#this should not have taken me as long as it did

[chuluoyi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄

- zayne x reader

everyone knows dr. zayne is cool as a cucumber, and it's a given for him that you're known as his wife, but when a fresh-faced new resident seemingly makes a move on you... what will he do?

genre/warnings: very suggestive, jealousy (a very jealous zayne, in fact), making out in his office, crack, fluff, hunter!reader, you and zayne have a daughter

note: inspired by that one kim min-kyu scene in business proposal :D this is actually an extension for nocturne of twilight and dawn's first light but can also be read as standalone

You hadn't seen your husband for two weeks.

There was a spring on your step when you entered Akso Hospital right after your long intercity mission. You had acquired some bruises and they weren't anything serious, so you figured you’d just have Greyson treat them. Besides, it gave you the perfect excuse to hand him some cookies as a souvenir.

And, of course, ask him to ring for Zayne to meet you once he had the time.

"Miss, do you need help?"

But a curious voice addressed you when you loitered around in the lobby, and you turned around to find a bright-faced young man with red hair and wearing doctor's coat.

"Ah, yes, I want to meet Dr. Zayne," you smiled. "Or Dr. Greyson will do."

The young doctor perked up at the names you mentioned. "Oh, are you a patient? Do you have an appointment already?"

"Hmm, no, actually I am—"

You halted mid-sentence before the words his wife slipped out, rethinking your choice. You knew of Zayne's infamous reputation in the hospital, and while almost everyone in his floor knew you, this new doctor didn't, and you thought it was best to leave it that way.

"Yeah, I already have an appointment," you nodded, plastering an thin smile. "Just tell Dr. Greyson that Y/N wants to meet him."

"Right, right, I'll page him now..." he mumbled, pulling out his pager and his phone. "I'll text him too..."

"Thank you."

"O-oh, Miss! Wait!" the young man called after you in a hurry when you turned around. "I've noticed it for a while, you have a cut on the side of your lips..."

"Ah, this..." Your fingers instinctively brushed the dried blood on your lips. You hadn’t thought the small cut was noticeable. "Yes, it’s from earlier—"

"Actually, I’m an ER resident!" he interrupted with a bright grin. "Let me treat you first!"

Caught off guard by his enthusiasm, you barely had time to react as he gently but firmly guided you towards the emergency room.

"Dr. Zayne! Dr. Zayne! Your wife is here~!"

Zayne had barely stepped into his office after a grueling surgery when Greyson barged in, all too casually, delivering the news with a grin. "She’s waiting in the lobby!"

He blinked, slightly taken aback. "Oh?"

You're back? He pulled out his muted phone, checking the notifications. Sure enough, you’d sent him a message an hour ago, letting him know you’d safely landed in Linkon.

His little, snarky wife. For the past two weeks you had been away, the house had felt lonelier. Sure, his daughter—who resembled you in personality, no less—was a bundle of sunshine and adorable beyond words, but without you, there was always that subtle void in the air.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house at all? Maybe it was just him—utterly, hopelessly whipped.

"Why isn’t she coming up to my office?" he asked suddenly, noticing the odd detail.

"Hmm, yeah, and it’s weird... why did the new resident say she’s asking for me?" Greyson mused, turning toward Zayne. "Don’t you want to meet her instead? Whatever she needs me for, I’m sure you could handle it."

Zayne promptly left his office and took long strides toward the elevator. As the doors started to close, he even half-sprinted, calling out to the person inside to hold it for him.

Okay, maybe he was a little too eager, but was it really so wrong to be this excited to see his wife again when the two of you had been apart for two weeks?

...then again, you didn't need to know. You would roast him to bits should you know he missed you this much.

Zayne got off at the lobby, expecting to find you there— only to find the usual flow of hospital staff and visitors. He was about to call you when he wandered past the emergency room and turned the corner—and that’s when he got his shock of the day.

There you were. But not alone.

With a guy.

Whose hand is touching your lips.

"It must be tough being a hunter, huh?"

The red-haired resident carefully tended to your bruised arm, wrapping it in a fresh bandage as you sighed, thinking back to the mission. "Yeah, there are definitely some hard days..."

"But despite all that, you still keep yourself in shape!" he remarked, eyeing your toned arms with a hint of admiration.

You let out a sheepish laugh, remembering those pull-ups sessions with Zayne. "Haha, that's because my husband makes sure I'm getting enough exercise..."

"You're married?!" His voice was filled with disbelief, and it caught you off guard, yet he grinned afterwards. "Wow! Is he a hunter too?"

You would've never guessed, boy. This resident doctor was cute, you thought, ever so curious at everything. You could only imagine the look on his face if you told him that the Dr. Zayne was your husband.

You were about to refute it when his fingers brushed against your lips. "Oh, sorry, let me apply some ointment here first..."

His touch felt cool to your lips and you were momentarily stunned at the contact— but then a gruff cough startled you so much you almost jumped.

The towering figure of your husband behind him. Zayne's dark gaze was fixed on the man in front of you, like he could murder the poor guy with just a look.

"Z-Zayne...?" you squeaked against the ointment on your lips, and the resident quickly turned behind him in surprise, hastily greeting him, "Oh, Dr. Zayne!"

Zayne shot the poor man a single, pointed look before his gaze shifted to you, clearly unamused.

He suddenly grabbed your hand and, without sparing the resident another glance, swiftly pulled you away. The other guy was left standing there, speechless, as Zayne led you off, leaving him in the dust.

. . .

"Zayne!"

Oh, how he actually missed his name coming out from your lips.

"Are you done with your schedule?" you asked as he pulled you into the elevator, confusion evident in the way you tilted your head. But when he didn’t answer, you glanced down at his firm grip on your arm, suddenly realizing something. "Wait, no... are you angry?"

Sigh. It irked him so much, actually. Because, how could you, after weeks—

No, he actually knew he was being irrational. He shouldn’t overreact like this just because someone else touched you. But why is he so annoyed, still?

"Wait, why?" you kept asking, wide-eyed, as the two of you stepped out and made way towards his office. "I'm not injured! I'm fine! It's just some bruises—"

Without a word, Zayne pulled you into his office, swiftly locking the door behind him. Before you could say another word, he cornered you against the wall, and you fell silent instantly.

It had been a while since he’d seen you this way—stunned, caught off guard, and utterly silent under his gaze. He studied your face closely, watching the way your breath hitched as the tension between you both thickened.

It sparked something inside him seeing you like this, a sense of satisfaction that he couldn’t quite explain, but one he welcomed nonetheless.

That was when he saw the blood on your lips. "Did you get punched in the face?"

"Y-Yes, but— it's nothing severe!" you defended, trying to convince him. "It's such a small cut anyway!"

He frowned. "Why didn't you come to me?"

"What? Hey, I was about to ask Greyson, but—"

That got him frown even deeper, even irate. "Why Greyson? When you come home with any injuries, you come to me, not anyone else."

You let out a resigned sigh, slumping your shoulders in defeat. "Because I know you'll fuss over me, duh."

"I don't fuss," he retorted.

"You do," you shot back, pursing your lips. "You try to act like this cool, calm robot all the time, but you always drone on and on whenever you patch me up. You're worried, it shows."

Zayne huffed, shifting his gaze away from you as he felt his face burn. Was he that obvious? How could he not, though, when you managed to get hurt so often and yet acted so innocent about it?

Then as if inspired, you caught on immediately. Your eyes sparkled, and a mischievous smirk tugged at your lips. "Wait, just now... don't tell me... Are you jealous?"

Damn.

"Heh, Dr. Zayne, really?" Your voice was playful now, mocking him. "Whoa, how can this be?"

How had you figured him out so easily?

You continued in a sing-song voice, putting both hands on your chest, "Ah, my heart flutters! My husband is apparently—"

Enough. This time, his patience snapped.

He didn’t hesitate even for a moment. A low growl escaped him, and in one swift motion, he crashed his lips against yours, silencing you with the most effective method he could think of.

"Mmph!" You gasped in surprise, the teasing words at the end of your tongue completely forgotten. His gray eyes gleamed. Been too long, he thought, and now he was making sure you knew just how badly he craved this.

The kiss was searing as he deepened it, his tongue seeking yours with urgency. "Hngh!" You let out a feeble whine when he teased you by biting your lips.

Zayne held back a snort. One of his hand then strayed inside your hunter uniform, unclasping your bra with a flick.

"—?!" Your eyes widened as you realized what was happening, and before you could process it, he pulled away. But you were far from right in thinking it was over. The dangerous gleam in his eyes kept you tense as he swiftly removed his glasses...

...before he pulled you back towards him and claimed your lips once again.

With a swift, commanding motion, he guided you toward his desk. His papers scattered at the sudden movement, but he had you bent over it regardless, forcing your body to arch. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, while his right hand fondled your breasts, repeatedly squeezing, palming and switching between them.

"Mmm...!" You let out a strangled moan, instinctively holding onto his shoulder, feeling the way how he groped you ignited your core. "Ahh..."

Your body was tantalizing as always. Hardened and sometimes bruised from your work it may be, but to Zayne, you were still beautiful as ever.

When you gasped for air, he decided he was done with your swollen lips. His lips then trailed down to your neck, sucking hard on it, creating a squelching sound that sent a shiver racing down your spine.

"W-what's... gotten into you...?" you breathed out, tangling your fingers in his hair, hyperaware of his hands still roaming over your nipples.

In response, he nibbled at your skin and flicked your breasts at the same time, causing you to freeze and draw a sharp, hitched breath. "Haah...!"

Unbeknownst to you, his lips curled wickedly at your reaction, and he continued to pepper your neck with series of wet sucks as if to mark you altogether. You writhed under him, whiny and sighing, relishing his hot breath on your skin.

You were utterly at his mercy, pliant and helpless in his hands. There was a deep satisfaction in knowing he was the only one who could bring you, his lawfully wedded wife, to this state—

Still, he wouldn’t allow you to be indecent in a place like this. When he finally pulled back, he was breathing heavily, eyes dark with lust, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of your jaw. "Don’t tempt me," he muttered, voice low and raspy.

You gazed up at him, your heart pounding. "Zayne..." you whispered, a whine broke through the heat on your flushed face.

His expression softened just enough, a flicker of tenderness cutting through the intensity. Pretty. That’s what you were, undeniably so. How he had missed out on you so long once was his greatest regret.

Carefully, he helped you sit upright, his touch gentle as he clasped your bra and began buttoning up your uniform, disheveled from his earlier ministrations.

The gentle way he touched you was a stark contrast to how it was earlier. "Is that a new way to treat busted lip?" you nudged his collar, feeling a little braver now.

"For bad wives, yeah."

"I'm not a bad wife! Just disobedient on some occasion."

Zayne's fingers brushed your face as he finished with your uniform, his dark-gray eyes steady on you. You pouted.

"You're the one who's bad," you accused with slight resentment, not missing a beat as the heat between your legs started to dissipate. "Leaving me unfinished like that."

"Hmm? Am I?" he murmured, the faintest amusement in his tone.

"You have to take responsibility tonight, you big meanie," you mumbled, your pout deepening as you avoided meeting his gaze.

Zayne snorted at the sight of you—so precious in his eyes, his thumb lightly grazing the corner of your lips in a gesture so tender it made your heart skip, before whispering in your ear:

"Well, if your voice won't wake our daughter, that is."

Epilogue

Not long after, just as you had gathered yourself and were preparing to leave the hospital to head home, a sudden knock at the door of his office startled you both.

Quickly, you moved to sit on the patient’s seat, feigning nonchalance as you braced yourself for whoever was on the other side. Zayne reached for the door, but before he could unlock it, a familiar voice called out.

"Excuse me!" the resident's voice sounded a bit hesitant but firm. "Dr. Zayne, the miss left her handbag earlier!"

Zayne let out a low, irked sigh. You glanced at him curiously, watching as he opened the door and came face-to-face with the redheaded resident.

Without a word, he extended his hand, and the resident blinked before handing over the bag.

"I-is the miss still here?" the young doctor asked, almost intimidated by his unfriendly gaze.

"Ma'am," Zayne corrected, his voice flat.

"Huh?"

"Call her ma'am. She's someone's wife."

"O-oh, and her husband is—"

"Me. I am her husband."

Your eyes widened in surprise at the matter-of-fact exchange, heat rising to your cheeks as Zayne’s words hung confidently in the air. He curtly thanked the young resident before slamming the door shut in his face.

Your jaw practically hit the floor. "Zayne!" you gasped, staring at him as he turned back towards you, entirely unbothered.

Your husband was as cold as the snowman he often made, but somehow the way he boldly declared he was your husband was just so him that it made you so giddy.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms with a playful smile. "You’re really jealous, huh? How?"

He didn’t answer, his gaze still fixed elsewhere, most definitely trying to save his dignity.

You chuckled softly, stepping closer to him with a teasing sway. Your fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, turning him to face you, and you winked at him mischievously.

"Well, I’m all yours. But if it makes you feel better, maybe I’ll stay away from any ER residents for a while~"

[wonderjanga]

Workaholic

Billy doesn’t notice, but he’s a workaholic. Like a really bad one.

Supes and Marvel: *talking*

Hero 1: “Hey, Cap!”

Marvel: *pauses his convo* “Yes?”

Hero 1: “Could you cover me for monitor duty? I have it later today at three.”

Marvel: “Oh, sure! No problem!” *smiles*

Hero 1: *extremely grateful* “Thanks a lot, man.”

A couple minutes later…

Hero 2: “Hey, Marvel, could you cover me for monitor duty for tomorrow morning?”

Marvel: “Sure!”

Supes: “Back to back monitor duty? Are you sure you want that?” *sounds concerned*

Marvel: “Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

Supes: “I… never mind.”

A couple more minutes later…

Hero 3: “Cap, could you cover me for monitor duty-”

Supes: *sounds firm because he thinks his friend is being taken advantage of* “No, he will not.”

Marvel: *sounds confused* “But I want to?”

Supes: “Marvel, you can’t just accept monitor duty for nearly two days straight. What about Fawcett?”

Marvel: “What about it? I can protect it just fine with or without monitor duty.”

Hero 3: “If it’s really that much trouble, you can just say no, Cap-” *feels bad*

Marvel: “But I want to say yes!”

or

Marvel: *zoned out and listening to the Gods arguing his head*

Batman: “Captain.” *walks over, holding a tablet*

Marvel: “Yes?”

Batman: “You’re going to sign up for the latest long-term missions, right? Like usual?” *hands him the tablet*

Marvel: “Of course!” *looks at three missions available for sign up* “Do any of them overlap?”

Batman: “No, but-”

Marvel: “Great!” *signs up for all three*

Batman: “Did even read the content of the missions?”

Marvel: “No? Should I have?”

Batman: “Yes?? Are you sure you wanna sign up for all three, Captain? You’d be gone for nearly 3 months.”

Marvel: “Eh it’s fine. Tawny will cover for me, and I don’t think any of my villains will attack Fawcett if I’m not there.”

Batman: *stares for a second before sighing* “Alright then.”

Bruce took this as confirmation that Marvel doesn’t have a personal life. Being gone for three months without a single person noticing would be impossible if he had one.

or

Worker 1: “Ugh… I can’t believe this.”

Marvel: *appeared from nowhere* “What’s wrong? Do you need help?”

Worker 1: “AGH- Wha? Captain Marvel??” *in disbelief that the Captain Marvel is talking to him* “Uhhh no. I don’t need help at all.”

Worker 2: “He does. Help him, Cap.”

Marvel: “Okay!” *quickly helps and trots off to go help someone else*

Worker 1: *makes sure that Billy is far enough* “Dude, why’d you just make Captain Marvel help me?”

Worker 2: “I didn’t make him do anything. I think he just likes to be useful. Not that I’m complaining. He always looks so happy when he gets to help too.” *pauses to think for a bit* “Point is, just let him help if you need it.”

So yes, Billy will take any work, and seek out any work. He’s just that type of little guy. Anyways, Billy eventually found out that his workaholic tendencies were a little extreme when Freddy started also being a hero.

Junior: “I can’t believe I’m in the Watchtower!”

Marvel: “Yeah, it’s amazing right?”

Batman: “Marvel. The new sign up sheets are out- who is this?”

Marvel: “Ah, Mr. Batman Sir, this is Junior. Junior, this is Mr. Batman Sir.”

Junior: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir!” *hero worship is practically oozing out*

Batman: “Likewise…” *is internally confused* “Anyways, Marvel, the new sign up sheets for long-term missions are out. I assume you’ll be joining like always?” *offers the Sign uptablet*

Marvel: “How’d you guess?” *smiles and takes the tablet from him*

Junior: “Long-term missions?”

Marvel: *pauses just when he’s about to sign up for a mission, and looks over to Junior* “Oh right. Junior, I don’t know if you wanna come or not.”

Junior: “Uh…” *looks between Batman and Marvel* “Sure, I’ll go.”

Marvel: *smiles at Junior* “Good.” *looks over to Batman* “How long are they?”

Batman: *swears that just for a teensy weensy second, Marvel’s smile was fatherly* “Each of them should take approximately two weeks to complete.”

Marvel: “Really? That’s shorter than normal.” *looks over to Freddy nervously* “Are you okay with being gone for six weeks?”

Junior: “Si- six weeks?! Batman said we’d only be gone for two??”

Marvel: “Yeah, but that’s the length for one mission. There’s three listed here.”

Junior: “Wait, you’re signing us up for all three?!”

Marvel: “Yeah?” *sounds unsure* “How about I only sign you up for one instead? We’ll do that one together and I’ll do the other two alone.”

Junior: “Wha…? Why are you signing up for three in the first place?”

Marvel: “Because why not?”

Junior: “Dude, that’s not normal.”

Marvel: “Of course it is! Mr. Batman sir hasn’t ever said anything.”

Junior: “That doesn’t mean it’s normal.”

Batman: “He is right. Signing up for three missions in a row, leaving earth for occasionally months at a time isn’t normal for anyone besides Green Lanterns. Captain, when was the last time you haven’t signed up for the latest mission and instead relaxed?”

Marvel: “I don’t know… but I do relax! Every single minute of me not being a hero is me relaxing!”

Junior: “Is it though…?”

Billy still ended up signing himself up for the three missions. Freddy decided to join him on the other two as well, so he wouldn’t be leaving his new buddy alone.

(Also, I’m sorry, but I had to just sneak in that little itty-bitty piece of Dad Marvel)

[vatillly]

Ask for Skuld! What's your favorite color?

Red would be her first answer, but any other color that reminds her of Cassiel would also work :)

[artyandink]

kindred

“DON’T STAY AWAKE FOR TOO LONG, DON’T GO TO BED”

A/N: a little angst piece cause I felt like it, heavily inspired by Carry On but it happens before so tEcHnIcAlLy Carry On is inspired by this :)

God, Dean should have never taken his eye off the ball, the ball being you. Sure, you were such a damn good hunter — one of the best he’d ever seen — but even the best had their drawbacks, even the best had their moments, even those moments couldn’t be afforded. You and Dean had been casing a possible group of vampires in Houston while Sam hunted a werewolf down in Wichita, and you two determined that it could only be a few. You could take ‘em, you were good enough.

Wrong.

It was a whole nest, a whole ass nest, which you two had been able to mostly clear with some machetes and bullets laced with dead man’s blood. Until one son of a bitch had snuck up behind you when Dean thought the worst was over and shoved a thin wooden stake right through your stomach and yanked it back out

How fucking ironic.

Dean couldn’t hear the yell of your name that left his mouth as you crumpled to the floor, couldn’t feel when his hand holding the machete lashed out and took the thing out, dropping to his knees in front of you as you propped yourself against a wall.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart.” His voice was frantic, looking at the gigantic fucking hole in your stomach that was leaking hot blood— shit, shit. “Keep your eyes open, yeah? Don’t take ‘em off me, don’t you dare. You’re fine, you’re—” He had to cut himself off before his voice broke into a million pieces. His heart was racing, head spinning, hands frantically taking off his flannel to press against your stomach to stem the blood flow— you were a fighter, right? You fought everything, you never backed down, you wouldn’t this time, right?

“Dean,” You rasped out, in shock, looking down at the gash that was in your stomach, then back at him. “Dean.” It was like you were a broken record in your head, your head lolling forward, to which his hands flew up to keep your head up. Your body was fighting, he could see it in your eyes. “D—Dean.”

Your voice was strangled, and that was one of the worst sounds he’d ever heard in his life. Hearing it hurt his heart almost as much as seeing the wound did. You were pale, clammy — you were bleeding.

“Eyes on me,” Dean repeated, holding your face tighter in his hands, his eyes flitting to the wound every other two seconds. “Eyes on me, princess, c’mon, stay with me. Please.”

The panic was clear as hell in his eyes, like a storm tearing through a calm night. The sight of all that blood, your blood, staining your clothes and the ground beneath you tore his heart open and just left him raw.

He gently kept your head in place, not letting you slump, not letting you give up. “Stay with me. No falling asleep, sweetheart. Stay awake.” Just keep your eyes open, keep looking at him. He needed to see the light in your eyes.

You could feel it. You could, the pain stabbed through your stomach, making you let out a sort of strangled cry, breathing heavily. “I’m not— I’m not ok, am I?” You couldn’t even recognise your own voice, it was hoarse, it was raspy. Oh, God, oh, God.

The cry punched Dean in the gut, and he held back an almost strangled sound from himself, the way your voice was so quiet and broken making his heart shatter. He didn’t answer your question, because if he knew you weren’t ok, he’d lose it. He’d go insane with worry.

He shook his head, refusing to believe it, refusing to accept it— you were fine, goddamn it, you were gonna fight. “It’s gonna be ok. You’re gonna be fine.” He repeated those words like a mantra, both for your benefit and his.

“I can’t— just tell me.” You begged, your eyelashes fluttering, but you kept them open, wanting to hear it. “Tell me you’ll be ok, Dean, please.” You reached for his hand on your cheek, gripping it. “You an’ I both know I ain’t makin’— makin’ it outta here.”

“Stop it. Stop it.” Dean’s voice was a broken whisper, his chest heaving. He couldn’t lose you, he would not. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine because I won’t let you die on me, do you understand?”

He wanted to break, he wanted to scream at the world, he wanted to cry and sob. But if he did, he’d fall apart. You needed him to stay strong, to keep you alive.

“Then tell me something good.” You whispered, hot tears rolling down your grimed cheeks, eyes becoming more vacant by the second and he saw it. “Tell me something good, talk t’ me.”

Talking, he could do that — talking was a distraction, yeah, distraction for the both of you. What was something good, though? What could he say to you that would be any reassurance when you were literally bleeding out in his arms?

“You know what’s good?” He spoke, his voice strained but still a little gruff. “You are. You’re so goddamn good. And when we get out of here— because we will get out of here, got it — I am gonna tell you that every day.”

You grinned weakly, losing control over your breathing, gripping his hand as fear struck through in the form of pain in your lower abdomen. “I love you.” You blurted, laughing a little in relief — a weak, barely there laugh — that you’d finally said it. You finally did it. “Never told you that, but god, I’m crazy for you, Dean. Just— just remember that.”

For once in his life, his heart soared and plummeted at the same time. You were saying this now? You had to say it now? Not when you were safe, when he could celebrate getting your love and devotion in words and actions.

“You’re a goddamn idiot, you know that?” The scoff he let out sounded wrecked, but his thumb was a gentle caress against your face, trying to sooth you, wipe away the tears. “Why say it now?”

“You know I don’t know how feelings work.” You scoffed, unable to stop a watery laugh, blood trickling from the corner of your mouth as you coughed, some more dribbling down. “But I’m glad I— that I said it. You love me back, right? You…” You looked to him for some confirmation. Any at all.

He ached at the sound of that laugh, and he almost winced at the sight of the blood dribbling from your mouth. You were losing it too fast for his liking, but you were staying awake, and that was something he wanted to cling to.

“Of course I fucking love you back.” The admission was instant, like he had no time to be coy or hide it. Hell, what was the point of hiding anything at this rate? “Been crazy about your stubborn, beautiful ass for years. Thought it was plain to see, sweetheart.”

“Do I have to remind you that I ain’t a psychic?” You coughed again, gripping his hand tight, eyes dropping to his lips. “C’mere. Please, c’mere, Dean. Just— I’m losin’ it fast, don’t leave me hangin’.”

“Not leaving you, sweetheart.” He assured you, his voice quiet as he gently lifted you and manoeuvred you so you were laying properly in his arms. All the while, one hand kept firm and hard against your stomach, while the other gently touched your face, the curve of your cheek, your hair — anything he could get his hands on.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, trying not to think about how much his heart was screaming at the idea of losing you.

Your hand left his, cupping his own cheek, even if you knew you tasted copper and he probably could too. The kiss was simple, sweet, slightly desperate and one hell of a goodbye, not wanting to let it go, salt from your tears staining your lips as well.

The taste of your tears and your blood was something he didn’t want on his tongue, not one damn bit. It felt like a goodbye, like you were giving up, and he couldn’t have that. You were too damn good to give up, too good for him to say goodbye to.

“Please.” He mumbled against your lips, desperately kissing you, like they could keep you here, like a kiss from him would keep you alive.

“I don’t wanna go.” You whispered, losing grip fast, desperately holding on to talk to him. “Just— just don’t blame yourself, ok? It was my— my dumbass that got us here. Ok? So— so just tell me it’s ok, tell me you’ll be ok.”

“I don’t blame ya, god, I don’t." He didn’t even stop to think, he didn’t know how he’d keep going in a world without you. “Stop taking responsibility, you stupid—“

He cut himself off, hating how you were trying to act like your own death wouldn’t shatter him. All he wanted was to be able to fix this — fix you — and keep you alive.

He grabbed your hand and pressed it to his chest, wanting you to feel his heart, feeling your hand curl into his undershirt.

“Dean, please, tell me I can go.” You begged, feeling the tears fully roll down your face now, giving him a brave smile. “Tell me it’s ok, please, I can’t— I can’t hold on anymore.”

He didn’t want you to go, he couldn’t let you go, but he could see it in your eyes that your grip on the world was slipping. You were so damn brave, but he was selfish, he would do anything to keep you here, even just for a second longer.

“Go where?” He knew what you meant, but he wanted to hear it one more time, he wanted a few more seconds hearing your voice. “Please, sweetheart, fight for me.”

“I love you.” You murmured, voice weak, low, head tipping forward so your forehead rested against his cheek. “I love you… I can’t…” Your breathing was slowing, grip loosening on his hand. “Tell… me.” He had to, right? He had to say it’s ok.

“Don’t you dare.” He hated the weakening tone in your voice, the way your hand slackened; hated how you were making your peace because that wasn’t allowed, not now.

He wanted to stay strong. He didn’t want to break, but hearing your voice like that, so weak and soft, broke something in his chest. Dean pulled you as close as possible, burying his face into the crook of your neck, letting the first sob free from his throat.

He gave in. “Course it’s ok. I’ll be ok, sweet girl, I’ll be ok.”

He felt you let out a breath, but you didn’t take in another one. Your head fell limp against his shoulder, but you didn’t pick it back up. Your hand released his shirt, slid down like it was weighted and never got back up.

Your eyelashes fluttered, closed, but you didn’t open them again.

His whole damn world stopped. He had felt everything, even heard the moment your breath left you, and then nothing. Every good thing, every sweet moment, every stupid laugh and smile and sarcastic comment — it all just stopped.

Dean sat there for a long moment, refusing to believe it, refusing to believe you were gone. He gently laid you as best he could, not letting go as he put his fingers against your throat, trying to find your pulse.

There was nothing, he found nothing, just your cheeks paling, head limply falling sideways, lips parted — stained with blood — one final tear rolling down your cheek.

You were cold.

“No. No.” He couldn’t stop himself from pulling you back into his lap, cradling you to his chest like a broken doll. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, he wanted to tear apart the world and everyone in it for letting this happen.

He let out a wretched sob, burying his face into your hair, wanting to feel you just one more time, praying to a god he was never sure existed to bring you, his pretty girl, back to him.

“Come back.” He whispered, his voice cracking, begging. “Please, please, come back to me, just breathe again, give me something— anything.”

He gently gripped your chin, lifting your head up so he could see your face one more time, ignoring the fact that you were so damn still. Just a breath, that’s all he needed, just one damn sign you were still with him, even if it was just for a few seconds.

“I’ll do anything.” He choked out, pressing messy kisses to your face and hair, not caring about the blood — he’d never care less about it, he’d take every damn drop you had left in you. “Sweetheart, just open your eyes, just move for me, please?”

Nothing.

“Please?”

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@cheynovak

special tags for my boos: @jasvtsc @deanswidow @beausling @titsout4nicholas @figthoughts

@deansbite

[firelightfics]

Work your magic.

Scar x Mage! Healer! Gn! Reader

From this message (CAUSE I FORGOT TO TURN THE ASKS THING ON BEFORE AND REALISED SO LATE 😭)

Warnings: mentions of illness, violence and drug use [not Reader], should be mostly fluff though, banished mage reader, okay.. I kinda gave Reader an adoptive daughter I can't help it I'm sorry.

Extra: The person requested for the reader to be strong, so I went with the route of them being able to create and manipulate detailed and realistic illusions, and their strength is in that sort of field rather than battle strength. So they have a more mental strength and can manipulate dreams although its not really a main point.

DID I NAME SCARS BABY? YES. I NAMED HER RIRI OKAY? ITS CUTE. SHE'S CUTE.

Summary: Y/n, a mage, who has wandered too far from home finds themself under the care of the firelights. Or perhaps the firelights have found themselves in their care. A particular chirean takes interest in their less than typical methods of calming people.

Masterlist.

Ko-fi

---

Its been too long since I have seen my family. I come from a place far from here, so far I'm not even sure it is of the same plane of existence. My home feels foreign to me now. Years have passed since I was there. Banishment does tend to keep a person away I suppose.

Since I have wandered to a new home, a place I stumbled upon by chance. No, even that isn't right. I stumbled upon the person running this place is more accurate, he was shielding a small injured girl from harsh weather and clearly manic due to the fear of losing the child in the even harsher city of Zaun. I offered them help as I was nearby enough with a place to stay. I couldn't be more glad that Ekko accepted my help that day, as stubborn as he can be.

Its only been a couple of weeks since such an event, but Flora has healed quickly with my help and has been helping introduce me to the Firelights. She's a sweet girl who now seems rather attatched to me and tends to stick around the medical area that I have taken residence in. Ekko, the leader, has helped me get more comfortable here and I couldn't be happier. Or maybe, I could be happier. I've never tried to be more than just content, its all my family allowed until I tried something new and got myself banished.

In the past few weeks, many people have come to me for assistance. Plenty injured from time out on the streets, a few scraped and scratched children and returning firelights after their dangerous missions. It worries me how many shimmer affected patients I've recieved, this drug is a foreign concept to me still but calming those affected with illusions of things they enjoy seems to solve their aggression for a time until the drug wears out. Healing can only help so much when the wounds are not visible. I find much more difficultly with these patients, but if I weren't up to the challenge I would have left.

-

Flora had just settled in for the night, a small loft area for her to use as she pleases. Although she doesn't have a proper room, I plan to change one of the unused rooms into a proper space for her if she wishes. For particularly gruesome patients, I always ask her to return to her normal room and she does. What a sweetheart. I hum a tune as I pack away balms and bandages to use another day. The quiet is nice with the shadowy atmosphere, few things would dare disturb such a calm. Few, but never zero.

The door is quickly flung on its hinges as Scar, Ekko's seemingly stern right-hand man, bursts into the room, startling me and Flora, who was very nearly drifting off. His eyes are wide with a certain kind of distress only a worried father can display. In his arms is his screaming baby girl, the poor dear clearly unwell. Not a word is said as I take her from his arms and usher her to the nearest and softest place to lay her. Scar seems to shake with terror. He must be almost as frightened as her.

I gently feel her forehead to vaguely check my suspicions of a fever and am pleased to have guessed correctly. I swirl my hands with a dark blue starry mist forming into shapes and animals, floating and playing with one another as a distraction for the poor baby. Her cries seem to dull, if only for a moment. Her concentration taken from what I could only assume to be a headache and placed on a starry fox prancing amongst a now fully formed forest scene. With the distraction working, I quickly gather a child friendly medication for her. Its a sweeter flavour than most but she surely won't mind or care as she is too enraptured by the friendly forest creatures of my hometown.

She doesn't fight or fuss over the medication, simply grumblles a little, and turns back to her little show. However, I'm reminded of another presence when the silence is broken by his ragged breathing. I assume Flora is asleep after the littlest was calmed. I pick her up and move towards where Scar is sat. The larger man looks utterly horrified, his normally steady stance shattered at the thought of his daughter being deathly ill. Luckily, it seems to be not much more than a fever and headache.

"Rough day?" I ask simply as I bounce her lightly in my arms before handing her back to Scar. He sighs as he carefully grips her small form, his lip twitches up in a quick huff of air and smirk paired as one.

"Something like that. Is she going to be okay?" He quickly switches topics to avoid the obvious worry I have forming for him.

"Of course, it doesn't seem like anything serious. No real magic had to be used aside from my little 'puppet show' for her." I gently tickle under her chin, causing her to giggle at the attention. Scar's eyes bounce up to meet mine, and he smiles. Staring into his eyes, I see the clear tiredness of a struggling parent.

"We shou-"

"You should stay." I catch him before he tries to flee. Why is he so against taking a break? If not for his own sake, why not her sake? "I have a cot she can use, and we have spare room for you both it really wouldn't trouble us. To be able to look after her, you need to be able to look after yourself."

He looks down and grimaces but nods and follows while I guide him to one of the spare rooms that are likely to keep longer-term patients, but I've never had that, so they're empty. I bring him to a room with items for caring for babies and a bed big enough for him to sleep nearby. He lays her down so gently that it makes me honestly question what I even know about the man.

"Thank you." Is the last thing spoken between us as I leave for the night.

-

This is the first of a few of our encounters, seemingly becoming more frequent. His eyes always a sharp contrast to their normal rough shape and instead becoming soft around me and little Riri. Maybe a small bit of progress, but it is progress nonetheless.

She quickly recovered and yet Scar was adamant on staying and asking me to care for her when I could, which was admittedly most of the time since the only patient I seem to ever recieve is the vastayan himself. As though he was allowing only himself to take the rougher hits to get treated by me.

The door to the clinic gently clicks open and Scar appears in the room, Flora and Riri are playing in the far corner and I'm reading a worn down book on the counter.

"Pick up time already? My, how the time flies. I-"

"Actually I'd like to stay tonight, if thats okay?"

My face contorts to one of confusion, but I won't lie and say it isn't a pleasant surprise. I simply nod, thinking he'd leave to the room he's basically claimed as his and Riri's. However as he stops he nods me over.

Curious, I follow without any debate. Flora will look out for Riri and knows what she's doing by now. He sighs as he drops to sit on the bed and pats a spot next to him.

"I, I have had trouble sleeping." He grimaces and puts his back against the wall. "I was wondering if you could use those illusions of yours to help me?"

My eyebrows raise, and my mouth falls open slightly. He's asking me to use my magic on him? I was convinced he hated it as he only ever cautiously stared when I'd used it. I thought he was afraid. His brows are pulled together, and he can't meet my eyes, hands placed on his lap in front of him.

"Why would I ever turn down my second best patient?" I grin at him and he looks up confused.

"How am I second?" Almost offended, a fake snarl on his lips but a slight upturn that is barely hiding a smirk.

"Oh poor dear," my hand gingerly raises to meet his cheek, "are you jealous?"

He quickly breaks and chuckles, fake snarl failing completely, instead changing to a weak smile. Oh, so we are like that, I suppose. The grin on my face turns to a full smile that I hope properly conveys the joy that comes with the accidental confession of sorts.

"How could you possibly be jealous of your own daughter? The little thing has been such an angel, why wouldn't she be my number one." I tease knowing it will irk him slightly.

Before I can revel in my slight victory, he gets in close and grabs a hold of my jaw. Eyes meeting mine in an intense stare before quickly pressing his lips to mine. Simple. Yet so impactful. He pulls back and his eyes droop, the tiredness still there yet he seems far more awake somehow.

"Shut up and work your magic, mage. The quicker your done, the quicker we can sleep."

"We? Whoever said I was going to sleep too?"

"Me."

---

OKAY I THINK I LOST THE PLOT OF WHAT I ORIGINALLY WANTED TO DO WITH THIS PROMPT BUT I can't lie, they're cuties still 🤭

I'll be getting through each request one at a time and will post when I open them up again, sorry this took so long (im still reeling from Act 3 ngl but also life is catching up to me so it might be a sec)

[higuchisora]

"Jinx left so Vi wouldn't have to choose between them, she left so Vi could finally be happy"

Is anyone else bothered by the implication that a relatively NEW girlfriend would be capable of making someone just as if not MORE happy than healing their relationship with their sister, who they spent YEARS wanting to make up with?

Me personally, I can get over a bad breakup. But if either of my sisters DIED, or simply chose to actively walk out of my life forever, that would fucking break me. I would not, in fact, move on. And maybe it's different for you guys, but Vi consistently spent an entire season trying to find and make up with Jinx. I don't know what the hell happened in season 2, but her saying "the only thing that kept me going was the thought of getting back to you" about her 7-year prison sentence doesn't sound like "I'll be better off with this girl I've dated for a total of 2 weeks".

Why is there an immediate assumption that any romantic relationship holds just as much if not MORE weight than any platonic/familial one? I'm sorry but why is it even a contest? I'm fully convinced that in season 1, had Jinx not demanded Vi kill Caitlyn- aka take a life, ANY life- and instead asked for LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE, she'd have done it. Remember what she said? She said they could leave the entire city behind, just the two of them, and never come back. She was ready to leave their home, leave Caitlyn, leave all of it, for Jinx. Because at the end of the day, all she wanted was her sister back. But suddenly season 2 rolls around and it's "Caitlyn makes her happier." When? Where? How? I don't see any scenes of Caitlyn making Vi happy. Oh but she did hit her though, after getting upset that Vi didn't want her to shoot at a kid.

I'm sick of romantic relationships being taken as "naturally" being the priority. Maybe if you're married with kids or something, you'll prioritize your partner over your friends, sure (but if you have kids they still take priority over your partner IMO). But a 2-week-long situationship? I've known people who get ghosted after longer than that. Fucking be real with me.

I'm simply not convinced that Caitlyn should matter this much to Vi so quickly. It shouldn't even be a competition. I genuinely cannot imagine Vi, who's SOLE MOTIVATION in season 1 was Jinx, and who's SOLE MOTIVATION in EVERY UNIVERSE and TIMELINE was her FAMILY, would ever "move on" and "be happier" with any romantic partner. Callous as it may sound, she can always get another girlfriend. There's no replacing her sister.

[inquisimer]

Helloo happy Friday! For Arlow/Lucanis how about "Please tell me I don’t look as bad as I feel"?

this went... slightly left of my original intention, which means it went sightly left of the prompt, as well - but here we are! ty for the prompt friend <3

Arlow de Riva/Lucanis | 990 words | @dadrunkwriting - da4 spoilers | a direct follow on from this earlier prompt fill

-

“You left on your own.”

Arlow didn’t look up from her coffee when Lucanis spoke. She’d been staring blankly through the steam, thinking and waiting. Thinking about what Viago said, and waiting for Lucanis to find her. Because she’d known he would—it hadn’t even taken as long as she’d thought it would. He must have noticed her absence right away.

That should make her happy. But it couldn’t—not with her Talon’s warnings haunting her thoughts. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard instead.

“The night just caught up to me and I beelined for the Eluvian,” she lied. “Sorry—I should have told you.”

Lucanis hummed. “The night caught up with you, hm? So it had nothing to do with how angry Viago looked when he left?”

Arlow’s stomach twisted and she cracked one eye open. “He actually looked angry?”

“Mhm. Something must have gotten quite under his skin, if he didn’t bother keeping it locked down in front of the Talons.”

Arlow dropped her forehead to her knees with a groan. Lucanis perched on the coffee table in front of her chair and pulled her coffee from her hands. Her palms felt the evening chill only briefly before he’d replaced the warm ceramic with his hands, thumbs soothing gentle circles over her knuckles.

“Talk to me,” he murmured. “I thought—well, things did go as well as I could have expected. And you were magnificent. I can’t imagine what Viago took issue with.”

Arlow almost laughed. He had no idea how right he was—he couldn’t imagine. She didn’t particularly want to tell him, either. Not only because she thought Viago was wrong, but because even if he was, she knew the fact that he had thought it would plant a seed of doubt in Lucanis. One he neither needed nor deserved.

She lifted her head with a sigh. Lucanis’ eyes swept over her and she felt her tears return at the naked concern there.

And Viago thought he was using her. Damn him.

“Arlow…” Lucanis’ brow furrowed; a dark undercurrent lined his voice. He reached out and traced the line of her cheek, from the corner of her eye to her jaw. His thumb lingered at the side of her chin and Arlow knew what he was seeing: thumb and finger-shaped bruises, just darkening. “Who put their hands on you?”

Arlow shook her head. “That’s from fighting Illario, I’m sure.”

“Please do not lie to me.” Lucanis’ fingers were stressfully gentle as he tilted her face, forcing her to look at him even though she barely felt the pressure against her tender skin. “It’s a little insulting, frankly, that you think I spent a full dance staring at your face and wouldn’t have noticed.”

“They’re bruises. They probably hadn’t formed yet.”

He raised an unimpressed brow at her and she sighed. But also pursed her lips together. Lucanis dropped his hand back to hers, jaw working around what he wanted to say.

“I understand if you want to defend him,” he finally said, “but then defend him. Do not hide from me, cara mia.”

Arlow’s shoulders drooped. “That obvious, huh? I’m losing my edge.”

“It was not such a stretch. If anyone other than Viago had touched you, there would have been blood. Either from your blades, or his. So,” Lucanis leaned forward, cinnamon and leather conditioner invading her senses, “what did he take issue with?”

“With you,” Arlow sighed, dropping her forehead against his. Even if she wasn’t exhausted and hurting, she’d never stood a chance to keep this from him. “You and me, and public displays of affection, and the implications.”

As she’d feared, Lucanis stiffened with every word. She pushed her fingers through his hair, a comfort for them both.

“Did you tell him that we talked about this?”

“No. He’s not worried about what we discussed.” Arlow pressed a soft kiss to Lucanis’ furrowed brow. “I’m going to tell you this,” she said quietly, “but first I want to say: we fought because I do not agree with him. Remember that?”

Lucanis nodded mutely.

“Viago thinks you are using our house to shield House Dellamorte from an internal coup.”

Arlow felt Lucanis’ sharp intake of breath, both against her face and in the tension at his shoulders. She stroked useless comfort at the nape of his neck.

“I really thought we were on better terms than that.”

“His personal opinion of you probably has very little to do with it. Viago is paranoid,” Arlow said bluntly. “And a cynic. Has been as long as I’ve known him. I don’t believe him,” she repeated, clasping Lucanis’ cheek and holding his gaze steady as she did. “And I told him as much.”

An unexpected smile ticked at the corner of Lucanis’ mouth. “Fighting with your Talon? Not your wisest move.”

“Pissing off Viago is an art form that I’ve perfected,” Arlow said. “It just so happens that he pissed me off back—that’s when things get messy between us. Anyway,” she nudged his nose with hers, “You’re a Talon, now. Are you saying that if Viago kicked me out, I’d have nowhere to go?”

Lucanis groaned. “Do not repeat that where Viago can hear you. He’ll think I’m trying to poach you.”

“I guarantee you he already thinks that. And don’t dodge the question.”

“You know I would have you in my house in a heartbeat,” Lucanis murmured. If he heard the double entendre, neither of them mentioned it. “But I don’t think that’s what you want. And, for the record—” he pushed her hair back where it had fallen from the twisted crown, tenderly tucking it behind one pointed ear “—I would never do what he’s suggesting without speaking to him. And you, but certainly him.”

Arlow smiled, ignoring just how much his words eased her heart, and leaned down to kiss him. “That’s what I told him,” she said against his lips.

[schlattslambo]

daddy issues | schlatt

a/n: i wont lie, this is mainly self insert comfort cuz my day was shit today. i hope you guys like it

c/w: mention of abusive relationship and a bad father. this may be triggering for some people so please read with caution

—————

thanksgiving was meant for warm houses with soft lighting and a big of laughter, reminiscing about how grateful one is for the year and all of the tasty food. well, for most people it is. for you, it was mainly hell.

your father was drinking and your mother fucked up the dinner for the fourth year in a row. your father had refused to eat it and your brother stomped around because everyone else was angry, he should get to be angry too. the turkey was slightly undercooked, the stuffing was wet, the sweet potato casserole was burnt, and the rolls were stale. everything was a mess.

you can’t afford to move out, so you did the next best thing. you snuck out the front door while your father threw the soggy stuffing in the trash. according to him, the stuffing had been your fault, since you told your mother not to worry about it. you figured that it would be best to take yourself out of the situation and go to the only place you knew would take you in.

schlatt’s house was somewhere you escaped to frequently. whenever your father got too angry, you stayed at schlatt’s house for a few days. he protected you and made sure that you had someplace nice and warm to sleep.

the breeze was cold as you knocked on the door seven times in a rhythm. it was the only way you could tell him that it was you without outright texting him. the door opened and schlatt stood there, looking you up and down.

“cmon in, toots.” he says with a sweet smile. “i was just getting ready to eat.”

schlatt had a policy that you could come over whenever you wanted and didn’t have to tell him anything as long as he could give you some food. you’d denied it the first few times, but you figured it was easy to just let him feed you. it helped that he was an amazing cook.

you sat at the table as schlatt carved the turkey and dished up all your favorite sides. cornbread, stuffing with apples and cranberries, and even green bean casserole.

“thank you jay,” you say with a soft but sad smile. “i didn’t get to eat at home. dad threw out the stuffing.”

“your dad’s a dick,” schlatt says with a mouthful of turkey. “i hate that you still live with him.”

“jay i can’t move out,” you argue. “i can’t afford it, you know that.”

“then live here,” schlatt says as if its the most simple thing in the world.

he won’t tell you this, but he’s wanted you to move in ever since you first came to his house, drenched from the rain after your father put his hands on you. your breath was still in gasps when you reached his house. schlatt was ready to kill.

since then, he always has a spare bedroom made up for you. he has a pile of things that you enjoy, your favorite snacks and favorite drinks.

“i can’t do that,” you say. “i dont want to intrude.”

“you won’t be intruding,” schlatt replies. “you’ll be safe and taken care of and loved.”

the last word hangs in the air for a bit as you stare ar schlatt. you know that he cares about you , so you sigh.

“will you help me get my things?” you ask. “after tonight?”

after eating, the two of you sit by the fire and watch as jambo and soup chase each other. schlatt’s arm is around you, tracing soft circles onto your shirt fabric. for the first time in a while, you feel safe. you allow your head to drop to schlatt’s shoulder and he pulls you close with a smile.

“i’ll take good care of you, baby.” he whispers. “you’re safe with me.”

[daughterofscotland]

Decisions and Bubble Baths

After months and months I finally managed to write a little snippet of a BuckTommy fix it fic recently... and today I finished it at almost 2k.

Go me! AO3 Link: Decisions and Bubble Baths

Pairing: BuckTommy

Tags: Light NON-SEXUAL BDSM, hopeful ending

Summary: After their break up, both Buck and Tommy realize that their dynamic outside of the bedroom has some long-term consequences. Eddie realizes they need some help to fix it.

***

Buck didn't know what to wear. He was supposed to get dressed for a dinner with the team - not like their old cook outs, since Bobby and Athena still hadn't found a new place (or build a new one, he wasn't sure), but at a restaurant. Eddie was going to pick him up, saying he didn't want to drink anyway, and Buck... Buck didn't know what to wear.

***

It's not like they had planned it, this dynamic between them. But on their sixth date Buck couldn't decide what to wear, almost making them late, and Tommy had confidently grabbed a pair of jeans, a shirt, and over-shirt, handed it to Buck, and said. "You're going to wear these." Buck hadn't argued, his head suddenly silent, as the decision was taken from him, and gotten dressed. They hadn't talked about it. But then it happened again, when Buck couldn't decide on what to order at a new ice cream shop. Tommy had simply turned to the girl behind the counter, ordered for them both, and Buck hadn't argued. And it happened again in the grocery store, when Buck couldn't decide on a wine. Then they talked about it. Tommy insisted on research (Buck might have had to blow him about it) about clear communication and boundaries. They had already played around in bed, had discovered early on that their kinks matched well. But "daddy" and "baby boy" were for sex. Neither of them wanted to move it out of the bedroom.

So Tommy became "sir" whenever Buck needed help to make a decision. A firm, grounding hand on his neck when he spiraled or got so excited about whatever he was talking about, he became faster and faster and couldn't stop himself. Buck was "sweetheart" whenever Tommy needed calm, needed to be worshiped, needed to be treated like he was precious. Buck always wanted Tommy to feel that way, but Tommy had trouble allowing himself the comfort. At some point, Tommy had created a virtual wardrobe for Buck, with clothes made from his actual wardrobe, for days he wasn't on shift. He planned outfits a month in advance, so Buck wouldn't be paralyzed by a decision while Tommy wasn't there. In return, Buck had put at least one moment of "treatment" a week into Tommy's calendar: a bubble bath, a massage, a special meal. It worked for them and made them happy.

But now it had been a month since Tommy had walked out of Buck's life, with no word since. He'd spent a month baking to try to not think about Tommy, to keep from calling him, had ignored the way he'd started to get jittery and always felt cold and restless, how he kept looking to his side to share a joke or a fact he learned, just to find the space next to him empty. And now the virtual wardrobe was empty. Buck had used the last pre-coordinated clothes and now he sat before his actual wardrobe, unable to choose a simple outfit.

This was how Eddie found him.

Eddie didn't know what kind of dynamic Buck and Tommy had going on - neither did he want to - but he knew there was something. Buck was... calmer. More thoughtful, less impulsive. He still talked a lot, but when they were out together, Eddie saw the way Tommy put his hand on Buck's neck when he got lost in his spirals, how he squeezed, and calmed Buck down that way. The first time Hen noticed Buck's clothing style had changed and Buck blushed and said "Tommy picked it out for me", Eddie knew he didn't just mean something like Tommy buying him clothes.

So after the breakup, when nothing changed too much - except the excessive baking - Eddie thought: Okay, it's fine, he'll be alright. Should he have played keep-away with his phone with Hen? Probably not. But he also didn't want Buck to get hurt again, and he thought not contacting Tommy would make it easier for him. But then something changed. Buck became more restless. A bit more unkempt. He kept looking to the side when he was talking and then he just trailed off, looking lost. It was like he was always somehow out of sync with himself. And then there was Tommy. Eddie messaged him after the break up, telling him he was an idiot, but he would still be Eddie's friend and better show up to their next basketball game. Eddie didn't mention the break up then. They didn't talk about Buck at all, actually. He noticed Tommy looked like he didn't sleep well, of course, and he didn't talk much - but Tommy was always a bit more quiet, so it wasn't too much of a change. But the few times Eddie visited him to work on the car, he noticed the garage getting kind of... cluttered. Dirty. And that was certainly unusual. So was Tommy shying away from every touch, and looking increasingly tense. And now here Buck was, sitting on his bed, staring at his wardrobe, a lost look in his eyes. Unable to choose clothing for himself.

Clearly, Eddie had underestimated something about their dynamic, and it needed to be fixed. He went to the balcony and even shut the door for good measure, before he called Tommy. Not that he expected Buck to hear anything from him even if he were to stand right next to him, but still.

"'lo?" "Shit, man, were you asleep? Sorry, I didn't think you'd be on shift." "No, no, it's fine," came Tommy's voice, gravely, and accompanied by a yawn. "I wasn't... just taking a nap..." "Okay, good, because this is important, and I need you to be awake." "What? What's going on?" Tommy sounded more alert immediately. "Look, man, I don't know what kind of stuff you and Buck got up to, but clearly your breakup has some long-lasting ramifications." Eddie listened to the way Tommy's breathing sped up, clearly worried if not panicked. "We're supposed to go to a restaurant with the team but he's up there, in his loft, almost catatonic, because he doesn't know what to wear. He literally can't choose his own clothes, man. How the fuck did that happen?" There was silence on the other end and Eddie felt himself getting angry. "I swear to god, Tommy, if you hang up on me -" "I am not," Tommy assured him, a slight wobble in his voice. "I'm not... I... god, I fucked up so badly." "Yeah, well, we all know that, mostly due to the pounds we have put on eating all of Buck's "I am not allowed to call him so I am baking" loaves. I know you aren't doing any better, either. So, whatever reason you had to break up, fine, you figure that out on your own time. But clearly this is about more than just your romantic relationship." "Yeah... yeah it's... it is," Tommy agreed, swallowing hard. "I don't... okay. I can... I think I can help, but you'll need to give Ev- Buck the phone, alright?" "Don't call him that, Tommy," Eddie said quietly. "I am pretty sure that makes it worse." "Yeah. Yeah, okay." "I'll put you on speaker and next to him on the bed. Then I will go back outside to the balcony, so give me a minute before you do whatever you want to do. I don't want to hear it."

***

"Evan? Evan, can you hear me?" Tommy. That was Tommy's voice, sounding tinny and far away. Buck blinked and looked around, his eyes falling on the phone next to him. "Tommy?" he asked, coughed and cleared his throat. Picking up the phone, he tried again. "Tommy?" "Not quite. Eddie told me you need some help?" And just like that, something in Buck calmed down. But at the same time he could feel his eyes starting to hurt from unshed tears. "I... Sir. Please. I, I don't... what do I wear?" There was a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line but Tommy's voice was completely calm as he answered. "That's okay, Evan. I'll help you. Where are you going tonight?" Buck thought for a moment. "Uhm, a restaurant, with the team. Mongolian, I think." "Okay, that's good, Evan. Do you have those dark-washed jeans you bought in Anaheim?" Buck looked around and found them on the ground in front of his clothes. "Yeah, I do." "Alright. Those, with that royal blue shirt you bought two months ago. It's probably gonna be warm at the restaurant, so no need for an over-shirt, but wear your black jacket for the trip. And the black boots. Okay?" "Yeah. Yes, sir. I got it. Thank you." Buck was already getting dressed, having put the phone on the bed again. "Of course, I am glad I could help, Evan."

Buck swallowed. He... he was glad Tommy didn't call him Buck again, but his voice still sounded off. Not quite like himself. Buck took a deep breath. He never had switched this fast, but he needed to do this right now. "You really did help," he assured the other man. "But what about you? Do you need help, too, Tommy?" There was silence on the other end and Buck worried he had gone too far, that Tommy had hung up. But then there was a slightly wobbly sounding breath, a cracked voice answering him. "I... yes, I... I think I do, sweetheart." "Okay, Tommy," Buck said, sitting back down and putting the phone to his ear. "That's okay. Do you... do you still have my key?" "Yeah. Yes, I do. Sorry, I wanted to give it to Eddie, but I just couldn't -" "Hey, hey, don't worry about that, it's okay," Buck assured him. Tommy sounded a bit frantic, definitely not as calm as he'd been before. He was just as lost as Buck had been. "Why don't you come over here, hm? I still have those bath salts you like, and your bubble bath. Come here, take a nice long bath, and then take a nap in my bed until I come back. Okay? I won't be out too long. Or, if you want, I will stay home and wait for you." Another silence that was broken by an almost sob. "No, you... you go. Enjoy your dinner. I'll... I'll do what you said, sweetheart." "Yeah?" Buck asked, a small smile on his face. "You will be here when I come home, Tommy? And I can see what else you need?" "Yes, I will," Tommy assured him, his voice more steady now. "You won't be long?" "Three hours, tops," Buck promised him, already mapping the route in his head, how much time he would have to eat before he had to leave the restaurant again. "You'll be okay, baby." "Yeah. You, too, sweetheart. I promise."

Buck swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. This wasn't a solution, just a temporary band-aid for both their pain. They would have to talk, really talk, to see where to go from here. But for now, he hung up the phone, shoved all his clothes in the closet, and went downstairs to prepare a few cookies and a piece of lemon loaf on a covered plate, with a glass of water, putting it in his bathroom for Tommy to enjoy during his bath. Eddie didn't interrupt him and only squeezed his shoulder once before they left, Buck leaving the light on before locking the door behind himself, so Tommy would be reminded that he was expected. That he was wanted. It would have to be enough for now.

[jinxposting]

Jason Todd x Jinx! reader Chapter 6

Rough Housing

A lot has changed over the years.

Joker had kicked Harley out. She tried to defeat Batman. She would have succeeded too. Joker didn't like that.

You missed her.

You still saw her from time to time. You'd get drinks together now that you're old enough. Odd she enforced such a rule when she didn't bat an eye at breaking any other laws.

It was strange going home with her not there.

You were mad at Joker for a while after that.

But he's still your dad. You did eventually forgive him. Even though it didn't feel right.

You and Joker's legacy continued to grow. The Clown Prince and his little Princess. You certainly let it go to your head. It was kind of hard not to.

When everyone fears you it's hard not to take advantage of that. You could have virtually anything you wanted. Money? It's your's. Just please put down the gun. Information? Anything. Just don't call Joker. Hell, you even had connections at Arkham now. You never spent more then a single night in there.

Life was good.

There were rumors going around recently about a new vigilante. This one, however, was less than moral. He left a trail of death in his wake. He'd taken over the drug rings previously belonging to Black Mask. Not an easy task. This guy had to be strong to pull that off. Or crazy.

You smiled at the thought. It'd be nice to break in a new toy. But alas, your paths have yet to cross. You didn't even know his name.

"Jinx!"

"That's me!"

"I have a favor to ask."

"Oh?"

"I have a shipment coming in and I need you to make sure the numb skulls don't flub it. Think you can do that, my dear?"

"Easy peasy."

Or at least it should have been.

The good news is you know that new guy's name now! Red Hood. Bad news? He was attacking your men. You were transporting run of the mill weapons. You thought this guy was all about drugs? It made no sense.

"You work for Joker, right?"

You peaked over the side of a crate you'd been using for cover. He had an AK-47 pointed at one of your unnarmed henchmen.

"Y-Yes!"

"You're going to tell me where he's hiding."

"I don't know!"

"Five seconds."

"Do you know what he'll do to me if I talk?!"

"Do you know what I'll do to you if you don't?"

Oh this guy was a tough cookie. You liked it.

"Do you know what I'll do to you regardless?"

You stepped out, pistol raised at the assailant. He didn't budge. You couldn't read him with that helmet on, but if posture meant anything he seemed unphased.

"Jinx!"

"You."

"Me."

With a swift hit to the back of the head you knocked the henchman unconscious.

"Whoops! There goes your source."

The man pointed his gun at you. "You do realize you're also a source? A better one at that?"

"Oh, please. Have you met me? I may be a chatter box but there ain't nothin' I have to say. Threaten all ya want."

"Do you ever take anything seriously? I have a loaded gun pointed at you."

"As do I." You waved your fingers around the grip of your pistol. "And as if this is the first gun I've had waved in my face. You're not exactly special, pal."

Red Hood sighed. "You're not gonna talk, are you?"

"Talk? Sure! Tell you what you wanna hear? No."

"You haven't changed a bit."

You cocked an eyebrow. Changed? Have you met this guy before? Obviously he was someone Joker knew if he wanted to see him so bad. You'd have to dig into this later.

The masked man jabbed the butt of his gun at you. You ducked, raising your own up to his chin. Which he then kicked out of your grasp. He grabbed you by one of your long braids, yanking you back up to your feet.

"You should seriously cut this."

You flung the second braid over his shoulder before pulling it taught. He gasped at the sudden lack of oxygen.

"But it's so useful!"

Red Hood threw his head back, slamming into your face with a headbutt. That mask of his packed a punch. You struggled to stay upright, the world around you blurring in a dizzy smear of color.

He grabbed you by the face, staring at you. Before he could speak you bit into his hand.

"Son of a- are you fucking serious?!"

"Deadly."

"This is getting nowhere."

The man decked you in the face. You fell to the ground with a loud thud. He clambered on top of you, fist raised and ready for another punch. Your nose was bleeding, you could feel it running down your chin. You stared up at him in shock. But he didn't move. Just stared down at you. Again, unreadable with the helmet on.

In an instant smoke enveloped you. This guy had tricks too it seems. By the time it cleared you were left alone on the ground, the henchmen around you either dead or unconscious. You breathed out slowly.

"Joker's not gonna like this."

You scanned the nearby buildings in hopes of catching sight of the vigilante. Only to be met with disappointment.

Red Hood.

You finally found a new playmate.

[hopeintheashes]

He’s not actually sure why Chim facetimed him rather than texting. As far as he can tell, there was nothing particularly pressing that Chim needed to ask him; but really, they hadn’t gotten that far. He’d answered, and Chim had taken one look at him and asked if he was okay. Buck had shaken his head, meaning don’t ask, but Chim’s eyes had gone even more worried than before and he’d said, “Come over for dinner,” and Buck had been too overwhelmed to do anything other than nod.

Dinner helped, being with Jee, center of attention and light of the room, but now she’s in bed listening to Maddie read her a story and Buck’s head is pounding with the heartbeat of never, never, never again.

“Spill.”

Buck blinks up at Chim from his spot on the couch.

“You didn’t bring baked goods, which means whatever's wrong isn't about Tommy. So, I repeat: Spill.”

Buck opens his mouth to protest and closes it again. Chim raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“It’s… a secret,” Buck says finally, which certainly doesn’t make Chim’s eyebrows go down.

“What’s a secret?” Maddie turns off the hallway light behind her and comes through into the living room. Sits down beside him on the couch.

“Why Buck looks like the world’s about to end.”

Maddie’s eyes go soft. “Hey, you’re keeping our secret. We can keep yours.”

“It’s not mine.” Eyes down. Watching his hands shake. Wondering when that started. Eddie’s kitchen, probably. And then just never stopped.

“Buck…” Maddie slides closer on the couch, a hand on his shoulder. So gentle it’s going to shatter him.

“Eddie’s moving to Texas.” He says it fast, like that will make it hurt less. Like it will make up for the fact that he’s pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to tell. “Effective immediately.” He swallows. His mouth is dry. Tastes like ash. “And he’s probably never coming back.”

“He’s…” Chim, trying to catch up. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Evan,” Maddie whispers, and that’s what breaks him. He's angrily swiping away tears because this isn’t– he shouldn’t–

Maddie pulls him into a hug, and he turns his face into her sweater and sobs.

. . .

Later, Maddie leads him to the guest bedroom and sits on top of the covers and strokes his hair like she did when he was little. He doesn't have any tears left, just a pins-and-needles numbness that covers him like an extra blanket in the dark. “Sleep,” she says, and Chim nods in agreement from the door.

. . .

He wakes up aching. The dark outside the windows is just starting to lift into pre-dawn light, the birds starting to sing. They shouldn’t be singing. They should know that there's a chasm growing by the moment, somewhere in the desert between here and Texas, and that it's going to swallow him whole.

His head is splitting but he has to pee, so he stumbles out of the warmth of bed into the freezing air outside the covers. When he comes out of the bathroom, Chim is leaning in the hall, comfortable in short sleeves even as Buck shivers inside his thick hoodie, completely unable to get warm.

Buck blinks at him in confusion and pain, and Chim sighs and presses the backs of his fingers to Buck’s forehead; slips a hand under his hood to feel the back of Buck’s neck. “Yeah, I was afraid of that,” Chim says, but it’s more to himself than anything else, and he presses his palm against Buck’s shoulder blades and leads him back to the guest room.

“How…” Buck whispers, and Chim gently pushes him back toward his bed.

“Maddie told me,” Chim says, and god, this family and secrets, “but also, I’ve known you a long time, Buck. You get a feeling for these things.”

He'd googled it, once. Whether stress fevers were a real thing. Eddie had laughed a little; had ghosted a hand over his hair and rearranged the blanket draped over him where he was lying on Eddie’s couch. Not sure what you’d call this if it’s not real, he’d said, and Buck had replied, Just being broken, I guess. He’d kinda-sorta meant it as a joke but it didn’t land, Eddie working his lip between his teeth with worried eyes, and Buck had shivered and closed his eyes and Eddie had worked his fingers into Buck’s curls and sat next to him on the couch until he’d fallen asleep.

Eddie’s not gone yet, but he’s getting on a plane in the morning. Making a long weekend of it, using a personal day for the one shift he’s going to miss.

And maybe he'll come back and say goodbye, but then he’ll be gone forever.

He wonders whether they've invented a surgery yet for this kind of hole in your heart.

“It’s not forever,” Chim says quietly, sitting on the side of his bed like Maddie had done last night. Like he can read his mind.

“You don’t know that.” He’s trembling, fever chills and the effort of trying to hold them back, jaw clenched to keep his teeth from chattering, wrapped in blankets and freezing cold.

“But I know Eddie. And I sure as hell know you.” Chim watches him for a moment, and then sighs again, quiet, and tells him to scootch over, and lays down beside him, on top of the covers on the bed.

He wonders, sometimes, what it would have been like if Daniel had lived. What having an older brother would have been like.

Maybe like this.

Maybe not.

They lie there until the first true light filters in and little feet come running down the hall. Jee barrels in and Chim sweeps her up onto the bed to take his place. “Keep your uncle Buck company, I’m gonna make some coffee.”

“Okay.” Jee wriggles around like an inchworm until she’s under the covers as well and kicks her feet happily in the warmth.

He hears the coffee start, and Chim reappears with water and painkillers. “What do you think, Jee, should we keep Buck for today?”

“We should keep him forever!” Jee says, feet kicking again.

“We’ve got you,” Chim says. Maddie appears behind him and wraps her arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder.

“Got you,” Jee echoes, snuggling into his side.

He can’t speak, but he nods, swallows, blinks, and nods again.

The sun slips further into the room. The birds are singing, and he can't stop it no matter how hard he tries.

Chim and Maddie go into the kitchen to pour their coffee, and Jee wraps both of her arms around one of his.

“Got you,” she says again.

He swallows, and nods, and kisses her hair. A bird perches on their window, silhouetted for a moment, and flies off into the day.  

. . .

. . .

[space-mermaid-writing]

Finders Keepers

The second part of that dragon prompt. First part here.

I'm not gonna lie, simply existing felt hard these past few days. This cloudy autumn weather in the Northern Hemisphere does nothing good for the mood. I'm looking out of the window and it's raining again. But I'm getting by with good music and the will to get all my writing projects done. So, that's something, I guess.

Beta by @harpywritesfic. Thanks again for that, dear!

Ko-fi | Read it on AO3 | IronStrange Masterlist | Word count: 2.1k

“Pete?” Tony called out, his voice echoing slightly in the wide hallway.

The dragons’ massive lair, carved into the rocky cliffs of the mountainside, had lots of places for a little human to hide. Yet, Tony felt like he had looked everywhere.

“Peter?”

The spark of a familiar, gnawing unease rose within him. Yet, he tried not to let panic take over. The rational part of his brain told him he hadn’t lost the pup. The boy had to be somewhere.

He reminded himself that Peter, being an adventurous and curious little spirit, had a knack for finding hiding spots and exploring unfamiliar surroundings. After all, this place, although intimidating with its dramatic peaks and shadows, was every bit the playground for a child's imagination.

“Peter?” he called again, a little louder this time, and – finally – he heard a reply.

“Over here.”

Relief washed over the omega, and he turned toward the sound. It took him to the entrance hall. It was big enough to hold a dragon, even though both Stephen and Tony spent most of their time as humans these days.

When Peter had found out that dragons had taken him, it had been… difficult for everyone involved. It was hardly a surprise, since such a beast had destroyed his village.

Fortunately, he had quickly realized that Tony and Stephen had no connection to the green dragon he had seen on that day.

Tony looked around the entrance hall, which appeared to be empty. “Pete?”

“Look up.”

And Tony did.

The heart of the hall was dominated by a grand pillar that rose majestically towards the ceiling, bridging the space between the four walls through an intricate network of beams. Peter was sitting on one of those beams, his posture relaxed in an almost nonchalant way. He had one long leg drawn up to his chest, while his other leg swung freely, dangling over the edge as if he were perched high above the world, casual and carefree.

He waved at the omega.

If dragons could have heart attacks, Tony would have one right now – he was sure of that since his heartbeat raced furiously as he processed the sight before him. If Peter was to fall, there was nothing to stop him. Since he was a human, he didn’t have wings.

Which was a shame, really. 

The boy had an insatiable thirst for exploration, climbing to new heights with ease. Peter’s desire to venture upwards was boundless, and Tony couldn’t help but admire that about him, even as a pang of melancholy nipped at him. The omega knew the exhilaration that came from soaring through the skies. But Peter would remain anchored to the ground.

“How’s the weather up there, Spiderling?” Tony asked, his hands on his hips.

There was an easy smile on Peter’s lip. “It’s great. You should join me.”

There was no way the beam would hold the weight of a dragon. And he surely wouldn’t climb up there as a human.

“Actually, I came by to ask you if you can help set out the table for dinner. It won’t be long until-…”

As if summoned by his words, he heard the flapping of wings when a dragon landed outside, and he turned around.

Peter had heard it as well.

“Stephen!” he exclaimed excitedly and slid down the pillar – a bit too fast. Tony was most certainly having that heart attack right now.

He stepped in to soften the boy's landing by catching him, before he hit the ground.

“Easy, Peter. You have to be more careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

Somehow Tony doubted that, but the arriving alpha distracted both of them. The steps walking in were human; Stephen must have shifted outside. He was wearing robes as blue as his scales. And a red cloak on his shoulders, which had been a gift from Tony from back when they were still courting.

Peter ran to meet him and he threw his arms around Stephen's waist. “You’re finally back.”

“I am.” With a gentle chuckle, Stephen instinctively ruffled Peter's hair, though it felt somewhat awkward for him; he had never been one to express his feelings through grand gestures. His comfort zone was nestled in the subtleties of everyday interactions, the quiet moments layered with understanding. Still, there was a smile on his lips.

He looked up at his mate who was watching their interaction fondly.

This was what Tony had always dreamed of: a family pack.

“I got something for you,” Stephen told Peter, whose eyes widened with that information. Even more so when with a swirl of his fingers, a book appeared in Stephen’s hand.

The blue dragon had a whole library just down the hallway – books and scrolls were a big part of Stephen’s hoard – but while Peter was allowed to read most of them, they still belonged to Stephen and the dragon guarded them fiercely.

So, it was only natural when the boy asked for clarification. “It’s for me?”

Stephen nodded and handed it to him. It was a story about a prince and a dragon, who struck an unlikely friendship. When Stephen had found the book, he knew it would be perfect for the pup.

Peter ran his finger over the cover, bouncing on his feet excitedly. “Thank you so much!” He beamed at the dragon. “Can I read it right now?”

Since the boy raised that question and didn’t run off with the book straight away, he figured there was some kind of task waiting for him, and he looked at Tony, his head tilted in a silent question.

“If you set out the table for everyone, you can read it until we start dinner,” the omega told Peter, who nodded and rushed away to get over with the task as fast as possible.

Tony chuckled as he watched him leave, before his eyes went back to his mate, who was finally closing the gap between them.

“You’re back earlier than expected, alpha,” he purred, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Did you miss me?”

“You know I did .”

Stephen cupped his mate’s face – the familiar touch of trembling hands made Tony’s eyes flutter shut for the moment – and kissed his forehead.

The alpha didn’t like to stay away from his mate for too long. Not since that one day once when he returned and found Tony injured and both of them robbed. It had been a devastating tragedy from which he never really recovered. And Tony even less.

But that was in the past.

Stephen inhaled the soothing scent of his sweet omega.

Both of them were doing better nowadays. Especially, since the human pup had been around.

The dragon almost dreaded the news he had to lay to his mate. Yet, he knew he had to tell Tony. With a gentle motion, he lowered his hand from the softness of Tony's face to rest on his strong, reassuring shoulders. Their bond was built on trust, and in that moment, he needed to brace Tony for what he was about to say.

"I went to town," the dragon began, his voice steady despite the internal turmoil. "The one on the other side of the mountains, near the river," he elaborated while watching Tony's eyes closely. Tony’s nod was subtle yet affirming, a signal that he recognized that particular place. They had ventured there together many times in their human forms to make purchases or to trade things. 

Tony’s forge back here at home was a testament to his skill, his crafted goods sought after by villagers who appreciated the artistry and strength that embodied each piece. The alpha dragon knew how popular his mate’s work was among humans.

Stephen continued. “I heard talk about some refugees, who arrived a few months ago after their village was burned down.”

Tony inhaled sharply. “You mean…?”

“It seems like some of the villagers survived the attack,” the alpha confirmed.

It should be good news. Yet, Tony couldn’t help but stubbornly step back, his eyes darkening.

His heart clenched at the thought. If Peter's parents were still alive, they would undoubtedly want their son back, claiming him and enveloping him in the familial love that Tony had tried to provide. Of course they would! Any parent would long for the chance to reunite with their child.

The weight of this realization hit Tony like a sledgehammer: there was a possibility they would lose Peter.

The omega dragon instinctively let out a low growl of frustration and sadness without even realizing it. His traitorous heart had become attached to the boy on that day he had carried him out of the ruins of the destroyed village.

Just thinking about giving Peter away felt like losing his own eggs all over again.

It must have been shown in his face, because Stephen's eyes softened. “We have to tell him,” he still tried to reason with his mate who was caught between the rawness of his emotions and the reality of the situation they found themselves in.

“We don’t have to do anything,” Tony snarled with the fierceness of a possessive dragon. He bared his teeth as his protective instincts surged, sending a clear message that Peter was his- a member of their chosen family, someone he felt an undeniable urge to safeguard.

Stephen’s voice was gentle but firm. “Tony.”

He knew that the omega’s anger was not directed at him. However, he could bear it. It was based on a grief they both shared.

“He deserves to know. His family deserves to know. We would want to know as well if anyone found our eggs.”

As fast as anger had flared up in Tony, it died away, and he sagged his shoulders.

Their eggs were most likely killed. Hunters were cruel like that.

Nevertheless, Stephen was right. Of course he was.

Tony sighed. “I don’t know if I can do it.”

Stephen hugged him and Tony buried his face into the crook of his shoulder and neck instinctively. The alpha’s strong arms helped to calm the ache in his heart. So did his words.

“You are not alone, my love.”

“I know,” Tony mumbled into the blue of his robe. “We’ll take him to the town.” Even if he hated the idea.

“I know the town near the mountain.” Peter suddenly spoke up and drew the attention of both dragons, who turned their gaze toward him. The boy stood in the doorway, his book clutched close to his chest as if it were a shield against the unknown. “My aunt lives there.”

It was apparent he had heard most of their conversation. Tony’s heart sank.

He took a step towards him, but then stopped, not sure if Peter would run away if he came too close.

Yet, the boy didn’t move an inch, looking equally unsure back at the two of them.

Peter, for his part, remained rooted in place, mirroring Tony’s unsureness. His wide eyes flitted back and forth between the two dragons, as if he were trying to gauge their intentions. 

The silence stretched uncomfortably around them, until Stephen finally asked. “Why didn’t you tell us you knew where your aunt was?”

The pup had never told them a word about it. Deliberately so. Which was why Peter averted his eyes. “At first, I kept it a secret because I didn’t want to put her in danger,” he confessed, his voice faltering slightly. “I’m sorry… I know now you wouldn’t harm her.” Feeling guilty that he had even entertained the idea, he shuffled his feet. Until he heard steps coming closer and felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder. When he glanced up, he saw Stephen looking at him with understanding eyes.

“There is nothing to be sorry about.”

Peter wasn’t so sure about that. Especially, since Tony was still standing in the same spot a couple of feet away.

“You said ‘at first’,” the omega asked. “What was your later reason?”

Peter shrugged, his answer no more than a whisper. “I didn’t want to leave you guys.”

That made Tony finally react and move. Peter yelped, when the omega pulled him into a tight hug. “Silly pup,” the dragon scolded him, tearing up. “Did you really think you could get rid of us that easily?”

Tony knew he should feel guilty for the relief that filled him. Yet, he didn’t care. He was just glad he would not lose Peter. The pup wanted to stay with them.

He was so relieved he could cry.

“Your aunt should still be informed that you are alright,” Stephen said. “We can visit her together, if you want.”

“And then I’ll return home with you?” Peter asked even though they had already confirmed that.

Tony smiled at him.

Home.

“Of course, my little spiderling.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, with a shy but happy smile. “I would like that.”

[arkhamabyssfiles]

Loading FILE...RED_HOOD_MEMORY_13 BRUCE WAYNE: AGE, 38 JASON TODD: AGE, 17

Jason yawned and stretched, it had been a slow night, which was all good with him as Finals were coming and he had to study. He passed Bruce by the Batcomputer and was in the process of debating with himself for the eleventh time this week if he should bring up the fact that Helena had…confessed to having feelings towards him...again. And this time—it somehow seemed more serious even when she’d said it when she’d been half asleep and tired to the bone. While carrying her upstairs it had slipped her, and he knew by her awkward and flustered reaction the next day that she remembered it. Jason had nearly dropped her when she’d said that in his ear, he felt his face grow slightly flushed at the memory so he waved it away.

But he felt guilty for some reason, and he believed it was his duty to inform Bruce.

“What is it, Jason?” Bruce asked without turning on the chair, startling Jason who’d spaced out behind him.

Jason swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I—There’s something I think you should know…”

Now, Bruce did turn the chair around. An expectant look in his eyes—if you could call it that. It unnerved Jason, but now he’d reached this point he might as well go through with it.

“It’s about Helena…She—She kind of—said she had a thing for me…”

There was a moment of awkward silence and Jason looked up at Bruce’s eyes. He wasn’t expecting to find him smiling, or as close to smiling as he got, in amusement.

“Yes. She’s had a thing for you for quite some time now.”

“I—You knew?” Jason asked trying to swallow his dismay at the situation.

“I’m afraid so. I think you were the last one to realize it.”

“Fuck,” Jason passed his hand over his face. This was even worse than he’d been expecting. Bruce had been laughing at him all this fucking time…

“Language,” Bruce corrected without much heart behind it. 

Jason dropped his hand from his face, “Aren’t you going to—I don’t know, say something?”

“Like what?”

“Like to stay away from her.”

The slightest downturn of his lips showed Jason he was surprised, or at least not quite expecting that. Ha, that was something at least.

“No.”

Jason really wished Bruce could be more eloquent from time to time without prompting, talking to him about normal day-to-day stuff was sometimes like pulling teeth.

“Then you’re fine—”

“It was to be expected. Both of you are close in age, and see each other almost every day… And you’re opposites in background, interests, and personality...” Bruce said so matter-of-factly that it exasperated Jason.

“But I’m no good!” Jason burst.

Again the smallest of changes in Bruce’s face appeared and piercing eyes searched him. “Is that what you believe?”

Jason looked away, cursing himself for uttering such nonsensical insecurities in front of Batman of all people.

“She thinks you’re more than good,” Bruce pointed out.

Jason’s heart squeezed, what about him? Did Bruce think he was good enough as well?

“You’ve come a long way, Jason, from the life you were born into…” Bruce stood up from the chair and walked towards him, but still left some space between them—“it’s not easy to walk away unscathed. But that doesn’t mean you’re bad or less for it. You’ve not only survived but taken a path to make the world a better place. I’ve seen enough of said world to assure you, that there are very few people who choose to do so. Most will never go beyond thinking that as long as they do no wrong they’re already helping the world. But you know better than anyone how that ends, don’t you?”

Now he closed the space and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“And another thing that matters is what you want, Jason. Don’t think of going or not going along with her just because out of some duty to me or anyone. Figure out what you want for your future, and do what you can to achieve it. If you don’t think you’re ready yet, then work slowly towards it. You’re young, you don’t need to rush.” He gave him an encouraging pat and returned to the chair of the Batcomputer. Before turning away to the screens again he added, “And I would prefer for Helena to be where I can easily keep an eye on her if she were to get a boyfriend.”

Jason cringed so hard at the idea of him being anyone’s boyfriend…He’d never given it much thought beyond thinking it must be nice to have someone love you and love back romantically in a far-off way—like how it was in books.

“I—I’ll think about it,” Jason muttered, unable to think of anything else to say, because his head was a messy tangle of thoughts and realizations that left him even worse than how he’d started.

END OF MEMORY... For more FILES check previous entries...

[autisticfishlizard]

Come get to know the artist a little bit!

[journey-to-the-attic]

the rest of the cast got their new song covers, so i wanted to try putting the others in a band :>

i did want to make it look a bit like an album cover but i have no idea how those are designed so eh?? i also couldn't think of any band or album/song names so. if anyone has any ideas...

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Ok thoughts 👏thoughts👏Everyone gather around I have thoughts about this!

Episode 2 was clearly the Pomni episode. We got to see her character get a little more fleshed out and we also got a glimpse of what motivates her which is great.

With this tweet we have solid confirmation on who the upcoming episodes will center on (thanks for not making us guess, Goose) and this lineup is really interesting.

First fascinating thing is that Kinger and Zooble share a spotlight in ep 3. Why is that? Everyone else gets their own dedicated episodes so why are they unique in that regard? What connects them?

Well, I have one idea!

So we know since the pilot that Kinger has been the one to have lived in the Circus the longest out of all of them. We’re still not sure if he was in fact the 1st human to be trapped (maybe we’ll find out in the next episode) but he definitely has the most seniority, both in age and in length of entrapment.

We also know that Zooble was the most recent character to get stuck before Pomni (and considering their attitude, it may have even been quite a while beforehand) AND is the youngest character next to Jax (they even share the same age, which could be a coincidence but it feels too deliberate of a choice).

Which means ep 2 will simultaneously focus on the oldest and the youngest of the characters.

I’m actually curious as to what their dynamic will be because they haven’t really interacted much in the pilot (and like not at all in episode 2), if they end up interacting in ep 3 at all. But mostly I’m excited to see them more fleshed out with hopefully Pomni getting the chance to bond with them (either together or separately).

My guess is that the purpose for them to share focus on an episode is to get perspective from someone who’s been there the longest and has seen more people come and go than anyone else vs. someone who was just recently in Pomni’s shoes and had probably a much different first day experience (we know Zooble cared enough about Kaufmo to personally organize his funeral so they may have some…feelings about who’s essentially his replacement).

Ep3 is also supposedly Gooseworx’s most anticipated episode so I’m extra excited.

Next we have Gangle for episode 4. I honestly don’t have a lot to say about her or the significance in her episode placement outside of her being the closest in age to Pomni (being only a year older). The only hint we get about what her episode will possibly consist of will be on how reliant she is on her ComedyMask to feel happy, which will be very interesting and we might even get some confirmation on whether her avatar was programmed with that feature upon entering the Circus or if it was an add on of sorts by Caine to help keep her sane. A pretty shitty feature if it can’t last for very long but it does make for a nice metaphor about how fragile her facade is (girl is literally masking).

Actually I don’t think her and Pomni have actually exchanged words yet in the show. Wouldn’t it be funny if they don’t up until her episode. Like Pomni is so caught up in between whatever mess episode 3 has in store for Kinger and Zooble that the two of them never actually talk and it just keeps getting more awkward. Gangle wants to talk to her but is so self-conscious about her Tragedy self that she’ll only feel safe to have a conversation if she has her mask, but it just keeps breaking before she even gets the chance.

Again this is all just speculation, if they actually end up talking in episode 3 I’ll…make ship art of them.

Yeah

Anyway, episode 5. The one I’m personally waiting for because y’all should know what I’m about by now.

*Warning: Unhinged, borderline psychotic tangent incoming*

I swear to god if Pomni and Ragatha don’t have a fucking conversation before ep 5 I will launch myself into the sun. I’ll take anything, I just need them to get real for a second. I NEED to know the extent of this woman’s damage. It has to be explored, analyzed, and dissected and I will do so with gusto when the day comes. None of these characters will be safe from my scrutiny, but Ragatha oh ho ho, you have been living rent free in my head for too long, madame. You WILL pay your dues and I intend to collect in every episode until there is not corner of your unsound mind that I have not examined in great detail!

Ahem *Straightens tie* Ok back to business

So yeah, Ragatha.

It may be because we’ve only had 2 episodes but I can’t help but feel like we’re supposed to see Ragatha as a sort of deuteragonist since out of all of the supporting characters she’s so far been getting the most focus aside from Jax, and we’ll get to him in a minute (I promise that’s not just me being biased, or maybe it is, I don’t know, you tell me).

In just two episodes we’ve seen more of what makes her tick compared to anyone else. And of the main cast she’s been the ONLY one to make any kind of connection to the main character and have enough of a meaningful interaction with her to leave an impression.

But this is what really clinched her role as a deuteragonist for me, she’s so far been one of the few to have the narrative briefly shift to her perspective to give us significant character moments like these:

The show REALLY wants us to see just how NOT ok she is.

If she’s meant to be the heart of the group, her heart already can’t take much more damage. Her friendship (if you can call it that, it’s so painfully one sided right now) with Pomni clearly means a lot to her, so much so that her entire sense of self worth seems to be tied to it (and if you’ve been paying attention, she doesn’t have a lot of that as it is). It would be nice to see their connection gradually grow before her designated episode, where she might experience actual growth for herself.

And if episode 2 is any indication of how this show preserves friendships well…

Yeah, I don’t think she’s gonna make it.

In fact, I’m willing to bet actual money that she’s either gonna abstract in episode 5 or episode 6.

Which brings us to Jax’s episode! The other deuteragonist…tritagonist? He definitely shares some degree of significant narrative focus along with Pomni and Ragatha. He’s both an active antagonist force and one of the only characters to drive the plot forward every time he’s on screen (then there’s that weird thing where he keeps breaking the fourth wall).

He has so much significance in the story that Gooseworx gave him his own bullet point in her list of content warnings (this could also be a joke, but I mean it would be funny to see just how despicable they can make this character).

Gooseworx also described Jax and Pomni’s relationship in the show as “messy”. After episode 2, I don’t think she considers him as a candidate for any kind friendship like she did for the others, and who could blame her? In just two days the guy abandoned her to deal with an abstraction and chucked her out of a truck. He’s no one’s favorite person, and he relishes that. Bunnyboy definitely has some issues that Pomni would pick up on the more she’s forced to spend time with him. To the point where I can see her trying to eventually form some kind of bridge because, as her previously established character motivation implies, she’s not the kind of person to intentionally leave anyone high and dry. But unlike the rest of the crew, I don’t think Jax would be inclined to change for the better just because someone took pity on him. He seems like the kinda guy to dig his heels in and commit to his bad behavior out of spite.

And for his episode to come after Ragatha’s, why do I get the feeling the reason Gooseworx went so far as to preemptively apologize to bunnydoll shippers specifically is because he’s gonna cause something really really bad to happen to her (could be abstraction, could even be something much worse) that he would come to sorely regret.

And oh boy would that evoke some feelings in everyone!

I feel like if that is indeed the direction this show is going, the rest of the episodes will really be something.

I’m also certain Caine will get his own episode but right now he is very much an antagonist to these characters. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a villain, but he’s certainly not someone Pomni is keen on sympathizing with, at least not currently.

Thanks again @lilyclawthorne for helpfully providing me with the tweet so I can give some context for my ramblings of the week!