun. Take your middle name and the street you live on. Mine is Anthony Broadway. Tony Broadway.”

                  “You got that mixed up, Jer.” Jeanie said from her spot at admit. “That’s your romance novelist name.” 

                  “Excuse me?” 

                  “Your porno star name would be your pet name with your mother’s maiden name. Like my porno star name would be Nibbles McGee.”

                  “That’s a great porno name.” I laughed as I rounded the admit desk. 

                  “So, then mine would be Fluffy Florez.” Chuny added.  

                  “Well, what if you don’t have a pet?” Jerry asked.

                  “Just use one you had when you were a kid.” Jeannie said. 

                  “Nibbles.” I laughed again. “That is a great name.” 

                  “I don’t think that’s right Jeanie.” 

                  “So, Evie, what would yours be?” 

“Bunny Monroe.” 

“Bunny Monroe! That sounds to classy to be a porno star.” Chuny purred. 

                  “Wait, your mom’s maiden name was also Monroe?” Jerry asked. 

                  “I have the same name as my mom. She changed it after my dad left.” I could see the shock and questions on their face. Over time I had learned to speak casually about my weird family dynamic, forgetting it wasn’t the norm. “It’s a long story.” I said, before walking off to see patients, avoiding having to tell the drawn-out story of my fractured, messed up family. 

                  Finally getting a moment, I headed for the hallway and the women’s bathroom. I stopped short of the door when I heard a voice inside. Someone must be giving themselves a pep talk. I opened the door in time to hear ‘........ Dr. Carter we need to talk.’ I walked inside and Lucy looked at me in the mirror with wide eyes before turning around. “Lucy, is everything all right?” 

“Hmm?”

“You were talking to yourself. Not that it's a bad thing, but—” 

“Actually, do you think I should sit down and talk to Dr. Carter?” 

I nodded. I thought this might be happening soon. I knew there was some tension between Lucy and Carter from my own observation, not to mention Carter complaining about her to me. “Um, depends on how direct you want to be. You don't want to be confrontational from the get-go. You don't want him to be defensive.”

“Right.”  “I'd do it over a meal.” I said as I walked into the stall. 

“Oh, like a chat. I like that. Makes sense.” I heard her gather her stuff. “Thanks!”

“You’re welcome! Good luck!” 

  

                Along with duties in the ER today, I was also assigned to help out as needed with the prenatal clinic for Carol and Lynette. It mostly included taking blood for testing, but it was still nice to work with people in this way, not just when they were in the middle of a crisis. I actually needed more disinfecting wipes and tourniquet bands, so I let Lynette know where I was going and headed to the suture room. It was dark when I walked up to the door, but it wasn’t empty.

I flipped on the lights, finding Carol sitting on the bed, struggling to tie a tourniquet. “Hey, Carol. What's going on?” I asked, going to the cabinet for supplies.  

“Just doing a quick blood draw. So, how's the clinic going today?”  “Pretty good. I really like prenatal days. I actually almost went into OB before I stuck to emergency medicine.” I turned to look at her as she struggled. “Why don’t you have someone helping you?”

“Because I was trying to be discreet.” 

“Well, let me do it. I mean it’s what I’ve been doing all day. And it's kind of hard to stick yourself.”

“Thanks.” 

I finished tying the strap and then grabbed a wipe to disinfect her arm. “What labs you need?”

“Just a CBC, check if I'm anemic.”

“Oh, I only ask because if you'd like......I can run the results through the clinic since I’m in there today. It would be more private.” 

“That's a great idea. Um, listen, what I'd really like is to check my hormone levels.”

“Oh, okay.” I nodded my head and tried to offer her a smile. “Are you and Doug trying to get pregnant?”  

“Yeah, but I don't really want to discuss details.”

“I understand. Like I said, I’ll run it through the clinic.”

“I appreciate it.” I gently and easily stuck the needle into her arm and took the blood. Once I had enough, I removed the needle and vial and cleaned everything up. “Thanks.”  

“You’re welcome. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

 

                 After I submitted Carol’s blood test, I left the clinic for a little bit to help with the traffic that had backed up in the ER. It was a couple hours of that before I was able to check the blood test results and I found Carol’s. I found her at the admit desk. 

                  “Hey Carol, I got your blood work back.” 

“Thanks, Evie.” 

“Progesterone level's normal. That's good news, you ovulated.” 

“I've been trying to get pregnant, and I haven't” 

“How long have you been at it?”

“Couple months.”

“Well, they say to give yourself at least six months before you start worrying.” 

“Yeah, you're right. I'm crazy.” 

“Don’t say that. Maybe you guys need to increase your activity. How often do you, you know......do it?” 

“What?” 

“Oh, sorry, am I being indiscreet?” I fanned shock and we both laughed.

“Carol, what's the deal?” Weaver asked, walking up to us. “I went to see your ectopic. She's dressed, ready to leave.” 

“You mean Maria Jones?” I asked. I had seen her as I was in and out over the last couple hours.

“She pulled her IV?” Carol asked, but the woman in questions was already walking out of the clinic, Lynette on her tail. “Maria, where are you going?”

“I’m feeling better nurse. I'm going home.” 

“Wait a minute.” Lynette interrupted. “You came in here in so much pain, I couldn't examine you. “ 

“But I'm better now.” 

“But wait. We need to make sure everything's okay with you and the baby.” Carol warned. “Just let the doctor look you over and what’s the hurry?” 

“Look, I just wanted to know if it was a boy or a girl. Nothing's wrong, so why worry?” 

“Wait! You were faking those abdominal pains?” Lynette asked, now angry. “Are you crazy?” 

“But you said you weren't even sure you were pregnant.” Carol scoffed. “I mean, why would you lie and cause all that drama to find out if it's a boy or a...” Carol trailed off in thought as the woman walked away. “Oh no, are you gonna abort this baby?” She exclaimed, grabbing the woman. 

“Let go of me!” 

“Carol!” I warned. 

“She's had two boys and two abortions. Are you getting rid of this child because you think it’s a—”  

“It's my baby and I'll do what I want.” 

“I told you that ultrasound is inconclusive. It could be a boy!” 

“Lady, take your hands off of me.” 

“Carol, let her go.” I pleaded. 

“Girls are trouble anyhow.” The woman finished with as she left the ER. 

“What's the matter with you?” Carol yelled after her. “What's the matter with you?!” 

“Carol—” 

But before I could say anything else, she stormed away. I sighed and put my hands on my hips. I understood where Carol was coming from. She wanted a baby so bad and to see someone get rid of one simply because they were a girl was baffling, even to me. But sadly, there wasn't anything we could do. I shook my head and went back to my patients, hoping the day would turn around.

   

               “This is so weird. I can’t believe I’m in Dr. Weaver’s house.” 

                  Carter and I both descended the stairs in the basement, his new place of residence, to enjoy our takeout dinner for the night. Towards the end of our shift, I had started begging him to let me come over to check it out, intrigued how the strict doctor lived. It was actually a lot nicer and more normal than I expected. 

                  “Just don’t go sneaking around upstairs. It’s where she keeps her coffin.”             

                  “Shut up.” I said and hit his chest as we burst out laughing. We walked over to his bed and sat down, pulling the white to-go boxes from the brown paper bag. “God, I needed that laugh.” He said as I used my chopsticks to get a bite of rice.

"Me too. Today has been a day."

“Lucy is driving me crazy.” 

                  “How so?” 

                  “There’s so much I want to teach her and it’s not happening.” 

                  I took a bite of chicken and rolled my eyes. “Don’t you think it might not be her, but you?” I asked after I swallowed. 

                  “What’s that supposed to mean? I don’t think I’m a bad teacher.”

                  “You aren’t. It’s just sometimes you aren’t the best communicator.” He scoffed and shook his head. “What?”

                  “You sound just like her.”

                  “Well then maybe that should tell you something.” 

                  “Okay well if you know so much, what else do you see wrong with my teaching.” He sat his food down and crossed his arms, sitting back. He raised an eyebrow before gesturing out with his hand, like he was telling me to go on. He was getting hostile, and I didn’t like it. 

                  “Fine.” I said and set my food down. “You don’t listen to her half the time, even though she knows what she’s talking about. You only get half the information from her and then make your own assumptions.” 

                  “I don’t do th—” 

                  “And you are defensive as hell, especially with her.” 

                  “This is so stupid. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

                  “Why? Because I’m a nurse?” He was silent and just recrossed his arms. I scoffed and shook my head. “Wow Carter, real nice. I thought we had more respect for each other than that.” I stood from the bed. “You know if you’re being this much of an ass with me, I really do feel sorrier for Lucy.” I grabbed my jacket and purse. “Enjoy your dinner.” 

                  “Evie.” Carter moaned as I stomped up the stairs. 

“Evie!” 

I slammed the door behind me as I made my way towards the door.  “Hi Gen.” I stopped in my tracks and turned, seeing Dr. Weaver sitting on the couch, her brow raised, obviously having heard everything that just happened downstairs. 

“Good night, Dr. Weaver.” I replied before turning and leaving her house. 

[cinderellaenjoyer]

NEXT TO NORMAL SWAP AU! NEXT TO NORMAL SWAP AU! NEXT TO NORMAL SWAP AU!

Give me everything you've got. I'm here for the pain. And also, if you'd like to regale me with N2N where Gabe is Gab...do that, please. I am so invested and here for it.

Oh my god yay! I've been wanting something to ask me about it

So, firstly with N2N but with a female Gabe:

Gabe died as a baby, and while gender does to some extent influence the Gabe we see in the show (Tviet's Gabe being the 'scary but hot' trope and Wolfe's being the 'Soft Boy Of The Month' kind of character), I think a female Gabe could work just as well and you wouldn't have to change much. At the same time, it also adds some fun (angsty) implications - Diana's stained relationship with Natalie could be because she has strong mother-daughter relationship with Gabby, or at least the Gabby she's been hallucinating for years. Natalie being a 'replacement' for Gabby goes further because she's LITERALLY a replacement daughter - maybe Diana was going to name her Gabriella again but decided not to, maybe out of guilt, maybe that it hurt too much, maybe both. Gabby's baby clothes were also probably reused for Natalie in this case. It changes so little and so much of the story at the same time.

Now, as for the Swap AU!

So, the only one's that really Swap are Gabe and Natalie. Gabe was still a whoopsies baby, but either didn't get sick as a baby or the doctors were able to help him in time. Natalie WAS on purpose, just as a second kid and not as a replacement this time.

The beginning would have small details regarding the swap- we see Natalie up studying before we see Gabe come home late. Diana knows Natalie's schedule - key club before school, class, then Piano Pratice), and Gabe talks about getting the date for the spring recital, where the jazz band he's in will be performing.

Henry's pretty much the same, he just ends up Gabe's friend instead of Natalie's boyfriend. I am planning on making a few extra characters for the Jazz Band though, and they'll show up with Henry.

The dinner scene...the dinner scene is still painful.

You see Gabe does mention Natalie, in a 'Natalie would like this' or 'Natalie would find this funny' way. He's been what-ifing Natalie a lot, not full on hallucinating her like Diana but still imaging what she'd be like if she grew up. Adds to the illusion that Natalie's alive at the start.

But then Diana brings down Natalie's birthday cake, and we get this:

"It's somebody's birthday!"

"Oh, cool, who's birthday is it?"

"...my sister's."

"Where is your sister, then? Is this a surprise party or-"

"...I don't actually have a sister. Not anymore. She died when I was a toddler."

And that's the reveal that Natalie is dead.

'You Don't Know/I Am The One' is the same, just with Natalie instead of Gabe.

'Superboy and the Invisible Girl' has the same name, but a different meaning. Gabe is 'superboy' in the sense that he feels like he has to be strong and take on more than he can handle for the sake of his mother. Natalie is 'the Invisible girl' in the sense that she's an invisible presence that's been hurting the family, as well as reflecting how BPD is an 'invisble' illness.

'I'm Alive' stays the same lyric wise, just with Natalie singing it instead of Gabe.

'Catch Me I'm Falling' is a little different. It's Gabe's recital instead of Natalie's, but not only are Diana and Dan not there, Gabe briefly thinks HE sees Natalie in the audience, and has to remind himself she's not real. So the 'she's not there' is changed to 'she/he's not there', with Natalie singing the 'he's not there' because Diana didn't mention Gabe for a good while into the therapy talks. As for what takes place of the 'we had Natalie to replace-', I think it's this fun little thing we just came up with:

"Gabe used to like keeping his sister as an imaginary friend when he was little. And I encouraged it. Maybe more than I should have."

Everything else stays mostly the same, just with Gabe and Natalie having their places swapped and a few other details. Instead of drinking and doing drugs, Gabe is considering moving out, though he's still messing around with drugs a little. Instead of homecoming, it's Prom that's coming up. From then on, it's, again, more or less the same

During 'Maybe (Next to Normal)', Gabe ends up breaking down and saying he never got to understand what happened to Natalie or how she died, so Diana shares this:

"Sixteen years ago, your sister died of an unspecified heart condition when she was eight months old."

After the whole ordeal with Diana, Gabe goes to prom. Gabe's both scared that he's going to end up like Diana OR repressing everything like Dan does, but his friends assure him they'll be there for him. There's a big group hug probably.

Anyways that's more or less everything I have now! Hope you like it!

[the-almighty-god]

*knocks at your door*

Hello? Almighty God?

*grabs bag, tries to grab something*

It's must be here somewhere...

*finally grabs searched item*

Ah! There it is!

Okay, now to why I'm here. I found this and thought I should take it to the authorities, which would be you...

Thank you for the whale, @creative-soul-22

You realize you just brought a religious pamphlet to the door of God. I think that's a first.

[grotesquevi]

★ cupid carries a gun.

open up your skull, i'll be there climbing up the walls.

cw # 18+ mdni, modern au, mentions of marijuana, dealer+loser!ellie, blink and you miss a slight pervert behavior, sub!reader, switch!slightdom ellie, pussyslapsyum, pet names, fingering, public sex.

an # if you recognize this it may be because it's from my previous account aka @vicorices who got deleted out of nowhere, this is me trying to get all my work back up again cause i'm not losing three months of work thanks to a shitty team who wiped me out of the internet.

the first time she saw you, she called you bro by accident.

it happens unexpected. ellie's been selling weed for a while now and she's used to get random text messages from unknown numbers: a friend of a friend, a recommendation from some old client — of course when she got your text you're not going to receive special treatment, not when she greets you like she would greet a guy, asking you where to meet since the club's big.

you're friends with cat, that's how you got her number. your usual provider is being insane with ridiculous prices you cannot afford not even by chance, so you're searching for someone else, a reliable source you can buy your weed from without getting into much trouble.

she’s perfect for the job.

it's a surprise either way when you tell her to meet you close to the main stairs in the first floor, and you think you saw her by the time you get there, but before you can approach your phone lights up with a new notification from an unknown number you now recognize.

you like it, making them think you’re a man, confuse the people you buy weed from. it's funny cause it's not the first time it happens, matter of fact, it's really common as you approach the auburn haired girl, noticing she's far less intimidating than your last seller, less tattoos on the face to instead, be covered in freckles and green eyes.

and to ellie — it's clear you aren't a bro too.

you don't pay much attention since it's a quick interaction, but to ellie its enough to make her spiral. too much weed, too much booze that night made her look at you like you're most beautiful girl out there, barely illuminated by the sporadic lights that changes time to time as you approach to her in a nice top of a band she also hears.

"hey. sorry to make you wait" you're too kind to her rough heart, yet from up close she's able to look at your face properly: where the fuck did you know cat from? why she hadn't seen you before too? was she hiding you from her?

"ellie," she presents herself like you do and she's almost a little shy to ask you to walk with her to a less crowded space, cause it sounds different from when she usually asks, slapping herself mentally for being so lame when she meets a pretty girl in a situation like this: don't be a fucking pussy. "do you mind if we move to a quieter place?"

"no, no problem" you reply "i was going to ask you the same, actually. don't want to get kicked out from here."

and you must be really trustful person, cause ellie could be a bad person and you're following her willingly, entering a dirty, small bathroom only to lock the door beneath her not really knowing her true intentions. you know she's not going to do anything when she's nervously speaking to you as the space got way reduced.

"so, you're friends with cat" what's she even doing? trying to pull off some small talk she sucks for? either way your nodding as ellie gives you a small bag with an smiley face on it, letting you see the weed she's going to sell you out first — "you study here in this university?"

"yeah, it’s my last year" you say inspecting the weed with a pleased look, sure you're buying when you take a deep breath and it seems like actual weed and not a fucking rock so tight it seems it came in somebody's ass, good smell, some purple there between different shades of green "film school."

"sick," she looks at you for a moment since you're too busy looking at the product. under the white lights ellie can see the details on your face now, the small moles, the scars, things she wasn't aware of as she wasn't so close as she is now — "it's okay? you like it?"

“smells real good, my last supplier was pretty shit and always had the same strain" you find her concern cute, sure she must take pride in selling good stuff, maybe that's why cat shared her number so reluctant to it, you'd gatekeep a good dealer too.

“that’s lemon haze” ellie explains as a subtle layer of red spreads right over her nose, must be the weather inside the bathroom or something like that, but it's hot as she stares at your eyes and she's betting you must be thinking she's the weirdest girl in the planet. her flannel's too fucking tight, too thick. "it's a nice sativa, wont leave you stupid nor like a hungry animal."

girls like you may be out of her league, but even when ellie's brain saying the same, it does not matter when your fingers brush against hers and you're laughing at her bad joke, giggling like she's oh so funny and it's enough. it may be a tactic she's falling all the way in when saying a lower price than regular and your eyes widen cause you don't believe it: why would such a good quality be cheaper than the usual shit?

"you study in this university too?" you curiously ask as if you're trying to catch the trick, clever girl. she’s selling you cheaper to secure you.

"forensic science" you seemed a bit surprised by it since you didn't talk much to stem girls in general, being in two different fields: hot— "it’s my last year too."

"that sounds cool, never met someone who study that," you say as you're pulling out 20$ for at least 3 grams of top-graded-weed: she's fucking stupid for selling that quality for less than $30 "well nice to meet you ellie, if i don't get poisoned with your weed, you'll be definitely hearing more from me."

and she wants to say something flirty, something with her usual witty charm and her sarcastic replies she loves by heart, but instead of saying something clever, ellie ends up stuttering, tripping in her own words as she nods.

"i- uh- yes sure. save my contact and text me anytime."

fuck it, cause it does get her to know you'll be talking to her again someday, maybe this week, maybe the next, tomorrow. her weed is hella good and her own brain is feeding her delusions cause as far as she knows you might as well be the biggest heterosexual girl in university, but you're there waving her goodbye with a warm smile and your perfume lingers in the air for a while even when you're not there.

so ellie stays in the cubicle for a minute. the longest minute of her life when she takes a deep breath at the scent, discovering the fruity notes, the damn strawberries sweet as ever now impregnated under her nose.

fucking cat cause she must have kept you all to herself, pure selfish reasons — ellie thought they were in good terms.

it's crazy to say she would've done the same if you were her friend too.

the second time ellie sells you weed you're talking with your friends seated in a secluded spot of the main quad and the sun hits your skin just in the correct way to make her mouth go dry.

you're using this straight sinful sundress in blue and white, covering from the fresh air in a denim jacket and it looks so good she needs to check you actually messaged her in the first place and didn't imagined the whole thing.

she politely greets everyone but her attention drifts back to you when ellie's sitting close like you're friends with her before the people you’re hanging out with.

"was it good?" she asks, blatantly checking you out you're resting over your elbows, letting the exposed parts of your body fill out with vitamin d after being trapped in class for what it seems an eternity, and ellie feels trapped too, slightly different cause she's experiencing the victorian era on the flesh when only a glimpse of your ankles is enough to kill her — "guess it was if you're texting to meet up again."

"yeah, seems like you got the best weed in the whole place" you laugh, each time warming up to her as you reply under a pair of black shades that make you look so fucking attractive: her weed, the best. "good job, ellie."

awfully good price. outstanding for you, only loses for her.

the third time, you're meeting her outside class and her friends joke calling you her girlfriend as ellie quickly walks away hoping you didn't hear them: do you talk to her about dinosaurs too, williams? you're too polite to say you find it cute.

by the fifth time you're on her car and the silence is so damn loud as the music sound softly in the speakers, some song you say you like as ellie turns up the volume so you can hear it better. you're humming to the tune, a two-minute song as she pretends to be searching for the weed on her bag, taking more time on purpose.

"are you going to take the same three grams or you feel generous this time?"

"no, just three" you reply to her question. you've become quite aware of her consistent gaze on you now after weeks of selling you grass, personally giving you the best, making the moment linger without you noticing until you actually do catch on her subtle tactics— "that way i can text sooner and see you again this week."

ellie’s clueless most of the days but with that? anyone would notice you're flirting, blatantly as you look up to her and your dealer struggles to resist the need on her hands to pin you against the passenger seat and lean all over the console to go on and kiss you until you clearly state what you want. no playing around the bushes this time. demand, as her stomach turns, what do you mean by that.

do you want to see her more? that's why you buy three grams and talk to her every three or four days? are you, by any chance, not straight?

“if you want to see me during the week, you might just ask” ellie says mirroring your tone “like you ask to buy weed from me, s’not that hard.”

you’re the one who's nervous now, and she considers on giving you the weed as a gift before you’re paying. loses, you only mean loses in her economy at this point — and it's driving her hella mad when you get out the car and ellie’s left there with the need to have you as closer as you possibly agree to.

silk fabric slipping through her fingers.

the sixth time, ellie decides she's going to do something about it. about her needs. there’s no actual way you’re not flirting with her, the image of you in the passenger seat still sealed freshly on her mind even if it was a week ago, repeating it over and over again — you got her staring at your profile pic, debating if she can or cannot masturbate with the pictures you’ve shared on instagram from spring break in fucking california, liking your post cause it’s the only way she dares to interact, a way of saying she’s there.

in the middle of a saturday night, thinking about you. two in the morning and it’s all fucking you.

she should make up her mind. you’re a good buyer, and she wishes to keep it that way. you don’t ask for later payments, you constantly buy and don't share her number with weirdo friends like everyone else does, you're a reliable source surely: so why does her heart stops in her chest cavity when her phone's buzzing and ellie's reading the name she saved your contact with?

right. her pathetic crush on you.

her fingers move on their own before she considers to delay her response five minutes to seem busy.

she wont charge you double.

shit. it's two in the morning and she's selling you weed driven by the desire to see you again, using this gray hoodie to protects herself from the cold autumn breeze as she's pulling up to this party totally uninvited, passing the open door like it's her own house as zeta phi seems to be fully loaded now as the music sound loud and strident as all her hopes of catching you alone goes to the trash can.

no she’s not going to charge you double, she’s just guilty she’s so into you without you having any idea of it.

where you waiting for her arrival? fuck. her brain is acting up like a backstabbing bitch and ellie cannot help it as you appear radiant under a sea of people. you're not saying a word either when you're lacing your fingers with her's and you're pulling on your dealer upstairs, feet moving on their own as she don't make a single effort to resist your magnet-like influence in her very self.

ellie’s hand are sweaty cause she's so fucking nervous but you don't seem to care about it, looking back at her from over your shoulder only to offer a smile she cannot wrap her head around for a moment.

"can i ask where you're taking me?" she questions you, hoping her voice doesn't sound like that really, so strained and rough from just see you around — "or am i your hostage now?"

"we need a more private space to buy" you state like it's obvious "duh, the rooftop's empty. i stole the key."

ellie should've know you were a walking hazard.

cause it really seems like an achievement when you're opening the rooftop door, mischief grin as you look twice behind your back paranoid as ever someone can see what you're doing; and ellie chuckles at the sudden adventure, how you're closing the door when you invite her to step in with a subtle head movement, quickly shoving the key back to the pocket in your skirt.

cute. she thinks you’re cute.

it's empty like you said, and the knowledge makes every hair on her arms stand on their own even when she's wearing this thick hoodie that protects her from the cold.

"cannot risk my dealer of getting in trouble down there" you explain now that you can talk to her at a decent volume, and she fully eats it even when it's a clear lie and you're making up excuses to get her away from the noise.

"very kind, gonna name you my knight in shinning armor if you keep this up."

you're panting the spot right next to you as you take a seat in the over-used lounge chair with a tiny wooden table in front of it, and like a trained animal, ellie follows cause it's the perfect spot to leave her backpack as her brain keeps buzzing at the name you used to call her seconds before— my dealer.

she is, by all means, your dealer. it makes her chest fill out with a different kind of emotion, sound so fucking intimate, so nice.

"gonna buy the usual three grams, princess?" your knee brushes against her, and ellie's breathing hitches cause you're wearing this black-sheer stockings all the way to your upper thigh and she becomes aware of it when the material slips down as you're seated, skirt raising slightly upwards against the muscles of your legs: one movement and she swears she'd be able to see your underwear and ellie has to once again, remind herself how you quickly reduce her to this behavior; this state, shoved in a sea of pure filth — "or did you just call me because you wanted to see me tonight?"

she's feeling lucky tonight even when she never feels that way, a strike of confidence ellie feels as a rush on the blood: you give her a sight of your legs and now she's all over the damn place? loser behavior.

"is it that obvious?" you want her to kiss you. it's a need that installs deep down in your chest, and if you're not making it obvious by then you're definitely doing it now: you're not straight, you're not bulletproof to the holes her eyes make on your skin every time you have the pleasure to be left alone in her company, you're not giving up on this constant game of seduction you like to play "i'm buying weed too, so coming up here actually matters for you."

"haven't we state that already?" ellie asks, looking up to you as she drinks in the sight of you under the almost invisible light of the stars up in the sky "if you want to see me during the week-"

"might as well just ask" you completed for her as ellie grabs her bag so she can pull your weed from it. the best three grams she has in her power "i know that- thank you."

"it's a gift" she finally dares to say it now — "don't pay me this time."

has she ever felt this way before? never. the overwhelming pull, the reminder you're not her's? stings on ellie's skin like tiny needles. it's not a big deal, once again she's losing money all reckless, but fuck- it's worth it, worth it when ellie see you malfunction for a long moment, brain short-circuiting cause you don't expect it.

"that's not the deal."

"i don't care what our deal is, you're my best client, and i take care of my clients” it’s simple as she says it “sides. the weed does not matter, seeing you was payment already.”

"don't go yet," you add before she's making a movement to get up, hands cold wrapping around her arm as you pull her down to the lounge chair you're so comfortably seated — "smoke with me. let's talk for a while."

and she knows it's dangerous, but you're batting your eyelashes, looking at her with this sly smirk on your face she wants to kiss away and ellie has no option but to stay there buried in your side, your fingers still tight against her arm muscles as you make her stay.

"okay, but i need you to let go of me baby- i can't roll a joint with you all over."

liar.

she just want to see you get all flustered because of her as her fingers swiftly roll a joint without much effort, allowing the smoke to fill the air seconds after before you’re sneezing and she notices how you shiver on her side, turning her face to look back at your pretty face she’s been avoiding to stare so much.

"you cold?" she asks, and you do not want to admit it, but ellie's taking her hoodie off and it's a fucking sight when she's wearing this white tank top she does not care about until she can physically feel the shift of the air between you and her, caught up with your eyes checking her out as she lights up the joint.

"thank you," and for being a stoner, it's smells surprisingly nice as you relish on the warmth of it, comfortable now as you watch her smoke "i'll gave it to you downstairs."

"go home with it. you're going to catch a cold like this."

the silence it's imminent for a moment before she's passing you the joint an you're holding it between your fingers.

"i like your tattoo" is it also an excuse? not really, but ellie's bringing her arm closer to you as she's showing it under the flashlight of her phone cause she likes it too, showoff — "can i touch it?"

any other time she'd be denying it mumbling something stupid about hating random people to go on and touch her scarred arm but you're not a random girl. so she's whispering a barely audibly yes, and your fingertips are tracing the pattern etched on her skin, taking your time in doing so.

"it suits you," you praise as you touch, and she's fucking melting there under simple caresses, under something so simple as your fingers tracing her inked flesh, invisible shapes as you just want to keep your hand on her "did it hurt too much when you got it done?"

"yeah, sort of" it's not really like she's trying to sound cool, in all honest, she's just trying to be coherent now as you keep touching her skin as you smoke. invested in questions she's answering in full auto-pilot.

you're high after a while, and it's her weed that makes you look like that. half lidded, a lazy smile on your lips as you keep talking to her, red eyes, slower than ever: shit. she'd devour you all.

“have you ever shotgunned smoke into someone’s mouth?” you ask curiously, and the question comes out of nowhere as you stare at her blowing the smoke, a warmth creeping upon her neck as she notices the way you’re staring at her, ellie’s blushing.

selling you weed and not be able to get high with you every single time must be named one of the most horrible crimes in humanity.

“when i was like, 17?" ellie replies thinking for a moment "i dunno, thought it was the hottest thing ever- have you?”

“no, not really."

and to be fair, ellie's high too. she's testing a new strain with you and the words roll out of her tongue so easily she has no time to regret it, not when you're looking at her like you want her to get handsy there in a damn lounge chair, to hell if it’s in the middle of nowhere or not.

“want me to do it for you?” she asks, a gentleman as usual “i’ll gladly be the first.”

it takes a moment for you to consider it before your voice is all low and husky — "mhm."

“come here then miss,” ellie says using a finger to call you out, the joint already on her lips before she takes a long drag — “sit on my lap and open your mouth f’me.”

it's devastating.

your weight on top of her, your ass in her leg as she can see again, those transparent sheer stockings that must be damn useless against the cold, and her hand rest on your upper thigh there where she looked before.

you're so obedient. your skirt is a sinful invitation to touch further, and you're parting her mouth for her so she can get closer, and as she smokes, ellie does get closeto you. closer than she’s ever been — more than the car, the bathroom in the party she met you, mere inches before she's shotgunning the smoke in your parted lips and you're smoking from the same weed that was in her lungs.

"17-years-old ellie was right" you reply, not really moving to give her space as ellie's fingers squeeze your leg like a reminder you're there still, sated on your dealer's lap, her hands on you — "it is the hottest thing ever."

it's almost a chronicle of a death foretold, cause ellie's kiss does not surprise you at the slightest. it's demanding and sloppy cause she's high, you're high, and she's a victim of this force she cannot escape near you.

so she keeps on kissing you until your lips are swollen and you're simply there, slowly wanting more, squeezing your legs together cause you don't want to be a slut now — no. you don't want her to know you're soaking over a few kisses, at ellie's fingers pulling on your high stockings down till they are no longer there anymore.

"you're a fucking menace" she says between kisses, breathing heavier now by the seconds: ellie already noticed— "a menace to me, to my weed and my economy, you know that? how you make me sell out my stuff at half the price cause i want you as my secured client?"

despite her words, she's pushing you closer to her so you can feel her rib cage pressed against you, the goosebumps you produce just from being close to her, red lips and messy hair.

"it’s your loss ellie, cause i'd pay for the full price."

"mmhm well shit, you're really lucky cause you do give damn good kisses" she murmurs, fingers toying with the hem of your skirt now and she has the damn audacity to keep on smoking cause she's now confident on her effect, how you’re all affected by her touch — "and if you give damn good kisses, i'm betting all my money that you have an even better pussy for me."

the sounds you're making? fuck. she’s creaming her panties already when you're letting her touch you so freely and it’s not near enough.

"what is it going to be then, huh?" she asks curiously, her mouth already following the path down to your collarbone, your cleavage before she’s taking her time in leaving red-purplish hickeys there hidden beneath her own gray hoodie "should we make it to our seventh selling or you're going to let me play with your needy cunt as a much deserved reward?"

shit. shit. shit. you're so fucking wet when you're parting your legs further apart to give her a nice view of your underwear, a damp spot already there between your legs who’s enough to make her mouth water with the thought of burying her face between your thighs, intoxicate with the smell you're emanating and she feels already under her nose.

good fucking girl. she wants to praise you, let you know you're doing a great job there letting your skirt roll up to your stomach, so easy to get rid of it ellie's sure you did it on purpose now so she can let her hand slip between your legs to feel how soaked you are.

your cunt makes this sound when her finger’s taunting you she just happens to love, and your underwear clings to your pussy lips, hips buckling up to meet her fingers already wanting more.

greedy.

"shh-" she tries to reassure you — "you're comfortable there baby? want you to feel good when i touch you yeah? you'll let me know anything cause you're my well-behaved girl, aren't you? my best client here.”

ellie’s making you shake her head, coaxing you to say out loud you are comfortable there, ass in her lap, spread legs as her fingers push against the fabric right against your entrance, noticing how the cotton soaks at the motion.

"look at you all desperate" she chuckles — "have you been thinking about this a lot like i do?"

her fingers pull on your underwear to the side and there it is: glistening cunt, swollen lips and neglected clit that's just begging to be touched, filled, discovered by her hands, her mouth, tongue. nothing she fucking wants more.

who she is to ever deny anything to you? to stop selling you weed? the joint falls to the ground now as she's using her entire hand to touch you, fingers rubbing against your minor and mayor labia, circling against your engorged clit as you arch your back and she has to use force to keep you still, taking what she has to give like a champ.

"you're fucking soaked-" there's a slap sound that fills the air, and even when there's people in the garden they don't seem to hear your whimpers as her hand comes in contact with your pussy and she's slapping it once again, just enough to apply some pressure in your clit, just enough to make your legs shake "so responsive to me, gonna let me stuff this cunt full tonight? fucking finally huh? you've been haunting me like no one else."

and you giggle, giggle cause you cannot fucking believe it: fucking your dealer? are you so for real right now? you're deep under a cloud of haze you're unable to control, disheveled state when your skirt is all the way to up and your underwear being pulled to the side at her mercy and you can only answer:

"yes- ngh yes please ellie."

"shit- your clit is all puffy baby, all needy for me."

you're squeezing her already so hard when she’s working on you. a wet schlick that fills the air and combined with your incoherent words of praise and moans will send her to the grave.

ellie’s knuckles-deep and fuuuck. you're so tight she needs to ask if you're doing right, cunt engulfing her' fingers until there’s no more and she's curling them right to the spot so you don't care about the drunk fucks in the garden anymore, about anyone who can hear whats going on in an empty rooftop.

ellie’s using a hand to keep your legs spread when your free will collapses like paper cards, pulling them apart only to add a third finger in your used hole and reduce you to pieces now, clenching tight as she rubs on that special spot inside and you're mumbling something about feeling so full, so good with her inside.

"this pussy must be made for me baby, fits me like a fucking glove," ellie’s doubling her efforts, her palm colliding against your clit, fingers thrusting against the right spot over and over — "gonna let me see your pretty face when you cum? i know you're close."

you are. fuck you so are. your movements are erratic, your legs shake, and ellie's kissing on your shoulder, leaving a path of wet kisses on the exposed skin on your neck, biting on your earlobe, anywhere she can get.

"i can't-" you cry out, moving yourself in quick, sharp movements, it’s overwhelming — "fuck i can't hold no more-"

"let go" she replies, holding you tightly against her body — "let go. i got you."

it's hot. messes up ellie's jeans with a damp mark on them, turning the fabric darker when you finally cum and you're gushing on her fingers, leaking through trembling legs.

"fuck yes. drench me like that," your dealer moans, stealing a kiss from your parted lips, keeping the last glimpses of air in your lungs for her benefit "use me, baby, don't stop."

ah. ellie's in trouble after all, cause it don't seem she’ll be selling weed to you now. not when she's mixing business with pleasure and she's making you bend against the top rail of the old lounge chair cause she's not able to wait any longer to lick you clean until you have no other choice but to cum again.

truth be told she once heard cupid's cruel, but she didn't believe it fully, not until now since ellie knows, first hand — the little fucker shoots to kill.

[sugarwarachan]

horny brainrot: bnha

andy's notes: ahhhh i've missed y'all!! getting back into the swing of things (work was hell this week) and hope you like this particular bit of filth while i crack into prompts

content warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, not free of spoilers just by character names alone lol, pregnancy kink, panty kink, oral fixation, brat taming, oral m!receiving, cnc, throat fucking, scent kink, slightly yandere behavior with feathers, size kink

characters: kirishima eijiro, tenko shimura, shinsou hitoshi, hizashi yamada, aizawa shouta, keigo takami, shouto todoroki

kirishima has the nastiest pregnancy kink, no one can convince me otherwise, so he's delighted when he finds out you have one, too. but when you're trying for a baby, your everyday life becomes horny hell because he insists on treating you like you're already pregnant. when you want to do something around the house, he tells you to "think of the baby," wide grin on his face when you flush and squirm your legs together. shows you maternity clothing ads of all the things he can't wait to buy you, patting your tummy. "you're gonna look so good in this sundress when your bumps start to fill out, honey." it gets so bad that literally the mere swipe of his thumb across your lower belly makes your pussy clench. (you get a positive pregnancy test two weeks later)

tenko puts on a pair of your silk panties because he has "nothing of his own left to wear" but he's actually been thinking about how the material would hug his balls ever since he pulled them off you days ago. the silk clings to his dick, dragging over the shaft with a feather-like caress. he groans and ruts his hips into his palm. pre-cum darkens the silk. arousal unspools in his belly and his cock twitches, aching at the fact that your cunt rested here, right where his balls now hang. your pretty pussy lips dragged over this fabric too, leaving your juices on the gusset. he rolls into the mattress, humping your pretty pink sheets. he hears whimpering and whining and realizes it's him drooling out your name into the pillow as he cums harder than he ever has

when you're done being a mouthy little brat, shinsou loves to cup your jaw and sink two fingers into your mouth, the cold metal bands of his rings clinking gently against your teeth as your cheeks hollow, sucking and humming around his digits like the greedy little whore you are. "look at me," he says, tipping your head back and holding your gaze. "keep your eyes on me while i keep your mouth full.''

hizashi loves when you take charge, when you tie him to a chair and stuff your panties in his mouth while giving him the sloppiest head of his life. he ruts his hips up into the delicious hot suction of your mouth, but you hold him down and pull away with a plop. you smear spit and pre-cum over your lips with the head of his dick, smirking when it twitches. you do this for hours, until his dick is flushed dark, engorged and aching, balls drawn up so tight against his body your mere breath against them is torture. when you finally let him cum, he explodes down your throat and onto your lips, a creamy gloss that you lick away after

the first time you broach aizawa about cnc you don't miss the way his jaw clicks shut like he's swallowing down every thought. "you're sure?" is all he asks and then you get a questionnaire in your email a few days later regarding hard limits. cut to a month later, he's fisting your hair and bullying his cock down your throat. "break eye contact and i'll paddle your ass raw." you're already slobbering all over his shaft, drool slipping down your chin and neck. your eyes burn with tears and mascara and you know you look like a fucked-out mess, but your body is tingling, flying. "you love to be used like this, don't you?" aizawa fucks even deeper into your mouth, rocking into the curved concave of your throat. "nothing more than daddy's little cumdump?"

keigo gave you one of his feathers for a totally normal reason, he swears - not because he wants to keep an eye on his attractive personal assistant on your off time. it backfires, though, because you know all about his feathers' capabilities. the first time you stroke the feather keigo thinks he imagined it. but no, the more he interacts with you, the more he memorizes your scent, the swollen bud of your lower lip. when he feels you kiss his offering, it nearly brings him to his knees. but he scents you next, the musky sweetness of what can only be your arousal. when he lands on your window sill and sees the feather slipping between your thighs, you merely smile and ask him what took him so long to get there

shouto "doesn't have a size kink" todoroki hearing you whine "it won't fit" when he slots the head of his cock against your pussy. he's never really paid attention to how much smaller you are than him, how much his body overwhelms yours. he'll have to work hard to make sure you're ready for him. he rubs your swollen clit with his thumb, the palm of his hand hot on your belly. your pussy jumps and flutters around the thick head of his dick, already flushed red and weeping. he taps your belly button, knowing that's where he'll be soon. "i'll make it fit."

2025 © all works belong to @sugarwarachan. do not repost, translate, or steal any of my works pls. reblogs and comments always appreciated <3 If you'd like to be added to my general taglist, let me know!

general taglist <3 @cielito--lindo, @one-scarred-mofo, @uekarashi, @waterfal-ling, @iluvikeu, @bach-ira

[sparrows4bats]

Damian Wayne is actually pretty confident in romantic relationships in the comics. He flirts, he commits hard, and he adores his partners.

If he and Jon got together, it would be full throttle down the aisle. They are obsessed with each other. Damian is planning the wedding after the second date and calling his mom to get the traditional wedding rings out of storage.

The funny thing is that he forgot to tell Jon, and it's only after Damian refers to him as his intended or something (they get attacked by Talias men as a way to ascertain if Jon is good enough for her baby) that Jon realises they are even dating.

It hits him like a train. All the gifts, dinners, and physical affection mean Damian likes him back, Loves him back. Jon takes a breath, takes another, and goes with it.

He loves Damian, always has, in so many ways it is hard to imagine a world where they don't spend they rest of their lives together one way or another.

And God did Damian grow up to be pretty.

And as this all occurs to him as they stand over the bodies of unconscious Assassin's, in front of a satisfied Talia. He decides he is going to marry this ridiculous man.

And he has so much to catch up on.

He can't let Damian win at romance, he refuses. If they are going to do this Jon is going to shower Damian with all of the affection he has spent years holding back.

Thus commences Jon's mission of being the very best partner ever.

He learns Ma Kent's recipes, and then after he gets her number, Talias recipes from Damians childhood. He brings coffee when Damian is getting off shift at the hospital. He learns what makes Damian blush and stutter. He learns how to kiss him in a way that makes them both breathless. (He gets addicted to being able to incite reactions in Damian, making him melt under his hands or flush such pretty colours with names like darling, sweetheart, or pretty boy.)

He asks Talia, Bruce, and Dick for permission to marry Damian. They all have different reactions. (Talias smiles as she threatens him, Bruce quizzes him on his intentions, and Dick cries but still instils a fear so intense he now understands why Nightwing can handle the entire city of Bludhaven by himself)

He and Lois pick out the ring together. A pretty gold band with sapphire and emeralds.

He ties the ring onto Titus collar and waits for Damian outside the hospital with all of his co-workers filming. It has to be the most romantic proposal in history, and Damian cries happy tears. Even if he is upset, he couldn't officially ask Jon first. The real issue is this all happened within six weeks of dating. No one really noticed and thought they had been together for years at that point.

As a married couple, they are Gomez and Morticia levels of obsessed with each other but with more competitiveness.

[xi-vz]

Shen Yuan stared up at the man, disbelief clear on his face.

The man before him huffed a laugh, brown eyes becoming crescent shaped with amusement. He was a little taller than Shen Yuan, a little broader, with a sleeve tattoo covering his right arm to his wrist. His dark brown hair was softly curled, more wavy, and a little shaggy, falling to his shoulders. His face reminding Shen Yuan of Binghe. Not a lot, but just enough if he were to tilt his head and squint.

“You’re just a kid.” When the man finally spoke his voice was as smooth as velvet. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” Shen Yuan automatically responded as he gawked.

The man had round wire glasses, a piercing on the left side of his lower lip, both ears were pierced, and he had cheekbones that belonged on a magazine cover. He was a little older than Shen Yuan expected. Somewhere in his late-twenties compared to Shen Yuans late teens.

“Cucumber-Bro, come on, I’m not that different.” Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky offered a smile, showing off dimples underneath a days worth of scruff.

“How old are you?” Shen Yuan demanded, still blocking the doorway into the dorm.

“Thirty.”

What the fuck?

“What the fuck?” Shen Yuan asked aloud.

Seriously, this was the caffeine addicted crack-writer?!

When Shen Yuan had woken up back in his dorm room instead of in bed with his husband in the bamboo house, he immediately contacted Airplane—it was a gamble, but it paid off. The relief Shen Yuan felt when Airplane responded was like a weight lifted off his shoulders. He gave the other man his phone number and address, then waited an excruciating five days until the two could meet. (Because Shen Yuan lived in Beijing, but Airplane apparently lived in Chengdu, and last minute flights weren’t cheap.)

Shen Yuan knew that his friend would look different. Hell, Shen Yuan looked different! A little shorter, a little rounder, way younger. With pitch black eyes, short inky black hair, and an ear piercing. He was pretty rather than handsome, softer than Shen Qingqiu.

And it wasn’t that Shang Qinghua wasn’t handsome—he was! Like everyone else in PIDW. But Airplane?

“Can I come in?” Airplane asked while shoving his hands into his back pockets. He wasn’t dressed fashionably. His beat up backpack was slung carelessly over a shoulder, jeans were ripped due to wear and tear, his faded band shirt was due to too many washes, his sneakers were scuffed. And yet…

Shen Yuan dressed in the latest fashion. He tried his best to look good, he had standards for himself! He looked like a C-Pop star.

Airplane wasn’t even trying to be hot. (WHY WAS HE SO HOT?!)

It shook something inside of Shen Yuan. All of his past theories of Airplane being a troll flew out the window.

“Well?” Airplane looked like he wasn’t above shoving past his friend to get in.

Shen Yuan allowed his friend inside, still shook.

“Shang Qinghua.”

“What?”

“My name, bro.”

“Wait…you used your actual name for the character closest to Mobei!? Fucking Mary-Sue!”

“Ah, there we go, there’s the Peerless Cucumber I know. Although it’s weird to hear such vitriol from a face so cute.”

Shen Yuan felt the blood rush to his face and wished he had a fan in his hands to use as a weapon when Airplane chuckled.

“Come on, let’s try to figure out how to get back home,” Shang Qinghua said as he moseyed to the desk in the room.

Shen Yuan sighed as he closed and locked the door.

BONUS:

SY: I thought you said you were a broke university student who wrote to make sure food was on the table.

SQH: Yeah, dude. I’m working on my dissertation. Writing pays the bills.

SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES?????

SQH: Yeah, in Topology.

SY: YOU’RE GETTING YOUR DOCTORATES IN MATHS?????

[strawberryyyenthusiast]

Diabetic Steve who is at a Dairy Queen with Robin after he went with her to an all girl punk band that’s she’s been wanting to see for years. Steve had been feeling weird all day but he didn’t want to bail at the last second because he knew that Robin would just cancel everything to take care of Steve.

(Steve would do the same for her).

Steve plops down into a booth while Robin goes to order them food. He pulls out his pod and winces when he sees his glucose level.

64 and going down. Not a good sign.

Just to be sure he pricks his finger and holy shit, he’s actually at 43. It’s at that moment, when Steve is wiping his finger with the alcohol wipe, that his phone decides to loudly beep to alert him that, “hey you’re crashing pretty hard and fast— take care of it soon!!”

Steve is rifling through his bag while Robin is already trying to rush their orders.

“Shit,” Steve mumbles to himself. “I’m out of fucking juice.”

His hands start to shake and Robin begins to freak out. Steve is always so in control of his diabetes, she’s never seen him like this. So, Robin does what any other person would do and grabs the largest blizzard she has ever seen on the online orders tray and runs over to her best friend.

“Here! Have this, I’m going to try to get you some apple juice!”

Steve just nods his head and slowly spoons some of it into his mouth.

“This tastes like shit, by the way.”

“You’re welcome, dingus. Now shut up and eat.”

The worker behind the counter comes over and starts talking to Robin after she sits in front of Steve. Steve can’t really make anything out right now since he’s trying to focus on making his hands work. But, he thinks he hears the mention of calling 911 and an ambulance.

Time passes a little slower after that. Steve somehow manages to get down enough of the ice cream that he is slowly rising again.

57 after he pricked. Thank god.

It’s at that moment that Eddie Munson, lead singer of Corroded Coffin, walks in. He went to his best friend’s, Chrissy’s, show and needed a pick-me-up after helping her lug all of her equipment back into their vehicle.

He goes over to the online orders tray and it’s empty. He doesn’t really mind waiting. He walks over to the counter and sees that the worker is extremely frantic as she sorts some shit out.

“Hey,” he starts, his fingers tapping the fake granite counter top. “Just checking, I’m here to pick up an order for Edmundo and it’s not on the tray. Do you know when it will be ready?” He flashes an awkward smile and the worker just points to the table behind him.

“We’re working on it. Your nightmare of a blizzard was needed for something else. Give us five minutes.”

Eddie nods and slowly turned around, where he sees the most gorgeous man eating his blizzard. Reluctantly, he might add. The man has on a light pink t-shirt and brown corduroy pants, thick lensed glasses sliding down his nose. The woman across from him was clad in funky colors and had a dirty blonde bob. She was talking extremely fast and gesturing with her hands a bunch.

Chrissy would love her.

He walked over and tapped the man on the shoulder.

“How’s my blizzard?”

He slowly looks up and Eddie is met with honey brown eyes and beauty marks for days. A straight nose and an angular jawline. Jesus Christ.

The woman looks like she’s about to say something, but the guy beats her to it. “It tastes like if a unicorn threw up in my mouth, but it prevented me from passing out. So… thanks.” He smiles. “I’m Steve.”

Eddie needs to become Steve’s husband immediately.

“And I’m in love.” He pauses and then sees the look of glee on Steve’s face. “EDDIE. My name is Eddie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie. Are you free tomorrow?”

[gracieheartspedro]

Cherry Stems

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 3.1k

description: eddie rejects your advances because his friends are around. so you use them to your advantage. piss eddie off and maybe you'll get what you want. maybe.

warnings: MDNI! 18+ only pls, age not specified but i imagine eddie/reader are 20+, porn without much plot, major teasing, reader is a brat, mentions of eating food, reader has no food aversions, nicknames, reader is flirting with eddie's bandmates, jealousy, possessiveness, name calling, face grabbing, eddie is lowkey a dom, unprotected p in v, fingering (vaginal), oral fixation, eddie puts his fingers in your mouth a lot, reader gets off on being bullied, orgasm denial, cum play, cum eating.... think that's it.

author’s note: hi i wrote this in one night. i am a whore for eddie, what else can i say. i'm also down to take requests, so if you see this, hey, send me an ask. maybe i'll cave and do some. as always, thanks bestie girl @amanitacowboy for helping me with this. let's never forget how much of a whore we are for this man. it keeps me (in)sane <3

Eddie had been teasing you all night and it was really starting to get to you. 

After a pretty electric performance at The Hideout, Eddie and his friends decided that they were hungry for some burgers from the empty Shiny Diner nearby. You had already had enough of Eddie’s shit at this point, so as soon as you sat next to him in the big half moon shaped booth, you knew it was game on. 

From eyeing you while he sang filthy lyrics from the stage, to the way he was working his hand up the hem of your dress when you sat at the bar, Eddie was truly being a menace. When the band got loud in the car on the way to the diner, you decided to make your move. You had rested your hand on Eddie’s crotch while sitting in the bucket seat next to him. While Eddie loved giving a good show, he was not keen on letting his friends see you in such a way. So he brushed your hand away and gave you the ‘not now’ eyes. 

You were for him and him only.

It aggravated you to no end, watching him rejoin the conversation with the guys, while you crossed your arms in disappointment.

But you were going to push some buttons tonight. You were going to get him back.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant were all very sweet boys. Each of them have never been nothing but respectful of you. Gareth had known you longer than Eddie and he was actually the one who introduced you two. Jeff was usually a know-it-all, but he never dared question anything you said. And Grant… he was just quiet. Always following along with the antics and very well mannered. 

While you respected all the boys back, you also knew they found you attractive and that you could take advantage of that. After one specific smoke session together a couple months back, Eddie asked them all if they had a crush on you. He only ever said things like that to make them squirm. Teasing each other was the way they showed their love for one another. He also liked to remind people that they never stood a chance with you. And they all said that of course they found you pretty, but they would not dare go after you. 

Well, for one night only, you would give them believe they had a chance. Just to piss off Eddie. 

You had done this before. A year into your relationship, you had unintentionally made him jealous and it led to the most mind blowing sex of your life. The sex was so memorable that you do not even remember how you made him jealous. 

You needed that just about now. 

You were the only group there along with the waitress and line cook, so you were not worried about making a scene. You game plan how you were going to achieve such a feat as you scan the diner menu. You already knew what you wanted, but spotting the milkshakes on the list of drinks, a light bulb went off in your brain. 

The older waitress took down the boy’s order while you sat quietly staring at the menu. When it came down to you, you look up at the white haired woman and smiled. 

“One chocolate shake, extra whip cream and cherries, please.” You hand her the menu and glance over at a confused Eddie. You usually got a Dr. Pepper and a cheeseburger value meal, hold the lettuce. 

“Not hungry, baby?” He asks, reaching out for your black painted nails. You slide your hand away, acting like you are reaching for something in your purse. 

“Just wanna try something new.”

You pull your lipgloss out, still not looking over at Eddie. You twist off the top, placing the applicator on the middle of your bottom lip as your eyes flicker over to Grant’s. He is not paying much mind to anything, his eyes looking towards the window behind you. When he takes note of your gaze, he finally looks at you. 

You swipe the gloss across your lips, smirking devilishly. 

“What did you get, Grant?”

He thinks for a beat, realizing even he forgot what he ordered. “Uh… BLT with onion rings.”

You smack your lips together, rubbing your top lip on the bottom one painfully slow. 

“You gonna share your onion rings?”

He was not expecting the question, his lips curling upward before he chuckles. You can feel Eddie’s body stiffen as you ask the question. 

Grant nods, though, “Of course. You can have some-” “Baby, you’re not gonna eat his food.” You shoot a glare at Eddie, tossing your gloss back in your pocketbook. “Grant said I could, so… yeah I am.”

Eddie’s eyes search yours, trying to figure out what you are trying to do. You disguise your pleasure at his curiosity, rolling your eyes and pointing your attention at Jeff. He’s positioned right next to Grant, fiddling with his fingers. Before you can press him with a question, the waitress comes and puts down your drinks. She’s missing your milkshake. 

“That’ll be out in just a moment,” She says, grabbing her tray as she returns behind the counter, seemingly preparing your shake. You watch Jeff fiddle with his straw wrapper and you finally decide to bother him next. 

“Is that Dr. Pepper?” You ask, already knowing the answer. Jeff always got Dr. Pepper, just like you. It’s something you two bonded over often. He just nods, taking a sip of the bubbly beverage. You look over at the waitress quickly, seeing she’s still fiddling with the milkshake blender. 

You grab Jeff’s ice cold glass, your eyes glistening with innocence, “You mind if I have a sip? I’m parched.” And of course he’s too confused to say no. You pull the drink over and once it crosses to your side of the table, Eddie’s hand presses into your bare thigh. You do not react, taking Jeff’s straw into your mouth and sucking in a big sip, your eyes never leaving his. Once you pull the plastic away, you smirk. 

“Thanks, hun.” You push the drink back to him slowly. His cheeks heat up instantly when he notices your lipgloss on the tip of the straw. Eddie’s hand only squeezes more, trying to get you to look over at him. 

He wanted your attention so bad, his body curving closer to you. You can feel his gaze stuck onto the side of your face. 

Before anyone says anything else, the white haired lady returns with your chocolate shake. You giddedly grab the glass and stuff a straw into the frozen drink. 

You use your tongue to toy with the end of the straw, pulling it into your open mouth. Your eyes flicker away from Jeff and take aim at Gareth, who’s seated right across from you. Since he’s known you so long, you can already read on his face that he knows what you are up to. He may be a nice guy, but he too loves to fuck with Eddie. 

He was going to help you in whatever way possible. Instead of you initiating conversation, he speaks up. 

“Chocolate, huh? Thought you’d like vanilla.” Your eyebrow quirks up. You know Eddie’s face is bright red next to you. The heat radiating from him is pressing into your shoulder and thigh. 

“You got me pegged as a vanilla girl? That’s a bit offensive, Gare,” You smile, calculating your next move. You look down at the pile of whipped cream on the top of the shake. You drag your pointer finger across the top, gathering the cream all around it. 

You hear Eddie whispering beside you. “You better fuckin’ not.”

You smile, bringing your finger to your lips, not peeling your eyes from Gareth. You know the tension is palpable because Gareth’s smile is only widening when you lick the cream off your finger. 

The other guys are gawking at you at this point. You were putting on a show and they could not even fathom that it was happening before their very eyes. 

Gareth finally says something, nodding at the milkshake. “And extra cherries?”

“Gareth-,” Eddie’s voice fades over yours. 

“Oh yeah! You know I can tie the stems with my tongue?”

Eddie’s rings are going to be imprinted on your leg with how tightly he’s gripping onto you. You grab one of the cherries, getting your fingers covered in more whipped cream. You lean your head back a bit, your nose facing the old tile ceiling. You drop the cherry in your mouth, stem up. Tilting your head back, facing Gareth, you pull the cherry off the stem between your teeth. It’s unbelievably sensual the way you chew the red fruit. 

You show each of the boys the stem, even Eddie. When you glance over at him, you do not believe you have ever seen him so annoyed. He’s not hiding it well. You drop the stem on your tongue, returning your gaze over to Gareth. 

You roll the stem around, using your teeth slightly to do the stupid party trick you learned in 10th grade to impress a boy. It’s not impressive when every hot girl in school could do it, too. But nonetheless, it was something you could do to layer on the eroticism of the moment. 

When it’s tied, you contemplate taking it out of your mouth and showing it off. Maybe even drop it in Eddie’s hand. Instead, you decide to just extend your tongue out and show the stem on the very tip of your tongue. 

The color drains from Eddie’s face. It’s the end of the show for him. 

He grabs your forearm, ripping you out of the booth. You look back at Gareth, who’s still smiling, all the while Jeff and Grant look even more confused.  

When the fresh air hits you when he slams the glass door open, you flick your head to the side and spit out the stem in the gravel. His grip is so tight around your arm as he drags you to the van. It’s parked on the far side of the lot, occupying a spot that’s backed up to some woods. 

“What is wrong?”

Asking such a question only pisses him off further. Once you reach the van, his left hand flings the side door open. He practically tosses you onto the shag rug that lines the very back of the vehicle. 

“Are you fuckin’ with me right now?” His voice is intimidatingly deep.

Your legs hang out while Eddie stands over you, his hand resting on the top of the van. The back of your knees feel the sting of the frayed metal that hinges the door shut. You swallow, contemplating if you should continue messing with him. With the way he’s looking at you, you felt that this was not going to lead to the jealous sex you two had before. He’s actually angry. 

“You pushed my hand away when I wanted you earlier.”

Your voice is so small and unsure. His eyes narrow at you, his mouth slightly ajar in complete disbelief. The silence hanging in the air makes your heart rate increase. 

His mouth closes and you watch his jaw clench, “So you flirt with my friends right in front of me? Even when I explicitly said you better not.”

With his free hand, he swats your bare leg as you squeeze your thighs together. “Answer me.”

You watch the red mark appear on your flesh and decide to keep playing into the game. You had nothing to lose. If he’s actually angry, you could always have amazing make up sex instead. Eddie could not stay mad at you for too long. 

You shake your head, lifting your chin up in defiance. “All I did was tie a cherry stem.”

He does not accept that answer, slapping your thigh harder this time. 

You knew then that you had him where you wanted him. His eyes were giving him away. His pupils dilated as soon as he realized that you did not yelp at him slapping you around. 

Your eyes widen, watching him jump into the van beside you and dragging you back further. He slams the door, rattling the hunk of metal. The only light being let in is from the front windshield. A hazy warm lit streetlight only lights up Eddie’s face as he’s pining you to the ground. 

He positions himself between your legs, pushing the back of your thighs up with his knees. The skirt you chose for the occasion was pretty flowy, so it slid up your hips as soon as he props you up. “You want to act like a whore in front of my friends? All ‘cause I slapped your hand away earlier?”

His voice does not even sound like his. You hear the jiggling of his belt as he asks you the question. But the more twisted Eddie was, the more aroused you felt. You were drawn to him the first moment he teased you and bullied you a bit. You got off on him being callous. 

“Words. Now.”

You look down between your legs and see his cock springing free from his boxers as he shoves them down his thighs. You groan, the pulsating at your core coinciding with your heart rate. “Wanted to get your attention.”

He smacks your inner thigh, painfully close to your pantyline. You moan at the action, propping yourself up a bit more on your elbows. You watch as he carefully drags his pointer and middle finger under the hem of your lace. He smirks to himself, “That’s not what I fuckin’ asked.”

His fingers dip under your underwear, gathering the slick between your folds. You throw your head back, unable to hold back the sob as he spreads you open. You were putty in his hands, always bending to him. “Yes, Eddie.”

Your response leads to him sliding his fingers inside your cunt, a wet squelching noise filling both your ears. Your back thuds against the rug as your muscles give out under his touch. He fucks you with his fingers, the look on his face unreadable. He usually takes his time with foreplay, but this was different. He was testing how far he could take you in a limited amount of time. You were in a parking lot with his friends less than 500 feet inside, he could not take his time torturing you. 

His fingers retract from your pussy, gripping onto the lace of your panties and tearing them down your legs. When he sits back on his heels, you watch his long cock bounce with his movements. It sends a smile across your face. When he zeros in on you again, he tilts his head to the side. 

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t talk anymore.”

It makes you giggle at first, unsure if he’s really being serious. But when his face does not twist up into a smirk like it usually did, you realize you were in trouble. He takes ahold of his dick, leaning forward onto you. Your mouth falls open as you study Eddie dragging his tip between your slit, gathering as much of your wetness as he could. 

He sinks into you, raising your hips a bit to meet him straight on. The stretch is always overwhelming for you at first. You and Eddie fucked at least three times a week, but he always made you cum before shoving his cock deep inside you. Stretching you out for a couple minutes with two fingers is not enough for you. He hisses when he pulls back, his hands grasping onto you for dear life. 

He wastes no time setting a bruising pace. There’s no build up, he is simply taking his annoyance out on you. You are reaching out to anything around you, trying to find something to hold onto as he rams into you. You find a sweatshirt nearby, squeezing it as tight as you can as you breathe out to relax your pelvic muscles.

“Eddie, please-” You try to say, throwing your head forward. He shifts your hips a bit more, opening you up wider. As he does that, he rakes his hands upward, pushing your skirt up higher to your belly button. He shakes your head to your pleas. 

“Eddie, please.” He mocks, relocating his hand to squeeze your cheeks together. When your jaw unhinges, Eddie inspects your tongue as he drills into you. “Put my fingers in your mouth.”

“Ed-”

He sandwiches your face harder, cutting you off from being able to say anything. He fills your mouth with the two fingers that were plunging inside of you earlier. The taste of your own arousal is still present on his fingers as you swirl your tongue around the digits. You mewl as he grinds his pelvis into your clit. “Shut up,” he orders, his face centimeters from yours, “Now suck them while I fuck you.”

You have no way to talk back, so you do what he says. You hallow your cheeks out, lathering all your saliva around his fingers. The build up in the pit of your stomach only gets more intense when Eddie hoists your leg up over his shoulder. You clench around him, tears pricking your eyes as you vibrate his fingers with your moans. 

“Do not fuckin’ cum yet,” He warns, pulling his fingers in and out of your mouth. His hips are faltering as he chases his own climax. Your body feels like every nerve ending is about to implode under the pressure of you holding back your orgasm, and Eddie can sense that. He drags his fingers out from your lips, rubbing your own spit into your lips. He grabs your jaw with the same hand, pulling your face closer to his.

“Say you’re mine. You’re only gonna be mine.”

You nod, knocking his forehead slightly. “I’m only ever gonna be yours, Eddie.”

With your foreheads touching, you watch as he falls apart inside you. 

And with three vicious snaps of his hips, he spills his seed deep inside you. He does not let out a sound. His mouth is agape as deep heaves fan your face. 

When he finishes, he slides his cock out of you and sits back on his knees again. Him exiting your body is so frustrating, you want to scream.  

He uses one arm to hold your one leg back as spit covered fingers swipe up your cunt. His spend is leaking out of you and you know if he works his usual magic, you will cum in 30 seconds. 

“Please, Eddie. Please let me cum.”

He smirks villainously, “Why should I let you, hm?” He spreads your pussy lips, getting a good look as his cum dribbles down to your asshole.

You are getting desperate. You never had to beg Eddie to cum, ever. He was always so generous. 

“I promise I’ll be good. Please, please.” He chuckles dryly before sinking his fingers back into you. “Fine. Since you asked so pretty and promised to behave yourself.”

His fingers scissor into you, that familiar burn in the pit of your stomach returning. As his two fingers make work at your entrance, his thumb swipes your clit in meticulous circles. His bottom lip is tucked under his top teeth, watching you fall apart on his fingers. You are practically chanting his name as he brings you to your peak. 

When your chest heaves, finally relaxing from your orgasm, Eddie slides his digits out of you and brings them up to his plump pink lips. He licks them clean, just like you did with the whipped cream earlier. 

“Hm… Don’t see how Gareth thought you were a vanilla girl,” He states, smiling sinfully at you. “You, my dear, are a fuckin’ vixen.”

-

tags of friends who may like this idk (if you wanna be tagged in the future, just lemme know <3):

@hockeyhughes @pedgito @mediocredreams @the-unforgivenn

[bugdoppio]

HEADCANON DROP HI HELLO (ignore how i accidentally switched pete and josh's position i drew this in school without my phone okay. forgive me)

BILL !!

hes the level of white that his face gets actually red when hes rlly angry

worst acne out of all of the club plus probably has a bald spot on his head from how stressed out he is all the time

surprisingly his hair is the cleanest out of all of them because his mom forces him to take baths frequently (hates her for it) -> weirdly that does not stop him from smelling like shit so

has VERY bad myopia (short sighted)

absolutely awful posture. pack it up hunchback of notre dame

has very bad lactose intolerance but does NOT stop him

i like to think maybe it was his dad who introduced him to comics and nerdy stuff and they really bonded over that so he resents his mother a lot for "taking his dad away from him" when they had the divorce

NOT a reader at all, only reads books that dont have pictures on them if its for school, otherwise he does NOT touch that shit

has a surprisingly good singing voice but the talents wasted because he doesnt like music at all

very very VERY closeted bisexual would rather die than admit he feels a little something when looking at pretty men

has a habit of biting himself when he's frustrated

has arachnophobia so bad to the point it's actually funny. if u tell him theres a spider on his shoulder he will scream so loudly and freak out and not speak to u for a week when he realizes u were lying

his bones are really easy to break for some reason? shove him the tiniest bit hard he will break something when he falls on the ground

i feel like he'd have a peanut allergy. no i will not elaborate

judges really hard whenever someone gets a very complicated coffee order but cannot handle a singular sip of black coffee. spits it out immediately

brags about being the oldest of all of them when its like. him and josh are less than a month apart

very very low pain tolerance will be so dramatic over every tiny papercut

umm umm something something npd and ocd because oomf said so

last one of the club to grow facial hair

hates HATES pda but is so clingy in private its insane

chews on every pen or pencil he owns. beaver ass

has really really dry lips to the point his doctor told him to regularly put on chapstick but he never does it because he "feels gay" doing it, lips get cracked and bloody every time the weather gets a little dryer than usual

always wears long sleeved shirts or jackets over t-shirts because he hates how his arms look (theyre very skinny. bro cannot throw a hard hitting punch or lift a mildly heavy object for his life)

cannot peel any fruit. ever.

never got his drivers license. even in epilogue he has to take cabs everywhere

also epilogue i feel like he'd have a little bit of a drinking problem maybe

JOSH !!

very very greasy curly hair that has so much frizz. CANNOT be brushed dry ever or itll puff up ljke a pomeranian

probably started growing a neckbeard before any real facial hair but he gets self conscious about it so shaves it -> gives up shaving it in epilogue and his real beard started to grow

his weight isnt that much his fault its more of a genetic thing tbh -> tried working out to see if he lost weight once but when his fat didnt immediately turn into muscle in like. a week. he gave up

his mom probably got him to do piano or violin classes and when the club went to a recital to make fun of him they were like. a little impressed cuz he was not bad at all tbh -> probably tried to audition to school band or somethibg? but immediately shouted FUCK the second he got a note wrong and got kicked out

has some form of jaw misalignment? but never told his mom because he would rather die than be seen with braces

gamer headphone dent 💔

immediately asks any girl wearing a band shirt "name five songs" even if he doesnt know the band at all

owns a concerning amount of body pillows

secretly has a thing for mean assertive women

bpd maybe?

has VERY bad hyperopia (long-sightedness)

used to own hamsters and got so sad when they died he missed club meetings for like a week -> club genuinely thought it was a grandma or something not yoda 1 and yoda 2 (he'd name them that because he forgot which one was which and just named them the same thing)

has so many cousins and extended family its insane. he swears that if he hears "youve grown so much, last time i saw you you were a little baby!" he will LOSE IT

has freakishly good aim for some reason? like, the club wouldve gone to paintball or laser tag or something and bill would throw a tantrum over always getting shot by josh immediately

hates overly sweet things

PETE !!

very very hairy everywhere except on his head 😭 bro has a receding hairline at 17 someone save him (literally the only reason he wears the baseball cap all ghe time)

probably the first one to grow facial hair out of the club, brags about it so hard

tried piercing his ears by himself once but it got infected so he had to give up

rlly dark eyes and has the most beautiful luscious dark lashes youve ever seen (guido mista coded)

nose is very curved and downturned

MOLES MOLES SO MANY MOLES

kinda crooked teeth but his parents cant afford braces for him so

owns a bunch of exotic pets and used to prank the club with them until bill accidentally stepped on his pet spider and killed it or something

yk when u smell sweaty and bad and try putting deodorant on top to fix it but just ends up smelling like a mix of sweat and deodorant and its lowkey worse? yeah thats what pete smells like. all the time. and axe body spray

tried smoking one (1) time to look cool and regretted it so much. never again

probably unironically got scurvy once due to not brushing his teeth or eating any fruit and thought his gums bleeding meant he was turning into a zombie -> tried biting josh once to be funny and "turn him into a zombie too" but he bit too hard and it got infected (he felt SO bad)

really strong immune system from eating dirt as a kid? almost never gets sick -> when he does its really bad and the club lowkey thinks hes gonna die when it happens

if not working at sick mofo in epilogue i like to think he could've ended up working as a horror sfx artist

also could probably have been good at sports if he tried but he never did (plus hates jocks so)

surprisingly really knowledgeable about food and spices and stuff (maybe his mom taught him) but he HATES cooking so never does anything abiut it

watches gore and shit but would throw up immediately if he saw a major injury like that in real life

has freakishly good reflexes from his older brothers picking on him all the time

JERRY !!

THICK EYEBROWS !!!!!!!! KINDA HAS SIDEBURNS TOO !!!!!!!!!! im not normal

thin lips ..and eyebags …. plus kinda defined cheekbones make him look rlly tired all the time

hes really myopic but doesnt have glasses -> his eyes look closed all the time cuz hes always squinting trying to see 3 feet in front of him (plus his eyebrows furrow together when he does so thats why sometimes he looks like he has a unibrow) -> probably starts wearing contacts in epilogue

also literally only failed his driving test becayse of myopia SOMEONE GET THIS POOR BOY SOME GLASSES

had a tooth gap when he was younger (think that one flashback where theyre all kids) and had to wear braces for a while to fix it -> was relentlessly made fun of because of that by the club until bill got braces too and threatened to punch whoever made fun of braces again

weirdly good at finding out info about people …. stalker ass .!!!! has doxxed people he dislikes on forums occasionally -> stops doing that in epilogue but maybe finds himself accidentally stalking someones profile when on the internet and feels bad

waaayy taller than the rest of the club but has a shitty posture so he looks kinda on par with the others -> like 180cm but looks 175cm

best jawline out of all of them lowkey 😭

maybe a little unaware on physical boundaries and stuff … physical touchy guy

FRECKLES + hes probably the one wity tge least acne out of all of them cuz he would probably start picking at his pimples the minute they show up (does NOT wash his face though) -> acne scars in epilogue

greasy hair, probably washes it every 2 weeks (has rlly nice smelling shampoo when he does wash it though) -> washes his hair more frequently in epilogue (REALLY soft)

very blunt when he has strong opinions about something but otherwise has ZERO backbone. will immediately change his mind on something if he wants to impress someone

a sagittarius because he looks like he'd have a birthday in december plus weird al yankovic song your horoscope for today (listen to it right now.)

very clammy sweaty hands and HATES it, sensory nightmare, always fidgeting with the hem of his sweater to dry them out

autistic .!!! plus has rlly bad anxiety probably

and fomo. oh lord he has so much fomo -> probably one of the biggest reasons he still hangs out with the club tbh -> plus has really bad codependency and abandonment issues maybe? cannot do something by himself he has to have someone with him

gets his ears pierced in the epilogue and LOVES it, too scared to get more though because it was really painful

is a pretty good artist, could've become a professional easily but was more preoccupied with other stuff probably

owns a huge ginger main coone cat that bullies him around

low blood pressure

very skilled at calligraphy… most legible handwriting out of all of them

umm urrmm thats it i thinks .... i hope my vision is not too out of character .......,,,, Guh

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 CHEST PAIN ( I LOVE ) yu jimin x reader

♪ ❝please, I wanna see what we would be if you were by my side❞

⭢ moonstruck good luck, babe! (lowkey don’t need to read these but it might give small context to things)

↳ warnings paranoia!yn, pre debut paranoia, fluff, angst, idol/trainee au

jimin always thought yn was a pretty cool girl. she was rebellious, but that just made her even more intriguing. during her training period, jimin couldn’t help but notice how yn and the two boys she was always with had a different approach to training. they were constantly separated from the other trainees, which only made jimin more curious.

her curiosity grew even more when she found out the reason they were always apart. they weren’t just training. the three of them were creating music for the artists under the company.

to be honest, she didn’t like that the company kept these three talented trainees hidden away in a basement, creating music for already established artists.

then she became one of those artists.

there was something different about yn, that was the only thought running through jimin’s mind as she glanced over the lyrics for i’m unhappy. she couldn’t ignore the nervous flutter in her chest under the girl’s steady gaze.

“you sounded good before, I don’t know why you feel like you need to push yourself even more.”

jimin scoffed, rolling her eyes as she set the lyrics down on the table. “I’m literally a singer. pushing myself is the job.”

yn hummed, a small smirk playing on her lips. “sounds exhausting.”

“so is making songs for people who barely acknowledge you exist.”

yn let out a short laugh at that, shaking her head. “you and I both know that’s not true, everyone requests me.”

it was easy, this kind of back and forth. jimin had always admired yn from afar, but it was different now that they were sitting across from each other, actually talking. yn wasn’t just a name on a credits list anymore she was real, tangible, and somehow even more intriguing up close.

but what really got to her was the way yn spoke. she wasn’t like other producers jimin had worked with. she didn’t sugarcoat things or tiptoe around egos. she was blunt, but not in a cruel way just honest.

it was refreshing. and maybe a little bit dangerous.

because jimin was starting to think she wanted more.

it wasn’t like this was the first time they’d worked together. yn had been making music for the group since their debut. but this was the first time jimin felt something more, felt attracted to her.

maybe it was because yn was still technically a trainee, with her own debut coming up, yet she carried herself with the kind of confidence that made her stand out even in a room full of idols.

or maybe it was because jimin was just now allowing herself to acknowledge how drawn to her she really was. whatever the reason, she found herself making excuses to be around yn more often, finding ways to keep the conversations going after their recording sessions. she wasn’t even subtle about it.

“you wanna hang out?” yn had stared at her like she’d just asked her to commit a crime. karina almost laughed at the expression.

“what? you scared of me or something?”

“no,” yn replied quickly. then, after a pause, “maybe.” that did make jimin laugh. “c’mon. I don’t bite.”

yn hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “why?”

jimin blinked. “why what?”

“why do you wanna hang out with me?”

jimin tilted her head, pretending to think about it. “hmm. maybe I just think you’re interesting.”

yn scoffed. “that’s a lie.”

“so what if it is?”

yn exhaled, shaking her head. “fine. but just so you know, I don’t do relationships.”

karina shrugged. “that’s perfect. I’m an idol. I don’t need the weight of a relationship either, and your band or whatever is debuting soon so it’s a win.”

and just like that, it started.

their fling started as a casual thing something unspoken but understood between them. jimin was an idol, yn was debuting soon, and neither of them needed anything serious.

but casual didn’t explain the way jimin found herself lingering after studio sessions, watching yn with an intensity she couldn’t even begin to explain.

“you always stare this much?” yn asked one night, barely looking up from her laptop as she adjusted the levels on a track.

jimin scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “I’m not staring.”

yn smirked, finally turning her head to look at her. “you’re literally staring.”

jimin shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “maybe I just think you’re interesting.”

yn arched a brow. “hmm. that’s a lie.”

“so what if it is?”

yn’s shook her head as she returned her focus to the screen. “you’re not as smooth as you think you are, y’know, you’ve already pulled that on me before.”

jimin rolled her eyes but didn’t argue.

late night convenience store runs became a routine. sometimes it was because jimin was craving something specific, other times it was because yn needed a break from the studio.

“ramyeon or kimbap?” jimin asked, standing in front of the shelves.

yn, crouched by the ice cream freezer, glanced up. “both.”

jimin snorted. “you eat like a guy.”

“I do not.” yn shot back, tossing a carton of ice cream into the basket.

jimin grinned. “you do, it’s not your fault babe I blame wonbin and jay.”

“shut up.”

they sat on the curb outside the store, eating in comfortable silence. the streetlights cast a soft glow around them, and for a moment, jimin let herself forget that this wasn’t something real.

that it couldn’t be real.

“you ever think about what you’d be doing if you weren’t an idol?” yn asked suddenly, voice quiet.

jimin thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I don’t know. it felt like I was training forever. this is all I know.”

yn hummed, twirling her chopsticks between her fingers. “I think I’d be a producer. like, full time. not just a trainee stuck in a basement.”

jimin frowned at that. she never liked the way yn talked about herself like she was just some hidden secret the company kept locked away. “you’ll debut soon.”

“yeah.” yn’s lips curled into something unreadable. “but even then, I think i’ll always be more useful behind the scenes.”

jimin didn’t like that answer.

she nudged yn’s knee with her own. “you’re gonna be big, you know.”

yn gave her a skeptical look. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.” jimin grinned. “and then you’ll be the one barely acknowledging the people making your songs.”

yn laughed. “you suck at pep talks, and you know I would never letting anyone anyone but me and the boys touch our tracks.”

jimin just smiled, but she meant what she said.

it was small moments like these quiet, intimate, real that made it hard for jimin to pretend this was just a fling.

but she knew better than to cross that line.

except… sometimes it felt like they already had.

like when yn would adjust jimin’s mic during recordings, her fingers grazing the side of her neck just a little too long.

or when they were packed in a van after a late night session, and yn leaned her head against jimin’s shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

or when they were watching a variety show one night, and wonyoung popped up on screen.

“isn’t she so pretty?” jimin said, not thinking much of it.

yn tensed. it was subtle, but jimin noticed.

“she’s okay,” yn muttered. “i’m more of an irene girl.”

jimin raised a brow. “ohhh, you’re into older women.”

yn smirked, turning her head to look at her. “yeah. that’s why i’m hanging with you.”

jimin choked on air. “shut up.”

yn just laughed, leaning back against the couch with that same confident ease that always drove jimin a little insane.

it was in moments like these when jimin’s heart skipped a beat, when she found herself wanting to reach out and pull yn closer that she realized she was in trouble.

she was catching feelings.

and it scared her.

she knew what yn had told her from the start. she knew. but that didn’t stop her from wanting.

and that was dangerous.

so a few days before paranoia’s debut under sm, jimin made a choice.

she ended it.

yn was quiet for a long moment, then she simply nodded. “okay.”

but jimin saw the way she tensed the way her fingers curled just slightly, like she was bracing for impact. and suddenly, jimin was remembering the only other time she’d seen yn react like that.

jimin swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a small smile. “good luck on your debut.”

yn nodded again, and jimin turned, leaving the room before she could change her mind.

the second she was alone, the tears finally fell.

if only jimin had just told yn how she felt.

because fortunately no, unfortunately  yn felt the same way.

maybe she should’ve just been honest.

and maybe then, her tears wouldn’t have seen a single day.

[queenie-the-court-jester]

you'll be back.

Yandere rockstar x reader

A/n: this was very rushed so I'll fix it later, but please enjoy! 🌺

Tw: dub con turns to non con, breeding kink, obsessive behavior, yandere ex boyfriend, very minor angst

🎸you hated him. Hated his guts, his handsome looks, the way he'd wrap his arm around your waist as if you were still dating. His spotless dark skin you were so envious of, that dumb charismatic smile. You hated it. Why did he do this to you? Always running back and begging you to let him stay for a while. And you'd let him. Why? You didn't know

🔥 Maxine knew. It's because you still loved him. He knew you did. Why else would you let him climb into your bed and hold you close? Why else would you let him kiss your lips? Why else would you let him undress you slowly with so much love

🎸he was a mess for you, no matter how many fans he had, they could never replace you. All the girls he slept with after your breakup? None of them compared. He loved you more than his love for the life he had. But if he did, why did he pick it over you?

🔥 highschool sweethearts, well, up until you both graduated and he started a band. They were small, but slowly grew in the following year. Having multiple companies reach out in hopes of striking a record deal. Soon, nightly Melodies came to be.

🎸you forgot his bandmates names, they weren't really important to you since they didn't bother trying to know their leaders lover. Good riddance you say. You never liked how that drummer kept staring at him.. not to mention his fans were psychopaths. Harassing you online and sometimes even in real life. He didn't even care after you'd complain about it

🔥you were eachother's first time, first everything. So ofcourse it hurt when you finally confronted him after he skipped your date night for the 10th time that month. He never had time for you anymore, brushing you off in favor of hanging out with his "friends"

"just calm down babe geez.. it's not that big of a deal.."

"not that big huh? Well then, if you care so little about actually being a good boyfriend, consider yourself single."

🎸you left him to stare at you in shock as you packed your bags, he tried stopping you. Begging you to stay, blocking the door, standing behind your car as you tried driving away. He promised he could change. But you knew otherwise. You were done

🔥months later, he stalks your socials and keeps sending you gifts. All until you start to crumble and let him in slowly. He knew you wouldn't last long. His reputation and band be damned. All he wanted was you.

🔞you could only stare at him, unsure as he kissed the valley between your breasts and trailed lower, hands rubbing up and down your sides. You could feel his dick press against your leg, your clothing scattered all over the bedroom floor

"there there pretty baby.. let me take care of you hm? Such a good girl.. want me to fuck this pretty pussy as a reward? Hm?"

🔞he slowly pushes the tip inside after teasing you relentlessly for what seemed like hours. Letting out Little groans as he slipped in inch by inch. Praising you for taking him so well, cutting himself off and letting out a lewd gasp after he felt you squeeze him

🔞 he starts off slow and steady, he doesn't last long as he's practically fucking you into the bed. Crying out tears of euphoria at the feeling of you sucking him in deeper, the tip bullying your cervix

"f-uuuckkk pretty ma', hah.. I don't think I can last long- a-ah!"

🔞he refuses to stop after cumming inside you once. Babbling something about knocking you up and filling you up with his children. Gathering some sense of clarity you tried begging him to stop, but he clamped a hand over your mouth. Pinning you down and angling your hips higher. Blue eyes staring down at you with manic glee

🔞drool drips down his chest as he pants and groans, he only stops until he's fully drained and each touch of his skin makes his hips spasm. Pulling you flush against him he practically purrs, nuzzling his face into your chest. You couldn't help but wince at the cold feeling of his lip piercings rub against your bare skin. Tiredly reaching a hand up to play with his dark curly hair

🔞you better hope the test comes back positive, because if it doesn't he'll just keep going every night until you're swollen with his child. This may dampen his image a bit but he couldn't care less. Staring fondly at your tummy and the ring on your finger. He was holding your hand as you both Walked into an important event, He couldn't wait to introduce you to everyone as his wife!

[tarysande]

The best part about coming back to the source material after a looooong time is you sorta get a fresh look at canon in comparison to whatever the dominant strains of fanon have become. Or, in fact, whatever your own dominant strains of headcanon have become.

I mean, yes, Garrus “I’m not a good turian” Vakarian gets infinitely cooler (and more competent!) by pretty much every metric as the storyline progresses. He does. But fresh out of ME1 and into ME2 through his recruitment, I find myself genuinely amused by how thin the veneer of badass is over a pretty dominant core of straight-up nerd sprinkled with idealism mixed with self-doubt.

When you have Garrus in the squad all the time (and thus get all his ambient dialogue and remarks), you really pick up on the number of times he calls out bad behavior, unethical actions, cruelty, and rule-breaking, especially in ME1.

He’s not actually a hothead who can’t abide rules of any kind. In fact, most of the time he’s pretty pro-law-and-order, and he gets amusingly hall-monitorish when people are breaking rules he considers important and worth following.

Fundamentally, Garrus chafes when his sense of what is just is at odds with what the authorities do about that injustice (or what they stop him from doing). And I would hazard a guess that the reason his actions seem so intense or harsh or "of course we should have shot down that ship in the middle of the Citadel" is indicative not of his impatience but of the degree to which he thinks the authorities have failed to uphold that justice. We know he can be patient. He's a sniper. His whole modus operandi on Omega is precision kills without civilian casualty. But when that long fuse finally burns down, he goes from zero to shooting down ships in the middle of the Citadel in what looks (from the outside) like a heartbeat.

And yes, injured pride hastens the burning of that fuse; he doesn’t like losing. Or admitting defeat. Or failing.

Having just replayed his recruitment mission, a few things really stood out to me this time.

The merc bands really hate him--and they also reluctantly admire him (he's described as smart, resourceful, dangerous, idealistic, brave, slippery; they all agree they only way they managed to get this far is by isolating him and employing dirty tactics). I mean, there's literally a station-wide announcement that Omega can return to "business as usual" once Archangel is out of the picture because he was disrupting things so completely.

The way Garrus blames himself for the deaths of his squad is so freaking turian. Failure reflects on the leader who places his people in danger they can't handle, not the individual who fails. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Yes, Sidonis betrayed him, but the person Garrus blames the most? Is himself. For trusting Sidonis in the first place. For raising Sidonis to a position where he had the means and opportunity to harm others--and the weakness of character to turn coat, to save his own hide, instead of dying to protect the others.

Garrus mentions more than once that he was trying to emulate Shepard. And his tone always implies that he knows he failed because Shepard would never have let a Sidonis into the fold. Again, he's blaming himself. Like a good turian. Yes, he wanted to avoid the red tape and bureaucracy of C-Sec, but his code--Archangel's code--certainly aligns with Paragon Shepard's morality (with a Garrus Vakarian twist).

And since it wouldn't be meta without adding a Tara's Headcanon Twist ... I've always wondered why "Archangel" when it's such a ... human concept. But this time, when I noticed how he spoke about Shepard's influence, and how quickly he brushes aside the name when she asks him about it, I wondered if it wasn't actually his way of honoring the mythology of the dead woman whose example he was trying to follow. Not that Shepard is a God he's worshiping, but ... there is something about the way he talks about her. Garrus doesn't make himself over in the image of a God, though; he's the soldier, the right hand, the avenging angel responsible for carrying out divine punishments suited and proportional to the crimes committed, the rules broken, the selfishness or cruelty of the perpetrator.

[nanenna]

That's Not How You Keep a Low Profile

Available on AO3

DPxDC

Danny joins Ember's backup band and goes with them on tour, he didn't take into account that he was in hiding from several groups and organizations chasing after him for various reasons. Who knew Ember would get popular enough to be noticed by one of them?

🎵🎸🎶

Damian entered the classroom to find Skylar and a couple of her friends standing off to the side, clustered around one girl holding a phone that was playing loud rock-and-roll music. Damian set his bag down at his desk, then went to go join them. “Good morning, Skylar.”

“Damian, hi!” Skylar greeted cheerfully, then moved so Damian could join their group. He obligingly moved in so he could also peer down at the video playing on the girl’s phone. “It’s this new artist who’s been getting popular recently, Ember McLain. She’s doing a tour right now and is going to be pretty close to us, just over in Pennsylvania.”

Damian studied the vocal artist, a young woman dressed in mostly black with a few silver accents, bright blue hair, and what he believed Brown had called “corpse paint” make up. Though from the way her hair seemed to almost defy gravity and the blue skin tone of her back up musicians perhaps she was a meta or alien like them. The exception was a baseline human young man dressed in a similar style to McLain with dark hair and a regular skin tone, playing back up guitar and doing back up vocals.

Damian frowned, something about the back up vocalist was familiar.

The song wound down, the back up vocalist abandoned his stand mic to move to front stage next to McLain while swinging his guitar behind himself. The keyboardist picked up a virulently pink guitar and took the vocalist's place. Damian pointed at the phone, “Who is he?”

“That’s Frosty McGee, usually he’s the back up vocalist but they have a duet.”

Damian scrunched up his nose, but chose not to comment on the poorly chosen stage name. The camera zoomed in, finally giving him a clear view of the older teen’s face as he opened his mouth and started singing.

Damian’s whole body went cold.

It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t. He’d watched his older brother die with his own eyes, lowered into the Lazarus Pit never to rise. And surely if he did somehow survive he wouldn’t be singing for some rock-and-roll band in America, he would’ve found some way to return home. Surely.

“This…” Damian tried not to let his face twist as he spoke the name, “Frosty McGee is a stage name, correct? What’s his real name?”

Skylar looked thoughtful as she pulled out her own phone and began typing away. “I don’t think their real names are public,” She said slowly as she navigated to the artist’s website. While she went to the “about” page, Damian pulled out his own phone to follow Skylar to the website. “Yeah, all they have listed are everyone’s stage names.”

Damian just nodded, already looking up their tour information.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny collapsed into a chair in the green room, exhausted after spending half the night tapping into his ghostly wail while in human form. Ember and the zombies looked fresh as ever, the consequence of Danny being the only one with a heart beat in the band.

“Your stamina’s getting better,” Ember offered with a smirk.

Danny resisted flipping her off, he knew she really meant it, even if she seemed to like getting under his skin a little too much.

“Look alive,” Mortimer, their manager, said as he walked into the room. “Someone actually bought a VIP ticket with the backstage experience, so you’re going to meet a fan.”

Ember perked up, already excited. “Just one? Or a whole group?”

“Just the one, so be ready to give him the full experience.” Morty left then, likely to go walk their fan back.

“Try to look a little tired at least, you are supposed to be a normal human,” Danny groused as he sat up and went about mopping up what sweat he could without smearing his makeup.

Ember scoffed, “No, we’re metas, Danny. You’re the one who’s supposed to be normal.”

“Or aliens,” Gunther said with his craggly voice. “We never did decide which one we like better.”

“You can be aliens, I’m a meta,” Ember declared proudly.

There was a knock on the door. Everyone straighted and turned to face the door, a bright smile spread on Ember’s face.

Danny’s own soft smile fell as he watched their fan enter and look around the room. A boy, the same age Danny was when he stepped into the portal, with an all too familiar face. His sharp green eyes zeroed in on Danny. There was a long tense moment where everyone simply stood, Damian just inside the door and Danny just in front of his chair (when had he stood?), staring at each other.

“Akhi?”

In a panic Danny turned partly invisible, “It’s been eight years Damian, let me go.” He finished slipping from human sight, then intangibly slipped right out of the room. He raced invisibly through hallways and walls until he got to their tour bus. Technically as ghosts they didn’t need it, but 1) the living expected that sort of thing and 2) Ember insisted on doing the whole experience. (He knew it was really because as someone who wasn’t entirely ghost Danny did actually need someplace to sleep and eat and shower and all that, that Ember actually got the tour bus for him.)

Once inside Danny let his powers fade as he curled up on a seat in the back, arms wrapped around his legs and face buried in his knees. Stupid! Why did he say that? Why did he run?!

He knew why.

“Baby-pop?” Ember called faintly, phasing into the van.

“Here,” Danny called miserably.

“Okay, good. We're all here just open a portal and we'll skedaddle.”

Danny sniffled but nodded. He looked up to find everyone was already gathered in the bus, all staring at him with worried faces. “Right, yeah, okay, I can do this.”

Rock got behind the wheel while everyone else settled in. Danny had to leave the bus, having been taught by Wulf on making portals. Not every ghost could learn, but Danny was predisposed to it because… well, it was pretty obvious why.

Danny clawed open a portal to Ember's lair, grabbing an edge and pulling it wide enough to fit the whole bus. The bus trundled through and Danny quickly followed, closing the portal behind him.

Almost on reflex he transformed once fully in the Realms, taking a deep (but completely unnecessary) breath of that crisp, fresh ectoplasm. The others filed off the bus, Ember put a gentle hand on Danny’s arm. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Good.” Ember crossed her arms and gave Danny a Look™, “Care to explain what just happened?”

Danny groaned, he knew this was coming. “I’d rather not.”

Everyone frowned at him.

Danny scrubbed at his eyes briefly. “I haven’t told anyone, not even Sam and Tucker, not even Jazz!”

“So… do you want to conference call them in and explain it to everyone at once? Or is this a dead men tell no tales kind of situation?”

Danny gave Ember his own Look™. “I know what gossips ghosts are.”

“Hey,” Gunther cut in, “if you want us to not tell anyone we won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

Danny groaned as he thought it over, but he kinda did owe them an explanation. “Alright, but can we go somewhere a little more comfortable first? I’m still exhausted.” He wasn’t, not physically. But ghosts aren’t physical so being emotionally exhausted was basically the same thing.

“Yeah, let’s go hit my lounge.” Ember slung an arm over Danny’s shoulder and led him away from the bus.

Danny smiled, feeling loved and cared for. It was still a little weird sometimes, realizing how much his former rogues actually liked him despite how at odds they’d been at the start. They’d basically been coddling him ever since…

Once in the lounge everyone picked a plush, overstuffed piece of furniture to literally lounge on. Ember had no shoes off rule, it felt weird to just put his boots up on a couch, so Danny chose to slouch comfortably into the back while his legs stretched out to the floor. Once everyone was settled, they all looked over at Danny expectantly.

How to even start? “So uh… I’m adopted.”

“Wait, how does Jazz not know you’re adopted?” Ember exclaimed.

“Oh no, that’s the part everyone actually knows, or at least everyone I knew back then. It’s everything before that that no one knows.”

“That kid is from your bio fam,” Steve wheezed. Everyone looked at him, then back to Danny.

He shrugged and looked down at his gloves, “Yeah. That’s Damian, my little brother.”

“And you just ran from him because?” Ember prompted.

Gunther snorted, “Didn’t just run, he literally ghosted the kid.”

Danny couldn’t help blushing, “I panicked, okay?”

Everyone relaxed at that, smiling brightly at Danny’s embarrassment. Morty pulled out his phone and started tapping away, “Should I get in contact with him about a redo then?”

“No!” Danny yelped, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in almost two months. He flushed harder, Ember was going to tease him about that later. “No, no absolutely not. Honestly if he’s found me then that means Mother and Grandfather know I’m still alive after all. I think… I think I’m going to have to stay in the Realms.”

“What?!”

“Baby-pop, no!”

“You can’t!”

Danny looked down at his gloves, picking at the seems. “Look, no adoption starts for happy reasons, every adoption comes from a tragic backstory. My birth family is dangerous, even to us. No, listen,” Danny said harshly when the others scoffed. “They’re dangerous, they’ll hurt you trying to get me back.”

Ember’s lips thinned, “Are they ghost hunters like the-” she cut herself off, her face getting all the grimmer.

Danny shook his head, “No, magic users. They won’t have to know what you are to use magic artifacts against you. After all, blood blossoms were believed to be harmful to witches, it was just coincidence they were harmful to ghosts.”

“Okay,” Ember said, looking over to the rest of the band. “So Frosty McGee is quitting, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still hang around us. You can be a roadie,” Ember cut in when Danny tried to protest. “Wear one of those medical masks when you’re working, never be on stage or in front of a camera, that’s fine. But we still need you, Danny. You’re the one who’s been dead the shortest, you know how things work now. You’re the one that suggested I get a manager and start doing things legit instead of just overshadowing my way into gigs.”

“We didn’t even know metas were a thing until you told us,” Gunther added.

“I wasn’t aware of how much technology had advanced,” Morty added. “If it weren’t for you we would have a completely outdated website and no youtube channel. We’d probably only have half the merch we currently have available.”

“Don't forget the portals,” Steve wheezed.

“Yeah! Without portals we couldn’t make regular pit stops back to the Realms to recharge. So we need you, Danny. Frosty can quit, but don’t let Danny abandon us.”

Danny sighed, but he couldn’t help smiling at his friends, even if his bottom lip was wobbling dangerously. “Alright, I get it. I’ll stay, a roadie you say?”

“It’ll make us loading and unloading the bus more believable if we have hired muscle pretending to do it.” Morty smirked down at his phone.

“Ugh, gonna make me earn my keep.”

🎵🎸🎶

Damian stood in the green room in shock, unsure what had just happened. His mouth felt dry, his skin felt cold, every hair on his body was standing on end, his hands felt clammy. Daniel had just vanished right before his eyes. He turned to ask someone, anyone, what had just happened.

The room was empty.

Damian looked around, the door behind him was still closed, there were no other exits, he was the only living being in the room.

Metas, Damian reminded himself. He was fairly certain McLain and her band members were metas, likely the phrase Daniel had spoken was actually a code phrase for immediate evac. Damian turned and left the room, quickly making his way further into the building and out to the back. There was an employee parking garage just behind the venue that surely the band’s equipment vehicles were kept in during the show.

The garage was not completely empty, but it was completely bereft of trailers, tour buses, or other equipment hauling vehicles. Damian had been too late, they had fled completely. Damian kicked a support pillar in frustration, it didn’t help.

All he knew was his brother lived, and for some reason he chose not to return home, had fled at the mere sight of Damian.

Well, he would have some research to do. But before that, he had to return home before his absence became suspicious, there was only so long his careful web of misdirection would hold.

The next morning he returned to the manor, no one the wiser. Thomas was on his way out and greeted Damian as he entered. “Hey, how was the sleepover?”

“It was an experience,” Damian commented absently.

Thomas laughed at Damian’s response. “I’m glad you had fun.”

He was about to leave when Damian realized this was the perfect opportunity for some information gathering. “One of my peers said something I didn’t understand, I believe it was a meme.”

“Oh yeah? Which one?”

Most memes followed a format where the exact details could be adjusted to the situation at hand. Considering Daniel had said Damian’s name and the specific number of years he’d been -dead- missing likely he could swap those out for less suspicious details. “It’s been two years Thomas, let me go.”

“Ah, okay so you just claimed to be a ghost or a grief fueled hallucination and that I need to get my shi- uh… stuff. Together. My stuff together. Anyway, usually whoever says that also disappears right after they say it.”

“And is this meme recent?”

Thomas shrugged. “Eh, not really? The concept’s been around for decades at least, even in that format, but I don’t think I’ve seen it used as a reaction until a little bit ago.”

Damian nodded, “Thank you for the clarification.”

“No problem.” Thomas waved and was on his way. Damian went to his room to take care of his overnight bag. A quick check of McLain’s website showed no change, but that was to be expected so soon after they fled. He wondered if the whole tour would be cancelled.

Damian spent the next few days practically haunting McLain’s website (when he wasn’t systematically searching for Daniel’s likeness on public cameras), as well as the website of the tour’s next venue. He even went so far so to create a throw away email, signed it up for McLain’s fan club, and set it to alert him of incoming emails. Thus he was one of the first to find out when the next concert was suddenly cancelled, all tickets refunded. The newsletter that followed informed the fans that, “Sadly Frosty McGee has had to part ways with us due to some matters Frosty wishes to remain private. We wish him and his family well.” It went on to promise that though the next concert was cancelled the rest of the tour would continue as scheduled.

So Daniel had fled.

Damian wasn’t surprised, judging from his reaction Daniel felt his new identity had been compromised. Damian just didn’t understand why. Why Daniel was afraid of him. Why he hadn’t attempted to contact Damian. Why he hadn’t come home.

He had been away from the League and Grandfather’s influence long enough to understand why Daniel would choose not to go back to them, but Damian had been out of the League for five years, did Daniel not know? Had he not heard the news about famous billionaire Bruce Wayne’s youngest and only (known) blood related son?

It didn’t matter, Damian wouldn’t have the answers to any of his questions unless he found Daniel again. Even if he has fled again, Damian really only has the one lead and he would follow it.

In the meantime he had his regular duties to attend to.

🎵🎸🎶

“C'mon, what are you doing just sitting around? It's time for lessons.”

“What?” Danny looked up from where he was slouched in a chair with phone in hand, blinking at Ember.

“Lessons, we still haven't gotten you to sing and play at the same time yet.”

“I… quit… the band?”

“Frosty quit the band, I figure we can use this time to really work on your skills so they're finally up to snuff when we debut Phantom.”

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” Ember huffed and rolled her eyes. “Do you know how many people asked for refunds when we said you quit? I'm not letting any more fans get away.”

Danny just kept blinking, “You know Phantom is in hiding just as much as Danny, right?”

“So you get a costume change and pick a different stage name. Your old duds are outdated anyway.”

“It's what I died in???”

“And you think I died dressed like this?”

Danny wasn't sure how to respond to that.

“So we get you some new duds, pick out a better stage name, and wear makeup while performing. Do you know what contouring can do?”

“It would be suspicious-”

“If we brought you in right now,” Ember cut him off. “Which is why we're aiming for the next tour, which will give us time to get everything set up, including improving your abysmal guitar skills.”

Danny couldn't help smiling, “Yeah. Yeah, okay, let's get to it then.”

🎵🎸🎶

When the time came, Damian knew better than to buy another VIP ticket, they would be on guard for that. This time he decided to find and sneak into their vehicle while the concert was held. There was the risk the band would take a taxi or uber to their hotel instead, but considering the size of the venue and number of tickets sold they would likely attempt to reduce spending, especially since they missed the previous concert. It was a simple matter to pick the lock and sneak onto the bus. He sat waiting in the driver’s seat, making it impossible for them to drive off without him.

McLain stood just outside the bus and opened the door with a scowl on her face, crossing her arms once the door was open. “I could have you arrested for this.”

“I merely have a few questions for you.”

“I should sue you for lost revenue, do you know how much we lost in deposits alone? All those tickets we had to give a full refund on. Not to mention we lost 10% of sales for the rest of the tour, which might not sound like much but when you’re counting pennies that’s a lot!”

“How does Frosty McGee feel about having such loyal fans?”

McLain threw her arms in the air, “I don’t know! We haven’t heard from him since he left. Just took one look at you, packed what he could fit in one bag, and hopped the next bus.”

“And he told you nothing?”

“He told us he was oh for two on families, but you were from the first set of fuck ups and he wasn’t going back.”

That was disheartening to hear. It sounded as if Daniel had found a family to take him in the way Father took in children, but it also sounded as if they were not good to him the way Father is with his children. “Who was his second family?” Damian would make them pay.

“Fuck off, I’m not telling you that. It doesn’t change anything anyway, they know where Frosty is even less than us.”

Damian would like to find out what Daniel had been up to since his disappearance, there was also the chance it would give him a better idea of Daniel’s direction, and certainly he would like to find out what this so-called family did and find a way to get justice for Daniel, but McLain was not wrong that little of that would be useful in tracking Daniel down. He pulled a business card from a pocket and held it out to her. “If he does contact you again.”

“No.” Despite her words she took the card. She took it and set it on fire before dropping it to the asphalt beneath her feet. “In the extremely unlikely event he does get back in contact, I’m not telling you. He clearly wants nothing to do with you, got spooked real bad.” She crossed her arms again and looked away. “I’m worried.”

“Very well.” Damian descended the bus’s stairs, the band moving aside to glare at him as he passed. “You’re not the only one worried for him, it may have been years but he’s still my brother.”

“That’s none of our business.” McLain waved him off as she entered the bus, the manager and the rest of the band following behind her. Damian stood to the side and watched as the bus trundled out of the parking lot, leaving him behind.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny watched Damian until he was out of sight, going so far as to lean invisibly out of the bus. Once the building they were passing came between him and his little brother, he finally moved back inside and quietly scoured the bus.

“Baby-pop?” Ember asked as she watched him methodically search high and low.

Danny put a finger up to his lips, then went back to scouring. One thing Danny had learned over the years is that ghosts have a 6th sense for when they’re being observed, they always know when being watched or listened to. Danny felt that subtle itch now, a scratch at the back of his brain that felt a lot like how on edge he used to be all the time, like the paranoia Grandfather had carefully beaten into him.

The first bug he found was just a tracker, a weirdly spiky oval with a tiny red light to let him know it worked. Well, that he would leave on the bus, their whereabouts would be public anyway, and if only one of the bugs goes out Damian might not come back to plant more. He handed it to Morty with another finger over his lips again, he’d answer questions after he found the other bug.

Eventually he found the listening bug, this one a plain little button shape. It almost looked like an oversized button, the holes for the mic a good disguise. This one he showed to the others before phasing his arm out the car and dropping it in the road. He did one more sweep to make sure there weren’t any others, double checked the weirdly spiky tracker didn’t have any tiny cameras or mics attached, by the time he finally sat down to explain the bus was parked in the hotel's lot.

“The one I dropped outside was a listening device, that one I gave you is a tracker. Since where we’re going on tour is already publicly available I don’t see a point to getting rid of that one too, though we should probably leave it behind when we go to the Realms.”

“Ancients,” Morty murmured, staring down at the tracker nervously.

“Not painting a very reassuring picture,” Gunther agreed.

“Danny,” Ember said softly, “your little brother broke into our bus and hid bugs inside.”

Danny sighed as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Right, this is the part even Jazz doesn’t know about. You need to keep this to yourselves, you can’t even hint you know what I’m about to tell you.”

Everyone nodded.

“Jazz and… the Fentons believe I was raised in a cult before I met them. Honestly, looking back at it now, they’re right. An incredibly violent assassin cult that worships pools of nasty smelling, bubbling, glowing, green water.”

Everyone was staring at him with wide eyes, forgetting to even pretend to breathe.

“The person who both started and runs this cult is my Grandfather, who is over five hundred years old and still alive. Well… mostly, so far as I can tell. I didn’t know about ectoplasm or the Realms back then, so it’s kinda shifted my view of a few things but I can’t really confirm anything without going back there, yanno?”

“That is… a lot,” Morty said quietly.

“Have you ever assassinated anyone?” Gunther asked.

“I was nine when I got out,” Danny deflected.

“Has your brother assassinated anyone?” Rock asked.

Danny shrugged, “I dunno, probably?”

“Ancients,” Morty murmured again.

“So we’re just… keeping this?” Ember plucked the tracker from Morty’s open palm.

“I’m hoping if the tracker keeps working and is accurate he won’t break in and put more devices in here.”

“Lovely.”

“I can see why you were hiding,” Morty said tiredly.

“And also why I didn’t want to tell anyone,” Danny added. “Ghost hunters may have all the specialized tools to hurt us, but most of the ones we’ve met so far are pretty incompetent.” It had taken Danny letting his guard down for him to be caught in the first place, and by the time he had realized the betrayal it had been too late.

“That explains the hat though,” Steeve wheezed with a laugh.

Danny hadn’t just been wearing one of those paper medical masks, he’d added a brimmed hat to hide his hair and face from cameras. The mask got hot and sweaty sometimes!

“Well this just makes our decision all the better, you'll blend in better if we have other roadies,” Ember said confidently.

Danny perked up. “Oh? Who'd you get? Johnny actually looks human, I could blend in with him. And Kitty would kill it as security.”

“They're waiting in the hotel, you'll see.” Ember winked as she got up and exited the bus. Danny followed, eager to see more familiar faces. 

The faces waiting for him in the hotel were familiar, but not the ones he expected.

“Sam! Tucker!” He ran to them, arms open wide. His best friends eagerly opened their own arms in welcome. It was like coming home and breathing for the first time, being in his best friends’ arms. Only one thing could make it better, but no annoying older sisters were in sight. Danny wasn't going to let that ruin this reunion, though.

Danny leaned back just enough to look Sam and Tucker in the eyes. “What are you doing here? How?!”

“We took our finals early,” Sam supplied. “And since the last week is just classroom parties we took it off.”

“We're gonna spend the whole summer with you!” Tucker grinned so brightly Danny thought he might go blind. Or it might just be the tears brimming.

“You guys!” Danny snuffled and swiped at his eyes.

“Check it out.” Tucker turned around to show the back of his shirt, which had “STAFF” in big white letters across the top, stark against the black shirt, and the tour's info below.

Sam pulled out a black fabric face mask from her pocket and offered it to Danny. He held it up to find it also had “STAFF” in bold white letters across what felt like very breathable fabric. It probably wouldn't stop a sneeze, but it worked great as a disguise.

Danny couldn't help barking out a bright laugh, “You guys going to help me load and unload the band's gear?”

Tucker scoffed, “You wish, I'm Ember's new tech guy.”

“Makeup and costumes,” Sam said in a deadpan before raising her voice slightly. “Which seems pretty sexist.”

“Do you want to help Danny cart gear or not?” Ember asked from where she and the others were watching their reunion.

Sam made a face and sighed, “Makeup and costumes it is.”

“So glad we got that figured out. Hey dipstick, open a portal to my lair. The boys and I are gonna party.”

Danny rolled his eyes but obliged. Honestly it was sweet of them to let him have the room to himself while he and his best friends caught up. Danny was so lucky to have so many good friends.

🎵🎸🎶

After Damian’s lackluster conversation with McLain, dashing any hopes for progress or leads, it was time he told Father and the others the situation. Truly he knew he should have before now, springing Daniel on Father would not be kind, he had simply hoped to have Daniel's whereabouts known so Father could meet him as soon as he was ready. Instead Damian was going to need to request assistance in tracking Daniel down.

It felt like a personal failure.

Still, to tell Father about his living, if missing, son was far preferable than him finding out about Daniel some other way and believing him dead. Damian had just finished setting up his presentation on the large screen TV in the media room when Father and Alfred entered.

“All ready to go, chum?”

“Yes, Father, we’re just waiting on the others now.”

Alfred began setting out drinks and snacks while Father took a seat in one of the armchairs. “While we wait, any chance of a hint on what all this is about?”

Damian was unsure how to answer, the news was not all bad but it seemed Father was under the impression this was some left over school project or something of the like. “It is a very serious matter,” was all Damian ended up saying.

Father smiled, “I’m sure it is, you wouldn’t have gone to all this effort otherwise.”

Damian nodded, glad Father understood.

Soon the others began trickling in. Thomas and Cain, as other residents of the manor, had been invited, Richard of course was also invited as he would be devastated to learn of a new brother any other way, Gordon and (reluctantly) Drake had been invited as Damian would be requesting their help in searching for Daniel, and Todd had been invited purely as curtesy and had, expectedly, turned the invitation down. Damian had considered some of the other Gotham vigilantes, but had ultimately decided against it. There were already enough people crowding into the room.

Once everyone had arrived and found their seats, Damian started his rehearsed presentation. “Thank you all for coming, I appreciate the support. I’m afraid this will not be as light hearted as you may be expecting. In fact, I have some rather distressing news. Father, at Mother’s behest I have been keeping a secret from you.”

Father sat up straighter, his pleased smile falling into a frown.

Damian took a deep breath, “I am not your firstborn, I had an older brother.”

As expected, this announcement caused quite the stir. There were a few shocked gasps, Richard looked devastated, Father had hunched forward to rest his elbows on his knees while staring down at the floor, Alfred moved to stand beside father with a hand on his shoulder.

Damian gave them a moment to digest what he had just told them before moving on. “His name was Daniel, when he was nine and I was six he went on a mission and came back successful but critically injured. Grandfather granted him permission to use one of the smaller Lazarus Pits, but he died en route. Mother put him in the Pit anyway, but the device used to lower him broke and his body never surfaced.”

“Oh Dami,” Richard said softly, a hand held out as if he would pull Damian into a hug.

“I’m telling you all this now because five weeks ago I saw him in a video for a performing artist.” Damian started the visual portion of his presentation, beginning with with a promotional photo of McLain and Daniel, then zoomed in on Daniel’s face.

Everyone’s heads snapped back up, entire focus laser guided to Daniel’s picture.

“He is using the stage name Frosty McGee,” Damian paused to allow the snickers and guffaws he had been expecting, he switched to a different promotional photo, this one including Daniel’s bandmates, “and was performing as a back up guitarist and singer for the artist known as Ember McLain. As they were, and still are, touring I attended a concert under a VIP ticket that included meeting the artists after the show.”

Father frowned, “I didn’t know you went to a concert.”

“It was an information gathering mission for personal reasons, of course you were not informed. I simply wanted to be sure I was not mistaken and McGee was actually Daniel before I burdened you with this distressing secret.”

“Daniel isn’t a burden, none of you are a burden,” Father said tiredly.

“And you confirmed that Frosty is Daniel?” Tim asked rather loudly.

“Yes, Drake. Unfortunately he recognized me as well. He said, and I quote, ‘It’s been eight years Damian, let me go.’ Then he and the other artists all vanished into thin air.”

There were more titters and guffaws. Thomas smiled brightly, “Ah, so that’s why you asked about that meme.”

There were a few frowns, clearly the others already putting puzzle pieces together. “Vanished?” Drake asked.

“I believe the other backup band members may be metas, possibly McLain herself as well. Invisibility is not a common met ability, but it is not unheard of either.”

“Or magic,” Cain offered.

Damian nodded to her, “Magic is also a possibility. Unfortunately,” Damian clicked to the announcement about Frosty McGee leaving the band, “McLain claims Daniel packed his belongings and left without any further explanation, neither she nor her companions have heard from him since.”

“Oh no!” Richard and Gordon both said together.

“I have monitored all publicly available modes of transport out of Midville, Pennsylvania, but I have not been able to track Daniel’s movements.”

“Send me what you got, I’ll see what I can do,” Gordon ordered.

Damian nodded, glad to have her help. “There is one last matter. McLain said Daniel had been adopted, but he was hiding from them as well, I suspect that was why he was using such a ridiculous stage name.”

“Well we’ll just have to look into finding them as well,” Gordon said with a wicked grin.

“They don’t have any shirts in my size,” Richard whined, staring down at his phone.

The others all pulled out their phones and began tapping away.

“Oh,” Thomas said brightly, “he has a credit on one of the songs!”

“Yes, he performed a duet with McLain.”

“Anything for You?” Tim scrunched his nose as his phone.

“Unfortunately,” Damian agreed. “A standard pop love song.” For the duet no less.

“Everything from the tour is listed as limited supplies,” Richard said morosely, swiping further.

“Of course,” Gordon said with a smile, “Frosty left without saying he’d ever come back, they aren’t going to make more merch with a member who’s left.”

“I don’t think they have shirts wide enough to fit any of us,” Thomas said.

Father tapped his phone decisively, then tucked it away while looking quite proud of whatever he’d just done.

Damian sighed deeply, from his very soul. “McLain also has a youtube account, there are a few private videos with behind the scenes footage if you wish to see Daniel in a more casual situation.” Damian regretted going straight to the next concert rather than doing his due diligence on digital information gathering, at the time he had felt rushed by the concert being only a couple days after his discovery.

Drake was already pulling a laptop from some hidden place while Gordon rolled over to his side of the couch, her own phone in hand.

Father stood and came to stand next to Damian, an arm reaching across his back to rest on his far shoulder. “Would you like to talk? About Daniel?”

“I believe I have given you quite a shock, do you not need time to digest the information?”

Father shrugged, “Likely, but we all know if I’m left to my own devices I’m going to just start digging and not come up for air for three days.”

“Yes, anything to prevent you from spiraling, Master Bruce.” Alfred smirked at Father before turning his attention to Damian. “I understand why you did not inform us of Master Daniel sooner, thank you for letting us know now.”

Damian nodded, glad he did not have to explain himself on that part.

“Too easy,” Drake crowed as the TV sputtered to life with one of the private videos.

Daniel and his bandmates were sitting on folding chairs in an otherwise empty space, likely an on stage rehearsal. On screen the recording of Daniel hopped up onto a folding chair, “May I have your attention, please! All rise for the national anthem.” There were titters from behind the camera, but the other three members of the band all obligingly lumbered to their feet. Daniel took a deep breath, then started singing, his voice low and haunting even as he pulled his hand into a sloppy American style salute.

Seasons don't fear the reaper Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain We can be like they are

The other band members were laughing and hooting when Daniel started singing, but quickly fell in to join him on the chorus.

Come on, baby (don't fear the reaper) Baby, take my hand (don't fear the reaper) We'll be able to fly (don't fear the reaper) Baby, I'm your man La, la, la…

Daniel started laughing too hard to keep going. The other band members were laughing right along with him.

“C’mon, dipstick!” McLain’s voice came from behind the camera. “Have you no respect? Finish the national anthem!”

Daniel was laughing so hard he tumbled from the chair, though the short fall didn’t seem to do him any harm. He attempted to sing the second round of “la la la” from the floor, but was incapable through his laughter.

Damian looked up to see Father looking on fondly, smiling gently as the video came to an end. The others were smiling at the video as well, likely glad to see Daniel being happy and enjoying himself. Despite everything he’d been through he still found his own happiness.

And then Damian’s impulsivity had driven him away from the friends and happy life he had made for himself. Damian needed to find Daniel.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny, Sam, and Tucker were just hanging out in the latest hotel room after a long day on the road, just a pit stop between one concert venue and the next. They could just use portals, but for some reason Ember was insisting on the full concert tour experience, including greasy diners and sketchy hotels.

Danny collapsed onto his back on one of the beds, “Ugh, Ember has me practicing singing and playing at the same time by singing Anything for You,” Danny complained.

“Well, it’s your duet,” Tucker pointed out.

“It’s Frosty’s duet, I won’t be singing it when I re-debut. Besides, it’s such tripe, just the required slow song to cool things down before the grand finale.”

“So… re-debut with a new duet?”

“Avoid love songs this time,” Sam ordered from where she was hunched over a notebook at the hotel room’s desk.

“I think Ember has it stuck in her head a slow duet has to be a love song,” Danny scrunched up his nose at the thought.

“There are plenty of duets that aren’t love songs.” Tucker defended.

“Name one,” Danny said with a huff. “No really, I need examples.”

“Easy, there’s… uh…” Tucker blinked and trailed off, suddenly looking kinda scared. “What about… Mungoje- no… um… there’s always You’re the Top uh…” he started visibly sweating. “Anything You Can Do… oh! Somebody I Used to Know.”

“Ooooh! A break up song!” Danny liked that, it would definitely be something more along Ember’s whole image too.

“I’m Not Writing You a Love Song,” Sam offered.

“Not a duet, but a good example of something that feels like a love song without being one.”

“You could also go all in on the devotion, sing about how you’d die for her or something,” Sam continued. “Or sing about loving each other even after dying, real obsessive stuff.”

“Have Ember sing about wrapping my calcified heart in my own poetry?” Danny asked with a cheeky grin.

“Not my fault Mary Shelley invented romance,” Sam said with a sniff.

“I hate to say it, but Sam’s right,” Tucker added. “That would really fit the whole undead thing more.”

“They’re all great ideas, I’ll bring it up to Ember tomorrow when we do lessons.”

“Your re-debut as Phantom is going to be great,” Tucker said with a laugh.

“Yeah… Phantom,” Danny replied morosely.

Sam sighed, “I don’t understand why you won’t even brainstorm on possible name ideas.”

“It’s just!” Danny sighed and rolled over on the bed to look at Sam, “If I pick a new name I can’t use the logo you designed for me any more.”

“And I can design you a new one.”

“I know, and it’ll be awesome. But you worked hard on that first one, and it’s so… perfect. I’d hate to never use it again.”

“No one says you can’t keep the old logo too,” Tucker cut in before this old not-quite-argument could play out again. “One of the costume ideas was a jacket with patches on it, so put the DP on there somewhere.”

“Right at the top of the sleeve,” Sam suggested, pointing to her arm just below the shoulder joint.

“You can have patches for everyone, even. A skull and crossbones for Youngblood, a paw print for Wulf, a thirteen for Johnny.”

“A heart dripping poison for Kitty,” Sam said thoughtfully. She turned and started furiously scratching at her notebook. “Pandora’s helmet with four crossed swords behind it…”

“Pandora uses one single magic staff,” Danny said in a deadpan.

“Do Frostbite’s ice and bone arm, that’s rad as hell.” Tucker laughed to himself.

“Just don’t design anything for Spectra, I refuse to have her on my cool jacket.”

“So you’ll do the jacket?” Sam didn’t even look up.

“Yeah, I really like the idea. It’s a good way to keep my logo and little reminders of all my friends. You’ll do patches for yourselves too, right?”

“And Jazz,” Sam promised. “Val too, even. Red Huntress deserves her own logo.”

“Yeah, she does.” Danny rolled back onto his back and picked his phone back up, going to the notes app. “So I guess I can’t really use Phantom at all since I’m still hiding from the GIW and any connection to Amity Park.”

Tucker sighed, “Yeah, probably not.”

“And Ember has already vetoed any more ice or cold names.”

“Which is too bad, there are some killer ice puns out there.”

“Could always go with Great One,” Sam said airily, “that’s your yeti name.”

“Absolutely not,” Danny said with an upside down glare sent Sam’s way.

“Tyrant’s Bane,” Tucker suggested.

“Guillotine,” Sam gave her own suggestion.

“Imperial Coup.”

“Monarchy Ender.”

“Twenty-three stab wounds.”

“I didn’t even kill the guy, just put him back down for nappies.” Danny couldn’t help laughing. Any further banter stopped dead as Danny’s phone started buzzing and dinging. Danny sat up, “It’s Jazz.”

Sam and Tucker both turned to look at Danny, staying quiet as he answered.

“Hey Jazz, you okay?”

“Danny! Have you heard the news?” Jazz sounded excited, so hopefully it was good news.

“Not yet, hold on a sec and I’ll put you on speaker for Sam and Tuck.” While he put his phone on speaker, his best friends both moved to sit on the bed, surrounding the phone. “Okay, so what’s this news?”

“The Justice League is finally getting somewhere! Mom and Dad are on trial for supervillainy, the GIW is suspended while under investigation, and the anti-ecto acts are being repealed!”

“Oh shit!” “Really?!” “Finally!”

“Well,” Jazz hedged, some of her excitement dimming a little, “the GIW is probably going to be disbanded, so that’s good at least. But it turns out the anti-ecto acts are scattered over several bills working together. Apparently several pieces were hidden in environmental acts, probably betting on ecto being misread as eco. The big thing they’re trying to focus on first is all the legal definitions that are scientifically incorrect, like ecto-beings being non-sentient.”

“Yeah, I’d kind of like the government to acknowledge I can feel things,” Danny said with a hollow laugh.

“The other big news is the meta protection acts are getting expanded to include anyone from the Realms!”

“Danny!” Tucker was bouncing in place in excitement, “Danny you’re going to be legally protected!”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed. “The meta protection act should supersede the anti-ecto acts. The main thing is that everyone from the Realms are going to be considered people now.”

Danny didn’t know what to say to that, it was… it was great! It was wonderful!

“So you keep saying everyone from the Realms, is that more than just ghosts?” Sam asked.

“Any kind of spirit, actually. Nature spirit, city spirit, spirits of the dead. Since the Infinite Realms are infinite it actually includes a lot, mostly it’s ‘the otherside of the veil’ and is also where fairies and elves and goblins live? And maybe demons and angels and some gods?” Jazz sounded less sure the more she said.

“Oh, nature spirits,” Sam said thoughtfully. “I guess that explains Undergrowth.”

“Something like that. Basically anything supernatural is getting lumped in all together. And also a few undead too, guess they’re using this as a chance to really expand things. From the way Wonder Woman was talking a lot of the magic users are upset this wasn’t done sooner.”

“Well considering that a few heroes have died and come back they were really leaving themselves open to be blindsided,” Tucker joked.

“It’s about time they stopped and considered actually doing what they promise to,” Sam grumbled.

“Danny,” Jazz asked in worry, “you okay?”

“I’m… legally a person.” Danny felt a little numb and kinda floaty, but he was pretty sure he was still on the bed.

“You’re legally a person,” Jazz said warmly.

“Hey,” Tucker said, “does this mean Phantom doesn’t have to be in hiding and you can use it as your stage name?”

“Just because I’m legally protected doesn’t mean all the people out for my head are going to suddenly stop. People do illegal stuff all the time,” Danny said.

“Yes,” Jazz agreed sadly before plowing on with steel in her voice, “but you shouldn’t have to hide anyway! If you want to be a ghost on stage then you should get to use your name.”

“It’s not like they wouldn’t recognize you anyway,” Tucker added.

“Plus, any former GIW agents that come looking for you won’t have government backing anymore. They might not even have access to any useful anti-ghost weapons.”

“I’ll think about it,” Danny said. “Later, for now I just want to enjoy this good news.”

“We should tell the others,” Tucker exclaimed.

“We should throw a party!” Sam scrambled off the bed and went digging through her luggage.

“Yeah,” Danny thought that was a great idea, “let’s throw a party!”

🎵🎸🎶

Time passed and life moved on, much to Damian’s annoyance. Daniel never resurfaced, not surprising when all Damian had was a single chance encounter after 8 years of hiding from The Demon. They couldn’t find any hints of how he managed to leave Midville, and no hints he was still there either. McLain was no better a lead, Gordon found she had had a few shows a couple years earlier, but all traces of it had been scrubbed from the internet. Likely her previous debut had been a humiliating flop and McLain wanted to bury it. Unfortunately for the bats whoever she got to do it was good, they didn’t even know where shows had been, let alone if it was where she had met Daniel. Gordon had set up a facial recognition program that was constantly scanning for Daniel, but all it ever turned up were false matches. It was frustrating, but it was beginning to look as though they would have to wait for Daniel to realize Damian wasn’t a threat and reach out to him.

Damian hoped Daniel would realize.

Father’s order came in, copies of every piece of McLain merch that had Daniel on it, including the duet as a single. On vinyl. Most of it was put on display in Father’s office in the manor, an acrylic “standee” ended up on his desk at Wayne tower, nestled in among the various photos of the family. When Damian saw it he wondered if Father’s employees had noticed it and if he’d explained who Daniel is to them yet. That would certainly be an interesting conversation.

Damian had also ordered a round of merchandise, even if most of it wasn’t displayed. The private videos had been downloaded and saved in various storage states to preserve them. Damian watched one from time to time, it gave him strange feelings watching Daniel be happy knowing he wasn’t living like that right now.

Damian hoped Daniel found new friends and another new life to be happy in. He hoped Daniel hadn’t gone and become a hermit somewhere to be so hard to find.

But all of that fell into the background as life continued. Summer was in full swing in Gotham, which meant miserably wet and hot days with barely any reprieve at night, and a population whose collective patience was at its shortest. Then school started, the weather finally cooled in the fall, Damian turned 15, and then another busy holiday season rolled around.

Damian wasn’t sure, but it seemed his family was specifically avoiding mentioning Daniel. It was understandable, they still had no idea where he had run off to, he couldn’t join them for the various holiday traditions they all partook in. When he asked Richard about it, he had told Damian that in these kinds of situations it’s better to focus on the people you are with than the people who can’t be there. As if to prove Richard’s point, Todd even showed up for a few of the holiday traditions.

And yet all Damian could think about was how every Christmas he’d ever celebrated had been without Daniel.

Then on Epiphany something happened. McLain announced a new tour in the spring, this one featuring a special surprise guest. It was all Damian could talk about at dinner that night. “Surely if she were just replacing Daniel’s role she would not make such an announcement.”

“Maybe, you said she lost a lot of fans when Daniel left?” Father asked. “It’s possible she feels highlighting the rest of her band may be a good PR move.”

“What are the chances it’s Danny with dyed hair and facial recognition obscuring stage makeup?” Duke asked jokingly.

“That would be utterly foolish,” Damian said with a sniff. “Daniel is smart enough to know better than to keep company with anyone he’s already been discovered with.”

“I don’t know about that,” Father said with a furrowed brow.

“Father, you’re not insulting Daniel’s intelligence!”

“No, no… not at all. But after you told us about him I don’t think any of us looked into Ember’s current doings too much. Bands usually have a lot of staff traveling with them on tours, and they usually don’t have photos taken of them. We couldn't find out much about her staff, it seemed she was paying them all under the table.”

Damian frowned, “Aside from their manager, I didn’t see any staff with McLain.”

“Well, it certainly won’t hurt to look into the staff working this new tour, just in case.”

“We should go to the new show either way, see who this special surprise guest is,” Duke said with a cheerful grin.

Damian did allow himself to make a sour face at that, sitting through the first show had been enough punishment.

“I will say, after paying so much attention to her I have grown a soft spot for Ember’s music,” Father said with a mischievous smile.

Damian did not want to go, but she was still their one and only connection to Daniel. “Very well, I will allow you to make the arrangements.”

Now time was passing with a goal, Damian found himself anticipating the coming spring break. It was foolish, he knew this likely wouldn’t lead to Daniel’s whereabouts, and yet the anticipation persisted.

When the night of the concert arrived Damian had found some of his family had chosen the most ridiculous clothes. Father was sensible, wearing his usual casual clothing. Damian, Cain, and Drake were all wearing the shirts from McLain’s previous tour, since they were available in their actual sizes. Richard and Thomas were also wearing the same shirt, but since it wasn’t available in a size that would fit them they had both altered the clothing by taking off the sleeves and seam ripping down the sides until the shirts gaped, like the ones worn while lifting weights at a gym. Todd chose to wear a shirt that actually fit him, though his was for a completely different band called The Grateful Dead, apparently it is a faux pas to wear a band shirt for the band one is seeing. Judging from how many other attendees were wearing either the previous tour shirt or the one with just McLain’s face on it, it’s not much of a faux pas.

The night went much the same as Damian’s previous McLain concert experience, neither improved nor worsened by his family’s presence. Although Todd kept making odd faces. Between songs he motioned them all to lean in close.

“There’s something going on with their voices, magic I think. Not sure what though.”

Ah, so it was magic that was used to spirit Daniel away when he was discovered. There was even a chance he had been learning it as well, it might even explain why they couldn’t track him down after.

“Alright, Easton!” McLain said loudly, earning a round of cheers from the audience. “You guys ready for the debut of a brand new song?” Judging from the way the audience cheered, they were. “Anything for you, my lovely fans.”

That earned a round of surprised gasps along with the cheers. The lights suddenly turned off and the audience hushed in anticipation. A spotlight came on, shining on McLain as she started strumming a slower song.

I, I just woke up from a dream Where you and I had to say goodbye And I don't know what it all means But since I survived, I realized

What followed was a bittersweet song about spending the end of the world next to her lover. It seemed morbid, but the sentiment all the sweeter for it. The song built in intensity as McLain wailed the chorus, then the song pulled back. A second spotlight came on, a new artist was strolling onto the stage.

Oh, lost, lost in the…

The rest of the line was drowned out by excited screaming from the audience, which was quickly hushed by the rest of the audience. The teenager that came walking up as he sang was playing a glittering, white, translucent guitar that looked to be imitating ice. He was wearing a black jacket covered in colorful patches over a black shirt, silver belt, and loose black pants tucked into silver combat boots. Most notably his hair was pure white and seemed to defy gravity while his eyes were such a bright green they could be seen even in the audience.

The pair sang together, trading off lines in the chorus or harmonizing when they sang together. The effect was certainly haunting, but most haunting of all was just how familiar the new singer’s voice was. Damian glanced at his family to see them all staring at the stage with similar focus, clearly thinking the same thing as Damian.

It seemed whatever magic or cosmetics Daniel used to change his appearance couldn’t be done to his voice.

Thomas was going to be insufferable.

A large screen at the back of the stage lit up and words appeared. Phantom and McLain held their hands out to the audience, who started singing along.

If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you If the party was over and our time on Earth was through I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile If the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you

As the song wound down Father leaned down to whisper into Damian’s ear, “I’m glad I sprung for the backstage experience after the show.”

“We’re not deviating from the plan,” Damian responded.

“Yes, of course.” Father straightened back up and clapped along with the audience once the last note played.

The audience screamed, “Phantom!” loudly from behind them. Damian turned to find a portion of the audience jumping in place, holding up signs with what seemed to be a stylized D on them or the name Phantom scrawled across.

Daniel, presumably Phantom, looked shocked. He put a hand up to shield his eyes against the now brightly lit stage lights. “Is that…?”

“Surprise!” McLain called cheerfully as she patted Daniel on the shoulder.

“Oh ancients, you guys!” Daniel was clearly struggling to keep hold of his emotions. He rallied with a bright smile despite his glittering eyes, “Where my Parkers at?”

The audience screamed, yelling phrases such as, “We love you Phantom!”

“I missed you guys too.” Daniel sniffled, but was smiling so wide it was becoming unsettling.

“For those of you who don’t know, this is our surprise secret guest: Phantom Dwarfstar!” McLain paused to allow the audience to express their excitement. “Now nothing and no one can replace Frosty McGee as a person, but Phantom here is taking his place in the band.”

“I was actually supposed to debut with Ember, but couldn’t until now.”

“And it’s great to finally have Phantom up on stage with us, right where he’s supposed to be. Let’s hear it one more time for our newest member!”

The audience cheered once more, most of it coming from the section that already knew him, it seemed the rest of the audience had mixed feelings about Phantom. A glance at Father showed him him frowning for some reason, clearly looking concerned.

Daniel smiled and waved, “Alright, enough about me. Let’s hear it for the real star of the show. Ember! Ember!”

As if on cue the portion of the audience that had been chanting for Daniel started chanting for McLain, the rest of the audience quickly picking the chant up as Daniel jogged over to join the rest of the band.

“Alright, you guys ready for Remember?!”

The rest of the show went on as before, save for Damian and his family keeping their eyes solely on Daniel. Once the show ended Father herded them towards the backstage, where their VIP experience would pay off.

“I would like to state for the record,” Thomas was saying, “that I called it. Bruce as my witness, right down to the bad dye job.”

“I dunno,” Todd replied, “I think the hair is legit. I’m pretty sure Phantom was doing some kind of magic with his voice too. The same kind of magic as Ember, but a different spell? I’m not really sure how to explain it.”

“It makes sense Daniel would learn magic if he took up with magic users,” Damian said stiffly.

“If we’re going to stick with the plan you need to use his stage name,” Father said softly.

Damian nodded. He knew what he had to do.

🎵🎸🎶

Danny and his friends were celebrating in the green room after the show. Danny felt… strange. Emotionally tired, physically pumped. Guess doing the show as a ghost really changed his stamina.

“I can’t believe you guys!” Danny said with a laugh.

“I give the best surprises!” Ember cackled, spinning in the air in delight. “The look on your face!”

“It’s amazing! Any clue on when they have to go back? It’s Saturday night…”

“It’s spring break, dipstick,” Ember mocked him. “They’re here until next weekend!”

Danny felt gravity’s hold on him slip away, the room growing brighter. “The whole week?”

“It took a lot of doing to arrange things like this, you better appreciate!”

Danny darted over and pulled Ember into a hug, “You’re the best, Ember!”

“And don’t you forget it!”

There was a knock on the door, Morty poked his head in. “The VIPs are here for their backstage experience.”

“Awesome!” Ember settled down on the floor, always excited when these happened. Danny was rather proud, he thinks it was one of his better suggestions. He moved to go perch on a nearby armchair while the zombies all leaned back on a couch.

Morty opened the door wide and in filed a group of people. Four absolute tanks of men, one guy who was just regular buff, and a woman. One of the tanks, an older man with gray in his hair, stepped off to the side while everyone else approached Ember for the meet’n’greet. Something about the older man looked strangely familiar. It wasn’t helped by the way everyone kept glancing over at Danny. At Phantom.

“And you are?” Ember asked the older man after meeting everyone else.

“Bruce Wayne, but I’m just here as the chaperone.” Which was an odd thing to say, everyone else was at least old enough to drive but half of them looked like full blown adults.

Ember seemed to agree, “You guys need a chaperone?”

“Not them, no. My youngest.” Mr. Wayne looked back, “Do you want to come out and say hello?”

Damian stepped out from behind Mr. Wayne.

Danny couldn’t help stiffening up in shock, looking between Damian and Mr. Wayne. He was paler than Damian, but the similarities were there. ‘So that’s where I get my eyes from,’ Danny found himself thinking.

Ember also recognized Damian, crossing her arms and scowling. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Hello, again,” Damian said blandly. “I simply wish to send a message to Daniel.”

Danny caught the way Damian’s eyes darted to him for a moment. Time to commit to the bit, “Ember, who’s this?”

“This is the guy who scared Frosty off,” Ember motioned to Damian. “And I already told you, we haven’t heard from him since he left.”

“Nevertheless, if he does contact you please inform him that Grandfather is dead and I left the League years ago.”

“WHAT?!” Danny couldn’t help shrieking, rocketing into the air in shock.

Everyone in the room turned their attention fully on him, including Damian. “Grandfather is dead, and I left the League years ago. I’ve been living with our Father.” He motioned to Mr. Wayne, who waved awkwardly.

Danny didn’t know how to react to that, didn’t know how to feel about that. His legs wisped into a tail before popping back to legs, a layer of frost coated the room then vanished. Danny looked over to Ember.

“Baby-pop I swear if you abandon the tour again!”

“No, no, of course not,” Danny defended.

“I’ve already bought so much merch, how can I brag about you to my board members if you drop out again?” Mr. Wayne asked.

Danny felt something in his brain break and couldn’t help giggling at that.

“How much longer is this going to take?” Dash’s voice came loudly yet muffled from the hallway. “We have an afterparty to get to!”

“Give them a moment, Phantom’s in the middle of a reunion with his birth family,” Morty snapped back.

“WHAT?!” Jazz shrieked. Oh, Jazz was here too! This was great! The door to the green room burst open, Jazz standing in the doorway. She leveled the Not-Fenton-Anymore Anti-Creep Stick at Damian and said, “You!”

“Jazz!” Danny zipped down and wrapped himself around her for a full body hug.

“Danny!” Jazz hugged him back, everything was right in the world.

“Ms. Nightingale,” Mr. Wayne said with a strained smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Bruce Wayne, Danny’s father.” He held a hand out, which Jazz ignored.

“It’s okay, they said Grandfather is dead and Damian’s not in the League anymore.”

“I’m assuming the League is the cult you were born in,” Jazz said with a fond sigh. She turned her attention back to Mr. Wayne. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m one of the Justice League’s backers, I like to keep abreast of their bigger projects. Finding out the US government nearly started a war with an entire dimension was quite the shock.”

Great, now Damian was going to look up everything to do with Jazz and find out all about everything.

Sam and Tucker slipped into the room and joined the hug. Okay, now for real everything was right in the world.

“So, how about that afterparty?” One of the tanks asked, Danny thinks he introduced himself as Jason.

“Can we come?” One of the other ones asked. “It’s okay if not, we can just exchange phone numbers, it’s a lot to take in.”

“No, afterparty’s fine.” It really was, Danny was actually pretty happy about getting his little brother back in his life, and he was super curious about his birth father. “You guys got a hotel for the night?”

“Wait, hold up,” Sam demanded. “Is that Bruce mother fucking Wayne?!”

“He did fuck my mother, thank you for reminding me,” Danny deadpanned.

“Danny!” Jazz snapped, accompanied by a relatively gentle smack to the back of his head.

“Hey, watch the piercings, those hurt!” Danny protectively put his hands up to shield his ears from any errant hands. The piercings may be fake, but only because he just straight up phased them into his ears.

“No, back up, you’re telling me Bruce Wayne is your bio dad?!”

“I literally just found out myself.” Danny sighed deeply, then squinted at Sam, “Wait, how do you know him.”

“He’s richer than Vlad and kinda famous for it.”

“Oh… gross.” It seemed Danny just couldn’t escape from money. Danny idly wondered what his too-rich-for-his-own-good secret underground lair was, couldn’t be worse than Vlad’s cloning lab or Grandfather’s afterlife sewage jacuzzi.

“To answer your question,” Mr. Wayne said with an amused smile, “yes, we do have hotel rooms booked for the evening. Though we can extend it a little longer if you’d like.” Mr. Wayne sounded so hopeful.

“I dunno, my friends are only here for spring break…” Danny looked towards the door, where the rest of his friends were waiting to start the afterparty. He could hear the rest of his classmates starting to get more and more impatient.

“We can arrange something later,” the second tank said brightly. “We’ll extend the hotel a day or two, exchange numbers, make some plans, and you’ll have the rest of the week to hang out.”

Sam scoffed, “It’s not like Gotham’s even all that far, c’mon let’s get going!”

“Gotham?” Danny asked, that seemed important for some reason, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it as Sam dragged him out the door.  He had an afterparty to get to. He had a new life to get to.

[ysrjune]

《 MAKE EVERY NIGHT

YOUR VALENTINE 𖹭 》

STEPHEN GLASS X READER FT. LITTLE BROTHERS!SAM & SCOTT

freaked out Stevie 😈🤑 #stayfreaks

It had been a while since you've visited Stephen's parents' house. It had been at least 5 months since there were no family events going on. Being there felt a little weird, especially since his parents weren't even there, and you were going to be baby-sitting his brothers. Well, he was gonna babysit. You were only here to keep him company. Scott and Sam liked you. Maybe a little more than they should, but that doesn't mean that both of them aren't annoyed that you would be there. They didn't need to see Steve cuddled up to you 24/7 while they're not allowed to have their girlfriends over.

"It's cute that your room never changes." You smile at how Stephen's childhood room was still the same even if he no longer lived there. Video-game action figures that were still in their boxes, posters from movies and bands he still loves to this day, old books and other things that were in storage on top of his closet in a box. "Mom doesn't want it to. She says she comes in sometimes when she misses me." Steve grins and begins putting his and your clothes away in the old dresser. "I always knew I was her favorite. Maybe it's cause I was never a brat."

—

What was the one rule that Stephen had for his brothers when their girlfriends were over when he still lived there a year ago? Don't be loud. The boys had turned 16 and had finally gotten permission to bring their girlfriends over, but they only did it when their parents weren't home. Stephen never cared if the girls came over. He just didn't need to hear his stupid brothers going at it in the middle of the night. He also never cared that his brothers were sexually active. Those two were (hopefully) smart enough to be safe.

But tonight, Stephen had broken that rule. It's literally the first night of staying there, and he was already all over you. Large hands groping at your tits through that bra he loves and his lips pressing small kisses to your tummy. He was quiet at first while engaging in foreplay, but once he was actually fucking you, he couldn't shut up. He's always been very vocal and loud while having sex. It's sort of weird to him. He could stay quiet while jerking off, but not when he's having some fun with your pretty body..

The other thing about him is that he acts so dominant while talking sex up. "I'm gonna fuck you so good right on this stupid creaky bed. I remember when we were first talking, I used to touch myself thinking about how it would be like to make you cry my name." He mumbled against your leaking pussy. "I'd get off on just thinking about fingering you." He sucks on your clit once more before sliding two digits in your wet entrance. "Just. Like. That." He's so good with his fingers. Too good. Long and warm.

"Do you fucking hear that?" Scott barges into his twins room. "Yeah, he's such a hypocrite." Sam rolls his eyes, pausing his game. "Wow, learned a new word?" Scott insults his brother and sticks out his tongue. "Shut the fuck u–" He was about to say before hearing a loud moan coming from across the hall. Sam slowly turns his head over there and raises an eyebrow. "How about you tell him to shut up." Scott huffs angrily and leaves downstairs.

Steve keeps his hands on your hips as you ride him. Not guiding, just there for him to grab onto. "Keep fucking me like that, oh my God.." He rolls his eyes back. "I need you so bad. I missed you so much." It had only been two days that you and Stephen hadn't fucked, but he swore he was dying. Seeing you walk around you apartment in only your underwear and then refusing to touch him was torture.

The blond forces his thumb inside your mouth, whimpering at the sight. "Fuck, you look so hot.." You swirl your tongue around his finger, making his cheeks go red. Then he pulled it out and shoved his ring and middle finger inside instead. You know just how pathetic he is? He came just as soon as you sucked on those. "I-im sorry! I just.. I—.. I couldn't help it. You looked so good.." He cries as you roll your hips, still trying to reach your orgasm and working him through his high.

He was being pushed into the headboard and the bed was creaking loudly. "cum for me? give it t'me, I dont.. I don't wanna leave you hanging.." His thumb finds your clit. He kept moaning loudly, and honestly, you felt bad for his brothers. Yes, they terrorized him all the time by doing the same thing but Stephen was honestly too much of a goody-two shoes to actually be doing this. Or atleast he was. "Shut up, your brothers are probably annoyed with you already." You slap his cheek. "Mmph.. s-sor—mmhh!! so-rry.." He whines in between words.

You shove your fingers in his mouth and he goes crazy. Deep throating them and bobbing his head. What a little freak..

His glasses fogged, and he set them aside on his desk. "Are you close? Please tell me you are.. I wanna fuck you in another position. pleasepleaseplease." He begs sweetly with his blue eyes and needy tone. It only took a couple more minutes for you to finish, and once you did, he flipped you around and arched your back for you. He pressed down on your middle and then gave your ass a smack. "Just staring at you could get me off." He eases into you.

Again, he was a pathetic whining mess. And again! with his fingers in your mouth. He didn't even realize how often he does it. He thinks it's so attractive. "Y-you know.. I was thinking mmh.. that.. that I could maybe do your homework for you so that you can get it done faster.. and you can give me all your attention.." What. An. Attention whore. You hum a 'mm' around his fingers as a yes. Maybe he wouldn't be this way had you never spoiled him with your attention. He deserves it anyway. He's always so nice, and he never really got much attention growing up.

"I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum oh my God. Don't stop moving on me baby. aah.." Stephen whines, his thrust growing more sloppy but still feeling delicious. "Im—mm.. uh.." He spills himself inside you, feeling extra sensitive due to you cumming around him as soon as he was done.

But he doesn't stay dominant when you suck his cock or when he's in you. "Stroke it while you suck it..aah..aah.. auuhh.." His moans get higher pitched with every one that comes out of his mouth. "Yesyesyesyes," He closes his eyes and rolls his hips into your mouth. "Mmm, mhm.. y—es.. oh my God.."

Breakfast that morning at the table was.. surprisingly not awkward? It was more like.. you know, just a normal conversation. Well, for the boys, at least.

"It's not fair that you get to scream at the top of your lungs when you get head, but when it's ME, I get in trouble. I!! get called ANNOYING." Sam complains while chewing his pancake. "Or when the bed makes a bunch of noise and it's only a problem when it's because of me. Like, you're such a hypocrite." Scott rolls his eyes. "Hey, that's my word." Sam cocks an eyebrow at his brother. "You didn't know what it meant last week. Shut up." And then the boys suddenly forgot about why they were complaining the first place. They took their frustration on eachother in the living room, tackling eachother.

"We are so having sex every night and being loud to piss them off." Stephen smirks as soon as you wrap your arms around his neck from behind. "Because you wanna get back at them for those sleepless nights?" You giggle. "Yeah. And for all the picture frames that fell and broke." He scoffs.

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