#the bite is from an expendable who tried to eat him

[vinestaff]

'kay whatever u say mr solace

[genderfluid-insomniac]

“Little Seizures” Six Eared Macaque x reader x Sun Wukong & MK

Note: I don't know what to put as an intro but this is based on my experiences with epilepsy as I've had it for a year and a half. Seizures are fucking annoying and I don't see much epilepsy content in fanfiction so I did it myself. Enjoy!

P.S. This may not be accurate to your unique experiences because I based it off of general epileptics.

You had gone with MK to Flower Fruit Mountain for his training and you volunteered to keep an eye on him to make sure he didn’t mentally drain himself. Maybe there was another reason that you had but it totally wasn’t about your friend’s two mentors were in the process of courting you and how all the citizens of the mountain were adorable fluffy monkeys. Speaking of which a few of them were sitting on your back and picking through your hair for bugs to which they’d unfortunately for them find none of. But some others were sitting around you eating the fruit you’d given them. “Guys I hate to tell you but you won’t find anything but you’re more than happy to have a mango, peach, or banana.”

“Lotus, don’t you want to feed me a piece of fruit?” You must have jumped at least 3 feet in the air as some of your companions cried out at your reaction and the new demon by your side. Groaning you playfully hit his arm and rolled your eyes as Macaque laughed at your amusing reaction. Some monkeys chirped and moved over to him, climbing his black fur and settling in on his head for grooming. You looked at your friend who was still training with both his mentors and back at the shadow demon who was now smirking at you. “Shouldn’t you be fighting MK and Wukong without using a shadow clone?”

“Yeah but eating sweet fruit and spending time with you is much better.” Taking a bite of a banana and glancing at you with a raised brow, growing concerned at the lack of response from you and how you swayed. You guessed at least. All you could see or feel was the room growing darker and everything feeling like the ground beneath you was shaking (and not from the huge battle going on just a few yards away). Bits of conversation could be heard as all of your senses faded in and out, one dark fuzzy outline holding you surrounded by little white ones and two tanish ginger figures running over to you.

“What’s….to….?” Your body grew tired and all of a sudden you wanted to sleep, tiny hands poked your cheek in alarm and worriedly cried out to someone. “Name!……me-“ “They just…..passed out….. shaking-“ “Macaque…. keep….. still….. King get…..much water….” There wasn’t anything you could hear after that, only having the feeling of falling asleep like any other night. Your entire body felt like lead and gravity was ten times stronger, barely able to open your eyes and speak anything except for a single word. “Fuck.”

Hearing was one of your first senses to come back and touch wasn’t far behind, feeling a warm body supporting your back as you rested against them. “Ha. Glad to see you’re awake! You have all of us a scare!” Sun Wukong was the person holding you. Not that you could see him but his voice was enough of a hint. “The kid was worried sick pacing around and muttering about how he should’ve noticed. I’m guessing this is something to do with the thing MK said about having pepsi or something?” You weakly laughed and tried to sit up, only to be gentle pushed back down.

“Easy, peaches. From what I could see and what Mac heard, it sounds like your body short circuited. MK! They’re awake bud!” No doubt your friend hadn’t strayed far from you given his already anxious worry about you and your disorder but he cared and you were thankful for it. “Epilepsy.” He looked down at your comment. “Hm?” You went to clarify, sti fatigued from your body’s strange method of expending your built up energy. “It’s called Epilepsy. It basically like my brain overloads from time to time which causes me to do that.”

An anxious loud voice called your name and your turned your head to see MK, looking up at Wukong and hearing his whisper. “I’m glad your okay. Nearly thought Id lost you.” His vibrant tail circled your wrist comforting, and looking back over to his successor. “NAME!” The wind was knocked out of you by MK tackle hugging you and spewing apologies with teary eyes. You loved him dearly but he apologized for things out of his control and his heart is too kind for the world sometimes. “MK, I need to breathe. I’m okay! You’ve seen me have one of my seizures, I probably just got overly stressed or dehydrated.”

“Let’s give them some space, bud.” Macaque came into your view with a clay cup of what you could guess to be water and used his tail to lift the young adult off you. Handing the water to you and visibly relaxing once he surveyed your appearance. “Happy you’re okay, kid. Sorry if my scare caused this-“ The demon sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and averted your gaze before coming looking back at you. “If I’d known this would happen I never would have jumped you.” You grabbed his hand and smiled, softly chuckling. “I forgive you Mac. It was probably a result of my medication change and thank you for getting me water- Hey guys…”

A bunch of small monkeys crept up behind you all and approached you, climbing on your lap and tugging your shift to grab your attention. “I’m alright. Thank you for your concern!” It was all adorable, watching the ones who were close to you with a bit more boldness quietly make noises at you. Not that you could hear what they were saying but you could tell they were also worried. Both celestial primates make some calls at the young ones who answered back and went back to their day, all except for one. Who ran over to your bag and pulled out a fruit, offering it to you. “Thanks buddy. I need to energy.”

[melishade]

Number 30?

This ask game

Coming across the ruins of Liberio in the Dark Timeline.

TW vomit. TW Blood. TW death. TW...everything. TBH

"This is...Liberio..." The Survey Corps and Optimus heard Zeke's words before turning their attention back to the sight before them. The buildings were trampled, turned to powder. Blood stained the ground, ensuring nothing could grow again. Limbs were scattered everywhere, either charred, or mutilated from bite marks, or...both. The wall of the internment zone was torn down, and both the outside...and the inside were destroyed. Liberio. Marleyan, Elidan, it didn't matter. Everyone suffered. Everyone died.

"No...," Pieck gawked before screaming, "NO!" She bolted towards the ruin and rubble, ignoring the cries of Magath. Mikasa quickly ran after her and grabbed her arms before she bit down and transformed into a titan.

"Let go! LET GO! DAD! DAD WHERE ARE YOU?! DAD!" Pieck hollered.

Pieck continued screaming as Reiner fell to his knees. Reiner's heart couldn't take it. He couldn't take seeing the sight before him. His home was trampled to the ground. Just like he had done to different nations, to Paradis. Part of him knew that he deserved it. He deserved to be living in this nightmare. Was it a nightmare? No. This had to be reality. His home was destroyed. His people were dead. His mom. Gabi, Falco, Udo, Zofia, Annie, Porco, his aunt, uncle, everyone he swore to liberate! He swore to protect them! He failed! And he couldn't hold it in!

Reiner covered his mouth to stop the bile from coming out of him, but it was too late. He vomited what little he had to eat and more onto his hands and onto the dirt. The blood-stained dirt mixed with the vomit on his hands, and the titan shifter could help but let out a loud scream of despair. This wasn't a nightmare. It was reality. It was hell. His personal hell for his sins.

Magath didn't know what to do, what to say. He turned his attention to Zeke, but the titan shifter looked so catatonic. Blue tears streamed down his face, but he didn't say a word. He saw Pieck fall to her knees, with the Ackerman now embracing her. She still tried to get out of Mikasa's grip, but she was expending more energy trying to do so. Mikasa looked so remorseful as she did her best to embrace her, but Pieck didn't seem to notice, nor care.

Wait...Magath turned his attention to the rest of the Devi-!...the Survey Corps. They looked so remorseful. So sad. They pitied the warriors before them. They...understood them. Magath glanced up at the Metal Titan before him, and saw that his fists were clenched. His battle mask was up, and his eyes, those bright blue eyes just looked so angry...and so guilty. Well...he should be! He brought this onto them! He brought this trouble to their door! He...was trying to help stop this threat. Magath noticed the way the titan's fists unclenched before looking directly at him.

"Where is the science division?" Optimus asked him.

"...it should be this way." Magath pointed towards...well from what he could remember, down the street. There was nothing he could do for the Warriors now. This was the only thing he could do.

Eren felt dizzy at the sight before him. Was this what was really going to happen if he activated the Rumbling? When he soared above the clouds, was this the actual sight below? Death and destruction? Caused by someone who didn't even value freedom? Just logic? Eren shook his head. No. He didn't want this. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to be apart of this nightmare and cause more of it. Forget the Rumbling. Forget the destruction of the outside world. He didn't want it. Not anymore. He didn't want this vile death and destruction for people who didn't deserve it. He didn't want to become it. He was going to be better than it. He swore it.

The moment he made that resolve, the memory of Optimus' death at his hands disappeared from his mind.

(Please continue asking from that ask game above! Thank you!)

[mintys-musings]

tonight is just an impulse ramble kind of night ig-

nikihime nsfw hc

also been thinkin- they'd just make a really nice lookin couple, no? niki himself admits he looks a bit like a playboy (+linecook rizz points) and himeru is... himeru

NSFW under cut~

they flip flop between who tops. it really just depends who's in the mood more. himeru's repressed that much is certain, but i think in general he has a very low sex drive anyway. it's just when he's horny he is down incredibly bad. niki is just always dtf but imo he's unintentionally repressed. tbh he's too busy thinking about food until he remembers that there is more to his existence now than scrounging around for his next meal. so what ends up happening is that one of them reaches a fucking boiling point of repression and they're the one to top the other. just bending the other over and railing them to their hearts content.

if i had to pick who'd top the most? meru. solo idol work is hard to come by, he's always needing to wait for rinne to approve of shit to do, and he doesn't have a part-time job to really distract himself from horny thoughts like niki does. so some days niki will catch himeru death staring him across the table and niki just knows™

niki and himeru are on the same level of kinky and on the opposite sides of giving and receiving usually so it works out incredibly well.

there was one incident though where meru pulled niki's hair and niki was not happy about that. it was the first time meru got scolded by niki and for it to had happen while he's balls deep into the chef- very funny in hindsight

every time niki has gone down on himeru, himeru swears heaven is real. himeru also is very nice and holds niki's hair out of the way :3 💚

niki tries not to leave love bites and hickeys on anywhere visible with himeru. he understands how much he cares about his physical appearance.

that being said, himeru is towing the line of what could be visible when marking niki. if you pull down the collar of niki's shirt even slightly, you'll see all the hickeys himeru has left.

himeru likes fucking niki up the wall. niki likes cowgirl but specifically with himeru tied up.

niki also just gets... v cock drunk with himeru. top or bottom, dick is the only thing niki will be thinking of

aphrodisiacs are definitely used sometimes just because they'd think it's a good idea. it is. but also they need to be careful that there's no work the day after.

they've tried food play where they'd eat food off each other, but niki got incredibly distracted and stopped being horny the minute they needed more food. honestly himeru wasn't sure what he was expecting because that should've been obvious. they still keep snacks nearby when they smash though. fucking expends niki's energy a lot much to his dismay.

[goodlawman]

{Be Brave} She holds her cone just over her shoulder where Raylan can easily lean forward for a lick or bite as it please him, while they sit on the back porch steps ~a throwback to their lives in Harlan~ and watch Willa doing Indy-500 laps on her bike. It still has training wheels and it wobbles a little on turns, but she's trying so hard. "Wha' ya gonna do or say, love, wen come dat day she tell you she applied an' got accepted at Glynco?"

Raylan's chest pressed against her back as he leaned forward to take a lick of the offered cone, pausing in his attempt to locate and massage out every knot in Beth's shoulders. She hadn't asked but as they sat in easy silence and watched Willa expend the last of her post-dinner energy, idle hands made their way to her shoulders, thumbs pressing into muscles and working them firmly. Truth be told, he took any excuse to lay hands on his Wildcat as long as she allowed.

He stayed leaning forward a little question as her question dug into concerns voiced before Willa had little more than wisps of fine blonde hair on her head, gumming tiny fists while she tried to make sense of the world she'd been newly delivered into. "Y'know Sutter's kid told him she was going to be a marshal just like him but the time she graduated, she decided to go into IT instead. Told him there was more stability in the field these days," Raylan murmured quietly, taking the indirect path to the answer instead of running at this one head on.

Willa came to a stop and planted both sneakered feet on the ground. She turned to wave at Raylan and Beth, blonde braids artfully constructed by Beth swinging 'round. At least they'd started out well done and hairs started to escape in the Miami humidity and activity of the day. He straightened up and gave her a wave back, a smile and a nod. A confirmation that he was indeed watching and approved of how well she was doing.

"The first time he mentioned it, I was still working out of Lexington and Willa wasn't but a recent born bean. I hadn't seen her yet, hadn't quite figured how much that first meeting would impact me. I told him that if Willa chose that path, well, there was nothing to be done for it. We all pick our own way and we go it alone." Looking back, he almost felt some shame in the way he'd shrugged it off.

Raylan resumed working Beth's shoulders, knees pressing in against her slight shoulders. "I don't know what I can say. Sort of frowned on these days to discourage your child from pursing the future they want but...there's reason why I don't involve Willa much in my side of the family. There's a cycle of violence that's been there a long time and I rather she was the first Givens that avoided that all, including taking up with a career involves not only receiving but unfortunately having to use it as well."

Willa, sweet, innocent and not yet ruined by the world, rode in circles before them with nary a care outside of which book she'd pick to read before bed and who would read it. Where to hide her green beans she didn't want to eat because Raylan and Beth didn't have a dog like Richard and Winona did. In a flash she lay on a bed before him, monotonous beep in the background indicative of a heartbeat, so still and covered in bandages. Receiving a call that something went wrong in the field -

Raylan snapped back to reality and immediately released the tight grip on Beth's shoulders. "Sorry," he muttered and leaned back into the step behind him, tilting his head back. "I would do it all again in a heartbeat but Willa ain't me. I want her to work in peace, not on the hunt like her old man."

[buckleyblueyes]

buddie + laughter

(send me a word and a ship and I’ll give you a head canon)

Uhh so this turned into a ficlet?? I don't know what happened but there's dialogue in it and I putting it under a cut. It's angsty bc it's a post 4x14 recovery thing, but also very fluffy.

Buck first notices it a week after Eddie comes home from the hospital. He hasn't laughed. Not once. There have been a few smiles, a handful of chuckles. But he hasn't actually laughed. And Buck understands the trauma of it all, knows the nightmares that are keeping Eddie up at night and the anxiety that is thrumming under his skin at all times. He's been there, after a ladder truck exploded on him, after a tsunami tried to wash him away, and he's there again, if he's honest, after watching Eddie get shot right in front of him. So, he understands what Eddie is going through. The last thing he wants is to make Eddie feel like he has to act happier than he is--Eddie deserves space to process and feel his negative emotions.

But, the thing is. Buck loves Eddie's laugh. And even before the shooting, it was a rare thing to get a full, unguarded laugh from Eddie instead of a chuckle or a giggle. Buck prides himself on the fact that of all the people in the world, he's one of three people who can get that kind of laugh out of Eddie (the others being Christopher and Abuela), and he also just. Really misses the sound of Eddie's laugh. Not to mention the fact that Christopher has picked up on Eddie's mood and has himself been laughing less.

(If Buck is truly honest with himself, he's been laughing and smiling less, too. But this isn't about him.)

He decides he has to do something. He knows he can't make it obvious to Eddie what he's doing, so he focuses his energies on Christopher first. Everytime he sees Chris (which is often, since he's practically living on the Diaz couch for the time being) he makes sure to come prepared with a joke. Always cheesy and silly and almost impossible not to crack a smile at.

How do cows greet each other? They exchange milkshakes.

Why did the student eat his homework? The teacher told him it was a piece of cake!

Knock Knock. Who's There? Tank. Tank Who? You're Welcome.

And it works. The jokes, silly as they are, do manage to elicit giggles from Christopher, and fond eye rolls from Eddie. Buck keeps at it, and after a couple of weeks, Christopher starts to have jokes of his own, many of which are at Buck or Eddie's expense. Buck decides he would be the butt of a thousand jokes to make Christopher and Eddie laugh. Some of the jokes they exchange even get a smile or a chuckle out of Eddie, much to Buck's delight.

Eddie's recovery progresses, physically and emotionally. He goes to the department mandated therapy, and then, to everyone's pleasant surprise, he decides to keep at it. Buck is there every step of the way with encouragement, and a few corny jokes. He's not sure when he moves from only targeting Christopher, to telling them to Eddie as well, but he knows that it helps.

When Eddie is frustrated with his physical therapy, angry and tired of fighting with own body, Buck cuts the tension with a "Knock knock. Who's There? Woo. Woo Who? Glad you're excited!" which Eddie begrudgingly goes along with. When Eddie is annoyed because he can't lift something/open something, Buck swoops in with a "need a hand, or maybe an arm?" and a wink. When Eddie emerges from his bedroom early in the morning with dark circles under his eyes, Buck nudges him and says "You should go back to bed. The early bird gets the worm, but the late worm doesn't get eaten." and every time Eddie rolls his eyes and shakes his head and bites his lip to keep from smiling. It's not a laugh, but it's something.

As the months go by Buck gets more and more of a reaction for his troubles. A lip bite turns into a half smile turns into a full smile turns into a grin turns into a snort turns into a chuckle. Eddie is clearly doing better, and so is Christopher, who has turned the whole thing into a competition to see if he or Buck is funnier. But Eddie still hasn't let out a full, deep, belly laugh since before the shooting. It makes Buck's heart ache because he knows Eddie only laughs like that when he is truly relaxed and unguarded, and knowing that Eddie hasn't been able to reach that level of calm in months, that he's been on edge this whole time? It's awful.

Finally, finally, a week before Eddie is supposed to start work again, it happens. Buck finally makes Eddie laugh. It's just...not on purpose. He's over for movie night, having moved back to his own apartment by that point. He gets up to refill the popcorn bowl and trips over something Christopher left on the floor. He falls, the plastic bowl goes in the air, and lands right on his head. Eddie just loses it.

"I'm sorry--" [laugh] "Are you--" [laugh] "--okay?"

Buck glowers. "Fine, thanks."

It's not until Buck's back on the couch, fresh bowl of popcorn in his lap, Eddie running his fingers through his hair checking for bumps (because, sure, Eddie likes slapstick, but he also has to be sure Buck isn't actually hurt), and Christopher asleep up against his dad, that it occurs to Buck. "You laughed!"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"No, I mean," Buck swallows. "You haven't laughed, since..."

"Since the shooting?" Eddie finishes. "Is that what all the jokes were about? You wanted to make me laugh?"

Buck shrugs. "I know it's been hard, and you're allowed to feel however you feel. But I just...I wanted to make you happy."

Eddie's hands are still in Buck's hair, and he turns Buck's head in his hands until Buck is facing him. "You always make me happy, Buck."

Buck can't even begin to respond to that.

"You're right, things have been difficult," he nods. "I've been on edge. But having you here? The way you've taken care of Christopher, taken care of me, for the past few months, it's not nothing. In fact," Eddie hesitates, taking a deep breath, for a second before pressing on. "Buck, it's everything. You're everything."

Buck feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, just like he always feels when Eddie says these deeply meaningful things to him. There's no one in this world I trust with my son more than you. You act like you're expendable, but you're wrong.

You're everything.

Buck swallows. Glances at the movie they're supposed to be watching. Glances down at Christopher. Finally, meets Eddie's eyes, gaze heavy with anticipation. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"I love."

"I love who?"

"I love you."

[tossawary]

wait can we hear more about da ge mbj au I'm very interested

MBJ getting abandoned as a child makes me enjoy imagining him being soft for babies, especially demon babies. Which made me want to see SQH put into a situation with a lost demon child and MBJ getting to see that. 

Which ended in 3,000 words of canon divergence fic.

-

The situation was bad. 

 Airplane’s fellow An Ding disciples were dead. 

 There was a young demon lord unconscious in front of him, probably dying, and Airplane couldn’t bring himself to bring down the rock in his hand. 

 His hand was shaking. He couldn’t make it stop. 

 This System really didn’t give a fuck about the author’s wishes, huh? Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky had been shoved into one of the worst character roles in Proud Immortal Demon Way and left to take the long way around to the plot. Now he was being told that his favorite character was expendable? Irrelevant? Talk about insult to injury! Nothing was sacred here, was it? 

 Airplane put down the rock. 

 Then he picked up the rock again. 

 He looked at it. 

 Then he hurled the rock away and put his head in his hands instead. 

 He came to a decision - a shitty decision for a shitty situation - and got to work saving his future murderer’s life. At least he would know some of what to expect if he kept the storyline mostly the same! Besides, his life wasn’t good enough to be that concerned about it! Maybe the System would put him into a decent role next time! 

 Maybe it was empathy at seeing someone being fucked over by the System! 

 Airplane did his best to slow down Mobei-Jun’s bleeding and loaded the man into the cart. He also did his best to ignore all the dead bodies around them. Gross. 

 That should have been that! He should have then been on his way to continue making a really bad decision in a really bad situation. But as Airplane moved to leave the scene of a massacre behind him, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He startled, snapping around, prepared to defend himself physically or verbally! 

 Instead, he saw a baby. 

 Ah, well, not a baby baby! But a child somewhere between the ages of three and four years old! A chubby one too! The chubby child was crouched halfway behind a tree, looking at Airplane with wide eyes, little hands clawing anxiously into the grass. It was impossible to miss their little pointed ears and the blue mark in the middle of their forehead. How could anyone miss that kind of family resemblance? 

 The demon child froze upon being noticed. 

 Airplane looked between the demon child and the young demon lord in the card, but the similarities only got stronger the longer he looked! 

 Holy shit! 

 HOLY FUCKING SHIT! 

 But he didn’t remember Mobei-Jun having a child! He remembered Mobei-Jun having siblings, sure, but he was pretty sure that... he’d alluded to Mobei-Jun’s uncle doing away with most of them. Did that mean that this child was supposed to… die? 

 This situation had gotten even worse. 

 Leaving a child here to die was… pretty bad. Airplane had done some not very good things to make it in this world and in his sect without losing any sleep over it at all, but the idea of leaving this child to die made Airplane want to be sick! At least, as soon as he realized that if Mobei-Jun had been protecting this demon child and woke up to find this demon child missing, then Airplane would be really, truly, totally fucked no matter how tightly he hugged the man’s thighs! 

 It looked like the demon child had to come too. 

 How the fuck did a person go about catching a demon child?! 

 “Is… this your gege?” Airplane tried carefully. “Is this your gege here?” 

 The demon child didn’t respond. 

 Airplane gestured at Mobei-Jun repeatedly, unsure how to get the message across. “Is this your gege?” he said, louder. “Baba? ...No? Not Baba? Da-Ge? Are you his didi?” 

 That got a blink. 

 “Didi?” Airplane repeated, desperately. “Come here, Didi.” 

 Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky hadn’t handled children since his last life. He’d been one of the younger siblings in Shang Qinghua’s family, so he hadn’t been involved in any of the child-rearing before leaving. But Airplane’s experience wasn’t very good! Some forced babysitting of his father’s do-over children and his mother’s stepchildren’s children didn’t make him an expert! And this was a demon baby! 

 “Didi, your gege needs you,” Airplane wheedled. “Come here! Come on!” 

 Slowly, the demon child began to crawl over towards the cart. 

 “Your gege is hurt and needs help,” Airplane said, in most most soothing and also urgent voice. It was a weird balance! “Come on! Come along! Didi, your gege needs help. He’s hurt. Come here, please, that’s it! That’s right! Good job! You’re doing such a good job coming up here for your gege! We need to get your gege somewhere safe!” 

 The demon child made it to the cart, trying to stay on the far side of it and away from Airplane. Airplane tried not to make himself look too threatening. He also tried not to contemplate his apparent natural talent for kidnapping children, which probably wasn’t something to make a person feel proud. 

 “Didi, can I pick you up? Didi, can I lift you up next to your gege?” 

 Reluctantly, the demon child lifted his chubby arms and let Airplane slowly approach him. Airplane carefully put his hands under their armpits and then hefted them into the cart beside Mobei-Jun. The demon child nearly kicked him in the gut, struggling to get to the unconscious and injured ice demon! 

 “Ah, be careful of the injury-!” Airplane said, trying to move the child back. “OW!” 

 The demon child bit him. 

 Airplane yanked his poor hand back. “You little fucker! Ah, fine! Curl up in your gege’s blood and see if I care,” he muttered. “Let’s just get out of here already.” 

 The demon child curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side and Shang Qinghua got back into the driver’s seat of the cart. Trying to channel his spiritual energy for healing purposes while focusing on driving was hard. Even if he could have managed it properly, he still would have been stuck with an aching hand as it healed, which didn’t make him feel very charitable towards the demons in the back seat. 

 Ungrateful! The both of them! 

 When they finally got to a decent hiding place, unloading Mobei-Jun was nothing less than a pain in the ass. Airplane was forced to negotiate with a two-foot tyrant with needle-sharp teeth who didn’t want to move and didn’t want Airplane to touch his gege. Airplane was forced to wheedle like never before. 

 “Your gege is hurt, but I can help him,” Airplane insisted soothingly. “See that place? It’s safe in there! Don’t you want your gege to be somewhere nice and safe, where no one can see him and I can heal him? Look at that hiding spot! It’s a good hiding spot. We all need to go into the hiding spot now. We’re all going into the hiding spot. Come on, Didi, help me get your gege into the nice, safe hiding spot. Come on now. Be good.” 

 The demon child bared his teeth as Airplane helped him down from the cart, but thankfully didn’t bite again. The demon child then hugged Airplane’s shins very unhelpfully as Airplane hefted Mobei-Jun into his arms. 

 Airplane was forced to shuffle. 

 He never thought he’d be so grateful for all the carrying that An Ding Peak forced its disciples to do! Sometimes, carrying things around was all Airplane did all day long and now it was paying off! Airplane wasn’t as strong as some of his peers, sure, but he still managed to carry a giant ice demon into the “hiding spot” with a little ice demon attached to his leg. He counted himself grateful there was only one Mobei-Jun to deliver inside, because he couldn’t have handled more. 

 Once inside, the demon child curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side again. Airplane took the opportunity to look after the cart’s beast of burden and unload the supplies from the cart, searching desperately for the medical supplies their mission had been allotted. When he finally found the medicine, returning triumphantly, the demon child was ungratefully unenthusiastic about Airplane’s careful approach. 

 “Ah, Didi, don’t growl at me! See, look! Look! It’s medicine! Medicine for your gege to stop the bleeding and... make sure his organs go back on the inside. Eugh. Ah, anyway, I’m helping. It’s okay because I’m helping. See, look, I’m helping. It’s okay.” 

 Airplane managed to get pretty far before the demon child couldn’t take it anymore and tried to bite him again. Airplane shrieked, but managed to wrestle the demon child off him, and ended up grabbing some of the food supplies as a desperate distraction. 

 “Bite this! Bite this! Didi, look, it’s food! Food for Didi!” 

 The demon child growled, but putting the food directly in front of his face caught his attention. The demon child’s eyes narrowed in on the food in a super predatory way that was unseen in human babies. Airplane gladly made the sacrifice. He threw the food to the demon child, who scrambled to catch it, gave it a sniff, and then started to hesitantly nibble on it before taking bigger bites. 

 “See? Don’t bite your Shang-Gege and he’ll give you food instead,” Airplane muttered, quickly turning his attention to the bigger demon. “You stay there and chew that and let me help your gege. I’m helping. I’m helping. I’m helping. Shang-Gege is helping Didi’s gege. Everything is good. Everything is okay. There’s no need for biting.” 

 Airplane didn’t really know how much the demon child understood of what he was saying. The demon child looked more than old enough to understand basic speech. He at least understood “stay”, Airplane decided, by sitting off to the side and anxiously chewing through dried food supplies while Airplane worked rearranging Mobei-Jun’s guts and then bandaging up the blood mess. 

 Maybe it helped to see that Airplane had no intention of eating the unconscious and vulnerable Mobei-Jun or something. He was pretty sure that was a demon thing. 

 He couldn’t bring himself to think about what he was doing! 

 If he thought about his actions here, he was going to throw up or something! 

 So long as he kept his hands moving here, he didn’t have to think about anything. He was just an An Ding Peak disciples hard at work betraying the sect. Yeah. 

 Eventually, Mobei-Jun was in as good a shape as Airplane could get him. The demon child - Didi, Airplane decided to call him - was curled up into a ball beside where Mobei-Jun was lying. Didi looked like he was forcing himself to stay alert. 

 “It’s all okay now,” Airplane said. “See? I helped. Shang-Gege helped your gege. Your Gege needs to sleep to get better and now you can sleep beside him.” 

 Airplane washed himself as best he could and tried to wash Didi a little, but the demon child was resistant and snapped at him. Airplane, expecting this now, successfully dodged the snap and wiped at Didi’s face. Trying to be nice was too much work! Airplane’s clean-up job ended up being pretty shitty. There was no doing anything about Mobei-Jun’s blood staining Didi’s clothes around the knee and elbow. 

 “Ah, fine, curl up in blood again, you little brat,” Airplane sighed. 

 Didi curled up against Mobei-Jun’s side again and, apparently, immediately fell asleep. 

 Airplane secured their hiding place as best he could, took stock of their pitiful amount of resources, and tried not to panic about what the fuck he was was going to do now. He was exhausted. Saving two ungrateful demons was hard work. He had no idea what was going to happen next. He was pretty sure he had just made the worst mistake of his life, but it was a little late to change things now. 

 Airplane found a good patch of floor to watch over the demons and let himself collapse. He was too tired to think anymore. There were too many things to think about. 

 He hoped that Mobei-Jun didn’t die. Demons were hardy and demon lords were even hardier, but the real world that had been made out of his shitty web-novel was really unpredictable sometimes. For all Airplane knew, Mobei-Jun was going to develop an infection and a fever. Maybe Mobei-Jun would die anyway and Airplane was going to be stuck with a bitey demon brat who hated him. 

 Airplane yawned. Keeping his eyes open was becoming really hard. Fuck. 

 Watching Didi’s back go up and down with his unconscious breaths was pretty mesmerizing. It was really tempting to sneak over there and pinch one of those chubby, chubby cheeks. Or those cute demon ears. But the demon child looked almost as tired as Airplane felt and probably bit in his sleep. 

 Airplane really didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he’d just taken off with Mobei-Jun, not knowing the demon child had been hiding nearby. That might have been the worst possible situation. Didi was dirty and exhausted now, sure, but he looked like one of those babies who should have been spoiled and happy all the time, and not mercilessly abandoned to the human world.  

-

 Airplane woke up with a hand around his throat, squeezing. 

 There was a dark shadow above him and an even darker feeling in the air. The hand at his throat felt freezing cold. The air was burning with hateful demonic energy that felt like acid on his skin. Airplane struggled, but it was all immoveable. 

 “Where is he?” the shadow snarled. 

 Airplane choked. 

 His shadowy attacker belatedly seemed to realize that Airplane couldn’t talk when he was being choked to death! The squeezing let up enough for Airplane to breathe again. His lungs felt like they were burning hot and cold! His throat felt crushed and ruined. 

 “What did you do with him?” the attacker demanded. 

 “...W-wh…?” 

 “The child! Where is the child?!” 

 Airplane realized here that he was looking into the face of his future murderer. It was hard to make out in the darkness when he was being choked! 

 Mobei-Jun looked wild. His eyes looked like lightning. 

 “The ch-child… ch- chi- is-” 

 Mobei-Jun snarled again with impatience. 

 Even though it definitely wasn’t Airplane’s fault he couldn’t talk coherently! 

 “H-here,” Airplane choked out. 

 Mobei-Jun’s grip tightened, but then the man froze. His head snapped to the side. 

 Airplane followed the demon lord’s gaze. 

 Through the darkness, if Airplane squinted, he could see a small figure crouched by the supplies. Didi was frozen, watching them, chubby cheeks stuffed with stolen food. 

 Oh, there weren’t words for what Airplane wanted to say to the brat! Sneaking around like this in the middle of the night! Nearly getting Airplane strangled for no reason! 

 Mobei-Jun released Airplane immediately and flew across the room to the demon child, who threw up his arms immediately. Mobei-Jun took his younger brother into his arms and then collapsed heavily to the floor. By the sound of it, he crushed some of their precious food supplies as he fell! But the man was too busy wrapping his arms around the demon child to care about things like that, letting Didi sob into his chest, glaring at Airplane over the demon child’s head. 

 Airplane kept his distance! He knew better than to get anywhere near that! 

 The silence was very heavy. 

 He was certain that Mobei-Jun had reopened his wounds, if they had managed to close at all! As time trickled by them, he could see red seeping down the man’s side. 

 “...There are more bandages,” Airplane said finally, hoarsely. 

 Mobei-Jun’s scowl deepened, his lip curling. 

 “Ah… if- if you want them.” 

 What an asshole! 

 Airplane stayed put and didn’t make any sudden moves. 

 His throat felt like shit, so he tried to heal it with his spiritual energy. It was hard to focus with the demon lord glaring at him like that, on the other side of the room, but he didn’t really have anything better to do. There were only so many names he could silently call this ungrateful young demon who’d attacked the bro who’d saved his life! 

 At least Mobei-Jun hadn’t bitten him too. 

 Time trickled by and by. Eventually, Mobei-Jun’s eyelids began to droop close. The man’s injury appeared to be pulling him back under, whether he liked it or not. 

 After Mobei-Jun’s eyes had closed without opening for a long time, Airplane finally risked moving again. Mobei-Jun didn’t wake up, but Didi’s eyes fixed on Airplane, which made Airplane fear being bitten as he carefully came closer. 

 “Ahhh, see? Your gege is fine. I’m just… just going to put him back to bed, alright? You- don’t get up… just stay there and don’t bite me. We’re putting gege back to bed.” 

 Airplane dragged Mobei-Jun back to where the man had been before, with Didi staying put on his elder brother’s chest. Airplane was sure that this couldn’t be good for the demon lord’s wounds! But clearly Mobei-Jun didn’t give a shit about his own health! 

 “Didi, can you get off gege’s chest? Keep hugging him, just slide off, please? Gege is hurt, remember? Gege is hurt and we need to help him. See, he’s bleeding. Please let your Shang-Gege help again and don’t bite me. Everyone is fine. Everyone is happy. Everyone is getting along just fine and helping and healing. There’s no need to bite your Shang-Gege who is only helping, okay?” 

 Didi was more cooperative this time, sliding off Mobei-Jun chest to hug his less-injured side, while Airplane poked at the demon lord’s bleeding. The injuries looked… a lot better than Airplane would have expected them to. This healing rate was nothing short of astounding. Was this the power of an OP demon lord? How unfair! 

 Airplane did his best fixing the man up again. 

 He should have just let the man rot! 

 Mobei-Jun had just tried to kill him again! He would totally deserve it! 

 But there was a demon child carefully watching and Airplane didn’t want to end up with custody if his future murderer died here after all. What would he do with a demon child? Take them back to the sect?! His master would love that, he’s sure! 

 “Ah, looks like he’s getting lots better,” Airplane told Didi hoarsely, rubbing at his poor throat. “You’re doing a good job looking after him. Good job helping your gege. Keep helping his sleep, okay? Stay right there and don’t go sneaking off again, okay? Please don’t go sneaking off again, your Shang-Gege won’t be able to take it.” 

 Didi just blinked at him. 

 “Good job,” Airplane said. “Good job. Shang-Gege is… going to make sure that everything is okay outside. You stay here and protect your gege. Good job.” 

 That said, Airplane crept backwards, got up, and went outside. 

 Once outside, he promptly fell to his knees and curled in on himself. 

 “Holy fucking shit,” he said. 

[lilacyennefer]

A Future with You Part II

A/N: Had to write some fluffy dad Angel after this week’s episode which broke my heart. That’s it.

WARNING: none, just dad!Angel being the cutest

Part 1

“Angel, are you sure it’s going to be fine?” You ask your boyfriend, worried.

It’s been months since Angel and Luke met, and ever since then the two of them were inseparable, but you were always worried to leave Luke with anyone.

But now, kindergarten was closed, and you had to go to work, but you couldn’t take Luke with you.

That’s when Angel offered he would take care of him, he said it would be dumb to pay for someone to do it, when he can do it for free.

You trusted Angel, but you were always nervous to leave Luke with anyone, and Angel wasn’t an exception.

“Yeah! He can meet with Pops, and the rest of the club.”

The next day you dropped off Luke at the clubhouse, Angel was already waiting for him to arrive.

“Angel!!” Luke particularly jumped out of the car to run to the biker, who was waiting for him with open arms, hugging, and lifting Luke up when the child reached him.

“We are going to have so much fun today! Just us, boys.” You could hear the excitement in Angel’s voice.

“Can I ride your bike?” Luke asks excitedly, a question he asks at least twice a day.

“Absolutely not.” You say before Angel could reply.

“When mami can’t see it.” Angel whispers loud enough for you to heart it, watching your reaction, and sending a wink to your way.

You shake your head “It’s not funny.”

“Mi dulce, it’s going to be fine! Worst case scenario, I’ll call you for some help.”

“Alright.” You sigh, handing Luke’s backpack to Angel “Everything that he needs is in the backpack.”

“I love you.” Angel hugs you closer with his left arm, while holding Luke in his right.

“I love you too.” You smile up at him, then look at Luke, playfully pinching his cheeks “and I love you, my precious little boy.”

“I love you too, mami!” He replies, giving you a kiss on your cheek.

“Well, since we are the early birds,” Angel starts after you said goodbye, and drove away. “Would you like to meet with my Pops?”

Angel could sense the nervousness in his own voice, wondering if the toddler could hear it too.

“Your Pops?” Luke asks curiously.

“My father.” Angel nods. “Then we can come back, and you can meet with my brothers.”

The toddler agreed to Angel’s plans, he excitedly walked to the Reyes Carnicería, holding the biker’s hand in his tiny one.

“Hey, Pops!” Angel greets the oldest Reyes loudly as he steps into the shop, making Felipe turn around to see his oldest son standing there, with a child that’s not his. Or at least he never saw the boy, so Felipe suspected it’s not Angel’s child.

“Where did you get that child?” Felipe asked his oldest son.

“This is Luke.” Angel answers as he picks up the little boy “My girlfriend’s son. I wanted you to meet with him.”

Felipe was surprised at both the fact that Angel had a girlfriend, sure, he knew that his sons were popular with girls, but Angel hadn't brought home a girl to him ever since he was a teenager. He was also surprised at the fact that he would date someone who has a child, and he’d take responsibility for them.

The oldest Reyes man walked out from behind his counter to introduce himself properly to the small boy.

“I’m Felipe.” He reached his hand out for him, the toddler immediately took his hand to gently shake it.

“I’m Luke!”

“I hope my son takes good care of you.” Felipe notes.

Even though Luke was only 4 years old, he could feel the air shift between the older men, making him wrap his arms protectively around Angel’s neck.

“He does!” He states confidently, protecting Angel without actually really knowing.

Angel felt extremely grateful for the little boy, who loved him unconditionally, looked up at him, and admired him, he looked at Angel like someone who’s worthy of love, of believing in, and he’s not someone who constantly fucks things up.

Yes, Angel Reyes was a good father, because Angel looked at himself as Luke’s father, although he never called him a dad. But he was proud of being a good father.

Felipe nods at the toddler’s statement, but Angel still hasn't said anything, as Felipe’s words stung him.

“I just wanted you to meet with Luke.” Angel says, ready to leave the shop, and forget his father’s reaction.

“You could bring your girl and the little boy to dinner once.” Felipe says as he walks back to behind his counter.

“Will do.” Angel nodded, then they said goodbye.

They walked on the streets of Santo Padre, hand in hand, since Luke loved to hold people’s hands, it made him feel secure, when Angel felt the little boy tug his arm, snapping him out of his thoughts.

“You know I love you, right?” Luke looked up at the biker, and Angel could feel his heart fill with love, and his insecure thoughts that his father’s words caused in him, to go away.

“I love you too, little one.” Angel replied, making the toddler smile.

“Good. Mommy loves you too, and me too.” He notes as they keep walking.

On their way back to the clubhouse, they picked up some breakfast for the MC, since they were probably already arriving at the clubhouse.

When they arrived, Angel could see Taza’s bike parked outside, suddenly he was nervous to have Luke by his side, not knowing how the club would react.

His nervousness increased when EZ stepped outside from his trailer, looking at his older brother surprised.

“Yo, boy-scout!” Angel yelled as he walked towards his little brother.

“Boy-scout.” Luke whispered, making Angel chuckle.

EZ walked closer, meeting with them halfway, grabbing the edge of his kutte when he stopped.

“Little bro, meet with Luke. He’s Y/N’s son.” Angel says nervously, making EZ raise his eyebrows from the surprise, since he didn’t know she had a son.

“Hi Luke.” EZ squats down with a smile on his face “I’m Ezekiel, but everyone calls me EZ.”

“You are Angel’s little brother?”

“I am.”

Luke looks up at Angel then says “I want a little brother too!”

The Reyes brothers looked at each other, trying to hide their snickers.

“Yeah, you have to talk to your mom about that.” Angel says.

He knew he was ready to expend their family, but you thought it was too early for that yet.

Only life had other plans.

“Brought some food.” Angel says while lifting the bag full of burritos.

EZ couldn’t reply as the loud roaring of the motorcycles filled the air, making Luke hide behind Angel’s legs just like he did with you when he met with Angel for the first time.

It’s time, Angel thought, his brothers are about to meet with his significant other’s son.

The MC members parked their bikes, Luke was watching them carefully from behind Angel.

“Are you sick Angel? Being up so early?” Bishop asks the oldest Reyes brother as he walks towards him.

“Nah.” Angel shrugs, shaking his head, unintentionally reaching his hand behind himself to Luke.

Angel’s movement didn’t go unnoticed by Bishop, making El Presidente look behind the younger biker, noticing the small boy standing behind him.

“Who’s that?” Bishop asks, nodding towards the little boy.

Unlike his father’s, Bishop’s voice didn’t have any malecy in it.

“Luke.” Angel calls for the toddler “It’s okay, let me introduce you to my brothers.”

“They’re all your brothers?” Luke asks Angel, his curiosity making him step forward from behind Angel.

“This,” Angel taps the front patch on his kutte “means brotherhood. Despite the fact that we are not related by blood, we are still brothers for life.”

Luke listened to his words carefully, but before he could say something to Angel, the man spoke again.

“This is Luke.” He introduced the little boy to the whole club, who were watching him. “Y/N’s son.”

The whole club greeted Luke with such warmness, it made both the little boy and the biker smile.

Angel led the toddler into the clubhouse, sitting down at one of the tables with Luke in his laps, while the others were fighting over the food he bought.

“Hey!” Angel yelled at his brothers “One of them is mine, shitheads!”

Angel didn’t realise he cursed until Luke’s tiny hand covered his mouth, making the biker look down at him surprised.

“No bad words.” Luke scolded Angel.

“I’m sorry.” The biker smiled down at the little boy.

“Angel.” Luke whispered “I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Alright, okay.” Angel said while he put down Luke “Can you go alone or—“

“I’m not a child, Angel.” Luke stops him with a hand gesture that reminded Angel so much of you.

Angel raised his eyebrows with a chuckle “Okay.”

Bishop joined Angel at the table, placing a burrito in front of the younger biker.

“It’s good to see you like this, you know.” Bishop says honestly “Peaceful and happy.”

“Thank you, Bish.”

Angel tried to not show it, but Bishop’s words meant a lot to him, especially after the lack of support and interest from Felipe’s side.

Luke happily ran back to Angel, holding his hands out to the biker, making him sniff his soap scented hands, something that Luke always does to signal that he washed his hands.

The toddler sits back on Angel’s lap as he starts eating his breakfast, while casually chatting with Bishop, Luke listening to their conversation.

“Can I get some?” Luke asks Angel, pointing at his food.

Angel nods, his mouth is full with food, as he holds the burrito to Luke. The little boy takes a big bite out of Angel’s breakfast, making the adults chuckle as he starts chewing it, nodding his head, silently saying that he likes the taste of it.

The day passed way too quickly for both Angel’s and Luke’s liking, none of them realised how late it was, only when you showed up, all done with work.

To be honest, you were even late, because you had to go to a doctor, confirming something that you already suspected.

Angel had some club business to do after he said goodbye to Luke, promising that he’ll get home by dinner, so he can read a bedtime story to the toddler.

“I love you, little one. Goodnight.” Angel kisses Luke’s forehead after he finishes reading for him.

“Goodnight, daddy. I love you.” Luke says sleepily, before he falls asleep.

Angel stood there, totally shocked from how Luke just called him.

Dad.

Such a simple word, 3 letters, that hold so much significance.

Angel stepped out of the toddler’s room, closing the door behind himself as he wiped the few tears rolling down his cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” You ask Angel worried, panic rushing over you as you hurry up to him.

“He called me dad.” Angel confesses, a tiny sob escaping his lips.

“Aw, babe.” You reach your hand to his cheeks to wipe his tears.

It’s time now, you think.

“You better get used to being called a dad.” You whisper to him.

“I know.” Angel nods “I’m a part of his life now.”

“You are.” You agree “But not just his.”

“Yours too.”

“Angel.” You sigh when you see he’s not getting what you’re trying to tell him “Angel, I’m pregnant.” You say nervously.

Angel’s eyes grow wild as he looks at you, then down to your belly.

“I went to check it after work, and the doctor confirmed it.” You bite down on your bottom lip as you’re waiting for his reaction.

“We’re going to have another baby.” Angel smiles.

“Yes, another baby.” You laugh.

“I love you so much.” Angel hugs you tightly, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent.

“I love you more, my angel.”

Taglist: @gemini0410 @rosieposie0624 @blessedboo @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @mayans-sauce @mrsmarvelous1995 @phoenixhalliwell @rocketqueen @witching-hour @starrynite7114 @bellisperennis0 (comment or send an ask if you want to be added)

[solar-bean]

 Grimmjow Headcanons Plus a Few x S/O ones 

( pretty sure I read some of these somewhere but I forgot so here's a self indulgent list :)

He died in his early twenties so he's still pretty young mentally but physically as a hollow he's old as hell

He's European

He takes a lot of naps in random places such as the roof of Las Noches

In fact he does a lot of cat like stuff and doesn’t realize it

He can purr but rarely and it’s mostly in his sleep 

When he became an arrancar he had long hair similar to his release form. It kept getting in the way so he cut it

he doesn’t like wearing clothes

Him and his fraccion use to sleep close together in case they were ambushed by other adjuchas and still did even after they became arrancars

They didn’t think much of it. Except Di Roy. He’d say it was weird and ‘un-masculine’ to which Grim would tell him to shut up and go to sleep after laying an arm or a leg over his face. 

Di Roy would also occasionally guilt trip him

Grimmjow: You’re too weak to fight with us.

Di Roy: I wouldn’t be if someone didn’t bite my face off. 

Grimm:..........fine! do whatever you want. See if I care. 

He was actually much closer to them than he let on

Most of the epsada knew it. Especially after Syazel threatened to experiment on them since they were ‘expendable.’ He did his best to avoid Grimmjow after that.

He only really got to grieve of their deaths when the war against Aizen ended

As much as he genuinely enjoyed fighting Ichigo it was also a distraction from all the pain he tried to burry

Harribel and Nelliel helped him with his grief

They became sort of friends afterwards tho he still tries to fight them both on a weekly basis 

Refers to Pantera with female pronouns 

One perk of most of Los Noches’ inhabitants being defeated is the nearly infant amount of space. So he was able to choose his own room

He keeps it surprisingly tidy aside from the nicknacks he’s hoarded from wandering around Hueco Mundo

His bed is full of pillows as a substitute of having a pack to sleep with

When asked he’ll say its for comfort

Nelliel: Have you seen my pillow? 

Grimmjow: * sitting on it in his pillow pile* No.

He steals everyone’s stuff now and then but mostly Nel’s cuz he likes to mess with her ( insert low key sibling energy )

He talks to animals like people

Grimmjow: I told you to stop crossing the street at the red light idiot!

Cat: Meow

Grimm: Don’t talk back to me you little shit!!

Hangs out at Urahara’s place when he’s in the living world and not trying to fight Ichigo

Likes human food. Especially meat.

Grimmjow: *eating bacon for the first time* hmm tastes like hollows but better

Ichigo:.....I’m sorry what??!!

Was dared that he couldn’t beat Yoruichi at twister. He won five crates of snacks to bring back to Hueco Mundo ( may or may not have shared them cuz “ they gave me too much so take it or I’ll throw it out” )

Says things around the characters in the living world about his terrible experience under Aizen’s rule like it’s normal

Grimmjow: *having another rematch with Ichigo* Damn that almost hurt as much as Tousen slicing my arm off

Ichigo: *pauses the fight* Tousen did WHAT?!!

Becomes friends with Ichigo but won’t admit it.

Somewhat apologizes to Orihime and Rukia for what he did. But not Ichigo cuz he’ll do it all again but with less deadly intent.

Learns how to cook

Likes just about any kind of movie/show. He isn’t picky 

Would get his 6 tattoo edited to something else if it bothered him

Would freakin die for Kazui!!! 

Here are the S/O ones:

Is pansexual so gender isn’t an issue

Prefers someone who can beat him up but is ok with a human if he feels a very strong connection to them

Doesn’t really have a physical type honestly 

Will admire things about their appearance cuz he likes it on them and not in general

Will be in complete denial about his feelings at first 

Like “hollows aren’t meant to love” and all that ish 

Makes up excuses to hangout with them but it’s mostly for his own benefit

“ I don’t like them. They just have a nice movie collection.” “ I don’t like them. They’re just nice to spar with.” “ I don’t like them. They’re just nice to talk to.” “I don’t like them. They just make me feel safe when I sleep next to them.” 

Gives them random things he’s found when wondering around Hueco Undo’s desserts like gems and cool sharp bones

Let's them hold and even use Pantera

Starts to unconsciously turn off his hierro when he’s with them. It causes a lot of fliching and embarrassing gasps when they touch him since he’s not use to feeling so much

Did I mention he’s touch starved?

Like a lot.

Holding his hand for too long would literally kill him

Once he’s gotten use to feeling something other than pain from another person he starts to let them touch him more. Like hugs. Lots of hugs. 

He even lets them rub his release form’s cat ears

Then here come the purrs. Louder than they’ve ever been before! It startles them both. He denied it but the blush gave him away.

He’ll do his best to purr more often since his s/o likes it so much. Such as when they’re cuddled up for a nap. Though he doesn’t really have to try.

Is confused as to why they like to squish his toe beans but lets them do it anyway

Wraps his tail around them in his release form

Will let them braid his long hair

Will also let them paint his claws as well as put makeup on him

He’s a total pushover ( insert the ‘please for me’ meme )

Is very protective of them

“ Why are you sad? Do I need to kill someone?”

If asked will follow his s/o when they’re out at night so they feel safe. Potential muggers? Thrown by an unknown force. Stalker? Punched by an unknown force. Cat callers in a car? Car gets flipped over by an unknown force.

Eventually no one bothers them at all cuz word goes around that they’re protected by a ghost or something else supernatural.

They’re of the few that can call him by a nickname and survive. Grimm, Grimmy, Grimmykins, Grimmy-kun, Kitty, Kitten, Catboy, Stinky cat, Baby boy, Baby boi, Big guy, Tough guy, My Arancar, My love, My one and only, Handsome, Blueberry. Literally anything is fine with him.

But call him My King and he’s done for. Dead. A second time. Deceased all over again. His heart will reform just to burst out of existence. 

Takes them to Hueco Mundo a few times 

Makes a pillow fort with them with his hoard of pillows 

Will be skeptical as to why they like him and won’t be surprised if they get tired of him and break up

But oh no! They’re in it for the long run! You’re stuck with them Grimmykins:)

Would most likely say I love you without even realizing it till later

Grimm: *blushes* F*CK!!

Harribel: *pauses the meeting* Is there something wrong?

Grimm: I told Y/n that I love them before I left without realizing it! *puts his face in his hands and groans* I’m so screwed.

Nel: Well it’s about damn time!

Harribel: Congrats Grimmjow

Grimm: *groans and blushes some more*

If he really loves them he’ll find a way to weaken his immortality so they can grow old together ( yes it’ sappy but he figures he’ll get bored after they long gone )

Might go to Mayuri for help and becomes his lab rat in return. Won’t tell his s/o till it’s done so they won’t try to stop him.

It’s not fun. Like at all ( insert angsty fit energy here ). But it works and as an added bonus him and his s/o can have kids if they’d like

A great dad. Incredibly supportive and loving. Mess with them and you’re dead. Or at least scarred for life. No one messes with his cubs.  

Grimm: Isn’t it weird that our kids are best friends?

Ichigo: No. We’re friends.

Grimm: I tried to kill you.

Ichigo: Who hasn’t?

Grimm: I’ll drink to that.

Ichigo: That’s a juice box.

Grimm: Have you seen my kids? The last time I wasn’t sober they ceroed the roof off and beat up a hollow. There’s no way I’m missing that again.

[internalsealpanic]

Camp Crystal What?

summary: Camp Crystal Lake is a fine and dandy place to spend your summer, said no one ever. You are inclined to agree with that and so are Damian and Jon. 

a/n: I am back from retirement with a REEEEEEAAAAALLLLY long crack fic. (This is long as shit by my standards. Leave me alone.) This  was co written and edited by my wife @littleredwing89. She was also the biggest enabler for this. I tried to give reader some executive dysfuction but I don’t think it worked out well. We’ll see. This is my first super sons fic please feel free to roast it. 

warnings: This really self indulgent and really long. You would think I would have more gore in a slasher film based fic. No. Apparently not. 

masterlist

Jon cackles, his chin lifting only slightly from its perch on your shoulder just enough for you to fully hear the petty sound. You tilt your switch, sticking out your tongue in a vain attempt to avoid Damian’s blue shell. You cry out, throwing your arms up in exasperation as the shell hits you just as you were about to cross the finish line. Your outstretched prosthetic arm nearly hitting Jon in the process, not that you felt too bad about that considering…

 “Yeah! Got ‘em, Dami!” Jon says, high fiving a smug-looking Damian beside you.  You glare at Jon, who was still leaning against you like you weren’t about to bite his head off. “Whose side are you on?”

 “Justice!” This draws a snort out of both Tim and Jason who were both sitting in the back. 

 “No, you’re not!”

 “Yes, I am!”

 “He is, (l/n). You needed to be cut down to size," Damian declares, subtly brandishing his screen showing Rozalina doing a little victory lap in her kart as her little star guy floated around her. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks like an unruly chipmunk as you cross your arms over your chest. This only serves to make Damian all the smugger and Jon all the more gleeful at your loss. 

 You turn the full force of your ire on Jon who was smiling innocently at you, big blue eyes sparkling reminding you of your husky, Yoohoo. You’re about to say something scathing but stop instead deciding to stew in your loss and sulk as you hand Jon your Switch. You’d think he would be more prepared since he was the one who insisted on coming with you to this camp. Now that you think about it, why were they here? All you remember is telling Jon that you couldn’t go visit him over the summer because your parents were sticking you in a summer camp while they go abroad for something and the next thing you know is that you’re in an SUV with Jon, Damian, Damian’s older brother’s, and their friend(?). Whatever she was to them Damiam never adequately explained like everything else. Though you suspect she was Dick’s wife judging from how little they cared whether the other invaded their space. The lack of a wedding ring made you unsure. 

 You let out a little huff, melting into your oversized Gotham U hoodie, letting Jon lean on you despite your sour mood and touch aversion. You lean against him in return and watch as Yoshi zips past Rosalina in mild petty satisfaction. 

You all file out of the car, drowsy and irritable. You muss Jon’s bed head into an even more tangled mess. Neither of you tells Damian about the streak of drool on his face. Tim shuffles the three of you towards the convenience store while Jason politely explains to the mechanic that he’s wrong, Dick orders lunch at the diner and makes a call back to Gotham presumably to make sure Wayne industries isn’t burning down. 

Over your shoulder, you can see Jason’s form working hard not to look threatening. It’s not working or maybe the mechanic was shaking because Faust isn’t even trying to hide the irritation wicking off of her. 

 “He wha-” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose muttering something about Mr.Wayne. He looks pained. Tim hands you a wad of one-dollar bills as his voice takes Timothy Wayne's public speaker pitch. All of the Wayne’s seem to have three voices. Their Wayne voice, their vigilante voice, and their normal voice. Mr. Wayne has the most distinct voice. Dick’s was honestly really hard to distinguish.  

 You count the wad of cash in your hand as Jon grabs a basket from the pile. You note, with amusement, that at least five of the bills had variations of ‘don’t buy cereal’ written on them in distinct handwriting. 

 “Kent, are you planning to put the entire store in the basket?”

 “Nah, just the good stuff.”

 You marvel at the amount of food Jon managed stockpile in your basket while you were distracted. 

 “Uh, Jon, we don’t need that much.” Plus, I don’t think we can eat all of that. 

 “They’re right,” Damian chides, making Jon pout. 

 After a healthy amount of debate, two almost food fights, a near fistfight, and your attempt at puppy dog eyes, you finally narrow the snacks down and even have enough money left for slushies. You shrug at her, adding more blue than necessary. There weren’t rules against this. Plus, it was tastier this way. 

 “Dami,  what flavor do you want?” Jon shouts from the slushie machine.  Beside him, you swirl a mix of red, green, pink, and blue slushies. The lady at the counter was wrinkling her nose at you the way Dami is wrinkling his nose at Jon.

 Jon’s big cup of neon blue smoothie dropped to the floor in a loud clatter. 

 “You’re all doomed! He’s coming. He’s coming! That place is cursed!” The scraggly man screams as he shakes Jon. Damian’s lip tries not to curl in amusement as you both watch the scene unfold. Out of context, this was horrifying. In context, it was hilarious especially considering how badly Jon is acting. The clerk at the counter looks appropriately horrified. You look at Jon, feeling a twinge of worry. He’s not in danger. You know that but you can’t help it.

 Your concoction flies into the man’s face in no time flat and Jon scrambles to your side as soon as the man drops him. You step in front of him bracing for further confrontation but the man simply walks off muttering about something you couldn’t hear over the beating of your heart. 

“Exactly, why am I in the back?” Jason whines, unfolding and refolding himself, not quite sure where to place what limb in the cramped back row of the SUV. You let out a giggle which earns you a rather harsh glare from an already irate Jason. Damian glares back at him for you, in an oddly protective gesture, and you can’t help but feel strangely smug about it. 

 They glower at each other for a few minutes. Jason, probably knowing this was a stalemate, turns his attention towards the front of the vehicle, sharp green eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t Faust’s short ass be in the back with Timbo and the Three Tiny Terrors?” 

 You hear an amused huff from the front along with the loud crinkling and shuffling of the map. Faust glances over her shoulder, the bright mischief in her eyes contrasting with the rich brown of her skin. You wonder if everyone in Damian and Jon’s lives were all this pretty. An almost smile quirks on the edges of her lips as she says “You didn’t call shotgun~”

 Jason hisses something colorful behind you. Tim, beside him, is chuckling either from Jason’s misery or, based on the defeated cry coming from Jon, having just nailed Yoshi with lightning. Could be both. It was likely. 

 Jason, looking positively annoyed, unfolds himself and violently settles his feet on Tim’s lap. Tim yelps then says something close to a swear word. Jason grins lazily looking more like a cat as he leans back. This time Jon cries out in joy, the victory music blaring from your switch. Again, Tim hisses something edging towards a curse word. Jon wriggles out of his seat and fist bumps Jason who returns the gesture enthusiastically. In the reflection on the windshield, you can clearly see the amusement in Dick’s smile. Even to your right, Damian seems amused if not outright gleeful at seeing Tim’s misery.  You couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t a master of reading Waynes yet. You would turn to Jon but he wasn't fluent either. Faust told you that it would take a while which just meant that you would never master it. Reading people was hard enough as it was. There was always something difficult about interpreting social signals. It was so easy to get them wrong and when you add in the complication of being a vigilante you just found yourself frustrated. You slump into the seat feeling the frustration writhing under your skin. Jon noticing your frustration eases up and gives you a little more space. 

 "So, what's with the map?" Tim asks, throwing Jason's feet back at him and handing you his switch. Faust wrinkles her nose at the offending piece of paper. "Well, Dicktopus here insisted on the authentic road trip atmosphere complete with bad cell signal, a map, and oh right, getting lost." Dick gives her a look which Faust just shrugs it off. 

 "Like what? The Goofy movie?" Tim asks incredulously, his brows wrinkling in the rearview mirror as he gives Dick a withering look. 

 Faust snorts in confirmation. Jon’s face crumples in confusion. You make a small hiccupping noise mimicking the noise that passes for Goofy's laugh and you see as the bleary memory clicks into place. "You mean the old movie we watched last night?"

 "It's old but gold," Dick defends fervently, earning him an indulgent smile from Faust and a withering look from Damian. Damian shrinks into his seat unwilling to expend too much effort defending his mentor's taste in movies despite him enjoying the movie. You did too but you wanted to see how this would play out. Behind you, Jason shifts, a shark-like grin plastered across his face. " Just because that's the movie you modeled your life after, Big Bird, doesn't mean it's good."

 Dick makes this affronted noise that makes him sound a little like he's squawking. "It's a good movie and you know it!" Dick says earnestly, scowling at a still cocky Jason through the reflection in the windshield. You see Damian, Jason, Faust, and Tim's eyes meet in the rearview mirror, all shining conspiratorially. You and Jon give each other a look, each looking like you're bracing for disaster. 

 "Dunno, Dick, I think the second one was soooo much better," Tim pipes up finally. It sounds like the spark lighting a trail of gunpowder towards a powder keg. 

 "I have to agree with Drake," Damian says honestly sounding pained. 

 Faust rewards him with a conspiratorial smile which makes Damian ease a little. The gesture from what you understood roughly translated to 'it was for the greater good.' "So much for your taste in movies, Dickens," Faust teases, poking a finger at Dick’s shoulder. 

 "You're one to talk!" Dick says, rolling his eyes childishly. 

 Faust twists her body to look at all 5 of you, winking at you and Jon as if she was about to perform a magic trick, which wasn't off the table since she could actually pull weapons from her tattooed skin. "You guys loved Lake Placid, right?" 

 Playing along, you each gave varying sounds of agreement til Dick finally threw his hands up in exasperation. "HEATHENS!" Faust looks pleased as punch at this reaction. You giggle as Dick groans into the steering wheel as you slow to a stop in front of a cross-section. 

 "Traitors all of you," Dick says, resting his arm on the back of his seat and giving all of you a halfhearted scowl. He kind of looked like Yoohoo when you refused to give him treats. 

 You all bask in Dick’s misery. You even catch Jon giggling at Dick’s frown despite himself. The rest were completely unrepentant. They don't even bother to hide the self-satisfied smiles on their faces, least of all Damian who vehemently protested to being subjected to such drivel. This is, of course, ignoring the fact that he had watched the movie with the same rapt attention as you and Jon. You all enjoyed the movie just as much as Dick did but it was much funnier to gang up on him. 

 Dick continues to argue his point as all of you offer, frankly, bogus arguments that you say with as much conviction as Dick levels against you. The banter continues in a rather jaunty rhythm until a fallen tree forces the car into a rather abrupt stop. 

 "Shit!" Jason hisses at full volume as his knees hit the back of Damian’s seat which draws out a soft 'oof' from Damian which quickly reshapes into a snarl. Tim and Damian give Jason a look of mock sympathy. Jason raises his middle finger in a vaguely familiar gesture. 

 "Jason!" Dick says, cutting off your train of thought much to your frustration. You contemplate hissing some colorful words yourself. 

 Jason grunts, probably rubbing his shins. "They've heard, said, and done worse." You hear Jon protest beside you but it's quickly cut off by a 'not you' from somewhere. 

 Then it hits you. "Oh yeah! Dami did that hand thingy when he drop-kicked someone during lunch," you admit conversationally. 

 "Dami!" 

 Damian gives you an absolutely betrayed look. You shrug at him not entirely sure what was wrong. You shrink a little and Damian pulls back a little but still glares. 

 "Didn't you hear him say the F-word?" Jon adds. You blink at him, running through your memory like a film reel and turning up nothing. "Some of us don't have super hearing," you supply with no real anger behind it. 

 "Ope, sorry, (y/n)." You shrug at him congenially as he smiles sheepishly at you. No harm no foul. 

 "Kent!"

 "Oh- Uh, sorry, Dami." 

 Damian doesn't look appeased at all by this. 

 “Ok, so we’re just gonna skip over the fact that he drop-kicked someone?” Tim asks, raising a brow and you find yourself thinking, “Well, yeah. He’s Robin. That’s kinda his thing.”

 Jason snorts beside him, seemingly less irritable now that Dick’s attention was directed elsewhere. “He didn’t get caught soooo..”

 “Jason!”

 “Jason, we’re not supposed to be obvious about being terrible influences.” Faust jokes, now redirecting Dick’s ire to her. You can’t tell if that was intentional or not but either way she seems to be enjoying how Dick’s expression makes him look like a carp gasping for air.

 “Why did you tell them?” Damian hisses, albeit softer than he normally does. You frown at him confused. You thought it was spectacular and you really don’t know what was wrong. You really wish they’d explain it. Maybe you should speak up but would that be rude? You stare at Damian trying your hardest to convey your confusion but you’re having trouble shaping your face into the correct one. You try to keep in mind the face Jon makes when Damian tried to explain quantum physics to both of you. 

 Turning away from her argument with Dick, Faust looks at you pityingly before speaking and putting her hand up to Dick’s face lightly pushing him back. “Relax, Baby Vamp, I would’ve gotten it out of them sooner or later,” Faust says, looking at you with the same stern look Mr. Pennyworth gives you when you try to steal cookies. It kind of reminds you of the Penance Stare from Ghost Riders but with less flaming skulls and more implied disappointment. 

 “Tim was the one who ate the last few pieces of the brownies Mr. Pennyworth made for Jason.” The words flow out of you like water from a cataract. Faust waves her hand theatrically as if she had just demonstrated a magic trick. Again, you’re pretty sure this was one. You wince fully expecting Tim to have the same caustic reaction as Damian. But when you turn to look at him to apologize, Tim already had his hands up in front of him defensively. On the other side, not far enough away for Tim’s liking, Jason looks livid, steam coming out of his ears. 

 “Those were mine, asshole!”

 “You eat them every time you’re at the Manor!”

 “When I’m at the Manor! Which is what? Once every three months?”

 “Two,” Tim deadpans, holding up two fingers. 

 That was the wrong thing to say, you realize. From the way they’re staring at each other, you’re a little afraid they’d come to blows as Jason surges forward. 

 “Tim, Jay, I will turn this car around if you two don’t stop.”

 “Please, continue.” Dick shoots Damian a ‘you are not helping’ glare but Damian simply answers with a warning one. They all look ready for a brawl and all you want to do is curl up into your oversized hoodie. You play with the frayed edges of your hoodie hoping you’re radiating your discomfort.

 And like an angel of mercy, Faust clears her throat. “(Y/n), Jon, help me clear the road.” The statement leaves no room for argument and you and Jon breathe a collective sigh of relief. 

Jon lifts the tree with ease. It was an oddly healthy tree, freshly cut. Something about it made your stomach turn. “Jon could have done it alone. Why bring me?” You ask, distracting yourself from the strange feeling by fiddling with the joints of your metal hand which only made you more conscious of how pointless it was to bring you along. Faust glances towards the car. The boys are still bickering. She then glances down at you with a wry smile. “Waynes bickering is really funny from a distance.” Your eyes glance at the light scar on her running down her clavicle, disappearing into the line of her shirt.  You doubt it’s from any of them. You really doubt it. The Wayne kids were chaotic, especially the girls, but they’re never- Well, they can be hurtful but not that way. Not that you’ve seen anyway.   You shake your head and glance at the car and watch them argue. Their gestures are animated and loud enough that you could almost hear the bickering going on. This liveliness settles your stomach. 

 You spend a few minutes out there waiting for them to settle down. It was long enough for you and Jon to start debating the existence of Gummy Bear shaped aliens and for Faust to weigh in with her humble opinion. Dick honks at the three of you to tell you it was, relatively, safe to come back. Tim, Damian, and Jason were all sulking in their respective corners while Dick gives you and Jon an apologetic look. Jon simply shrugs as if to say it was normal for brothers to argue but you found it hard to picture Conner ever being that mean to Jon or vice versa for that matter. Faust rolls her eyes at the sulking birds, a fond smile quirking on her lips.  Dick gives her a look that was usually followed by the words ‘I miss not being the adult’ which she graciously answers with a smile that plainly says ‘me too.’

 In the corner of your eye, you see something- a shadow- move in the woods as you drive off, Dick’s story about space aliens falling away into the background. You turn to Jon who looks at you confused and a little concerned. It was clear he didn’t see it, whatever it was. You turn to Damian but see he’s still stewing. You blin and the shadow is gone. A sticky feeling of dread settles in your stomach. 

 There's pressure in the car. 

The camp is, well, loud. 

 Louder than you were expecting and full of rowdier children than promised. You wince slightly, ears ringing. You and Damian sigh already knowing that you were both going to be absolutely exhausted by the end of this. You turn to Jon, shoulder slumping, only to find him beaming as he watched the other kids run around. There were alot of days you envied Jon and this was one of them. Damian looks at Jon with utter disbelief. You shrug at him as he wrinkles his nose at both Jon and the hooligans running around. Your lip quirks into a scraggly smile fully understanding.

 “This is going to be repulsive,” Damian hisses.  

 “Lighten up, Dami.”

 “Nah, he’s gotta practice being dark and brooding, so when he gets to be the big bad bat he can do the whole brooding thing all-natural,” you joke, using your finger to mimic the ears of Batman’s cowl. 

 “Please, say that louder. I don’t think the supervillains heard you,” says Damian sarcastically, nose upturned.  

 Jon grins at you in a challenge. You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Your brain cell takes a vacation. 

 “HE’S GOTTA-” Damian clamps a hand on your mouth. You glare at him. His eye flicks to Jon who is sucking in a breath. Damian is throwing his other hand over Jon’s mouth when one of the counselors waves you over. All three of you blanch at the color of the shirt. 

 You all stand in an odd misshapen circle. Damian looks incredulously at the tacky camp T-shirt he’s been forced into while Jon does not contain his laughter. You joke about how a bowtie would definitely class it up which earns you a rude gesture that just makes you laugh harder. 

 “Alright kiddos, it’s time to introduce ourselves!”

 Damian froze under the weight of their collective gazes, the hint of a smile on his face fading. Sometimes being around you and Jon made him forget. Well, not really forget. It was just easier not to think about it when you two were around. Damian feels himself shifting, realigning himself to 5’ 2” of cold arrogance.

 It should have scared you just how easily the warm fondness on his face smoothed out giving way to this cold calculating face. It did on some level; on some level, the efficiency of Damian’s face muscles scared you. Sometimes you had to wonder if it was just him or if his brothers had the same knee-jerk reaction. 

 You roll your eyes as if nothing worrying had happened and bump your shoulder against his. A smile twitches on his lip and the ramrod shape of his spine curves a bit.  Jon snickers, not trying too hard to hide it, which earns him the full force of Damian’s ire but you and Jon know all too well that Damian’s just being prickly.  You step forward, shoulders broadening, nudging a glaring Damian behind you redirecting everyone’s stares towards you. It’s uncomfortable but you don’t mind. Damian huff behind you but doesn’t protest any more than that. You smile amicably or as amicably as you can. You need to remember the correct shape.  

Introductions go off without a hitch. 

 Jon, like always, has no trouble stirring the crowd. 

  You make an impression when your introduction careens into a tangent about angelfish.

 Behind you, Damian scoffs and  crosses his arms over his chest. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did have a tendency to be nervous, especially around new people. This is compounded by the fact that Damian wasn’t really versed in dealing with people his own age which just put him on edge. 

 Thankfully, all three of you get sorted into the same cabin. The cabin is chaotic in a familiar, childish sort of way with pillows flying everywhere and kids jumping up and down their bed. Jon immediately jumps into the fray. Damian follows soon after Jon hits him with a pillow square in the face. 

 “Woman up and face me, Kent!”

 You look up to the sky and smile in amusement.  This is going to be an interesting summer.

The room is solid. 

 Your eyes incandescent in the darkness. The air crackles in anticipation of the storm.  

 A silver streak of lightning tears down through the heavens and crashes down into the lake. 

 A strange dislocation in the universe has emerged.

 Your eyes shut. 

 Your ears pop. 

 You do not hear as something mangled rises from the water. 

You wanted to say this was a horrible idea. Though, you’re not sure how to phrase that without implying they’re idiots. You’ve been hanging out with Damian too much. He’s starting to rub off on you and you’re mildly concerned. 

 You’d told them that the whole fight was your fault. Ok, not entirely. You simply told the kid off when he was making fun of Jon and you were not gonna stand for that. The kid shoved you, Damian 'accidentally' broke his nose, and the next thing you know is that you’ve been shoved into a random group of campers.It’s been a week but you still weren’t familiar with a lot of the people in the camp. The man with kind eyes said this would be good for you.  You really would have preferred staying at the campgrounds, cleaning and doing whatever with the people in your cabin. 

 “Alright, kiddos, you guys can go swim while me and Jos go check something out in the woods.”

 “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!”

 You sniff and bite your tongue, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

 "You sure they're gonna be ok?"

 "What you think they're gonna disappear like Cat?"

 Your ears perk up at this. 

 "Well, I mean-"

 "She probably just ran off with one of the town boys." 

 This was probably the best time to bring up child endangerment protocols or the fact that you’re not even dressed for swimming. By the time you string the correct combination of words,  they’re gone. You sigh and huddle yourself into a tree. It’s not like you’re dressed to swim anyway even if you wanted to. 

 You hug your knees as you flatten yourself against the tree, making sure your prosthetic limb is tucked beneath your normal one. You watch the others as they horse around looking like they’re really enjoying themselves. They probably didn’t realize you were there or did they even notice you join the group. Doesn’t matter really. Right now you would prefer to sit under the tree than risking your arm. Mr. Fox had explained that since it was still a prototype it was delicate. 

 “HEY!”

 You jump. Your skin feeling very confined. You turn to the voice. Jesse, you think. 

 “Sorry. Could you- can you say that again?”

 She rolls her eyes at you and you suddenly doubt the politeness of your speech but no you were pretty sure that was the correct way to say it. 

 “I said ‘can your arm go in the water?’.”

 Oh.

 “No?” You were half sure it couldn’t. You haven’t really tested it since it was easier to bathe without it. She gives you a skeptical look and yanks your arm towards her. You yelp. “Hey! What are you-” Your throat tightens when you find yourself at the dock. It’s shaky. The slightest shifting made it move. 

 You turn your heel mumbling an apology but your arm is yanked back. The grip is stronger now. You look back and see two people holding on to it. “Let go!” you say, trying to wrench yourself free. “It’s- it’s not a toy,” you add but they don’t budge.

 “You’re being a baby!”

 “C’mon (y/n)!”

 “Let’s see how well robots can swim!”

 You scream as they throw you into the water. 

 You thrash your limbs around, grasping for something, anything but all you can feel is the viscous emptiness deforming and reforming with every splash. 

 You cry out. 

 The water muffles your screams along with the distant sound of laughter and heckling. 

 Your mouth is filling with water.

 Your lungs. Your lungs are burning. 

 Your chest aches. 

 You can’t breathe. 

 Help!

 Help!

 Please!

 Someone!

 It hurts. 

 Your vision is pulsing. The edges are going dark. 

 Your limbs are going numb and falling to pieces. 

 The world is sinking. 

It’s so dark. 

 It’s too cold. 

 Why are you alone?

 Where are they?

 You don’t want to die like this. 

 .

.

.

.

.

.

You feel a large hand fish you out by the scruff of your shirt. It tosses you onto the shore; the force as you hit the ground knocks the air (water?) out of your lungs. You heave, gasping like a fish. A large silhouette hangs over you, cold dread licks up your spine but you note a lack of panic. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen. 

 Your vision comes back in pieces and by the time the world puzzles back together, you’re alone. You’re alone and shivering like a wet rat. You look around, brushing wet hair out of your eyes and you realize you’re not entirely sure of the way back. You curl in on yourself. It does nothing to warm you but you were desperate to feel whole and safe and ok. 

 You aren’t entirely sure how long it is before Jon and Damian find you or just how they managed it but you’re thankful when someone drapes a heavy towel over your head, muffling the scattered sounds around you. Shakily, you pull the towel over your face. It hides the tears well enough. Your loose hanging limbs tighten around you. You want to shrink, small enough to smooth over the trembling in your body. You know they’ve saved people from drowning before. They’ve saved people from far worse. Heck, they’ve been through far worse. You desperately don’t want them to think of you as weak, as less but here you were trembling. You’re unable to steady your own breathing. Frustration rises in the back of your throat. It is a welcome change from the nonstop medley of panic that’s been shoved on you. 

 A hand settles itself on your head, the movement stiff, light, and controlled. The pressure increases a touch when you don’t protest. Damian radiates awkwardness as he attempts to ruffle your still-damp hair. You smile up at him through damp hair. Damian simply grunts as he continues to avoid eye contact by staring out at the empty lake. 

 Jon plops down next to you kicking his feet out in front of him. He gives your space but he’s just close enough for you to lean against if you wanted to. On his shoulder was your ratty oversized hoodie. You tug at his sleeve to ask for it. He hands it to you. You slip it on, not caring that you were still soggy. The familiar, loose weight of fabric against your skin made you feel whole and safe and marginally ok. 

 Jon presses a hand onto your back mimicking the experimental way Damian had patted your damp hair. He listens to the steadying rhythm of your heart, his own easing back into a calmer rhythm. Damian raises a brow at him and he gives him a thumbs up. Damian’s shoulders loosen and Jon can’t help the snort that comes out of him. You look at him startled and Damian gives him the ol’ Damian glare which makes him laugh out loud. Your eyes flicker to Damian and then roll your eyes, crow's feet wrinkling in the corners of your eyes. You twist your mouth into a weird squiggly line in an attempt to smother a laugh in fear of incurring Damian’s wrath. Jon highly doubts you’d be able to. Damian was, in fact, a big old softie. Sure, he acts grumpy all the time but spending so much time with both Dick and Faust has made him pretty mushy by bat standards but Jon wouldn’t dare say that out loud, at least, not when Damian looked this close to throwing him into the water. 

 You spend a long time soaking up the quiet before heading back. Jon slings an arm around you but pulls it back when he hears your heart stutter. You pinch and tug at his sleeve and mumble an apology.  You see Damian shoot Jon his version of the Pennyworth look. 

 “Sorry, (y/n).”

 “‘S ok,” you rasp quietly. 

 You three walk along the shore towards the cap. You feel too tired to even blanch at the odd feeling of wet socks as you pad along the path. You walk in silence which is interrupted by a bird call here and there with either you or Jon occasionally asking Damian to translate. He does but for some reason some odd reason, they keep calling you idiot or imbeciles. You watch Damian’s eyes flick here and there. You know he feels it too. The odd feeling of being watched. The rustle of leaves echoes eerily in the stillness. 

 The counselors, mercifully, let you skip out on the rest of the afternoon’s activities. You curl up in your cabin, warm and very comfortable in the pool of fabric created by one of Mr. Kent’s hoodies which Jon ‘accidentally’ packed. You rolled your eyes at him but accepted it gratefully. You make a mental note to thank him with the mill house cookies you ‘accidentally’ bought at one of the rest stops. 

 You flip through the yellowing pages of the book in your hand. You aren’t quite sure how to describe how inappropriate it is to give a drowning victim a book on the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft. Then again, it was better than reading Moby Dick. Plus, you’re enjoying yourself trying to find a man who is about as stealthy as a Green Lantern. You’ll have to ask Damian or Jon. Damian’s more likely to have met a Green Lantern but he’s also more likely to give you a boring and entirely inaccurate answer. 

 You go back to the fish people. Do Atlanteans walk like that? Maybe.  It feels odd somehow moving around without your prosthetic limb. Lighter but infinitely more unstable.  

 “Do you think they’ll find Cat?”

 Your ears perk up. Your eyes flick to the window and you see two counselors leaning against another cabin. You shuffle awkwardly somehow moving the mass of cloth quietly. You squish against the wall making sure they can’t see you. 

 “Cat just ran off. You know how she is.”

 “That’s what Raz said.”

 “Yeah, where is he?”

 “Who knows he’s probably just fucking around in the woods. Doing Bear Grylls shit or something.”

 “Hope he comes back soon.”

 “Do you really wanna deal with that horny jackass?”

 “No but he’s the only decent cook. Do you really wanna taste what awful concoction Ratty has for us?”

 Your stomach curdles remembering Ratty’s terrible improvisation of Doro Wat. Ratty said it was their grandmother’s recipe but you doubted it. Unlike the one Jason made for you one time, it was bland. It wasn’t even close to spicy. The vegetables were overcooked while the chicken was somehow undercooked. In short, you had nearly died twice since you got here. 

 “Nope. I’d rather starve. Isn’t their cooking like a human rights violation?”

 Starvation would be a kinder death. 

 “Yeah. Anyway, I tried asking Jos. Apparently, Raz and a bunch of the other Lil shits have been fucking around in town.”

 “Is that where Jackie disappeared to?”

 “Probably.”

 Ok, so the counselors have been dropping like flies and you have yet to notice. You should probably tell Damian and Jon. Something about this seems wrong. 

“Are you ever gonna stop glaring at them?” you ask, plopping on to the log letting your empty sleeve hang loosely off to your side. 

 “Depends, have they apologized?”

 “Ye-”

 “Sincerely?”

 “Well-”

 “Then no.”

 “Ok, but does Jon have to pout at them?”

 “I’m not pouting!”

 “Wait… That’s your glare?”

 “Yeah?” Jons says furrowing his brow. 

 “Batcow’s given me better glares!”

 “Again, (l/n) is right.”

 “Thank you!”

 “Dami, who’s side are you on?”

 Damian’s lips curl into a cat-like smile, the kind you saw on Selina. “Justice.”

 Jon throws his hands up defeated. You give Damian a low five as he settles beside you. Jon takes the seat on your other side still pouting. 

 "Do you kids know the rules to surviving a horror movie?" 

 The chattering dies down and you all fall silent, turning your full attention to the counselor. Your counselor lets out an absolutely delighted squeal, clapping their hands. You don’t miss the absolute dread on your other counselor’s face. 

 “Ok so, rule 1: Be a virgin-”

 “Ratty!” Dawes, the counselor with dread on her face, squeaks elbowing Ratty, Ratchet. “Couldn’t you have worded it differently or you know, not at all?!” Ratty, the horror enthusiast counselor, rubs their arm and sticks their tongue out at Dawes who looks like she’s going to age ten years during this conversation. 

 If you thought Dawes was pale before, she nearly turns transparent with the next few words that leave your mouth. “What’s a virgin?” you blurt out. You desperately want to curl in on yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was just your mouth runs faster than your mind.  The kids around you snicker and one of the boys behind you claps you on the shoulder, laughing loudly. You lean on Damian, hiding behind him slightly. Damian shifts so he’s shielding you more.

 Dawes sputters out her answer.  It’s hard to understand. You watch the others searching for clues for an appropriate reaction. 

 “It’s a person who’s never had intercourse,” Damian deadpans and you nod quietly. 

 Dawes’ face lights up like a Christmas tree while Ratty’s twists into pure joy. Damian rolls his eyes as the other kids laugh even louder. It takes a moment but your cheeks heat up realizing the gap in your reaction must have given them the wrong idea. You pinch the bridge of your nose and you sigh. You see Jon snort at you and you stick your tongue out at him. 

 “See, Dawes, they know.”

 “What about keeping them innocent?!” 

  “I’m not getting paid to do that,” Dawes drags her hand over her face as Ratty shrugs,” ’sides, this is life skills.” Dawes slaps Ratty on the shoulder again making them whine at the impact.  “Ok. Ok. Fine. Fine. Jeez, you hit like a son of a- Oh wait, have any of you heard about Camp Blood?”

 This gets you all to quiet down. 

 “Camp Blood? Isn’t that like a video game?”  

 “It’s like a local ghost story isn’t it?”

 “Wasn’t that the one with the fish-”

 “It’s not the fish people.”

 “Let me tell the story!”

 “Ratty, you never tell the story well. You keep making weird voices and you can’t even keep a straight face.”

 “SLANDER,” Ratty shouts, throwing up their hands. 

 “Pffft, you also gonna tell us you can cook a 5-star meal?”

 “Ok. Ok. Fine. I’ll just tell it to them straight.”

 “What? As straight as Dawes?”

 “Pffft, we’d go in circles.”

 “Hey!”

 “It’s true!”

 “You don’t have to say it.”

 “What’s the thing about Camp Blood?” Jon pipes, putting a hand over Damian’s mouth probably sensing the sharp remark he’s about to say. Damian licks his hand and Jon pulls away waving his hand like he’s been burned.  You snort then blanch when Jon rubs the spit on to your hoodie. 

 “Gather round children-”

 “Ratty, they’re in a circle get on with it.”

 “I AM TRYING TO SET THE MOOD.”

 “Jesus, ok. So, a looong time ago there was this kid named Jason Voorhes. When two counselors were fu- OW! Jeez, Dawes- Ow! Ok, fine. While two counselors were distracted, he drowned-”

 “Sounds familiar,” snipes Damian. An apologetic look crosses Dawes’ face, a confused one on Ratty’s, and sheepish one on Jos’. You squeeze his and Jon’s shoulders. 

 Ratty shakes their head. “Anyway, they never find the body so his mom comes back and hacks the new counselors into pieces as some soft of demented justice for her kid.”

 “That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Jos laughs awkwardly. The glares on them do not waver. You elbow Damian and kick Jon’s foot. Damian ignores you while Jon gives you a look of mock hurt.  You roll your eyes at him and attempt to elbow Damian a second time. Again, nothing.

 “The thing is one of the counselors actually manages to decapitate Mrs. Voorhees. She disappeared two months after though. Legend has it that Jason still roams the grounds of Camp Blood seeking revenge for his mother.”

 The air is humming, thick with the roll of thunder and  the premonition of a storm. 

 There is a dislocation in the universe. 

 Your ears pop. 

 You look at Jon who looks vaguely like his mother when she’s sniffed out a story. You look at Damian who is already sussing out every detail of the story. Your eyes meet and you all nod. 

“It has to be someone using the urban legend as some sort of cover. Or! Or maybe they’re using the urban legend to mythologize their killings,” you say, through a mouth full of contraband chocolate chip cookies. 

 Damian snatches the package from you taking a piece.“(l/n), that’s ridiculous-”

 “Yeah, we don’t even know if they’re dead yet,” Jon protests, snatching the bag from a scowling Damian. 

 “What are the odds they’re still alive?” 

 You all fall silent. “We assume they’re still alive until we see proof of the contrary,” Damian says firmly. You and Jon nod. The movement feels heavy.  

 “But what if the Jason ghost is a real thing?”

 “Possible.”

 “(l/n), don’t indulge him.”

 “Jon is literally part alien,” you protest

 “Jason has come back from the dead and Faust literally has moving tattoos,” Jon adds.

 “YOUR DAD IS LITERALLY BEST FRIENDS WITH A 5000-YEAR-OLD AMAZONIAN AND A DUDE WHO CAN LIFT BUILDINGS.”

 “Ok, fine but we should eliminate the more mundane explanations first,” Damian concedes accepting another cookie. 

 “I think we have. It’s too rapid and obvious to be a human trafficking operation.”

 “We should find the counselors first.”

 “Yeah, that’s a start.”

 “Where should we start?”

 “Abandoned cabins would be a good start,” you suggest trying not to perk up. 

 Damian glares at you and you wither. “(l/n), you’re not coming with us.”

 “You say this like (y/n)’s gonna listen,” Jon laughs. 

 “ET has a point,” you say, grinning and opening another packet. You offer Jon the first cookie as thanks. 

 “Can’t I at least be a cool alien?”

 “Nope.”

 “Will you two focus?”

 “Yeah. No.”

 Damian pinches his nose. You completely understand why people think Damian makes a convincing fifty year old. “(l/n)...”

 “Ok, fiiiine. I’ll stay out of it.”

 “Don’t even think about sneaking out.”

 You frown and nod. 

 You tiptoe through the brush, one metallic arm wrapped around you, the other hanging limply to your side flashlight clasped tight in your metallic hand.  Camp Blood isn’t too far. You silently survey a few cabins finding nothing particularly interesting aside from cobwebs and potentially dead animals. The air is musty and decayed. You sniff and rub your nose as you walk through the camp guided only by strips of moonlight. If you were to run into a murderer now, you would only have your flashlight to defend you. You didn’t like those odds. 

 You’re a deer in headlights. 

 Dry mouth. 

 Skin going cold. 

 A scream burbling in the back of your throat. 

 The lumbering figure is coming closer. 

 You know he can see you. 

 Your feet are fused to the ground. 

 The light of the machete winking at you from a distance. 

 The world turns into a blur when your back hits the rotting wood of the abandoned cabin. 

 “What did I say about sneaking out?” Damian hisses, arm pressed on your neck. You blink. A flood of relief crowds your chest. 

 You sling your arms around him and he stiffens. You explain away the surprised little yelp as something animal and not something from your friend. “I didn’t sneak out. I went to the bathroom then I wandered off,” you mumble. 

 “How exactly is that different?” 

 “Less tiptoeing.” 

 "Funny."

 "It is."

 "Have you seen Kent?"

 "Sadly no."

 "Shit- Don't tell Grayson."

 "The fact that you swore or the fact that you somehow lost Superman's kid" 

 He glares at you and you can't help but shrug. 

 "Both." 

 "Fair," you say, pausing for half a breath.”Did you find the hostages?”

 Damian’s face falls then hardens then you know better than to ask him.  

 “We should find Jon,” Damian says finally. You flick your eyes and shake your head pushing down the urge to make fun of his slip. You’ll tell Jon later. 

 You two walk together, shoes in hand. It was easier. Maybe after this, you’ll ask Tim to teach you how to sneak around. 

 The sound of crashing wood fills the still night air. You and Damian freeze. 

 “JON.” Damian is the first to launch himself towards a cabin. You shamble behind him, plodding through the muddy earth as fat droplets of rain splashing down.   You would have blanched at the squishing but all you could think about was Jon.  

“Jon!”

 “Dami! (y/n)!”

 “Are you ok?”

 “I’m in a hole. What do you think?”

 You look him over as best you can in the dark. Damian seems to be having a better time. “You’re not in pain, so yeah.”

 Jon huffs, shifting around in the pile of clothes. His nose wrinkles.“This jumper smells like something died in it," he says holding up a particularly old looking sweater. It's blotchy with various stains around the neck. 

 “Check for a pulse!” you shout, earning a sharp jab to the rib from Damian. You glare and rub your chest.

“Guys, I don’t wanna alarm you but I’m pretty sure there’s a decapitated head down here”

 “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Damian asks incredulously. Your skin drains of all color and warmth. 

 “Do you want the good news or bad news?”

 “That’s not-”

 “Where in that pile of bloody clothes did you get good news?”

 “Good news is he’s not here,” Jon says, eyes sweeping around.”Bad news, he’s actually real.”

 “Stop messing around and get out of there, Kent!”

 “Jon, come on! Fly or something!”

 “My powers are going-” Jon jumps. But only manage to just fall back down. “I can’t fly.”

 Damian groans. He pinches his nose and goes off to look for something to pull Jon up with.

 “Why do you think your powers aren’t working?”

 Jon shrugs. “Magic?” This place is cursed. 

 “We are dealing with a ghost,” you shrug back. You all freeze. The sound of distant footsteps making your heart race.

 “Dami!” you hiss, over your shoulder. 

 “I can’t find anything!”   

 “Wait,” you say, unfastening your arm and reaching down to Jon. Damian grabs hold of it with both hands and you two start pulling Jon up. 

 The footsteps are getting louder, closer. 

 "Hurry!" you hiss quietly. 

 Your hearts are racing. 

 You pull, Jon getting closer. 

 He’s almost in arm’s reach. 

 The man is getting closer. 

 You can hear his breathing. 

 You pull Jon up, feet kicking. You wrestle him into a hug with one arm, making a little happy squeal into his hair low enough that only they can hear. Damian nudges you with your arm. 

 “Well that was scary,” Jon whispers into your shoulder. Damian smacks him upside the head. You laugh but cut yourself off when you see Damian stiffen. “RUN!”

 You all scramble up and begin to dash away. You look back over your shoulder, machete winking at you, hockey mask visible in the dim light. 

 You stumble, feet getting tangled in roots. You yelp,  bracing for impact and possibly dying.  You feel arms scoop you up. You squeak. “No one gets left behind, soldier,” Jon says grinning. 

 “How are you still a goof when we’re about to die?” you laugh incredulously. 

 “He clearly gets it from his father.”

 “ Pfffft, probably or maybe it's an alien thing.”

 “Are you really gonna make fun of me, right now?” Jon protests, shouting over the rain. 

 “You two! This way!” Damian points to a small hole in the hillside.

 “I’m too tall for that!” Damian glares.

 You snort. “Just duck.” Jon scowls at you then sighed. 

 You all slide into a small crevice and hunched together. 

 “What’s the plan?”

 “Jon, are your powers working?”

 “Kind of?”

 “Ok, that’s one thing we have going for us,” Damian hands you a phone. "You call while we distract him." 

 "Why do you have to distract him?" 

 "Ask him yourself, (l/n)."

 Your eyes sweep up to the tall figure. Your mouth goes completely dry. 

 "Fuck." 

 Jason brings his machete down in a swift arc light. You grab Damian by the scruff of his shirt. The machete embeds itself into the wall, getting caught in the process. Your moment of relief doesn’t last long when Jason lunges for you.  You scream as he catches your arm. With a soft click it detaches and you scramble away and out the hole into the pouring rain. He’s hot on your heels. You hear a loud thud. You look over your shoulder. Jon’s resting against the wall, head slumped. You see him throw Damian to the ground. You call 9-11 as you hurl your shoe at him. The dial tone is ringing. When you look up again, Jason is heading towards you. You stumble barefoot trying to get away. Predictably, you fall, foot catching on another tangle of roots.  

  “Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

 “Please help,” you whisper as Jason raises your arm to the sky. Your life flashes through like a film reel. Your breath is caught. Lightning flashes. 

 You watch the lightning cut through the heavens. The silver streak of light connecting might your arm and by extension Jason.  The arm explodes. Shrapnel flies everywhere. Jason bursts into flames. The smell of burning flesh cutting through the air. You watch in open-mouthed horror as another bolt of lightning hits. He falls body fried to a crisp. You wretch the smell still strong. 

 "Kid! Kid! Are you ok?" 

 "No…" you gasp, bile lining the back of your throat, "please,hurry. We're at Camp Blood." 

You’re cold and wet and forced to huddle into one blanket since the officer who responded only had one on hand.  Damian is talking on the phone. It’s hard to make out amidst the pouring rain, so you settle in letting Jon rest his head on your shoulder as he drifts to sleep. The officer said the rest of the force is coming to collect the bodies. The camp is most likely gonna be shut down for the summer. You weren’t keen on spending the entire summer with your cousins. 

 “I’ve informed father that you’re staying with us for the rest of the summer.”

 “Informed?” you laugh, relieved, ”good luck telling Jon that.”

 You both eye him. Jon snores into your ear and you can’t help but smile. “He’ll be fine.”

   Bonus

 The map in Jon’s hands crinkles loudly as he shuffles through it trying to find the correct route. You know the route. You memorized it before you even set off. You did it instead of studying for finals. It was certainly more entertaining than studying for a US history final when you already knew it was just gonna be about the American Revolution, World War II, and probably the Vietnam war. You hold back the snicker threatening to spill from your lips when, with each crinkle of the Dollar Store map, Damian’s brow twitched. Yes, this was the purpose of the map. It was most certainly doing its job well. 

 “You think they’ll still have the same dumb camp activities?”

 “You say this like you weren’t squealing to try all of them.”

 “Was not!”

 “Dunno,  Jon,  Dami has a pretty good memory.”

 Your car rolls to a stop in front of a cross-section. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel before you let curiosity override your self-preservation. 

 “How did you convince Dami to come along?”

 Jon tilts his head at you in question. “I didn’t,” he says slowly, “I thought you did.”

 Your passenger goes deadly silent. You both twist your bodies to look at him. Jon gives him a knowing smile while you give him a reassuring one that says ‘it’s ok you can tell us’. Damian avoids all eye contact like the plague, glaring at the window like there’s a particularly interesting speck of dust on it.  

 His eyes narrow. And you have the odd urge to follow his gaze. 

 The trees shift. 

 The pressure in the car builds. 

 Jon’s laughter stalls. 

 A shape flickers in the distance. 

 Your ears pop. 

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

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! Yes, reader has a prosthetic limb because I was reading 3 birds. Also, this can be treated as pre-slash. Epilogue is up for interpretation. Probably. Also fun fact, Faust is the basis for merc reader. I could not resist putting her in. 

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

[mrskurono]

ANON: ahah ahaha aha ah, high as a kite megumi anon here. i got another idea if u do not mind😗😳 l8 night thots be simple yet sophisticated...

so like i will reiterate that lowkey forcefeeding megumi who’s a blubbering red faced mess gets me going. sure u like to dope him to the max, but just making him eat in general? wow.. hes sat up against the headboard and u straddle his lap, treats in hand, saying megumi bby i made these special, just for u, why wont u have my special treats :( he tells u nono im not hungry im not hungry..head sorta drops to hang at his shoulder and he turns away just a little bit... opens his mouth right when u tear a bite sized piece of food and touch it to his lips. he doesnt rly have the strength to open his eyes anymore, he jus feels something near his mouth(its that oral fixation dude, maybe he thinks ur gonna let him suck ur fingies again) so he eats, n he eats, n he eats...after swallowing the first two bites he knows to open wide and wait for the next piece to go in. u ask him if he liked it and he jus giggles and says “more pls?”

YO I JUST GOT AN IDEA FOE SHOWERING WITH HIM HOLY FUCK

OK SO LIKE THERES A SEAT IN THERE IN THE SHOWER YEAH??? AND OK COCKWARMING YEAH???? ok solike ur afraid of him slipping and falling bc yeah it makes sense, megumi can stand but he can barely manage seeing where hes going and his legs wont rly do what he wants so he trips. bby is covered in sweat and other bodily fluids(u are as well) and so when u go in the shower to wash off, u place him on the seat in there and sit next to him(listen its a big shower and theres like those built in benches yknow) SO THEN HES ALL TOUCHY FEELY AND LAUGHY AND STUFF and u decide hey. my little puppy sit in my lap. BUT HERES THE THING. u got the strap im so sorry is that what its called and have HIM KINDA GET COCKWARMED !!!!!!!!! AND HIS MOANING JS ECHOING OFF THE WALLS AND UR LIKE shhhh megumi lemme jus wash ur hair and then ill take real good care of u, jus a few more minutes, and ur running ur hand thru his hair thats dripping water from the showerhead pouring down on both of u and he wants to move so bad but ur grip on his waist is enough to keep him still and both of his hands jus clasp around his dick and tries to get off that way but as we say, doped up megumi doesnt have much coordination or control after a while😩

What is it with the food bc like, I get it??? Inherently I like to feed people (I love cooking and baking and always try to get people to eat anyways I can’t help it) But this Megumi thing PHEW it has me acting up in a way I didn’t know what a thing!

Megumi strung out in your lap, after you really got him nice and just checked tf for everything, so you’re giving him something to eat. It’s been a while and poor baby has expended so much energy you gotta make sure he doesn’t get light headed right? But imagine giving him something of conflicting tempatures. Like fruit or something that’s been in the fridge. And him scrunching his face up being like “no…’tsk too cold…I- I can’t no.” Of course you run it along his bottom lip and that needy fuck opens his mouth hoping you’ll put something in it (god we’ve talked about fingers but like….full on just having him suck on a strap on/any sex toy ok my thoughts are, feral) and Megumi arguing the entire time in incoherent sentences to top it off but he keeps eating it. Praising him telling him what a good boy he is and just- asdfghjkl- I can’t explain it I gotta feed doped up Megumi

And- AHEM….YOU GENIUS WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT

Ok ok ok, lemme self indulge in a little kink of mine (idk if its a kink, i just know it feels good and I liked doing it) but you’ve got Megumi resting so nicely between your legs like a good boi. He’s sat all the way down on your strap on and kinda wiggling and moaning, cheeks flush red and his lips slightly parted bc all he can think about is his tingling body and your toy filling him up. But, instead of jerking him off, you use the shower head. Megumi embarrassed but you just keep hushing and cooing in his ear “Shh baby boy we gotta clean you up” “My puppy’s all messy I can’t let you sleep like this” “Let me clean you up.”

It starts as legit cleaning him off. Soaping up his stomach and lower body. Reaching around pressing that toy further into him, and lathering all over him. He’s fifthly you can’t get that back in your bed. So you’re washing him up and of course that strung out idiot pops a boner. Easier to clean right? So you play with him, all soapy and suddy and a moaning mess as he can’t really move with your toy up him. But got the feeling is incredible. Just to whimper and whine when you tell him you have to rinse him off. This is where it gets fun. Noticing he bucks up when the spray of water crosses his cock. And like most shower heads have a “massage” setting on them. So switching it up and teasingly running the water over his achingly hard cock. Megumi comes undone he is a sobbing overstimmed mess at this point. The water feels so good against the underside of his cock. He’s babbling nonsense and moaning up a storm even as you hush him. Fingers in his mouth might do something but the way he reacts to the water massaging his cock is something else. He’s groaning on your fingers, wiggling back on your cock and his poor cock is twitching up and down with the aid of the water stream and nothing else. You don’t think he’s gonna cum like this until suddenly he bucks his hips up and cries an incoherent version of your name. Body spasming as he cums hands free just from the feeling of the water against his cock and the way your toy pressed right up into his sensitive spot. I just- *chefs kiss* God I would pay to watch this with my life

[harryspet]

little doe [1] peter parker

[Warnings] peter parker x oc, multiverse oc, future dd lg dynamic, future dubcon?, mostly fluff, very innocent oc, broken english

A/N: This is part one to a short series! I usually write dark fics and this idea has a lot of potential to go that direction so forewarning! For the most part, I plan to make this similar to a dd lg style relationship with Peter being more of a big brother rather than a daddy. Anyways, some darker themes and smut are probably ahead! (I’m imagining the oc as Dahyun from twice but feel free to imagine whoever or self insert)

In which she’s not from this version of earth but Peter still grows fond of her. 

word count: 2.5k

Peter would never tire of being Spiderman. He thought things might change after high school but there seemed to always be bad guys to test him and for him to defeat. He loved saving people, of course, but the learning was the best part. He had seen things people could only dream about. And staring at her through the glass that separated them, he knew he was about to learn a lot. 

“Where did you find her?” He asked Pepper, who was the one who had called him to the lab.

“Wyoming, she landed in the middle of a field there. The man who owned the property thought lightning had struck nearby. She wasn’t in some capsule either, completely naked, and barely breathing. She looked human so they took her to a nearby hospital.”

Peter crossed his arms, still in his spider suit minus the mask. He had been called here just after a mission and, although he desperately craved a shower and a warm bed, his interest was piqued, “I’m guessing something went wrong in the hospital if she’s here now.”

The girl was on the thinner side, a little malnourished, and her hair was a bright white. The gray jumpsuit she was wearing contrasted with it, “When she finally gained consciousness, she panicked. Long story short, the entire hospital floor was wrecked. It burned and then it flooded.”

The girl did not look like someone who could do something like this, not when she was so small. She was walking around the room, running her fingers against the wall as if she was trying to understand every detail of her surroundings.

“So her powers?”

“We think it has something to do with the elements. I don’t think she can summon them but she can control them. S.H.I.E.L.D brought her to us to develop some sort of device to keep her powers in check.”

“She still looks . . . human,” Peter said as the girl approached the glass. It was one way but the girl’s neon blues stared right into him. Could she somehow see him?

“We think she’s from earth but a different version. She must’ve escaped through some hole. That’s why Fury thinks we might already have the sources to control her.”

Peter took a step closer to the glass, completely entranced by her eyes, “Does she speak English?”

“We don’t know. That’s why you’re here,” Peter’s eyebrows rose and he flashed Pepper a confused look, “If she loses it, you’ll be able to handle it better than one of our engineers here. Besides that, aren’t you curious, Peter?”

Pepper knew that the young and adventurous side of him was still there. That was why she chose him. Either that or she thought he was expendable. 

He put his masks back on and Peter willingly entered the lion’s den. Except the girl didn’t pounce on him … at all. In fact, she backed away quickly from the college student, positioning herself in the corner. She scowled at Peter, her fingers balled into a fist, as she grew frustrated that she had no sources of energy to draw from. 

Peter’s heart sank and he quickly pressed a control on the holographic control system that appeared around his forearm. His mask disappeared and he put his hands up, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m one of the good guys.”

Her fists seemed to loosen but she didn’t move any further. Peter looked around the room and there was only a metal bed bolted into the wall, a fire-resistant blanket sitting on top of it. 

“I’m Peter,” He spoke again, “Do you have a name?”

Again, no response. Maybe she didn’t understand English. He moved a hand to point to himself, “Peter,” He repeated his name a few times and then pointed to her, “What’s your name?”

Excitement shown in his eyes as she slowly lifted a fist and pointed to herself, “What’s… .your . . . name?” She repeated back. For a moment, he thought he was successful but she didn’t seem to know what she was saying. Her pronunciation was good but he wondered if that was only because of her intelligence. She was trying though and he continued to smile. 

“Peter,” he pointed to himself and then pointed back to her and waited expectantly.

She shook her head. Well, it seemed that it was a universal gesture. 

Peter sighed, slowly lowering his hands and then suddenly she spoke but it was a language he did not understand. Still, it was her name but, unlike her, he doubted he’d say anything close to correct pronunciation. 

“Good,” Peter nodded, “We might have to come up with a nickname.”

“Peter,” She said, his name and his eyes widen. She pointed to her throat and then down to her stomach. She was hungry. 

Although he couldn’t see Pepper, he looked towards the glass, “Food and water please.”

A few moments and several awkward glances later, a tray was being slid through the small slat in the door. Apparently they had decided on a turkey sandwich, chips, a bowl of fruit and a small glass of water. Peter was about to carry it towards her but she flinched again. 

He decided to sit it down in the middle of the floor, take a few steps back and sit. He sat cross legged and then gestured to the food. She was going to have to come closer at some point and he’d sit and wait until that happened. 

Her stomach growled, he heard it, but she didn’t move closer. She held her stomach in pain and fell to her knees. Peter wanted badly to go to her but he knew that would only scare her more, “Please come and eat,” He practically begged. He held his hands up again, “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

She thought for a minute longer until she started to crawl closer. Peter tried not to make any sudden moves because her striking eyes never left his. She made it to the tray and looked at him over one time. There was a plastic set of utensils but she didn’t seem to notice as she dug her hands into the bowl and pulled out some strawberries. 

She ate as if it might be her last meal, palming the food into her mouth. How long had she not eaten? When she lifted the glass of water, she spared him another glance. She thought she might send the water through his nose and try to drown him but she gulped it down instead. 

When all the food was gone, she looked under each plate for more, “Do you want more food?” He asked and she shook her head. That was universal enough to understand. 

She seemed to stare at him for a long while until she suddenly pushed the tray to the side and began crawling towards him. 

He leaned back to move away but she heard him say, “Won’t hurt, promise,” She learned quickly, to say the least. She reached out and she let him, she ran a hand down the length of his arm. She felt the red and black suit calmly. 

“It’s not my real skin,” He spoke hesitantly, admiring her now that she was so close, “My skin is like yours.”

She took his wrist, placing his hand on her cheek, “My skin like yours,” she repeated. She did feel human but something special sparked underneath. He wondered what she felt when she touched him. 

“Yeah,” Peter grinned, his cheeks starting to redden, “Like yours.”

+

Peter tried to come back every day. Even after his missions and, when he couldn’t seem to get away, he thought about her the entire time. 

Though she was still hesitant sometimes, she was comfortable around Peter which he liked. 

This particular day when he arrived, it was the first time in two weeks. He’d been halfway across the world for a mission and this was the earliest he could come see her. Pepper gave him a worried look when he approached, “She hasn’t been sleeping and she’s refusing food. We tried to put a sedative in her food but she knew something was off.”

When Peter entered her cell, she immediately perked up. He learned at another visit a few weeks ago that she slept under the bed and not on it. She came out of her small hiding place as he entered with a tray of food in his hand. No sedative this time. He walked over to her bed but was taken aback when she growled at him. 

“You leave,” She stated, anger and sadness in her tone, “Peter, you leave.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” He set down the tray gently, “But I had a mission. I can’t see you everyday but you have to get used to that. You can’t starve yourself when I’m not here.”

She frowned, trying to process his words. Peter continued, “It makes Peter sad when you don’t eat. When you don’t sleep.” He spoke using facial expressions and gestures.

She seemed to understand that. She came forward and started to eat her soup. She held the spoon with her entire hand. After a few bites, she looked up at him, “Peter sad?” 

“No,” He shook his head, “You’re doing good.” He tried to praise her, showing her a smile. 

She liked this, understanding him and having his approval. 

When she lifted her water glass, she gestured to Peter. She began twirling her fingers in a circle and suddenly the water rose. It formed the shape of a standing man. Though the facial features couldn’t be carved out, she said, “Peter.” The water figure began to walk in place in the air.

Peter stared in amazement and then another shape appeared, a girl with long hair who was walking beside him. 

She smiled and then the water dropped back into the glass, “You’re amazing,” Peter was flabbergasted. 

She gave him a look of appreciation.

Although her eyes were bright, they were soft and gentle. She was strong but so easily scared, She was precious like a baby dear, “Doe,” Peter decided. 

She flashed him a confused look but he explained it by pointing to himself to say, “Peter,” She already knew that but he pointed to her next, “Doe.”

She mimicked him, pointing to herself, “Doe.”

She played with the simple name on her lips, “Do you like it?” Peter asked nervously. 

She nodded her head quickly, probably sensing his hesitance, “Doe. Peter. No sad.” 

He smiled at that, “Doe and Peter. Happy. We are happy.”

“Happy,” Doe repeated and, though he was sitting in a prison made for her, Peter truly felt it. 

+

“Peter, I don’t think you know what you’re suggesting. She’s not from this version of the universe. We can’t just integrate her into society.”

“Trust me, Pepper. The sooner she becomes accustomed to the outside world, the less afraid she will be. I’ll give her the suppressants and I won’t leave her unsupervised.”

“If I agree, Fury won’t be able to know. That means, she can’t burn down any buildings or we’ll both be in deep shit.”

“He wants a weapon, right? Another Avenger? He won’t just let her be.”

Pepper sighed, “I doubt he will, Peter. I suppose it’s better than keeping her trapped here. It’ll give her a taste of freedom before Fury tries to make her a killing machine.”

+

His apartment was one of the first big purchases Peter made after he turned eighteen. It was closer to school and Aunt May was close enough to come over and feed him. It was quite luxurious for someone his age but Peter only really slept here. Ever since he met Doe, he spent even less time there. 

He spent most of his money on tech and merchandise related to his favorite comic books rather than decorations. 

Doe didn’t seem to mind and Peter thought that might just be because she liked everything. She looked over every single thing in each room just because she wanted to. She liked the collectable action figures the most though she didn’t like how Peter kept them locked away in glass containers. 

Pepper had loaned him some clothes for her. He soon learned that she disliked the tightness of jeans. And shoes in general. A dress was the safest bet to avoid a tantrum and she had chosen a red sundress over Pepper’s usual black and white clothing. 

When they got to Peter’s bedroom, she already knew it was his. It was the room that smelt the most like him. Ned had called it a sweet master bedroom for an even more awesome bachelor pad. 

“Peter, sleep?” Peter nodded and then explained how it was called a bed. He had been doing that for almost everything in his apartment. 

“Doe, sleep,” She gestured again to his bed.

“Doe has her own bed,” Peter corrected her, deciding to show her down the hallway where the guest room was. He placed a hand on the small of her back in order to guide her. 

She kept trying to turn around, “Doe bed. Peter bed. We happy,” He understood her but pretended he didn't. 

He opened the door to her room and was shocked by what he saw. It seemed that May had done much more than he had asked her for. It was decorated like a teenage girl’s room, soft pink and gray. Fairy lights, fluffy pillows and the works. He asked her to make it cozier, not to make it unrecognizable to the rest of his apartment. 

There was even a canopy draped over the bed. Doe walked further into the room, rubbing her feet against the new, soft carpet. She climbed onto the bed, patting the spot beside her, “Peter bed. Doe bed. Happy.”

Peter sighed, “Doe, this is your room. My room is down the hall.”

She frowned and then the cycle began. Peter showed her the rest of the room, where her clothes were and the bathroom. They ate takeout together and Doe had pizza for the first time which, of course, made her “happy”. 

She managed to distract him until one in the morning but it came the time when Peter had to take Doe to her room. He helped her pick out pajamas, a pink nightgown, and then pulled the comforter back as she climbed in. She even had a stuffed animal she’d quickly grown attached to, a bunny, stuck to her chest.

Even after that, as he walked to the door, a gust of wind roared past him and the door shut.

“Doe,” Peter’s lips pressed into a thin line. 

“Peter,” She countered, frowning. 

Peter was too tired to argue anymore as he ran a tired hand through his brown locks. He switched off the lights before he crawled into the bed beside her, above the comforter. He laid his head against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Peter?”

“If I’m going to stay, you have to sleep.”

She understood and Peter turned his head to look at her. She was already facing him, clutching her bunny as she closed her eyes. A successfully dismantled bomb. 

Peter closed his eyes too. 

Resisting her might be the hardest mission he’d ever go on.

+

If you enjoyed this, make sure you check out my other Peter fic! If you’d liked to be tagged when I post the next part, please leave a comment or send me an ask! (If you reblog, I’ll probably add you as well)

[shards-of-divinity]

"Bone-Weary" a WenZhou Word of Honor fic.

Summary: "A'Xu...Haven't you traded massages with a martial sibling after long hours of training or travel?"

Before he can stop himself Zhou Zishu takes his discarded sash and holds it up. “Blindfold yourself and you can do what you want to do.”

He watches Wen Kexing’s throat bob before he quickly rallies himself, flicking his fan out and cocking his head with a slow smile.

“So we’ve switched to this type of play? A’Xu, you continue to surprise me and I only want to know more. The last thing I want to do is over-tax you in your condition--”

Or, in which Wen Kexing takes care of Zhou Zishu after their impromptu swim.

(Find me here on AO3)

He forces himself not to shiver in the night air, energy depleted still from the toxin that lingers in his veins. Not for the first time, Zhou Zishu hates the nails that restrict his internal force and how long it's taking to bounce back even with the tincture he had on hand.

Pushing aside the thought, he tries to focus on his meal. The rabbit meat is stringy and burnt in places but still hot and Zhou Zishu forces himself not to eat too fast. Any food at this point would aid in rebuilding the energy he is expending to heal.

"A'Xu, you flatter me with your enthusiasm for my cooking!"

Zhou Zishu glances at Wen Kexing out of the corner of his eyes; hiding a huff of laughter at the slender fingers trying to make work of the ruined meat. As if he could feel Zhou Zishu staring, Wen Kexing's laughing eyes meet his and he leans in closer.

"If you had followed me back to my boat there would have been a much better meal for us."

"This is enough," Zhou Zishu says, ignoring the pout sent his way. How a grown man and (very likely) accomplished martial artist can look so pitiful and still have any face is beyond him.

"At least try to lie a bit better than that, A'Xu. One can only do so much with only this fire and no kitchen or spices. After the feast at Sanbai Manor--especially those delightful prawns--this is unseemly."

Zhou Zishu's face reddens slightly at the memory of Wen Kexing boldly placing the prawns on his plate as if they were close and anything other than reluctant travel partners. He takes another bite and hopes the firelight hides the color lingering in his cheeks.

"Surely with such a well trained and graceful form you're used to finer things than this poor meal. Your attempt at a disguise and demeanor can't hide the elegance in your every move, A'Xu."

Again with the excessive compliments! Zhou Zishu slowly lifts his head from his food and stares. Wen Kexing is watching him, chin propped on his hand again. Once again he wonders if the man is trying to throw him off balance, enjoys teasing him or…

Or.

The final option just isn't a possibility.

Before he can think of a reply, a cough forces its way out of Zhou Zishu and the food tumbles from his hand to the ground.

"Zhou Xu!"

As he's wracked with a coughing fit, suddenly all of his senses are invaded with Wen Kexing. His vision is full of the man's robes, he's surrounded by the scent of the river and wet hair and clothing, those things covering the faded smell of hair oils and tonics. The other man's warmth feels almost smothering as he leans in to try to steady Zhou Zishu through his coughing fit. He braces his hands on Wen Kexing's forearms, meaning to push him away but gripping tightly as he coughs harder.

Zhou Zishu forces himself upright and folds his body into a lotus pose, closing watering eyes. A second later Wen Kexing's energy flows into him and bolsters his own and Zhou Zishu ignores how compatible it feels.

"Will you follow me back to the boat now?" Wen Kexing is leaning over his shoulder too close in his ear and Zhou Zishu pulls away with a sigh. "You can't hide the way you're hunched into yourself and hurting; not from me."

"Of course, my form is so distracting to you I'm sure you've studied and memorized my every move, Lao Wen," Zhou Zishu quips back between more coughing, and there's a moment of silence between them.

"A'Xu you are shivering, soaked to the bone from our impromptu swim, and lacking energy. Please see reason?"

Zhou Zishu takes in a deep breath and turns to fully face Wen Kexing. "Who is partially to blame for my condition, Lao Wen?"

Wen Kexing sighs loudly. "Alright, alright. Let me make it up to you? On. The. Boat."

It's bone-deep weariness that finally forces Zhou Zishu to give in. In the nearly three years since he's left he's used to sleeping outdoors or in other uncomfortable places, but the excitement of his condition and last few days demand a proper rest.

He finds himself settled at a low table, a flavorful spread in front of him with heated wine. The two maids smile and sneak glances at him in curiosity as they bring more food. There's pea shoots with garlic, sweet sesame buns. Flavorful rice and tender white fish that is savory instead of overly bitter, and other foods placed before them. Zhou Zishu wonders again who exactly Wen Kexing is to just have such opulence at his fingertips, but doesn't hesitate to eat his fill as midnight creeps ever closer.

"So much better than charred rabbit, isn't it."

Wen Kexing pulls back his sleeve with extra flair as if they're at another banquet, serving Zhou Zishu first and then himself. Zhou Zishu tracks the movement, and feels the sudden (irrational) urge to bite at Wen Kexing's wrist.

There must have been something in the water, too, if Zhou Zishu can't control his thoughts.

"Who have you run into now, Master!"

Gu Xiang rises from below deck, bouncing forward; and settling herself between them both at the table. Zhou Zishu watches her face slacken in surprise while Wen Kexing smiles in amusement.

"Aiyah, it's you! Sick Dude!" She waves her finger in his face before rubbing at his cheek in wonder. "Master, you saw through the disguise and were right after all!"

Zhou Zishu leans back, smirking when Gu Xiang squawks loudly as her actions earn her a rap on the head from Wen Kexing's fan.

"Did you ever doubt me? You can see what I've always known, that A'Xu is truly a treasure."

Zhou Zishu rolls his eyes but smiles before returning to his meal. His thoughts drift between the clatter of his chopsticks against the plate, lulled by the savory food and energy of Xiang and Wen Kexing's bickering in the background.

It doesn't take long to finish the meal and round it off with fresh fruit and more wine and then Wen Kexing brings out his flute to play. The music slides smoothly from more refined pieces to local, jaunty tunes that might be more familiar in a tavern before finally returning to the Bodhi Meditation Song. Zhou Zishu watches Wen Kexing’s eyes flutter shut as he plays, and he only stops when Gu Xiang sighs and rests her elbows on the table.

“Will you only play when this dude is around?”

The music continues, only a slight curl of Wen Kexing’s lips showing acknowledgement of the question. Zhou Zishu listens a few moments longer before clearing his throat.

“You don’t need to play all night for me again, Lao Wen.”

The Bodhi Meditation Song finishes after repeating once more and the look Wen Kexing levels him with after makes Zhou Zishu’s mouth go dry. It’s too assessing before his face softens to a playful smile. “Maybe you’re right, A’Xu. I am a bit tired...let’s get settled and start out fresh tomorrow!”

...

Zhou Zishu lets himself be led below the deck where a large, yet cozy room awaits, a small desk with texts stacked neatly rests against the corner along with a room divider and a bed just large enough for two people sits at the opposite wall. Paintings cover another wall and the final holds a small window. He wonders again who exactly Wen Kexing is to have this much at hand yet pursue him so relentlessly, trailing his fingers along the finely crafted wood of the desk.

“Does my modest room meet your tastes?”

He stares as Wen Kexing rummages through a clothing chest and pulls out two sets of inner robes for sleeping. He turns and hands them out with a flourish to Zhou Zishu, who stares blankly.

“My robes are fine--”

“A’Xu, if you won’t change for your own self preservation at least have pity on my bedding. How rude to sleep in a clean bed with wet and travel-soiled clothing, not to mention the blood or did you forget so easily?” Wen Kexing is suddenly in his space again, hand on its way to his brow. “Are you running a fever?”

Zhou Zishu smacks the offending hand away, and then he and Wen Kexing are sparring again, Wen Kexing’s delighted smile growing when he twists to avoid knocking into his desk; advancing and forcing Zhou Zishu to avoid hitting the end of the bed. They come to a stop when Zhou Zishu wavers a bit and he finds himself gently but firmly pushed to sit on the low bed.

“Enough play; you need your rest if we are to continue tomorrow.”

“Who says I was playing,” he grumbles, hissing softly when pain flares down his back and the ever-present ache in his body from the nails in his chest. He watches Wen Kexing take the Glass Armor from his sleeve and produce a key, putting it inside of his desk before locking it inside.

“Alright, A’Xu. Let me take care of you. A massage imbued with internal energy should help ease your discomfort.”

Zhou Zishu pulls away when Wen Kexing tugs on his sleeve, schooling his face into something that isn’t shock. “That’s not really needed. You played the meditation song, I’ve eaten. I can sleep--”

“Come, A’Xu...Don’t you have a long journey ahead of you? Do you want your disciple to worry when he sees you in such a sorry state?”

His sleeve is pulled at again and Zhou Zishu peers into Wen Kexing’s face; taking in his wide eyes and open expression. There’s not a hint of teasing in sight.

"Haven't we shared multiple nights slumbering together under the stars? In a woodshed? Why be nervous now? Haven't you traded massages with a martial sibling after long hours of training or travel?"

Before he can stop himself Zhou Zishu takes his discarded sash and holds it up. “Blindfold yourself and you can do what you want to do.”

He watches Wen Kexing’s throat bob before he quickly rallies himself, flicking his fan out and cocking his head with a slow smile.

“So we’ve switched to this type of play? A’Xu, you continue to surprise me and I only want to know more. The last thing I want to do is over-tax you in your condition--”

Zhou Zishu’s head aches with how hard he rolls his eyes. “Will you do it or not?” he holds the sash up higher, watching Wen Kexing’s smile fade into a thoughtful look; setting down his fan and taking the sash from him.

“Despite what you think of me, I am a virtuous man. However, if it would ease you I’ll wear this."

While he doesn’t think Wen Kexing would truly violate his space, he still doesn’t want anyone who doesn’t need to see the evidence of the nails in his chest. It’s one of his most closely guarded secrets and he’s too tired for questions. He’s too tired to think of this massage as a poor idea, and leans against the wall to wait.

Wen Kexing brushes his hair over his shoulders before making quick work of putting on the impromptu blindfold. Once he’s situated, Zhou Zishu waves his hand in front of his face to make sure he truly cannot see before settling on the edge of the bed.

“Go ahead then, Lao Wen,” he murmurs, waiting and feeling oddly exposed somehow. There’s no reply and then hands come to rest lightly on his arms.

His robes are pulled down from his shoulders and pushed aside until they're pooled at his waist. Broad hands sweep along his shoulders before they begin to knead at the tense muscles, heated with internal energy and Zhou Zishu forces himself to not groan in relief. He allows himself to curl forward and Wen Kexing’s touch follows him.

There's no sound other than the light creaking of the boat and soft laughter and the clatter of dishes above them. Wen Kexing is--for once--blessedly silent, and Zhou Zishu glances over his shoulder to make sure the blindfold is still in place.

"Are you rendered speechless, Philanthropist Wen? No poetry or literature in honor of my flexibility or 'well-trained waist'?"

The hands pause on their journey, and Zhou Zishu can practically hear the smile he can't see. "I can be serious, and taking care of my A'Xu is an important task.”

Zhou Zishu settles again. He lets himself drift in the thumbs rubbing at his shoulders; Wen Kexing careful to avoid the injury and touch around it. His fingers digging into the right muscles in his biceps to help them loosen. His entire back is explored and given the same thorough treatment, even his arms; Wen Kexing learning in close enough that Zhou Zishu can hear him breathing steadily in his ear.

“‘...elegant and graceful is the lord; and fine match for the gentleman.’[1]--”

The soft words startle Zhou Zishu back into awareness. “I should have known better than to think you could stay quiet for longer than a half a dian[2]...”

A huff of laughter stirs the hair at the nape of Zhou Zishu’s neck and he suppresses a shiver. “You seemed disappointed that I didn’t compliment you earlier…” Wen Kexing’s fingers dig in deeper, the heat intensifying at the small of his back and Zhou Zishu feels restless; trying and failing to notice the new heat building in his belly and the need to arch back into that touch.

It’s been much too long if such a simple massage is drawing a reaction like this from him. He wonders what Wen Kexing would do if Zhou Zishu gave in to his body’s urges; turning around and pressing the man to the bed beneath him. Tangling his fingers in Wen Kexing’s hair and dragging that smiling mouth into a deep kiss. Rendering him breathless, but probably never silent. Would Wen Kexing battle him in his usual way for the upper hand or would he stretch out and take whatever Zhou Zishu gave him?

He thinks of pulling away his fine layers and seeing if the skin underneath is as pale yet strong as the wrist Wen Kexing flashed at him while pouring tea. If he’d laugh as much and smile while Zhou Zishu tasted the skin at his throat and trailed further downwards. He wonders what other tricks the man had hidden under the mask of elegance, and if his broad hands would take as much care exploring the rest of Zhou Zishu’s body.

Zhou Zishu’s thoughts cool down and turn to leaning back; letting his head fall onto Wen Kexing shoulder. How those soft lips would feel pressed to his own and of Wen Kexing’s hands coming forward to encircle him gently. When was the last time Zhou Zishu had been embraced by anyone? Much too long and the ache of loneliness pushes aside any unwanted arousal that he might have had.

“What are you thinking about?”

Zhou Zishu takes another breath, letting it out slowly. Wen Kexing’s hands have traveled during his errant thoughts, kneading back at his shoulders again. Zhou Zishu feels light, much better than he’s felt in months. The heat of Wen Kexing’s internal energy making him nearly boneless.

“That’s better,” he murmurs, and he hears Wen Kexing shuffle a bit behind him. “Thank you, Wen Kexing.”

“So formal when we’re like this,” Wen Kexing tsks, spending a bit more time before the energy fades until it’s barely warmer than the room around them. His fingers trail lightly down Zhou Zishu’s spine just to rile him up, and it breaks the moment. Zhou Zishu huffs and shifts forward to stand, but Wen Kexing follows; pulling his robes back up as carefully as he rolled them down.

“There, now we are done.”

Zhou Zishu stands and turns to look down at where Wen Kexing is seated perfectly; his robes settled around him as neatly as if they were at a banquet instead of in bed. His head tips back and a soft smile quirks his lips the longer Zhou Zishu stares.

“Unless you’d like more,” he laughs, reaching out and wiggling his fingers with a playful grin. “My martial siblings always said I had the most talented hands.”

Zhou Zishu shakes his head. “Boring.”

Wen Kexing’s delighted laughter rings around them. “Come now, A’Xu; laughter is also key to healing. Either way, may I remove this blindfold?”

“You’re finished aren’t you?” Zhou Zishu tosses over his shoulder, glancing back as Wen Kexing rises from the bed and removes the sash in one smooth movement. A pout overtakes the full lips and Wen Kexing is back to crowding into his space. “My sadness at not seeing more of your handsome form is soothed by the memory my hands will have of your soft skin and lovely shoulders.”

Wen Kexing tosses a lingering look over his shoulder before setting up the room divider to change and Zhou Zishu takes a deep, fortifying breath before undressing quickly.

“Come sleep, Zhou Xu,” Wen Kexing calls when they’re both dressed for bed, voice firm. Zhou Zishu steps closer and settles on the soft bed; sparing a look at Wen Kexing who looks softer than he’d think the man would in dove gray sleeping robes, hair braided over his shoulder and stretched out on his side.

“The floor would have sufficed.”

“Please, A’Xu. I would never let you sleep that way in my presence, and do you truly think I would sleep on the floor? You’re arguing just to be contrary! This bed is large enough after all and it’s for one night. Sleep.”

Zhou Zishu shakes his head but gets into the bed anyway. He glares half-heartedly at Wen Kexing’s smug smile, and rolls onto his good side; pulling the blanket over him. His skin prickles at the feeling of eyes watching him before the bed shifts and Wen Kexing rolls to face the other wall before settling down.

His last thoughts are of the piece of Glass Armor sitting in the locked drawer of Wen Kexing’s desk and the sound of the man’s slowing breathing behind him.

…

Zhou Zishu wakes feeling refreshed, blinking away half-remembered dreams of lips pressing against his shoulder and a soft smile before focusing on the soft light that stretches across the room and the gentle sway of the boat. Footsteps clatter above, likely the maids or Gu Xiang and Zhou Zishu bites back a groan as he arches his back in a long stretch. His energy feels more stable if not as strong as he wishes, and the lingering pain from both wounds is gone. He slowly drags his arm up and pushes the sleeve aside to see healed skin.

A soft sigh draws his gaze to Wen Kexing where he’s much closer than he was the night before, practically sharing Zhou Zishu’s body heat and pillow. The dawn light casts the other man in different shades of pinks and reds and Zhou Zishu is struck with the odd urge to capture him with the same reds as the flowers he painted in what feels like a lifetime ago.

He wonders about a different life, where he could completely let down his guard and confide in someone in waking hours instead of wishing while the world is asleep. A life where he is whole and able to reach out to trace the sleep-slackened face of a lover or train a smiling and eager disciple. To belong again in a place and not wander in guilt and feel a weariness down to his bones.

“I thought I was the shameless one. Here you are watching me sleep, A’Xu.”

“No one alive could match your levels of shamelessness,” Zhou Zishu quips back, his voice hoarse from sleep. He blinks, focusing on the indentations on Wen Kexing's cheek from the pillow instead of his lips.

Instead of deterring him, Wen Kexing rolls onto his side and props himself up so he’s looking down; eyes sweeping over Zhou Zishu’s thankfully blanket clad form.

“The only shame is I was denied the view of you waking. I keep missing it!”

He rolls onto his back, draping his arm over his eyes; secretly grateful for Wen Kexing waking when he did. Zhou Zishu has no right or reason to try to imagine a life that is impossible or including the man at all. Despite the short amount of time they’ve known Wen Kexing has invaded the cracks of his defenses, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it other than foolish and yet sad he’s not got enough time to see what might happen.

There's a sharp rap at the door and Zhou Zishu sits up quickly, pushing himself up from bed and moves until he’s halfway across the room. Gu Xiang opens it with a basin full of steaming water, not hiding her curiosity as she looks between him and Wen Kexing who is standing just behind him.

"A'Xiang, have you suddenly become so disciplined that you're bringing the bathing supplies so early in the morning? Are Yun Cai and Hong Lu still unwell?"

She sets the basin down and rises slowly.

"No, Master. They're well...but you did sleep longer than you usually do,” Gu Xiang says with raised eyebrows and Zhou Zishu huffs a laugh as Wen Kexing takes the basin from Gu Xiang, setting it down on the table before waving her out of the room

"How could you criticize such a dedicated servant, Lao Wen?” Zhou Zishu teases. “One who is also a cute young lady?"

"A'Xu. You hurt me...dropping so many sweet words to everyone else but me." Zhou Zishu rolls his eyes as Wen Kexing snaps his fan open and steps closer. "Besides, that 'cute young lady' is as nosy as any old grandmother."

"Maybe she's protective instead?" Zhou Zishu shrugs, turning away.

Wen Kexing hums. “‘Protective’? I think I’d enjoy whatever you’d have planned for me, Zhou Xu.”

That startles a true laugh out of him, and Zhou Zishu lets his head fall back in amusement. If only Wen Kexing knew. When he finishes laughing and turns around, Wen Kexing is watching him in a way he can’t read. Zhou Zishu would almost say conflicted and maybe even enthralled and Zhou Zishu shakes his head; setting up the room divider between them to break the charged energy in the room. Wen Kexing pushes it aside a second later.

"Not so fast, A'Xu," and Zhou Zishu steps back as Wen Kexing invades his space with a mountain of robes.

"How could you possibly continue in those old robes now that you are not wearing your disguise? I’ve got plenty more here for you to choose from." Wen Kexing begins to pile robes over his arm until the riot of colors makes Zhou Zishu dizzy.

"Alright, alright. At most I'll take these," he relents; grabbing plain robes in the softest blues, grays, and cream and turning around before Wen Kexing can do more. An irritated scoff meets his back and Zhou Zishu smirks, setting them down before putting the room divider back up.

He washes in the heated water quickly, ignoring the rustling of Wen Kexing doing the same. Zhou Zishu finishes his absolutions quickly, and emerges to see Wen Kexing standing there in deep turquoise and vibrant red.

"You look even more beauti--gallant, A’Xu,” Wen Kexing drawls, moving too close as usual and Zhou Zishu smirks back as the other man’s eyes linger.

“Here!"

He glances down at the wooden comb and guan in Wen Kexing’s hand, and takes them slowly. Their fingers touch briefly and Wen Kexing pulls away with a smile.

"Consider it a little gift."

"You're so generous, Lao Wen,” Zhou Zishu says, taking time to brush his hair quickly and secure it before pushing the door aside ascending the steps.

“It’s only fair after you gave me the privilege of touching your naked flesh in my bed last night, A’Xu,” Wen Kexing purrs, and Zhou Zishu shoves him aside at Gu Xiang’s wide eyes and laughter combined with the two maids who hide their smiles behind their sleeves.

“You--!”

“Won’t you stay for another meal before you leave?” Wen Kexing rolls over any reply Zhou Zishu might’ve had and his protest dies in his throat. He rolls his eyes, ignoring all of the eyes on him and shakes his head; taking in the sun’s placement in the sky. “It’s later than I want it to be; it’s best to start out now.

“I’ll see you off then!”

Zhou Zishu gives up trying to shake him off, instead handing the comb out to Wen Kexing. “Thanks for lending this to me...and everything else.”

Wen Kexing’s hand folds over his, thankfully the angle of his body blocking the gesture from being seen. “It’s rude to refuse a gift and someone’s hospitality,” he says waving his fan at Zhou Zishu like he would an unruly child. “As for the rest, I’ll always be willing to care for you, Zhou Xu.”

Zhou Zishu turns Wen Kexing’s words over in his head, the weight of them too much to analyze at the moment. He stares at their hands for a moment before stepping away. He shares a long look with Wen Kexing before offering him a small smile of thanks.

He puts the comb in his money pouch and tucks it into his sash before jumping onto the cool, morning air; Wen Kexing's fond laughter ringing behind him as they travel towards the shore.

[vanderlindeandco]

Whiskey and Chocolate (Bill Guarnere x Reader)

Sequel to Silver and Sapphire

Thank you @wecomrades​ for fact-checking this and for very kindly pointing out a glaring error that I have since patched (half-assedly, but still)

You weren’t the biggest fan of what you saw when you checked your appearance in the cracked mirror inside the half-destroyed house you’d be spending the night in. Your hair was limp and dirty, the circles beneath your eyes darker than you’d expected even knowing you were sleep-deprived, and your cheeks had taken on an unfamiliar hollowness, no doubt from being on your feet for most of every day without enough food to make up for all the energy you expended. But you were in one piece, and for being where you were, that would have to be enough. You tucked a few loose strands of hair under your headscarf, and straightened the necklace that still felt foreign, the chain as light as the touch of a feather every time it shifted against your skin. You reached up to touch its stone as you walked back outside, pulling your coat tighter around you as the cold wind nipped at your face and neck.

“There you are.” Bill was waiting at the aid station when you reached it, and to your surprise, you found he’d cleaned up, presumably as well as he could given the circumstances. His face was mostly clean-shaven, a couple small cuts betraying the extent of his efforts, and his uniform, while far from clean, had wet spots in place of stains he’d tried to clean off with varying levels of success. What looked like two blankets were draped over his shoulder, and his pockets were bulging.

“Thought I’d run off?” you asked.

“Nah, just figured you were gettin’ pretty for our date,” he said, “Not that you needed to.”

You ignored the little flutter in your chest.“You clean up all right yourself.”

“Why thank you,”  he said. “Had to skip a few steps of my usual toilette, but what’re you gonna do about it? This ain’t exactly the Ritz anyway.”

“I’m impressed,” you said, though it was more by the fact that he’d tried at all than by what the results were. To be entirely honest, you had been becoming increasingly uncertain whether you should have said yes to this date - or whatever it was - after he had left earlier, the most rational part of your brain telling you that you were being unprofessional and that he might just want to get laid, but he’d already presented evidence to the contrary, and this stacked more proof onto the pile.

“You hungry?” he asked, pulling a tin of rations from one of his pockets.

“For mystery meat, always,” you said, and he chuckled, tossing you a can.

“C’mon, I got a place we can go.”

You followed him down the main road, past several soldiers on guard, and then down a side street, where he nodded toward an inset doorstep; it was just wide enough for the two of you, and clear of rubble - you wondered if he’d come by earlier to clear it out. It was close enough to the rest of the company for some level of security, but tucked away enough to provide a little privacy, and when you sat down in it, elbow to elbow with Bill, his proximity to you ignited your nervousness all over again. “You don’t mind gettin’ a little cozy, do you?” he asked as he scooted back a little further, leaning against the door. “Figured it’d be good for keeping warmth in, and all.”

“Oh, is that it?” you teased. “Just want to keep the warmth in, huh?”

“‘Course,” he said, faking offense at your doubtfulness. “What’re you trying to imply? I ain’t never been called anything less than a gentleman.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Now I know that’s a lie, and lying’s not very gentleman-like, if you ask me.” 

He took the can of rations from your hand and began to open it for you. “This make up for it?”

You considered whether you should let him off easy, and then decided to. “Sure.”

“Good.” He handed you the opened can, and you pulled your multi-tool from your pocket, unfolding the spoon to begin eating. 

“So,” you said after you swallowed your first bite. “What’s your history?”

“This a job interview or something?” he asked, and you shrugged.

“Maybe.”

That made him smile, and he took a bite of his food, swallowing quickly, before answering. “Well, ma’am,” he emphasized the word, “I’m the youngest of ten. Grew up in South Philly. Dropped out of high school after Pearl Harbor to go build tanks. Ma didn’t like that too much, so I finished school and worked by night. Same year I volunteered for this shit-” he gestured vaguely at the mess around you, “-and you know the rest.”

“Sounds pretty busy, finishing school and working nights,” you commented, impressed by his dedication.

He shrugged. “I wasn’t the only one doing it.”

That was it, you realized - that was why you were out here with him, because under all the bluster and sweet-talking, he was a kid from the States, just like you, just trying to do the right thing. He didn’t think he was anything that special, but you’d heard plenty about him that he didn’t say himself, and you knew that he was. It didn’t hurt that he knew how to make you laugh until your sides hurt, either. “How about you?” he asked, stirring his food and scooping up another bite, not noticing that you’d been staring at him, which you only realized when he broke the silence. “What’s your story?”

You told him, but speaking about your hometown was bittersweet. It had been nearly a year since you’d seen it now, what with training and then deployment, and you found yourself hurrying to finish the tale, wanting to get your mind off the place you missed so dearly. 

“Ain’t too easy thinking about it now, is it?” he said once you’d finished, and you nodded, surprised by how easily he’d read you. 

He looked down, scuffing the toe of one boot in the dust. “Helps me remember what the hell I’m doing out here, though.”

He was right - that was the only good way to look at it - perhaps through that lens you could remember your home a little more sweetly, and you nodded, sitting back to watch the sky, in which a weak sun was setting.

“Real cheerful pair, aren’t we?” he commented, “Actin’ like a couple of salty old timers, talking about the good old days.” 

You chuckled. “You’ve got a point. But I got something that might cheer us up.” You withdrew the bottle of Scotch from inside your coat and Bill’s eyes lit up.

“Excellent.”

A few shared sips of the liquor began to loosen your tongue and lift your spirits and soon you were chatting comfortably again, laughing as Bill recounted stories of the mischief he’d frequently perpetrated as a child (which didn’t surprise you) and soon he began to poke you for stories of your own. “C’mon, you’re telling me you never got in trouble? Never snuck out? Egged a house? Nothin’?”  There was so much disappointment in his eyes as you shook your head that you were tempted to make something up just to make him laugh, but you discarded the notion to stay honest.

“I was a pretty good kid.”

“Boring,” he said, shaking his head as he sat back and took another sip from the bottle.

“No it’s not!” you exclaimed indignantly, and then a memory came back to you. “Oh, I got something.”

“Yeah?” he asked. “Let me guess, you, uh... Put out the silverware in the wrong places? Kept a library book past its due date?”

“Oh hush,” you said, and his teasing turned to laughter. “Or else I won’t tell you.”

“All right, all right, what?” he said, and then fell silent, although there was still a smile on his lips, his cheeks rosy above the turned-up collar of his coat.

“When I was a kid, my parents bought me a bike for my ninth birthday,” you said. “I’d outgrown my old one, and I was going to get passed down my sister’s, but she left it in the driveway once and my dad drove over it on his way to work-” that pulled a burst of laughter from Bill, “-so they had to get me a new one. It was my first day riding it, and I was going fast; you know how when you get a new bike and everything’s all new and greased up well, you can really fly?” He nodded. “Well, I was doing that, whipping down the sidewalk. It’d rained the day before and there were a few puddles, but I didn’t really care since I was wearing stuff I didn’t mind getting dirty.”

“I don’t know where this is going, but it ain’t gonna end well, is it?” Bill asked as he passed you the bottle.

“No, it’s not.” You took a sip of the burning liquid and continued. “I couldn’t see one of our neighbors walking down to the sidewalk because they had a tall hedge at the edge of their property. So I didn’t think much of the puddle in front of their house. As it happened, I flew through that puddle right as Mr. Becker got to the sidewalk in a white flannel suit.” Bill laughed gleefully. “Well, it wasn’t so white after that. He started yelling and I got scared and rode like hell all the way home. Guess I thought I was going fast enough he didn’t see my face, but that was dumb ‘cause he only lived five houses up the block and he knew exactly who I was. He came and talked to my parents and I got my bike taken away for three weeks.”

“Wow,” Bill said, laughing. “I guess you aren’t a perfect angel after all; I’m impressed!”

“I s’pose so,” you said. “Happy now?”

“Yeah, I was trying to figure out if you really stand on as high a pedestal as I thought.” He wasn’t looking at you, focused instead on unscrewing the cap from the bottle of Scotch, but you were watching him, curious.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked.

“Well, just that you seem a little more human now,” he replied, and when he met your eyes and saw the confusion on your face, he added, “Don’t worry, it’s a good thing.”

“Thanks?”

He chucked, nodding. “You’re welcome.”

The sun was sliding down toward the horizon rapidly, its weak light dying, and you nodded toward the blankets, which still hung over Bill’s shoulder. “Can I have one of those?”

“For a fee,” he said with a wink.

“Yeah? Do you accept chocolate?”

“It’s my number one form of currency these days,” he said, handing you one of the blankets as you withdrew a chocolate bar from one of your outer pockets and began to peel it open, tearing back the paper. You broke off a chunk and held it out to him, but instead of using his hands, which he had just slipped back into his pockets, he opened his mouth expectantly, and you placed the chocolate in it, cringing at the strong alcohol smell that his breath carried.

“What?” he asked as he bit down. “I got bad breath or something?” 

“Flammable, more like,” you said, breaking off a piece of chocolate for yourself.

The pair of you sat in comfortable silence then, your head resting against the door, and the blanket pulled tight around your shoulders. It was a cold night, but remarkably still, and the temperature was much more tolerable in the absence of wind. The sun set quickly as you shared the dessert, and soon full dark had fallen.

Bill pulled a pair of cigarettes from the pack in his pocket, and was searching for his lighter when a familiar fwoomp sounded from somewhere too close by, followed half a second later by another, and you barely had a chance to react before the first mortar landed just twenty feet away, exploding in flame and dirt and flying rocks, and Bill threw himself over you, crushing you back against the door, his body shielding yours as a second, and then third mortar exploded across the street. But you were barely thinking of the danger once the initial shock had passed, and the mortars’ impacts slowly moved away; instead the blood pumping through your veins, the thoughts rushing through your head- they were mostly because of Bill, how he’d reacted instantly to cover you, protecting you without any thought for his own well-being. The mortars fell farther and farther from you, and you knew the Germans didn’t really know you and he were right there - they were just trying to cause any damage they could and keep the troops there on their toes, but it didn’t stop the pounding of your heart, especially when you realized how closely Bill’s body was still pressed against yours even after the last mortar exploded and silence fell, his breath hot across your cheek as he said, “You okay?”

“Fine,” you said. “You?”

“Still in one piece, far as I can tell.” He pushed himself back a little, and steadied himself, his face just centimeters away; his gaze caught yours, and instantly you were drowning in his warm, dark eyes. He paused there for a long moment, a moment in which your heart clenched and that instinct you’d been pushing away all night told you to go ahead and make a move, but by the time you’d resolved to, the moment had already broken and he was shifting himself off you, settling back down on the stones. “Damn Krauts; never lettin’ us get a moment’s peace,” he grumbled.

You looked at him, saw the disappointment in his eyes as his hands fell into his lap, one thumbnail scratching at a rough patch on the other. You felt certain then, or at least, as certain as you thought you were going to feel, and you put away your inhibitions and let yourself speak the words on your lips.“What do you need a moment’s peace for?”

He looked over at you then, and you could read every emotion that passed across his face in the space of just a couple seconds. At first, just interest, his eyebrows raised slightly. Then a spark of curiosity, of hope, followed rapidly by uncertainty, and then, when you held his gaze, sureness, followed by…. A smirk? “You sure know how to manipulate a guy into making the first move,” he said, and then sat back, surprising you.

“I… what?” You’d been expecting him to kiss you, and you were so prepared for it, your brain lagged in adjusting when his actions diverged so sharply from the course you’d expected.

“I ain’t doing it,” he said, crossing his arms, and then his ankles, the picture of stubborn resolution, his gaze fixed on the hovel across the street. “I’m not gonna try and kiss you, just so you can pull back and act all hard to get. I know how you girls are.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Oh you do, do you?”

He looked back at you, and his eyes narrowed slightly. “I don’t like that look. You look like you’re plotting something.” He hunched his shoulders in a little tighter as if to protect himself from you. “You gonna stab me and steal my money?”

“What money?” you said, laughing, but when he opened his mouth to protest, an indignant expression on his face, you surged toward him and cut him off with a kiss, pressing your lips firmly to his, and he stiffened, obviously startled, and then his posture softened, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him from your uncomfortable crouched position. He tasted like whiskey and chocolate, but that wasn’t what was so intoxicating about the kiss. You settled in his lap, your arms falling about his neck, one hand pulling off his helmet so you could push your fingers through his short hair as his chapped lips caressed yours, soft yet passionate. “You still think you know everything about me?” you murmured as he tugged your hair just hard enough to pull your head back, exposing your throat for him, his lips pulling a sound from you that made your cheeks redden, and you squeezed your mouth shut as he chuckled against your skin, kissing the spot he had just nipped.

“Maybe a little more than you’d like.” His voice was deep and quiet, and it alone would have been enough to make you shiver. Combined with what he was doing to you, it was nearly overwhelming, so you let your eyes close as he pulled you in a little tighter and slipped an arm inside your coat to wrap around your waist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there. 

He stopped suddenly, and you opened your eyes, suddenly self-conscious, but when you looked at him, he was just smiling at you, the affection in his gaze so genuine it made your chest feel tight. “What?” you asked.

“Nothin,’” he said. “Just didn’t think joining the Army’d end me up with the prettiest girl on the western front in my lap.”

You felt your already flushed cheeks grow hotter. “You’re just saying that.”

“Think what you like; I’ll find a way to convince ya,” he said, and your heart jumped, and you leaned down to kiss him again. You knew the whiskey made you bolder than you usually would have been, but somehow, in this moment of peace, carved out from months of violence, cold, and fear, you had no doubts anymore about what you were doing. Bill had a big attitude, but it was one of the things you liked about him, and beneath all the big talk was a good man. A very good man.

“Guarnere!” Bill pulled back from the kiss, groaning at the sound of Malarkey’s voice somewhere nearby and you slipped off him, instantly missing his touch, and also his warmth as the cold night wrapped around you again. “You down here?”  Malark’s voice was at the end of the side street now, and Bill sat forward, sticking his head out of the doorway. 

“What?”

“Lip wants you for something. Sorry to interrupt whatever you got going on here.” He said the last with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, and Bill nodded.

“I’ll be right there.”

“All right.” As Malarkey’s footsteps retreated, Bill looked back at you, his expression equally frustrated and apologetic. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said before he had a chance to speak. “We’ll do this again, yeah?” 

Your words seemed to restore his good spirits, and there was a suggestive twinkle in his eye when he said, “Yeah, minus Malark cutting in.”  He stood, extending a hand to you and you took it, letting him pull you to your feet. You didn’t stop yourself, letting your momentum carry you forward to press a kiss to his cheek, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a tight squeeze before he released you so you could walk out to the street.

“‘Night, Bill,” you said as you reached the main road, and he blew a kiss over his shoulder as he walked away, a swagger in his steps. It was then that you realized you’d never even thanked him for covering you when the mortars came in. But it could wait for next time.

[poor-wifi-uwu]

Aftermath of the Divorce!AU

What does he do now? The world will soon know the Yiling Patriarch has been cast away and is free game. Unfortunately, Mo Xuanyu’s face has become common knowledge as well, so he might be recognized wherever he goes. Even if he covered his face, both Chenqing and Suibian are too famous so he can’t use them either.

Haha, he never really thought about his infamy coming back to bite him in such a way. He can only imagine how much bullshit Lan Zhan had to go through to keep him safe.

…

The gaping hole within his chest grows with every heavy step away from what used to be his home. Haha, he should have gotten used to things like this already, didn’t he expect this from the beginning? Just leave the past in the past and look forward into the future!

What future. Where? The Jins will string him up the first chance they get unless A-Ling expends more effort than is reasonable for their relationship. Nie Huaisang is still sworn brothers with Lan Xichen and would probably find Wei Wuxian more trouble than he’s worth. Jiang Cheng…

He misses Lotus Pier. Desperately. Although their relationship is barely tolerant, maybe he could stay for just a few days until he calms down and sorts things out? One day? One hour?

Even just one minute.

“Sect Leader is busy.”

“Ah?” Wei wuxian blinked. He clearly heard Jiang Cheng in the training grounds just now. 

The Jiang disciple guard narrowed his eyes. The infamous Yiling Patriarch that killed the Jiang family, shamelessly coming to bother their Sect Leader who hates him so much. How dare he just waltz over here, thinking he can speak to Jiang Cheng whenever he wants.

Wei Wuxian just gave him a shaky grin, “Come on, can’t you just tell him I’m here? I’ll wait until he’s free!” The guard clicked his tongue and went to report. Wei Wuxian rearranged his smile into something brighter. It’s only expected to get treated this way after everything he did! It’s nothing personal. Well, it is, but he did this to himself. No hard feelings.

Wei Wuxian perked up at the sound of stomping footsteps coming closer. He waved as soon as the gate slammed open, “Hey, Jiang Cheng-”

“Deal with it yourself!”

Wei Wuxian’s smile froze, “Eh? I didn’t even say anything yet…”

Jiang Cheng huffed in irritation, “Some of us actually have work to do, so if you want to play then do it on your own damn time.”

Wei Wuxian slowly let his hand slip down to lightly grip the other one in comfort, “I’m… not here to play. I just wanted to stay for a little while. Not long! Just… some stuff happened, and-”

“Then just get an inn!”

Wei Wuxian’s hands began to tremble within his sleeves, “Aw, come one. Just one night!” Inns are kind of out of his budget right now, haha.

Jiang Cheng sighed deeply, “Don’t think you can just crawl back here when you two have some marital spat and expect me to put up with it.” Three years. It’s been three years since the Guanyin Temple incident, and not once has Wei Wuxian tried to visit Lotus Pier. Not even when passing through Yunmeng on his lovey-dovey travels with his husband. Did he think jiang Cheng wouldn’t know he was there? But of course, he only came to show “Lan Zhan” around. He never came to see Jiang Cheng. Even now, he’s only here because of Lan Wangji. When Wei Wuxian wants to visit the Ancestral Hall, or A-Jie’s room or Jiang Cheng, then maybe Jiang Cheng will humor him with that particular vacant room in the disciple’s quarters.

He snaps out of it just in time to see the smile finish slipping off Wei Wuxian’s face. His blank expression makes Jiang Cheng wonder if he went too far, but before he can say anything a small, soft smile curls up on Wei Wuxian’s face. His eyes are warm as he nods, “I understand, sorry to bother you.” Then with a fluid motion wei Wuxian turns around and walks away.

This… he should have expected this. Of course Jiang Cheng wouldn’t want him on Lotus Pier. Really, he’s gotten so arrogant. Just because Jiang Cheng tolerates him doesn’t erase Wei Wuxian’s crimes against Yunmeng Jiang. Haha, Lan Zhan really spoiled him, making Wei Wuxian forget who he really was. I mean, isn’t this why Lan Zhan divorced him? Because Wei Wuxian really wasn’t the person Lan Zhan had tried to convince them both he was? Lan Zhan was right. The Wei Wuxian he wanted to be… the bright, prodigious XianXian of Lotus Pier… that person died a very long time ago.

This person now, has always been just the Yiling Patriarch.

Jiang Cheng stands frozen watching Wei Wuxian’s retreating back. He thought (hoped) that he would surely keep pestering, whining until Jiang Cheng got fed up and just let him in to avoid the public spectacle. He should feel pissed that his time was just wasted over nothing, that Wei Wuxian really didn’t care enough to fight for a visit. Instead… watching that red ribbon fade into the crowd, Jiang Cheng feels like he lost something.

Forever.

Two days later he receives the news of the divorce. Just like his father Jiang Cheng runs out in the middle of a meeting to fly around searching for Wei Wuxian. Unlike his father, he doesn’t find him.

It was as hard as he thought. Truly, his reputation precedes him. 

Everytime Wei Wuxian found a nighthunt he could do, he had to hide from the other cultivators. He couldn’t use Chenqing at all, and had several close calls with Suibian. Even staying the night at his clients’ homes kept him up all night, ready for the slightest whisper of an ambush.

There’s no point to this. The Yiling Patriarch doesn’t belong among righteous cultivators. It’s time to give up that fantasy and find a secluded place to eek out the rest of his life, just like before.

Wei Wuxian sows up another worn tear in his frayed robes, shivering from a particularly cold gust of wind. He doesn’t have much time to waffle about this decision, he needs to find a good place to build his shack before the first snow.

The house isn’t perfect, but it has a roof and any holes can be patched up with some mud. It may be kinda cramped, but it’s his.

This, at least, is still his.

Wow, it’s been so long since he had pheasant. He’d almost forgotten how good it was! And to catch such a nice fat one with such a rudimentary bow and arrow, truly he amazes himself sometimes, haha.

It’d be nice if he had some spices though, so Lan Zhan could-

A smoked flavor is fine too.

It’s been a while since he’s seen another face. Though, for the Yiling Patriarch that should be a good thing right?

Maybe it’s been long enough that people started to forget his face?

How long has it been, anyway? He hopes he didn’t miss any of his kids’ special occasions.

Well, not that he could participate...

The pheasant tastes rather bland today.

Wei Wuxian isn’t hungry, but he knows he has to eat in case A-Yuan comes to visit.

A-Yuan is such a good kid, he’s far too filial even towards someone like him. If anyone, A-Yuan will come. And Wen Ning will definitely go with him. They could have a little family reunion, it’ll be great!

So he has to eat.

Wei Wuxian hasn’t been hungry in weeks. The results of his cultivation must be paying off for his inedia to advance to such a degree! His ribs have gotten a bit sharp, but it must be because this core isn’t as powerful as his first one. You can’t expect the effects to be the same!

Wei Wuxian went to a nearby town to buy a new pot. Normally he would find a way to make do without or patch it up, but he’d already done that before and this was the last one.

Face wrapped in scrap fabric, Wei Wuxian shuffled through the alleys, keeping to the shadows and pausing whenever a group of people pass.

As he was paying for his pot with his few precious coin, Wei Wuxian heard some cultivators speaking, “-and then he cleaned up the entire surge of corpses with a single note. That Lan Sizhui is truly a talent!”

For the first time in a while, Wei Wuxian began to smile. His A-Yuan grew up to be such a fine man. What are these people saying, of course his son is talented!

The cultivator’s partner huffed, “Well with a father like Hanguang-Jun, how could he not be talented?”

Wei Wuxian’s smile wobbled as he bit his lip, hurrying away from the town.

Silly.

How absolutely silly.

A-Yuan is Lan Zhan’s son. Lan Zhan was the one to raise him, teach him. How could he be so arrogant as to attribute any of Lan Zhan’s and A-Yuan’s efforts to himself?

Of course A-Yuan hasn’t come to visit. Why would he? He may be Wei Wuxian’s son, but Wei Wuxian was in no way his parent. 

A-Yuan had always liked Lan Zhan better anyway, even back in Yiling, haha.

Haha.

…

Ha.

The sound of a brush on paper was all that resounded through that cold and empty night on the mountain.

It’s been a long time since Wei Wuxian entered the Burial Mounds. He used to go burn paper money with the others way back when, but…

He hopes the Wens will be okay with a stick instead of incense.

A clinking sound brought wei Wuxian’s eyes down to his waist. Suibian is acting up again. This entire journey Suibian has been trying to move him in any other direction, even flying out of his sheath so Wei Wuxian would have to chase it down. Eventually he had no choice but to wrap some vines around it and slap on some talismans to keep it locked in. Chenqing also had to be wrapped in a cloth, the flute singing hymns of death that raise corpses just enough to grab his ankles to keep him in place.

Should Wei Wuxian be proud to have cultivated such powerful spirits?

He is. He’s very happy. Even if he never uses them, Wei Wuxian is sure A-Yuan will take good care of them as a proper master, unlike himself.

Wei Wuxian finishes the array, gently placing Suibian and Chenqing in the middle. He gives them a slow, careful stroke, as if memorizing their forms with his touch. Then he activates the array.

Lan Sizhui really hates Discussion Conferences sometimes. He has to pretend to like people he hates and stay quiet while they talk about pointless or irritating things. His Uncle Xichen usually intervenes before those people venture too far into a certain forbidden area, but it doesn’t stop the bitter taste in his mouth.

He wishes Uncle Ning could be here. Uncle Xichen may change the topic, but that’s the most he’ll do in public. Uncle Ning, for all his gentleness, would never let them get away with badmouthing Wei Wuxian.

Unlike the Lans, Uncle Ning would never abandon his mother.

It has been a difficult two years, but they’re finally narrowing down possible locations. Surprisingly, Sect Leader Jiang has offered his help to them. Lan Sizhui thought that maybe Jin Ling had talked to him, but apparently he’s just gotten nowhere in his own search.

For some reason Uncle Ning was slightly hostile to Jiang Cheng, but even more surprising was that Jiang Cheng put up with it.

Why was he so desperate?

At least their combined information bore some fruit. As soon as this stupid conference ends they’ll fan out a search.

They’ll find him.

Sensing a sudden influx of spirit energy, Lan Sizhui snapped to attention in time to catch a bundle that appeared out of thin air. No, two bundles. Lan Sizhui furrowed his brows, who would teleport something like this during a Discussion Conference?

Who could teleport something into the Cloud Recesses Discussion Conference?

Silver eyes widened as Lan Sizhui caught sight of two black grass butterflies peeking out of the fabric. Uncaring of the eyes on him, Lan Sizhui tore off the wrappings in frenzy, revealing a certain sword and flute. They were both still.

Lan Sizhui grabbed them and ran out at a full sprint yelling, “UNCLE NING! I KNOW WHERE HE IS!!!”

Going at their fastest speed, Lan Sizhui were able to arrive at the Burial Mounds within a few hours. Wen Ning had to support him when he nearly tripped over his own feet, but Lan Sizhui couldn’t bother with that right now. 

He’s here.

Mom is here.

Of course he would come here eventually. What were they thinking, writing off the Burial Mounds when they didn’t find him there the first time? They should have set up alarms!

Taking a deep calming breath, Lan Sizhui’s eyes sharpened as he and Wen Ning ran into their once-home. There was no point searching blindly, if Wei Wuxian returned here he would only go to one place.

Entering the Demon-Slaughtering cave brought an onslaught of memories both good and bad, the familiar scent of the blood pool more comforting than it had any right to be.

Wen Ning brought his attention to a pair of footsteps in the dirt leading into the very back. With quick but silent steps, the two reached the blood pool, but there was no Wei Wuxian in sight. 

A letter lay carefully folded under a rock in front of the pool.

The footsteps don’t stop.

Unfolding the letter with trembling hands, Lan Sizhui and Wen Ning began to read. A second later Lan Sizhui felt himself slinking to the ground as Wen Ning dived into the blood pool, an anguished roar piercing even through the thick liquid. Gasping through the tears, Lan Sizhui scrambled forward with whatever strength he could find to follow him, ignoring the vile sensation of blood coating his entire body, stretching his senses to their very limit to find something. Anything.

He almost wished he didn’t find anything.

A loud crash rang through the conference hall as a pair of doors were smashed in. A thick scent of blood pervaded the room, the cultivators tensing with their swords ready, until Sect Leader Lan cried out, “Sizhui?!”

Everyone blinked as Lan Xichen hurried forward in worry, “What happened?! Are you hurt?!”

The soaked man stayed quiet, gaze fixed on Lan Wangji who had also made his way forward, only to be frozen in place by Lan Sizhui’s piercing glare.

Lan Wangji furrowed his brow, wondering what’s going on, “Si-”

He was stopped by a choked sob.

On the side, Jiang Cheng felt dread pooling in his gut.

Lan Sizhui took a few slow heavy steps forward, silent as he lifted his head and whimpered,

“I hate you.”

Lan Wangji’s eyes widened in horror as Lan Sizhui lunged forward to stab his sword into his father’s stomach. Lan Sizhui glared harder, hysterically crying, “I HATE YOU! I HATE ALL OF YOU!!!”

Lan Xichen blanched in horror before pulling out his Xiao as he realized, “He’s undergoing Qi Deviation!”

The other sects made room while the Lans coordinated with the Nies to attempt to suppress Lan Sizhui, but they vastly underestimated his strength. Sizhui slashed at whoever came close, injuring close to a dozen cultivators before Jiang Cheng clicked his tongue and joined the fight. If this continues things might just get violent for real, and he doesn’t care about a Wen-dog, but he can’t let his nephew Wei Wuxian’s brat get hurt.

The kid put up a hell of a fight, but he didn’t grow up fighting someone much more difficult. A few minutes later had Jiang Cheng stepping on Lan Sizhui’s back, Zidian wrapped tightly but harmlessly around his body as the Lans played Clarity. It took a bit more time than Jiang Cheng would have liked for Lan Sizhui’s struggling to fade into trembling as the boy laid on the ground crying, “I hate you, I hate you so much…”

Jiang Cheng huffed. So the brat finally saw reason and learned to hate Lan Wangji like he should have two years ago. He sneered at the older Lan as a healer sat next to him closing his wound, praise ready on his lips when he heard a muted sob, “Father, Jiang Cheng, I hate you both so much…”

Jiang Cheng stilled as lan Sizhui glared behind his neck at him, “...So. Much…”

Swallowing hard, Jiang Cheng forced a glare on his own face, “And who do you think you are to do that?” Even Jin Ling doesn’t speak to him like this.

“Wei Wuxian’s son.”

Jiang Cheng feels his heart go cold as Lan Sizhui wriggles around to slide a blood-stained letter out of his sleeve. Snatching it up, Jiang Cheng rakes his eyes over the paper with a growing desperation. It’s a series of short letters. Wen Ning, Lan Sizhui, the juniors, Lan Wangji, even Lan Xichen.

Dear Jiang Cheng,

(His fingers start to tremble.)

If you haven’t burned this letter as soon as you saw it’s from me, I count it a success! Haha, don’t worry, I’ll be quick.

(Don’t, slow down.)

I’m sorry I ruined our last meeting. I knew better than to intrude on Lotus Pier, but still got ahead of myself. Have I always been that presumptuous? Apologize to Uncle Jiang on my behalf.

(Who ruined it? Apologize yourself.)

I would do it myself, but… I think we both know where I’m going.

(...)

But that’s fine. Even that is more than I deserve. I know that.

(...)

You were right.

(...)

About me. Everything.

(...)

I know I’m not your brother anymore, but you never stopped being mine.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.

(*drip*)

Jiang Cheng didn’t realize he had crumbled the paper until gentle hands carefully unfurled his fingers. He stared blankly as Lan Xichen patted his shoulder and moved him off Lan Sizhui. Lan Sizhui, the only thing left of his brother.

He wondered if this is how Wei Wuxian felt when he met Jin Ling for the first time. He unconsciously reached out only for lan Sizhui to flinch back and glare at him again. Jiang Cheng’s hand froze.

But.

He reached forward again and held the struggling Lan Sizhui tight.

For the first time, he understands why Wei Wuxian clung to Jin Ling so fervently. This one precious person. No matter the attitude, no matter the heritage.

He’s all I have left.

Lan Xichen carefully walked over to a dazed Lan Wangji, gently placing a hand on his head and quietly handing him the letter. With blank eyes, Lan Wangji found a passage for him.

Dear Lan Zhan,

Thank you.

I’m sorry.

[thiswasinevitableid]

Chemistry (Sternclay)

The last of the meet ugly requests. NSFW, because why not end with a bang?

# 33  you’re a nobody actor who comes in for a chemistry read for the part of my love interest but we end up arguing instead of reading [maybe I like that about you and demand for you to be hired or maybe I’m annoyed that you spoke to me like that so I say that I don’t want to work with you and they hire you anyway]

Stern is starting to feel self-conscious. 

He’s been drooled over in every tabloid from here to Tokyo, gets fanmail by the boatload, and once did a photo shoot for Out that nearly broke their website. 

But they’ve been doing chemistry reads for three days now and no one is clicking. True, up until now his action roles have never had a serious love interest. But is he so bad at flirting that he can’t even act appealing to someone?

He’s not the only frustrated one; Ned, the director, has chewed his nails down to stubs, Kirby has tweaked the test dialogue twice to try and help, and Mama, the producer, currently has her head down on the table. 

“Alright Chicane, who’s next?” She groans as she sits up. 

“Barclay Jones.”

Stern remembers his audition tape; for an actor with zero screen experience, he’s quite compelling on camera. Easy on the eyes, too. 

Boyd ushers the other man in. He’s even taller in person, which Stern isn’t expecting. Having to look up during this scene will be novel. 

“Lovely to make your acquaintance, dear boy.” Ned stands, shaking Barclay’s hand. 

“Uh, same to you. Mr. Chicane. It’s a huge honor to even get here.” The baritone is soft, nerves obvious.

“Now now Barclay, flattery will only get you somewhere.” Ned winks, turns to the table, “this is Kirby, our head writer, and Madeline Cobb, one of the top producers at Amnesty Studios. And of course, you know Joseph Stern.”

Barclay looks at him and his brown eyes go wide, “Holy shit. Uh, sorry, yeah, I mean, everyone does. I had no idea I’d be reading with you. I’m a huge fan. Uh, everyone probably says that don’t they?” He shakes Stern’s hand. Lord almighty, even his hands are big and strong. Stern wants to wrap himself up in that voice too.

“A lot do, yes. But it’s always nice to meet a fan, and a fellow actor at that.”

Kirby gets Barclay his pages, allows him a few minutes to read over them as Ned briefs him on the scene. 

“Now, your character and Agent X, that’s Joseph, have been working together to solve a string of mysterious disappearances in the southwest. The electricity between you two has been growing, and we’re only a scene away from you finally confessing your feelings for each other. I want to feel the tension in the air.”

They take their positions, Stern waiting for Ned’s cue to begin. 

“You almost got us killed out there!”

“Whose idea was it to try breaking into the compound without an escape route?” Rather than moving towards him like the script indicates, Barclay leans back against the provided couch, arms crossed, forcing Stern to stammer as he tries to keep the momentum of the blocking going. 

“If we’re playing that game, who got the car totaled in the first place?”

“I did because I was saving your ass, Lucky.” Barclay straightens up, but holds his ground. 

“I never asked you too.”

“Excuse me for not wanting to lose my partner.”

Goddamnit, why isn’t he moving, it’s throwing Stern off. 

“Uh, um..oh please, like you don’t see me as expendable too.”

A perfectly timed shift in facial expression, “I don’t.”

“I find that doubtful--is there a reason you’re not following the blocking?”

“Huh? Oh, uh,” Barclay tightens his hold on the script, turning to Ned, “I was reading through it, and it kinda feels like my character wants Agent X to come to him. Like, he knows Agent X kinda keeps things close to his chest, at least if your version is staying close to the books, so he wants to make him be the one to admit their shared feelings first. I thought, uh, kinda keeping me in one place and making him move would add to that balance.”

“It’s throwing the whole scene-”

“Into a new light!” Ned exclaims, “yes, I liked how that looked a great deal.”

“What? Ned, Agent X isn’t the kind to be, be, jerked around.”

“Not by most characters, but, like, think about it; when you’re really into someone but are trying to deny it, you’re often super-fucking open to them messing with you.”

“No offense, Barclay, but one of us has far more experience developing characters for the screen than the other.”

Fuck, that was uncalled for, even accounting for how exhausted and touchy he is. He should apologize. 

“Look, pretty boy, just because I don’t have a handsome face and a fucking porn-star body doesn’t mean I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Do you think I’m coasting on my looks?”

Barclay holds up his hands, “you said it, not me.”

“Do I sense someone upset that all the hunky mountain parts passed him by because he can’t read his fucking blocking?”

“Gentlemen, please, that’s enough.” Ned waves Boyd over, “thank you so much for your time, Mr. Jones. We’ll be in touch in a few weeks.”

Barclay’s shoulders sag and he thanks them for the opportunity. Stern just thanks his lucky stars he’ll never have to see him again.

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

“You did what?!”

“I offered Barclay the part, and he accepted.”

“Lord almighty Ned, what did I do to get on your bad side?”

“Joseph” the director sets a hand on his shoulder, “I know how much this project means to you. So trust me when I say that, argument included, you and he had the best read out of all the other people we tried. If we want this movie to do well, we need him.”

“Fine. I’ll work with him. But I won’t like it.”

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

He still doesn’t like it. But even he has to admit Barclay portrays Agent A exactly as he should be. He takes direction well, is popular with the crew, and looks aggravatingly perfect in his black suit that matches Stern’s own. If he doesn’t end up a star after this comes out, Stern will eat his right arm. 

They have a lot in common, which Stern could enjoy more if they weren't constantly getting into arguments. He can’t remember what ninety percent of them are about, just that it feels necessary to have them.

They’ve been arguing a lot today, because they’re shooting the first kiss scene and it’s been fifteen takes with no success. Part of that is both of them want perfection in their craft. But the larger issue is…

“Joseph, kindly try to look like you actually want to be kissing him.” Ned massages his temples

“We all know why that’s difficult.” Stern mutters. 

“We’re actors, pretty boy, our job is to pretend.” Barclay snaps back.

“And Barclay, please make it look as if you’ve already made the decision to kiss rather than punch your partner, rather than as though you’re still torn.”

After two more failed takes, Ned calls them done for the day. Stern is pacing in his apartment near the studio when his co-star knocks on the door.

“We need to work on that scene.”

“Work is over for the day, and I just got off a phone interview with Empire. So, no, no we don't.”

“Joseph” Barclay steps into the living room, shutting the door, “look, I know things are weird between us, but you can afford to not nail every aspect of this performance. I can’t.”

“Don’t be so sure; fame is tenuous even for the best of us.”

“Think of yourself pretty highly, pretty boy?”

“No! And stop taking everything I say as being about me. I...I don’t even think I’m that good. Not compared to some people out there. I can’t even get a fucking kiss right.” He cards his fingers through his hair. 

“Neither can I. And I’ve had less practice. Uh, on camera, that is. I’m just so fucking nervous this’ll go wrong and I’ll blow my once chance at being in movies. So for both our sakes can we just fucking try to get this right?”

Stern holds his finger up, “One hour. Then I’m taking a bath and going to bed.”

Barclay sighs, the one he always makes when Stern reacts in a way other than what he hoped for, “Okay.”

They hit the midway point twice, working through some hiccups in tone, Barclay taking his suggestions and Stern following Barclays lead several times. Then they come to the kiss. 

“Damn it” Stern pulls away, “that didn’t feel right either.”

“No shit.” Barclay steps out of his embrace, “it’s because you kiss like you’re scared of something.”

“My kissing is not the problem here.”

“What, you think it’s mine?”

“It’s like kissing tap water; flat and boring.”

“Take that back.” Barclay growls. 

“Make me.”

Another growl, so feral Stern’s neck prickles, and then Barclay grabs him, kissing him like he’s trying to smother him, large hands cupping his face and tongue shoving between his lips. Not to be outdone, Stern grips the back of his neck with one hand and his auburn hair with the other, as if he could force them closer than they are. 

“That brave enough for you, big guy?” He bites Barclay’s ear and gets a snarl in his own in return.

“Dunno, pretty boy, am I still boring you?” Barclay slams their lips together as Stern tries pulling him closer. What he manages to do instead is send himself backwards over the edge of the couch and onto the waiting cushions. 

“Shit, Joseph, are you okayAhnngmph” He’s on his feet before Barclay finishes the question, lunging into another kiss, the pair shoving and spinning, and groping their way down the hall to the bedroom. 

Barclay moans exactly the way he hoped when he bites his bare chest, shirt hitting the nearby chair along with Stern’s. Stern smirks up at him, savoring the sight of him panting and licking his lips, trails frantic kisses down his chest and belly, only stopping when his knees hit the floor. Barclay whimpers for the first time when he bites his hip, undoing his jeans as he sucks a hickey into it. He slips one hand into Barclay’s pants, drags it along his cock once, teasingly, before standing again. 

“I’m sure you can manage the rest, big guy.” He strips off his pants and underwear, is down to his undershirt and socks when Barclay chuckles and grabs him from behind. 

“Of course you wear fucking sock garters.” His beard tickles his neck, making him squirm in the hold. 

“I, I hate it when they fall down.”

“I don’t mind a little falling.” He shoves Stern forward onto the bed, climbing on behind him and running his fingers up his ass. 

“Fuck you look good like this, pretty boy.”

Barclay’s voice has never sounded like this; not a few moments ago, not on camera, not in Stern’s wildest fantasies. Stern is nothing if not versatile in bed, and right now he knows exactly what he wants. 

“C-condoms, bedside drawer, please.” He wiggles his ass in anticipation at the sounds of sliding wood and crinkling foil. 

Barclay pushes his legs apart, “trust me, you’re gonna need ‘em wider.”

“Someone confident about his siIIze! Fuck, oh my lord.” Stern buries his face in the nearest pillow.

“Like I said” Barclay snaps one of the garters, Stern yelping in response, “need you spread wide for me. Now what do you need, babe?” He snaps the other, slowly thrusting as he does. 

“Need, need you to fuck me, Barclay please, need it so bad.”

“Want it hard, or something else?”

“As hard as you can.” He whines, rolling his hips in hopes of speeding things up. 

“Okay.”

“FUCK! Fuckfuckfuckfuckingfuck.”

“You wanted hard, babe, so you’re getting it fucking hard.” Barclay growls as he rams into him, bed hitting the wall with enough force to chip to the paint. Stings ripple up his legs as the garters are snapped, his cock aches for attention, and he’s drooling onto the pillow. 

In other words, he’s in heaven.

Barclay digs his nails into Stern’s hips, “fuck, shit, like to say I’m gonna fuck you like this all night, babe, but I’m close already. Comes with fucking the nicest hole in town.”

“Don’t, not yet, please, fuck-” tears of pleasure well up, his brain and body awash with ecstasy at Barclay’s words, “feels so good, want to come.”

Barclay pats his head, “don’t worry pretty boy, you will. Now be good and take me while I cum.”

“Yes, yesyes, BarclayAHhnn, fuck, fuck.” He whacks his hand into the bed as Barclay’s hips jerk violently, “please.” 

A drawn-out grown as Barclay thrusts all the way in and stays there, fingers clenching and unclenching in Stern’s skin. Then one hand slides down, rubbing his cock as Barclay’s lips find his shoulders. 

“That’s it, so good, so good for me Joseph, fuck, love feeling you all wet and hard ‘cause of me, most flattering thing in the whole goddamn world. Mmmmm” he purrs, nuzzles Stern’s throat even as the smaller man desperately ruts into his palm, “fuck you’re amazing.”

Stern cums with a weak cry, collapsing onto the bed, muscles no longer interested in supporting him. A comforting weight leaves the bed, water runs in the bathroom, and Stern fights the urge to call Barclay back. 

It turns out he doesn’t have to. 

“You with me, Joseph?” Barclay rolls him over, running a washcloth over his sweaty forehead and neck.

“Yes. I, um, I, what, are we, gah it’s so hard to get my words out after sex like that.”

“Flattering.” Barclay smiles gently, kissing his cheek, “I guess, uh, what, what did that all mean to you? Were we just blowing off steam?”

“I...I don’t think so. Or it doesn’t feel like it was only that. What do you want from me, Barclay?”

“To be your friend. Or more, if you’d let me. Gotta say, I think part of the reason we kept fucking up that scene is that we do like each other lie that, but got off to such a bad start we don’t wanna admit it.”

“That about sums it up. I’ve wanted to tell you I’m sorry for awhile now but, well, pride has always been my chief sin.”

“Not lust?” Barclay bumps their noses together.

“If what we did was sinful, I’ll sin any day of the week.”

“Hate to say it, but my reason was kinda similar. I, uh, I’m always the one to apologize in life, I’m always trying to make things okay even when I’m still hurt and I just couldn’t do it this time. I didn’t want you thinking I was a pushover.”

“Mission accomplished. Lord, what duo we are.” Stern laughs. 

“Yeah. Do, uh, do you think we could try being a different kind of duo?”

“I would certainly like to try.” Stern kisses him tenderly, and the feeling of Barclay’s lips on his is so perfect, the way they fit in each other’s arms so snug that he wonders how he could have missed it for so many weeks. 

They talk in bed for hours, until Stern;s stomach rumbles and Barclay insists on making dinner. They fall asleep in bed, kissing lazily and lovingly until Barclay’s head flops into Stern’s chest. 

And in the morning, they nail their scene on the first take.