#this was such a fun chapter to write

[bucketsofmonsters]

The Witch's Apprentice - Part 3

cw: demon summoning, prolonged isolation, voyeurism, masturbation, vaginal fingering, size difference, more tags will be added as the story continues

male demon x afab reader

Word count: 5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7

“It’s two days, I’ll be fine.”

It became clear after the thirtieth attempt to reassure her that your promises were doing nothing to settle her nerves but you refused to stop trying. 

She was supposed to have left an hour ago but instead she’d been wandering around, checking that everything was in place over and over again. There was only so many times someone could check their warding before it became clear they were stalling. 

She pointed accusationally in your direction as she lifted a rug to check once more that the carving underneath remained intact. “I need you to swear to me that you won’t try and pull anything. Just keep everything clean and stay out of trouble, okay?”

You nodded. “Promise.”

She left you with one final rule that you knew you’d be breaking. “Don’t be stupid.”

You stared out the window as she left, chin perched on the windowsill as you patiently waited. 

She quickly exitted your line of sight, engulfed by the woods. When she did, you started counting. 

one. two. three. 

The wind blew through the leaves outside, the trees beckoning you forwards. They’d started to turn, shifting to bright reds and oranges. It suited them, like the bright colors poisonous animals had plastered across their backs. 

one hundred. one hundred and one. one hundred and two. 

You made sure to wait a beat between each number, refusing to accidentally speed through your counting. You wouldn’t get overeager. You wouldn’t blow this chance. 

nine hundred ninety nine. one thousand.

You sprung up, your self imposed deadline complete. A thousand seconds and no sign of Eden turning back or losing faith in you. Whenever she turned back, she did it quickly, quick-witted and self assured even in her about-facing. 

You tried to calm yourself, not wanting to summon your new second-favorite conversation partner with the frantic look you knew was in your eye right now. 

Deep breaths. You’d done this before, you would be just fine. 

You spoke the words slowly, with intention. Most of the waiting had already gone by, you could wait a few minutes more to make everything went right. 

Finally, your patience paid off and Lucien appeared before you once more. 

“Why didn’t you tell my witch about me summoning you,” you asked, skipping the formalities and rushing through your question, eager to reach the conclusion of the little script you’d been working over and over in your head. 

“I thought she wasn’t your witch?”

You’d known he was going to dodge that question, you knew him well enough to figure that out by now. It was more of a primer than anything, establishing the subject of questioning. 

“Are we friends?” It sounded a bit desperate but for the life of you you couldn’t figure out another way to phrase it. 

“No.”

“Oh. Then why?”

“Friends don’t imprison each other in summoning circles.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, trying to get your line of questioning back on track. “No, not why aren’t we friends, why didn’t you tell her? I can’t think of any other reason than you not wanting me to get in trouble and stop summoning you.”

“Then you lack imagination. Why aren’t you whispering?”

“What?”

“You always whisper, even when she’s out,” he noted. “You’re not whispering anymore.”

“I just got excited.” Your tone was too defensive to be convincing, not that it would have mattered anyways. He had a knack for figuring you out regardless of how hard you tried to hide things. 

“Maybe. Do you know what I think? I think she’s left you alone and it’s made you braver.”

“You’re good at reading people.”

“Only when they’re easy to read,” he said offhandedly and you bristled at the comment. “So that’s it, is it? The cat’s away?”

“She doesn't mind, it's just a summoning.”

He tisked at you and you knew he didn’t believe you. “Keep lying to me and maybe I won’t cover for you next time.”

Maybe that was a hint for why he hadn’t told her. “If you’re trying to threaten me it won’t work,” you informed him. “Tell her if you want, you won’t be able to make me do anything.”

He appraised you and the confidence you were doing your best to put on. “I suppose we’ll see about that. Sweet of you to keep dragging me here and letting me try.”

That mocking tone was becoming ever so familiar to you. 

“I just-” Your words were cut off by a bang coming from outside the house. 

Your head jerked towards the door, where the echoing noise sounded like it had come from, and Lucien chuckled behind you.

“Maybe you aren’t as alone as you thought you were.”

The demon’s teasing was immediately forgotten in favor of desperately trying to figure out what was going on. It had sounded like it came from behind the front door but it was far louder than any knocking you could imagine. It almost sounded like someone was barrelling into it. 

The air was very still as you waited, staring the door down as if maybe if you looked hard enough you’d be able to see whatever was on the other side. 

You’d half convinced yourself you’d imagined it when it happened again, the sound of someone slamming into the door echoing throughout the room. 

Noone was supposed to be able to see this place at all, the warding kept anyone other than you and your witch from percieving it, let alone getting near enough to bang on the door. This wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be happening. 

Surely Eden had protected you against this, right? She would never have left you vulnerable, You’d watched her check every single piece of warding in the house, you were safe. 

The pounding at the door told a different story.  

You should dismiss Lucien. He was a loose canon in a dangerous situation, having him around could only be a liability. 

And yet you just stood there, frozen. 

No dismissing the demon, no moving towards the door, just standing absolutely still. 

At the sound of the next crash, you shrunk closer to the summoning circle without thinking, Lucien’s snickering getting louder as you pulled back and towards him, panic running through you. 

Lucien was doing exactly what you’d expected, he was taking advantage of the situation. 

You hadn’t even realized he’d begun talking, too focused on the pounding on the door. “I wonder who’s out there? You’re running out of options, better think fast.”

Your eyes darted around, looking as if there was anything in this room that you didn’t already know about, know exactly how it worked and where it lay. Nothing in here could help you. Maybe it could help Eden, or someone with some real power, but not you. 

He was right, you were running out of options. But that didn’t mean you didn’t have any. 

It was a stupid idea. Of course it was. But you liked your chances better with your demon than with whatever was out there. 

You dragged your foot across the floor, through the summoning circle, breaking the continuous lines Eden had so painstakingly drawn. 

For a moment he did nothing, staring down at you incredulously, completely unmoving. 

The inaction didn’t last long. His arm shot out and yanked you towards him, wrapping around you as you were pulled into his chest protectively. You couldn’t see anything, your vision shielded by his embrace. 

The banging stopped. 

The first thing you noticed when you pulled away wasn’t the sudden change in setting. 

The first thing you noticed was that you were hungry. No, not hungry, maybe you were tired? Or maybe you were lonely. You needed something, that much you were certain of. You were tired of waiting.

“How’s it hitting you?” He was looking down at you and only then did you realize you were still wrapped up in his arms. 

“What?”

“Hell. How’s it feel?”

Is that what this was? It didn’t feel like eternal torment or burning fires, it just felt like want.

He let go of you and you pulled away, stumbling backwards. A hand grasped your arm, stopping you from tumbling to the ground. 

He propped you up, gently leaning you against the wall so you could support yourself, hovering next to you to make sure you wouldn’t collapse again. 

“There you go, easy does it.”

He left you to catch your breath and sort through the flurry of sensations and you leaned against the wall, catching your breath as you took in your surroundings. 

Hell was cozier than you ever could have imagined. There were soft pillows and blankets scattered across the floor and you wanted nothing more than to curl up on one and fall asleep forever. 

Everything was bright and colorful, the floors and walls covered in deep, rich shades. It was an assault on your senses. You were practically certain that Lucien was the only thing in the room that came in a shade of gray. 

The colors were muted only by the lighting. It was dark, with an ambient glow like it was coming from candles but there were none in sight. Every time you tried to trace the glow it led nowhere, just drifting through the air as it pleased. It wasn’t dark enough that you couldn’t see properly but just dim enough that it made the room feel even cozier.

The wall you were leaning against was draped in a tapestry covered in the depiction of a bright, setting sun. You were close enough that you could see every stitch, your head leaning against a bright orange. 

“What… why am I here?” you managed, not sure you had anything but questions in you right now.

“Didn’t have anywhere else to take you. I didn’t think you’d actually free me.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Do you want a tour?” he asked casually, like you weren’t experiencing the most confusing torrent of sensations that had even filled you.

You stared up at him incredulously. 

He rolled his eyes at your furrowed brow. “Don’t worry so much. Besides, if you faint the pillows will break your fall.”

Against all odds, that was mildly reassuring. No matter what happened, it did seem practically impossible to hurt yourself on anything in here. 

He hovered above you as you started to walk, making sure you wouldn’t immediately collapse. You managed to walk just fine, although every bone in your body was begging for you to just lie down right now and go to sleep. 

It was a quiet, small space, completely empty except for the two of you.

“Where’s everyone else?” you asked, your voice instinctively hushed so as not to disturb the peace. 

“They’re all out there, this place is mine. I would stay in here if I were you, other demons might be less nice to a strange little human invading their space.”

It probably should have registered sooner that this was his home. You weren’t sure where else you thought he’d taken you. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“You aren’t. Just stay put, okay?”

Amidst the sea of soft things was a little table covered in food. Not just any food, it appeared to be exclusively sweets, dozens and dozens of them. 

He presented it to you. “This is where I usually take humans,” he said. “You tend to respond well to it.”

You didn’t even reply, your instincts taking over as you sat by the table and immediately grabbed some chocolate, nothing more important to you than eating in that moment. 

He stood across from you, just watching.  “I’m shocked sloth didn’t get to you first, you really looked like you were nodding off there.”

You looked up from your food. “What?”

“You were staring at the pillows and you seemed like you might take a nap. This place, it encourages you to act on your desires. It isn’t strictly limited to the sins but those are the most common things you humans deprive yourselves of so they tend to pop up here. Most people get angry or self-absorbed or horny or fall asleep, you seemed like the sleepy kind.”

You half absorbed his explanation. At the very least it drew your attention away from the food and onto him. 

“You’re really pretty, have I told you that?” you asked as you stared up at him. 

“Maybe I was wrong, maybe you’re stopping by lust first.”

“No, not in a lust way, just in a look at you way. You seemed very convinced I’d be scared of you but like, you’re super pretty. Isn’t that a thing, demons being pretty? Lucifer was gorgeous from what I can remember, that’s part of the deal isn’t it.”

“I’m not pretty, I’m scary.”

“You’re not scary, you’re just big. Big and gray and also pretty. And your teeth! They're so big and sharp, I think about them more than I probably should.”

“Alright you need to get some rest, you’re getting a bit too honest.”

He couldn’t stop you fast enough. “Do you know who else is pretty?”

He jumped in immediately. “Don’t say her name.” 

You giggled. “Right, you’re not supposed to know that. Sweet of you to warn me. My sweet demon. I think I’m growing on you. She’s gorgeous though, have you seen her? And she’s incredible and smart and talented. She’s literally perfect, have you noticed that?”

“Not how I would describe her,” he spat, his resentment clear in his tone. “Don’t you feel a little bitter towards her? I’ve seen how she treats you. Or at least jealous of how much better at magic she is than you are.”

You shook your head adamantly. “No, of course she’s better at it than me, she’s perfect. Weren’t you listening? Perfect perfect witch.”

Lucien groaned. “Alright, I don’t know if I can stomach this much longer. You should try and sleep this off, you’ll adjust faster if you just give into it for a bit.”

You fell backwards onto one of the many pillows strewn about, giggling as you went down. 

You managed to catch Lucien rolling his eyes playfully between fits of giggles before you were being swept across the floor, the pillow you were laying on being dragged over to Lucien in the corner. 

Being moved across the floor didn’t bother you. You snuggled into the red pillow as Lucien haphazardly tossed a blanket on top of you. The way it fell, it was just draped across your midsection but you were warm enough already that you couldn’t bring yourself to care. 

As he moved to stand, you grabbed at him, trying to keep him with you. You knew you couldn’t actually hold him there but your sleep addled brain insisted you try.  

“You should stay,” you said.

“It could’ve been anger,” he bemoaned. “That would have been so much easier to deal with. Why couldn’t you just get angry?”

Despite his protests he didn’t pull away, settling down next to you as your grip remained firm on his arm. 

It only took a heartbeat to fall asleep, it overtaking you the second you gave yourself permission to drift off and fall into a restful, dreamless sleep

The first thing you felt when your mind left its fuzzy, exhausted state was embarrassment as your ramblings from the day before came flooding back to you. It wasn’t the most dignified you’d ever been but you supposed there were worse things you could have done than go on a compliment rampage. At least that’s what you tried to tell yourself to cull the tides of the self-consciousness. 

He was right, the sensations had settled down, or at least you’d gotten more used to them. They were still there, bubbling under the surface, making everything feel a little easier, but you felt like you could think properly. Like you were yourself again.

As your eyes cracked open you saw the same room you’d fallen asleep in. “I’m still here,” you muttered, the observation shattering the thought in the back of your head that perhaps this had all been an elaborate dream. You noticed Lucien looking down at you from beside you, your hand resting on his arm. “You’re still here,” you noted, somehow more surprised by him remaining next to you than by you still being tucked away in his little corner of hell. 

He tactfully ignored your second observation. “You’re stuck here until I get summoned again. I can’t go back to your little cabin otherwise, your witch’s warding made sure of that.”

You pulled your hand away from him but that didn’t stop his unblinking gaze. It almost felt like he was dissecting you. 

You stared back. He looked more lively here, his face brighter than it was in your world. He wasn’t on edge like he was when you usually saw him. This was his turf, it was your turn to be anxious and defensive. 

And yet you just weren’t. You couldn’t bring yourself to be, it felt too safe here for that.

“You’re harmless,” he muttered. “I can’t believe you’re really harmless.”

“I’m not harmless,” you responded playfully, wanting desperately to break the tension. “I’m so scary, the opposite of harmless.” You scrunched up your nose and barred your teeth in the closest approximation to scariness you were capable of. 

All he could do was laugh and watch as your thoughts drifted from your newfound scariness back to your supposed harmlessness. 

“What would the opposite of harmless even be?” You asked. “I’m… what, harmful? No, that's not right.”

Despite the lengthy nap, your brain still felt a little slow, trying to quietly convince you to drift right back off to sleep on the soft, plush pillows. It would be so easy, it was so warm in here, and it smelled nice too. Just a few more minutes and then you’d be well rested. That was all you needed. 

“Hell’s nice,” you noted as the room tried to lull you back to sleep. “It isn’t supposed to be nice, is it?”

“It’s not supposed to be anything, it just is. You shouldn’t be here anyways, it wasn’t made for you.”

“Then why did you take me here?”

“I told you, I didn’t have anywhere else to take you.”

“You could’ve left me,” you noted astutely. 

“It’s be a shame to lose a perfectly good ally” 

That didn’t sound right. “So I'm your ally now?”

”It’s starting to seem like it”

“Well thank you. For saving me. You really didn’t have to. I could be dead right now. Or worse than dead, and now I’m safe and warm and remarkably comfortable.”

“It was my turn to be a good host anyways.”

 You nodded solemnly. “Mmhmm, turntables and all that.”

“You’re really just sleepy, aren’t you?”

“Don’t say that like it’s weird. It’s not my fault you’ve built a house that’s basically just a big bed, I can’t help it.”

“Go back to sleep then.”

“No!” you insisted. “You’re actually answering my questions, I can’t stop now.”

“What more questions could you possibly have?”

“Plenty. For starters, why didn’t you let me say her name?” There were decidedly more poignant questions you could have asked but right now, that was the thing that made the least sense to you. 

“Okay, we’re done here.” He turned to leave, it apparently being a bridge too far for him.

“No, please don’t go, you were giving me so many answers! Please tell me,” you pleaded with him

“Just think of it as a thank you for opening up my summoning circle.”

“Was you saving me not my thank you?”

The question was genuine but he seemed stricken by it anyways. He looked down, avoiding your gaze. 

“Listen, I need to head out for a bit. I meant what I said, you need to stay put, okay? Just take another nap or something.”

“Eventually, I will stop being tired,” you countered, knowing you couldn’t just keep taking naps forever.

“One would think, and yet here you are.”

Your yawn did anything but help your argument. He seemed to take that as his cue to depart, leaving you behind with no one left to protest to and instead opting to just take one more nap. 

Apparently you’d been correct, eventually your body did stop prioritizing sleep in favor of other wants.

Thoughts you’d been pushing down started to tug at the corners of your mind, demanding your attention. Your thoughts drifted where they shouldn’t. To Eden, her soft hands and sharp words. To Lucien’s teeth and his broad frame and shockingly sweet demeanor for a demon that she’s freed from the prison she’d put him in.

It wasn’t the first time you’d woken up with thoughts like this but they were harder to push away here. You longed for your body to just beg for sleep again, that was a desire it was much easier to deliver on. 

No matter how hard you tried your mind continued to wander. Tossing and turning on the pillows did nothing to stop the desire that was bubbling up to the surface. 

Eventually it became too much to bear. Lucien was gone, it wasn’t like you’d be bothering anyone. 

Your hand snaked down under the waistband of your pants. Your amplified desire meant you were already soaking wet before you’d laid a finger on yourself. 

You knew it was the lust doing it, that normally you’d just force the thoughts away and pretend you’d never had an untoward thought about either of the only two people you cared about. 

The lust of this place didn’t come accompanied with the guilt that you were used to. 

Letting go felt good. It had been building up for too long, it needed a release and your body was determined to find one. 

Your fingers slipped inside easily. The two fingers curled up but they did nothing other than frustrate you. Your walls clenched and you wanted more, you wanted them. 

It smelled like him in here. It had been so hard to place earlier, just filling you with comfort, but now you couldn’t notice anything else. 

“Someone’s been busy.”

You practically jumped out of your skin as the sound of Lucien’s voice filled the room. You pulled your hand away from yourself, wedging your legs together in a desperate attempt to cling to some of your dignity. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

He shook his head dismissively. “Don’t let me stop you.”

You hesitantly let your legs fall open once more, not wanting to let go of the feelings that had overtaken you. 

He broke eye contact with you as you did. “I’ll leave you to tire yourself out.”

You whined out, “No, stay. Please” 

He halted his retreat, remaining propped up in the doorway, his eyes refusing to wander from yours. Part of you couldn’t help but wish he’d look away, that there was something else he might want to see from you right now. 

You’d expected more smugness from him. Normally it radiated from him anytime you showed any signs of vulnerability and right now, you were more vulnerable than you’d even been. 

But there were no traces left of it on him, replaced by curiosity and interest and something that you just couldn’t place.

“Who are you thinking about?” he pressed, breaking the silence. “It’s not like you have many options.”

Any sense that would normally make you keep your mouth shut had long since abandoned you. “Both of you.”

“Both of us? Greedy. Your eyes might be bigger than your stomach, little one.”

Your fingers weren’t enough. You wanted more, wanted to be filled, wanted him. 

You whined out again.

“Why are you complaining?” he asked, some of that incessant smugness returning. “I’m doing what you asked, I’m staying.”

You both knew what you wanted but he was going to make you say it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be annoyed with him for it. 

“Ask nicely,” he goaded. 

“Please touch me.”

He didn’t make you ask twice, sinking down to your side and gently moving your hand away. 

The anticipation was burning through you as his hand rested on your stomach, slowly drifting down as if he wanted to let you get accustomed to his touch first.

His hand drifted even further down, his thumb caressing the inside of your clothed thigh as he stared down at you. Your breath caught in your throat as he finally touched you, his hand slipping into your pants and meeting the wetness that was seeping out of you. 

He slowly thrust one finger inside of you and you already felt filled, more than your fingers could ever fill you. The rough palm of his hand rubbed against your clit as his finger dove deeper inside of you and you bucked up in search of more friction. 

You went to move your hand back down instinctually and he pulled it back up immeidately, grabbing both of your wrists and pinning them above your head with his unoccupied hand. 

“You asked for my help, let me take care of you,” he insisted.

His eyes raked up and down your form as you lay writhing beneath him. 

“You are a pretty little thing, aren’t you. You should have freed me sooner, I would’ve been more convincing if I knew this was what you wanted. Just a little nap and for me to fuck you into the ground, is that right?”

A strained, “please” escaped you and he just chuckled. 

“Maybe some other time. For right now let’s just focus on you. Come for me, I know you want to.”

His thumb rubbed up and down your pinned wrists, as if trying to soothe you while you pushed your hips up into his hand. It was comforting, giving you something to focus on as he worked you over, his finger curling up while his thumb rubbed over your clit. 

Your walls clamped down around his finger as a pressure began to build up in your core. His movements on your clit stayed steady as he thrusted his finger in and out of you. 

You could feel your heart pounding in your ears, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes as you reached your peak. More whines escaped you as your hips pushed up, entirely overwhelmed and yet still pleading for more. 

White hot pleasure raced through you, all that tension unwinding with a snap. He remained steady, working you patiently through your orgasm. 

It felt like it lasted an eternity, wave after wave of repressed need being released all at once. 

You were panting as you came down, your limbs feeling as if they were made of lead. You didn’t think you could stand up even if you needed to. 

Lucien pulled out of you as you lay there, recovering. He pulled his middle finger up to his mouth and you watched it, slick with your juices, pass right by his lips. His focus had finally shifted from your form, eyes shut as he tasted you. 

He wasn’t putting on a show for you like he normally did, like it was more for his sake than for yours. 

This place refused to let you stop wanting and before you knew it you were asking more of him. 

“Can you stay?” you asked once more, desperate in an entirely different way and trying not to let it seep into your words quite as much this time. 

He complied, lying next to you on top of the soft pillows that you were certain had seen far worse things than this.

You were more aware of how this place affected you now but you still could barely stop yourself from just speaking. That’s all hell really was, it seemed. Not torture and misery but confessions and honestly, real honesty.

“Thank you for staying.”

“You didn’t need to ask, I wouldn’t have left you.”

A little voice in the back of your head swore that couldn’t be true, that he was just saying it for your sake, and you were too tired to counter it. “Oh. Well, thank you anyways.”

“You know what? I didn’t think it was possible to hate your witch any more but after getting to know you I think I’ve managed it. You’re too used to being alone, it isn’t right.”

“You’re too hard on her.”

“You’re not hard enough on her. She’s isolated you completely, you can’t honestly tell me it doesn’t make you angry.”

You weren’t sure why he could seem to understand it, incapable of wrapping his head around your feelings for her when he was so good at reading you in practically every other way. “No. It makes me feel very very alone but it doesn’t make me angry. She does what she has to, I’m lucky I even have her. I don’t think I’d mind it so much if someone actually wanted me.”

“I’m sure you’re wanted.”

“I’m not. I don’t even think E- my witch wants me but at least she lets me stick around and takes care of me.”

He graciously let the near slip of Eden’s name pass by once more, instead opting to focus on what you’d said. “That’s why you keep summoning me.”

“Mmhmm. I told you that, not my fault if you didn’t believe me.”

“The lonely little apprentice. I should give your witch a piece of my mind, it’s inhumane to keep you in these conditions.”

You snorted. “I’m not her pet.”

“I think someone should tell her that.”

Despite the tone of his questions, you couldn’t help but miss her the more you talked about her. “How long do you think I’ll be here?”

He shrugged. “I suppose that just depends on when your witch gets back. Broken summoning circle on the floor, her little apprentice gone, it doesn’t take much to figure out what happened.”

It was a horrifying scene to imagine. You couldn’t even bring yourself to be worried about how upset she would be at you, the image of Eden walking into an empty house with a broken summoning circle on the floor and whatever else had been done to your home was all you could think about. 

“What if the people who were trying to break in are still there?” You hadn’t even considered the fact that they might hurt her when she got back. Guilt flooded through you as you thought about how carefree and happy you’d been while she could be in real danger. 

You felt his chest raise in a sigh beside you. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

His frustration at your concern for her was understandable but discouraging nonetheless. 

He’d started to connect with you but there was nothing you could do about the two of them. Your two favorite people, your two only people, forever at odds. 

He gently nudged you out of your thoughts, pulling your chin up to make you look at him. “You can overthink later. Sleep now while you’re here, while it’s easy. Who knows, maybe you won’t sleep for a full day this time.”

“Did I really sleep for that long?” you asked, barely fighting off a yawn.

“You did. It’s alright though, don’t worry, I’ll wake you up if you need to be up.”

You began to drift off, sleep coming quickly to you once more. 

You weren’t worried about anything. You believed him.

[thcscus]

when a near-death experience forces ur ex to care about u <3 romance <3

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

I hope you take this as the compliment it is intended to be, but you strike the same chord of irreverence-as-love, jokes-to-showcase-sencerity that I get from Chuck Tingle, and I adore both of you.

You have bestowed the greatest honour upon me.

[geezmarty]

I'be been watching a danganronpa 2 LP as I work I'm on the final chapter and I'd like to state I'd die for them

[starry-bi-sky]

Incorrect Quotes for the Blood Blossom Au - DPXDC

Original Post Context Here but TL:DR - Vlad poisons (orphan) Danny with blood blossom. He runs off, finds Pre-Robin Battinson, Battinson saves his life. Danny is currently staying with him until the time being. Batdad all around, found family, woo!

————————

Bruce after giving Danny an antidote: poof. Just like that, the toxin’s gone

Blood Blossom, not gone just sedated: wrong! toxin’s right here you fucking brussel sprout

————————

Vlad at a gala while his godson is (allegedly) missing: Mister Wayne! A pleasure to meet you, I wanted to speak with you about hopefully setting up a deal between our brands—

Battinson, currently housing his (allegedly) missing godson: I don’t like you.

Vlad: —and it’d be a— i’m sorry?

Battinson, louder: I don’t. Like. You.

Vlad:

Bruce:

Vlad: If you could tell me what I did to offend you--

Battinson, with the intensity of a thousand suns: No.

————————

Danny: 🧿🧿

Bruce: 🧿🧿

Danny: 🧿🧿

Alfred, in the corner: Can you two socialize like normal people

————————

Danny: gun to your head, who would you rather kiss: riddler or the joker

Bruce:

Bruce: gun to my head?

Danny: gun to your head, yes.

Bruce, without missing a beat: pull the trigger

————————

Danny (is currently unaware Bruce = Bruce Wayne): hey Vlad's planning on poaching Mr. Wayne's company out from underneath his nose, would you be able to prevent Mr. Wayne from making any deals with him? Or just in general from being alone with him?

Bruce, realizing Danny doesn't know he's Bruce Wayne:

Bruce: ...yes.

————————

(Danny and Bruce are leaving Wayne Enterprises, Danny is wearing a face mask and obscuring most of his identity. There's a swarm of paparazzi at the doors)

Bruce:

Danny:

Danny: there's an open window on the first floor bathroom

Bruce, immediately turning on his heel: mh. mhm.

————————

Aunt Alicia:

Bruce:

Aunt Alicia:

Bruce:

Bruce 🤝 Aunt Alicia: "Vlad Masters can go fuck himself" club

————————

Bonus! Because looking at it makes me giggle and I think it needs to be shared

POV: You're Alfred living with two of the most socially awkward people in Gotham. Now with biblically accurate heights!

[choccy-milky]

how seb and clora get together in my fic 💕bc what better time and place to confess and share your first kiss than around a bunch of inferi + the dead body of a man you just killed?? 🥰💖

[myokk]

clumsy

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

summary: sebastian is clumsy

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving)

a/n: or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be. I've been working on this for a MONTH more or less, ever since I drew the sketch that inspired it🫶 (I'm the world's slowest writer)

The first time Sebastian Sallow interacted with her after the fateful events of their fifth year, he fell for her.

Quite literally.

Maybe fell on her is more aptly put - Sebastian Sallow is not one to mince his words or say what he doesn't mean, after all. But, in the years to come, he always insists that he fell in love in that moment.

It was inexplicable. One moment, he was walking around, perfectly content with his loveless, boring life, and the next, his every waking moment was painful. Nobody had ever told Sebastian that being in love would physically pain or consume him so.

It all started like this: one moment, he's walking (well, striding) to Crossed Wands. Fine, he's running. Running late already, for the first meet-up of his last year. But - he isn't to blame for being late. He needed to check on something in the library - during his Transfiguration lesson, he had a hunch about something Professor Weasley had said in passing, and of course he had to go and check to see if he was right before he could even think about besting Leander in the inaugural duel of the Crossed Wands season but now, with how late he is - how many minutes ago had it started? - oh, Merlin, it's already been ten whole minutes and what if they've started without him (not that he can blame them) and -

Sebastian is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he collides with a strange obstruction in his way. He was just checking his father's old pocket watch, had only looked away for a split second and he could have sworn that, unless he was mistaken (which he never is), there wasn't a statue in the middle of the suspension bridge. And yet, he has run headfirst into something or someone, and now they are both flying through the air, books whirling around them in a flurry of pages and Sebastian unconsciously puts his arms out to grab her before they hit the ground and now he's holding her tight against him and they land with a loud, ungraceful thud, but at least she's not hurt.

Sebastian shakes his head to clear it after the impact that - miraculously - doesn't seem to have been as bad as it could have been, all things considered, and -

He freezes.

What has he done?

He's pressed up against the most impossibly lovely person he has ever seen quite possibly in his life, holding her tightly in his arms as she glares up at him in indignation, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her face glow. Is this what the muggles mean when they say that they were struck by Cupid's arrow? Her hands scrabble uselessly at his chest as she tries to extricate herself from his grip. It's useless. Sebastian is completely frozen in place as he stares down at her, and he can feel his own face heating up at his inability to get off her. What's wrong with him?

"Sebastian," she repeats, and this time her voice registers in his brain. He realizes she has been talking to him this whole time, and as he stares at her face without comprehending - he couldn't have a coherent thought right now even if he wanted to - he sees her eyes dart quickly down, looking at where their bodies meet before she brings them back to his face, a deeper blush coming over her. "You -"

Oh, Merlin. It's her. He blinks and it's like the fog has cleared from his mind - almost, but-not-quite - and he realizes who he has unceremoniously crashed to the ground with him. The spines of the textbooks they are lying on top of dig into the arm that's pinned under her body and his other hand...he realizes (to his almost-horror) that to any students or professors walking by, it would seem as if they were caught up in quite the scandalous extra-curricular activity because his other hand is actively caressing her breast. Well, that's how it would look to any passerby, anyways.

Because there is no way he would be caught dead in such a compromising position with her.

The two of them haven't spoken since the events of their fifth year - the Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered-or-Acknowledged - and he had been perfectly content with his plan to continue this strange sort of ignoring that they had played all last year. Both of them pretending that they hadn't become impossibly close after only knowing each other for a few months - a closeness that he had gone and ruined by not knowing when to quit. All he had known to do back then was push push push because why couldn't she see things the way he had? The betrayal he had felt when she had gone behind his back to find her own way to cure his sister, and that one stupid word uttered in the heat of the moment, had caused an irreparable rift in their relationship and he would not allow himself to think about how much he missed her. Still misses her.

Just like he will not think about the fact that she is pressed beneath him in a compromising position, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares up at him in indignation. He continues to stare at her. Maybe his mouth is agape. She's stopped trying to get out of his grip and is resting her hands on his chest, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to push him off of her.

"Sebastian. Your hand," she repeats. "You're -"

Finally his idiot brain decides to wake up and Sebastian realizes with horror just how aroused he is at the moment and how did he never see her like this before? He gets up in a flash, pushing her back against the pile of books they're lying on top of, wondering if he can subtly adjust his robes without her realizing and then he makes the very grave mistake of looking down at her and she's still very much red-faced, propping herself up by her elbows and she looks so disheveled and lovely lying on top of the pile of books.

His idiot brain has now woken up completely, and how is it possible for one hormonal, eighteen-year-old wizard to be so embarrassed? He knocked her to the ground, pushed her further back in the books in his desperate attempt to get away from her, and now all he can think about is how to hide his arousal. Shameful, really. Sebastian quickly crouches down to help her pick up all of the books but she shoves him away and glares at him with an annoyance that he's never seen before.

"I can do it myself, thank you very much," she says with a huff, gathering everything they spilled up into her arms. She grabs the book Sebastian is holding out of his hands and he inhales sharply at the touch of her fingers grazing his.

Did someone - Garreth, maybe - spike his pumpkin juice with Amortentia during lunch? It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares blankly down at her. How else would he find her so beautiful, so breathtaking, when the last time they had interacted, Ominis and Anne had had to act as intermediaries for the two of them?

"Well," she says finally, slinging her school bag over her shoulder once all of her books have been unceremoniously shoved inside of it, "it's been...nice seeing you again, Sallow. I hope you had a good summer holiday."

And with that, she quickly turns and walks away in the direction she had been coming from, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind. He watches her as she walks away and her long, swishing braid is the last thing he sees before the door closes behind her at the far end of the bridge.

Eventually, he gathers his wits and wanders away.

He does not go to the first Crossed Wands meeting that afternoon after all.

She has not had a full-night's sleep since he somehow cursed her mind and her thoughts a week ago, and she can feel herself slowly slipping into insanity. A curse is the only answer that makes sense, the only thing that gives a conceivable answer to all the wicked dreams she has been having since that moment, dreams that cause her to wake up sweaty and breathless and needing him in the middle of the night in a way she has never felt before. She has been an absolute mess, a disastrous version of her normally quite put-together self, and she is not happy about it.

He's sitting next to her now - they were partnered up by the evil Professor Onai in their first NEWT Divination class of the year - and she's holding herself rigidly, arms tight across her chest, in an attempt to not accidentally touch him. Lately, every single time they make fleeting eye contact across the table during breakfast, or when they pass each other in the hallways, a shiver runs down her spine at the unfamiliar look in his eyes and she has to avert her eyes before it's too much.

Divination has never been a favorite subject of hers - too impermeable for her tastes. She is only taking it at the NEWT level because, during her career counseling with Professor Ronen at the end of her fifth year, he had said that if she wanted to be an Unspeakable she couldn't just work with logic (a preposterous thought, but as a sixteen-year-old she hadn't seen any recourse in arguing with the Ministry's requirements). She supposedly needs to get comfortable with the intangible as well. It doesn't mean she has to enjoy it, though: she doesn't, and never will. The Divination classroom is dark and stuffy, tucked away in one of the highest towers of the castle, and the nauseating smell of incense always coats her nasal cavities long after the class has finished. She finds her thoughts getting muddled in the haze of candle smoke and swirling orbs on the shelves around her - magic somehow always feels thicker up here - and the presence of a certain someone whose knees keep brushing hers under the tiny table they're sharing, a certain someone who has - improbably, inconceivably, impossibly - hit a growth spurt that summer and now towers over her and had encompassed her completely when he knocked her to the ground, isn't helping her concentration at -

"This week, we are going to review everything we learned together last year," Professor Onai says, after the class had rearranged itself based on her instructions. Sebastian shoots a look at her as she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and sits up straighter. She hopes that Onai's lecture will help her concentrate and clear her mind a bit. If she has something to focus on, to try and think of and remember, it will be better than him. Anything would be better than Sebastian. Onai gives an appraising look to each table before continuing her speech. "As your NEWTs are at the end of the year, we need to make sure you are as prepared as possible. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty. Today we're going to review the art of palmistry. I should hope that you do not need the aid of your textbook to help interpret the lines in your partner's palm but in the case that you do -"

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn't. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she wasn't going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebelled against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

"Well," she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. "I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook."

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

"Do you want to start, or should I?"

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn't she be able to talk to him?

"Here," she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. "Show me how it's done."

Her breath catches in her throat at the small, mischievous smirk he shoots to her before he bends over her hand and gently starts tracing the lines on her palm with the fingers of the hand that's not holding hers in place. His touch is feather-light and somehow soft, despite the roughness of his fingers as they drag over her palm. Every nerve in her body seems to have moved to wherever he touches and all of the bravado and anger she had just felt is quickly melting away. When she finally finds her voice, she hates how soft and breathy it sounds. She can't look away from the sight of his larger hands caressing hers.

"Well? What do you see? Do you remember the different lines? Because I -"

She falters. The murmurs of their classmates blend together in the background and the dim lights of the candles...the hazy, thick atmosphere and his proximity and the barely there touches of his rough fingertips on her sensitive palm are altogether too overwhelming and she needs to get out of there. She's supposed to be angry with him. Furious, even. Holding this grudge has been the only way she has been able to have any sort of power over him this past year, and yet...all she can think about at the moment are the sinful dreams she's been having lately where he presses her against a wall, desperately kissing her lips, her neck - even she knows that there has to be more to it - but what?

Sebastian blinks as she snatches her hand away like it's been burned and - oh, Merlin - she shoves the textbook back into her schoolbag and almost knocks the candle on the table over and wouldn't it be awful if she had started a fire? But she can't think about any of that now in her haste to just get out of the claustrophobic Divination tower.

Vaguely, she can hear Professor Onai asking her if everything is fine and she's not sure but she thinks she mumbles something about needing to go to the Hospital Wing - that's a good enough excuse to leave, isn't it? - but then she hears his voice, deep and cutting through the fog in her mind -

"Don't worry, I'll take her and make sure she gets there fine." A muffled response from their professor and then his voice, just as clear as before. "No, I don't know what happened..."

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

"Let go of me," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice as she gazes into his deep, brown eyes. He can tell she doesn't mean it and doesn't make any move to listen to her. Why can't she hold on to the rage? A muggle quote about anger floats through her mind: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. What a sweet poison her anger at Sebastian had been, while it lasted. She tries telling herself that he must still feel the same as the evening he had called her ignorant (ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her of the letters of apology he had sent (that she had burned without reading), the times he had tried to get Anne or Ominis involved and apologize for him) - because why couldn't he just tell her himself? Maybe she had shut down any and all attempts he had made to repair the rift that he had caused in the first place, but she had been right to be so angry with him.

But oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

She knows she's behaving wantonly, snogging Sebastian Sallow in the middle of the hallway where anyone could come across them, but third period has only just started and besides, she has had a week of restless nights being tortured by thoughts of him. A week of a few hours of sleep found here and there. Just one kiss should be enough to help her get over these strange feelings, right? She only feels like this because having him lie on top of her after he crashed into her - that satisfying weight of him - the friction of his thumb brushing against her nipple - had made her realize just how stupid she had been, holding this grudge against him for -

She whimpers in protest but it quickly turns into a moan as his mouth moves away from hers and down to her neck. He pulls at her tight collar desperately - she hears some seams ripping - to give him better access to it, and she finds herself arching her back and pushing her body closer to his as he nuzzles her neck with his nose before giving it open, sloppy kisses. When he hears her, he moves back to kissing her, greedily capturing every breathy moan that comes out of her mouth, but the noises coming from him are matching hers, and at the sound she feels an unfamiliar clenching deep in her stomach. Her fingers come up to his hair, going through the silky curls over and over - how are they as soft as his lips? - and he slowly pushes her back until she's sandwiched between his warm body and the cold stone of the wall behind her.

He lets out a low, frantic growl as a hand goes to grip the back of her head, holding her in place as he slants his mouth over hers. He tastes like cinnamon and...like something forbidden. What has gotten into her? She hates him, and yet...

They have abandoned any pretense of propriety - had they ever even been trying? - by this point. His tongue swipes across her lips and then she is completely lost to him, to every sensation of his mouth, and tongue, on hers. His large hands - the wicked hands that had been caressing her palm and had caused this whole mess in the first place - have moved to her waist and are pulling her even closer to him. When he pulls away briefly, she whines in protest, opening her eyes to glare at him. The sight of him, flushed and breathless, his eyes wide and pupils dilated - must match her own appearance because she sees the same hunger she feels in his eyes. She has never seen Sebastian Sallow so disheveled, but she finds she quite likes it and tugs on his curls with a whine. He obliges eagerly, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She's pressed as tightly against him as she can possibly be, and yet it still isn't enough. Her back arches once again, trying to find something, and then he slots one of his knees between her legs. She moans at the friction caused by his movements, can feel an unfamiliar slickness forming at the juncture between her legs, and this seems to spur him on further as his kisses get more desperate and sloppy. She moves against his leg, trying to relieve some of her discomfort, gasping into his mouth, when -

They freeze. Even if they are fully, completely, absorbed by...whatever this is, they can't ignore the strange, metallic clanking sound coming from their left. Sebastian pulls his head back from her slowly, reluctantly, breathing heavily, and looks over to see what the noise is. She wants to, but all of a sudden the horrifying reality of what they've been doing sinks in and oh god what if the noise is a person? Someone who has now seen her in what might possibly be the most mortifying moment of her life - desperately snogging Sebastian Sallow - and she finds she can't look over. She tucks her head into his neck to hide her face as she listens.

"I demand that you get away from her at once, you knave! Cease your attack!"

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's certain that it doesn't belong to any of her classmates. He almost sounds...medieval, but -

"I made haste when I heard sounds of distress coming from down the hallway," the voice continues, "and it appears I have arrived not a moment too soon!"

She brings her head away from Sebastian's shoulder but still refuses to look over at whoever is speaking, instead choosing to stare at Sebastian's face. He's still deliciously flushed from their snogging, still breathing heavily, but now he looks terribly confused. His brows are furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response to the outrage currently being directed at him.

The unknown man is continuing his diatribe, almost not even stopping to breathe as he gets more and more worked up, and she hears some more clanking as he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his rant. Sebastian looks increasingly confused, but still shields her with his body, not moving away from her at all despite the accusations.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks over to see who it is.

The man who has been reprimanding Sebastian so boldly is none other than Sir Cadogan. Although she's never interacted with him directly, she often hears him yelling at his pony as she passes his portrait on her way to Divination. The knight is standing between two witches having tea, who are glaring at him quite angrily as he gesticulates wildly - every movement of his sword comes dangerously close to their display of cakes and sandwiches and it looks like he has already broken some plates. His armor is ill-fitting and loose on him, which explains the terrible noise.

"You rascally knave! I assure you that you do not want to find out what will happen to you if you do not unhand the fair maiden."

He brandishes his sword again, and the woman closest to him quickly snatches her tea cup away to save it from being broken as well. "Come now, Sir Cadogan," she says, exasperated. "Can't you see that these two are in love?"

The other woman joins her protests, nodding vigorously. "Yes, exactly that. Leave them be!"

"Nonsense," he exclaims. "I too have succumbed to my baser instincts on occasion and I can assure you that this is decidedly not what is occurring."

As Sir Cadogan continues to alternate between lecturing her and Sebastian, and directing his two attention to the ladies who are defending them, she looks back to the boy in question. Sebastian is looking down at her, a bemused smile on his lips and she feels a twinge in her chest. His face is still so close to hers that if she wants to, they could be snogging again with barely any effort and her eyes briefly flicker down to his tempting mouth before going back to his eyes, but...

What had gotten into her? What is she doing?

He had somehow managed to manipulate her again, because there is no way that this situation could have happened otherwise. All of a sudden, the anger she's been feeling for the past year and a half - that had left for a brief, blissful moment - surges again, and she pushes Sebastian away from her with as much force as she can muster. She almost feels bad as the happiness in his face turns to confusion, then frustration as he realizes she's getting away from him.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, picking up her discarded schoolbag from its spot on the ground. As she stalks down the hall, she can hear Sir Cadogan cheering on her bravery over the ringing in her ears.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

They weave through hallways - Sebastian vaguely wonders where exactly they're going - before reaching a little alcove, hidden by a suit of armor. She looks around before pulling him into it. It's almost curfew and the halls are never that busy when the weather is as beautiful as it has been these days - the end of September seems to be clinging on to the summer for as long as possible.

Her lips are on his before he can even ask her what she needed to talk with him about, hungry and desperate. Sebastian is too stunned to pull away - not that he would actually want to. Her arms wrap around his neck, keeping Sebastian close, slender fingers sliding through his hair.

"What," she says breathlessly between kisses - almost not even moving her mouth away from his enough to be able to enunciate properly, "are you doing to me? I haven't been able to think for the last month."

Sebastian smiles into her mouth, wondering if she knows that she's repeating the very thing he told her two weeks ago. Maybe she has been thinking of him all this time - he almost hopes that she's been suffering as much as he has. Instead of responding, he moves a hand to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves to her waist, gripping it tightly, pulling her flush against his body and she gasps into his mouth. He slowly moves her closer to the window alcove behind them, snogging her senseless the whole time. She moans into his mouth which just spurs him on further - her skirt rides up to her hips as Sebastian trails a hand up her stockinged thigh and they both gasp when his hand reaches skin. Her skin is so, so soft and her breathing gets faster as he continues to caress her inner thigh, closer to the bend between her thigh and her center. Sebastian wonders if she's ever been touched there before by someone else and jealousy flares up inside of him at the thought.

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes. "You're," he starts saying and his throat goes dry. He brings a hand up to tuck the errant lock of hair - the one she had tucked earlier in the library - behind her ear and she leans her head into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again with wide eyes. "You're perfect."

She smiles faintly and pulls his head back down towards hers and now she's brushing her lips against his, teasing him, before it's too much and he grips the back of her head, holding her in place as he crushes his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her knees are on either side of his waist, and she desperately grinds her core against his throbbing erection and they both groan at the friction. Sebastian moves his hands down to her thighs again as he kisses her, slowly caressing his way up and pushing her skirt up further until it's completely bunched around her waist. She gasps into his mouth at his first tentative touch after he pushes aside her undergarments. Sebastian swipes a finger up her slit, through the slick that coats it, and then he starts circling her clit with slow, even strokes. She shivers against him - at his touch - clinging tightly to his shoulders and gasping into his mouth as he continues.

Every little noise coming out of her mouth, feeling how wet she is, how the slickness keeps growing growing growing makes Sebastian hungry for more - it isn't enough -

Slowly - so slowly - he wants to savor this moment - he lowers himself until he's kneeling between her legs and he looks up at her. Her face is deliciously flushed, all swollen lips and hair in a wild cloud around her face and all she can do is stare down at him. Her chest is heaving and she tries to close her legs - hide what is exposed to him - but he holds her thighs firmly in place on either side of his head. He turns his head and kisses her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue across where he's just kissed, moving closer towards her slick center.

"Oh," she breathes, not-quite-a-word, not-quite-a-gasp, when his mouth reaches her center and hovers over it, lips slowly teasing her the way she had just teased him. Sebastian tentatively runs his tongue up her slit; the loud moan she lets out when he reaches her clit makes him stay there, applying light and not-so-light pressure in equal measure.

Her hands are scrabbling at his hair, digging into his scalp, ruining his earlier attempts to make it look presentable, hopefully attractive, for her these days. She's pushing his head deeper into the space between her legs, starting to rock herself slightly on his mouth, and Sebastian is happy to oblige. He eagerly laps up her slit, and the obscene wet noises as he continues combined with her whimpers and barely-spoken profanities "oh-yes-fuck-yes-there-please-" are making him hard beyond belief. He's straining against his trousers, begging to be let free. Without moving his face from her, he unbuttons his trousers and starts palming himself, using the slickness weeping out of the tip as lubrication.

She's abandoned all control at this point, grinding herself into his face as he laps her up, and it's driving him wild - knowing that he's doing this to her - causing her to be so undone. Normally she's so poised and aloof, never letting any real emotion flicker across her face, so to see her so desperate and needy and wanting him so -

Sebastian's gasping into her, tongue deep inside of her, "ohmygod" he hears her whisper, her hips driving into his face when she shudders and goes still, pulsing around the tongue that's deep inside of it. He slows down, smiling as he continues to run his tongue up her slit until she's responsive again. He kisses her inner thigh and hears her moan before getting up, caressing a finger down her love-struck face and leaning his head down to kiss her deeply. With his other hand he's still touching himself - the thought that she can taste herself on his tongue driving him crazy - and he starts rubbing its blunt head against her swollen clit. She takes it out of his hand- he groans at the feeling of her soft hands (the hands he had held a week ago in Divination and pictured doing this exact thing) tentatively caressing his length before she begins to slide it up and down her slit, coating it in her wetness.

Sebastian has surrendered all control to her - resting his hands on either side of her hips on the windowsill, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and thrusting with her movements as he loses himself in the sensation of sliding through her slick folds. He can feel his release building building building, and when he finally comes, all over her perfect, pink center, it feels like a finally.

Sebastian feels so, so heavy as he pulls his head away from her shoulder, as if he could fall into a blissful sleep right there, in the little window alcove where they've hidden themselves away. The sun has now set completely and they're in shadow as they stare at each other, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the tiny space.

"Sebastian, I..."

She's staring at him with an unfathomable expression on her face, still holding him in her hand, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They look down and he feels his face heat up even more at the mess he's made - he quickly pulls out his wand and cleans her up, before looking back at her, giving her a wry smile as he buttons up his pants and helps her off the ledge. "What did you want to talk to me about, again?"

She gives a slight shake of her head and looks away, but she can't hide the small smile that's growing on her face just like she can't help her eyes that keep wandering over to his. He knows the growing smile on his face matches hers - did that really just happen? She reaches over to lace her fingers through his as they walk around the suit of armor. "I - it's not important."

"Come on," he says, not being able to resist the opportunity to tease her - he's somehow managed to break through the barriers she's set up around her, and he's not about to let the opportunity slide. "Surely that's not what you had in mind when you..."

Sebastian trails off as he sees the expression in her face turn to one of horror - he didn't think his teasing was that bad, was it? - but she's also pulling her hand out of his like she's been burned and -

He follows her gaze, to where it's fixed at the end of the hallway and he knows that once again his face mimics hers. He will never live this down.

Standing at the end of the hallway and looking like two cats who've just found a huge dish of milk, are his sister and Imelda.

Misery.

Complete and utter misery are what she's feeling, if she has to put it into words, which she does. Writing things down always helps her out, helps her organize her thoughts into some sort of order. Except...this time around, it's not really helping. She can't seem to make any sense of her feelings for Sebastian.

She looks over the muddled mess of words she's written down - stream of consciousness, incomprehensible babble - and sighs. She's been dreaming of falling in love since she was a young girl - Jane Austen will do that to you - and can't believe that now that she's had her opportunity, it has to go and be with Sebastian Sallow. Because it has to be love, hasn't it?

There can be no other explanation for the painful way her stomach twists itself up whenever she catches a glimpse of him these days, the way he's consuming her every thought - even when she's dreaming she can't escape him. She can't get the sight of his tousled curls between her legs, his mischievous, warm brown eyes looking up at her as she had the most mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm of her life - none of the times she's touched herself have ever come close to the sensations he managed to evoke.

Every time she's walking through the hallways between classes and hears his loud voice as he jokes with Garreth, or Ominis, about quidditch or Merlin-knows-what her eyes snap to his face as if he were the sun, and she a sunflower searching for its warmth. And he is most decidedly not the sun. He has the tendency to snort when he laughs, and he laughs too much, especially at his own jokes. Sometimes he talks while he eats. He always twirls his quill between his long fingers in the most annoying way, splattering ink onto any parchment unfortunate to be caught underneath. But he also...

He also always goes out of his way to prepare Ominis's Potions ingredients (why Ominis decided to take and was accepted into NEWT level is a mystery to everyone), occasionally stops to play a round of gobstones with Zenobia when he has the time. Sebastian can often be found in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room, resting his face on his hand as he idly flips through the pages of some book, looking altogether too handsome as he does so. And when he stretches and yawns at the end of every Arithmancy lesson - like he is now - his shirt lifts up a bit and she can see a tan sliver of his stomach and -

Snapping in front of her: she blinks and looks over: when she sees it's Imelda her face immediately turns beet red and she grabs the paper she's been doodling on and rips it to shreds as fast as she can.

"Are you fantasizing about a certain annoying someone?" Imelda asks with a wicked grin, dramatically looking over her shoulder at the certain someone in question. He's still stretching, blinking sleepily; when he notices the two girls watching him he flushes deeply. Her stomach twinges again at the sight of him noticing her - has he thought about her since that moment as much as she has? What would she do if he had? Or...if he hadn't? - and she focuses instead on the paper she is currently destroying.

"Imelda," she hisses, glaring at her best friend, "stop."

Imelda does not stop.

Imelda doesn't stop during their walk to Herbology, and she does not stop as they set up their planting stations, and she most certainly does not stop as they mutter charms over their plants.

Ever since she experienced the most wonderful moment in her whole life, followed by the most mortifying, Anne and Imelda have not stopped pestering her about it. They've finally solved the 'Sir Cadogan Puzzle' - I knew it was you all along, claims Anne - but if they truly knew what had happened between her and Sebastian, she's afraid the two of them would simply combust. She loves them dearly, but they never know when to stop, and they've been pushing and poking and prodding her for more information the whole week. She has managed to remain tight-lipped and, she hopes, mysterious about the whole thing, but she's getting tired of the teasing.

"Really," Anne says, wiping her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind, "if you would only talk to him, I would stop bothering you. Promise."

"Yes," chimes in Imelda, on her other side, wrestling the leaves of her own plant into submission. "You know, after we saw the two of you holding hands and looking at each other with stars in your eyes, I'm really starting to doubt that you hate him as much as you claim."

"Were the two of you snogging in secret all of last year too? Because, I'm starting to get annoyed thinking of all the times I had to talk to my brother for you because of your stubborn pride."

Does she still hate him? She certainly thinks she should, but then her thoughts get terribly confusing as she continues to think about him, and she realizes all of her old hatred has long since faded. Anne has forgiven her brother, Ominis has forgiven him, and all that remains is her.

They should talk, but she doesn't know what to say.

She's afraid that maybe the man she's been inventing in her mind this past month is simply a figment of her imagination - a fictitious being created by an accumulation of stolen glances when he doesn't know she's watching, someone who all of their classmates seem to like, someone who is very different from the fifteen-year-old boy she had that terrible argument with all that time ago. Maybe he doesn't actually exist.

She would be crushed if he's hiding the fact that he still holds on to that desperate darkness that had driven him to save Anne by any means necessary.

And so she keeps her space. She watches him from afar, feeling the hatred slowly melt off of her, falling more in love every day, but too cowardly to make the next move.

Anne and Imelda continue bantering on either side of her, not noticing - or, more likely, not caring - that she isn't participating.

Sebastian's hands are sweating. He wipes them on the inside of his robes as he glances at the girl next to him. She's holding herself rigidly, but she did this to herself, sitting next to him at dinner as she had.

Well, sitting next to him hadn't been completely her idea if he's being honest. He'd been having dinner with Anne, and the two of them were dying of laughter as she recounted seeing Duncan Hobhouse get tormented by Peeves earlier that day. One moment, Anne had been demonstrating what she had seen using her potatoes and green beans as props, and the next, a particularly evil grin had lit up her face as she pushed her plate away with gusto and jumped to her feet, calling her over.

"It would be such a shame for these potatoes to go to waste, seeing as I have a very important meeting to attend," Anne had said, after pushing her friend into the very tight space at Sebastian's side. "Never mind the mess, I can assure you I didn't actually eat the food..."

And with that, Anne had flounced away, Imelda on her arm, the two girls cackling to each other as they snuck wicked glances over their shoulders at the couple.

A couple who is now steadfastly avoiding each other and trying their hardest not to even brush elbows. Sebastian is altogether too aware of her presence, has been for the better part of a month, and his patience is dangerously close to snapping. He keeps getting maddeningly close to finally getting her to open up to him - had actually achieved it for a few blissful moments - just to have it be taken away again. It's almost embarrassing how many times he's thought about their encounter. She had been everything he'd been dreaming about and more - soft, responsive, just as desperate as him - so why has she been avoiding him so thoroughly?

Yes, he's caught her staring at him more times than he can count, with that same unfathomable expression she had before, almost dreamy - wistful - could it be love? But he knows that it's preposterous, wishful thinking on his part. If it were love - if she felt the same crazy, tumultuous emotions that he was feeling constantly - she wouldn't be so cold towards him. Even if she was staring at him more than ever before.

He doesn't notice as she slips a folded paper into the book sitting next to his plate, but he does notice that she sits next to him for barely five minutes, not even touching the food that Anne has so graciously left her, before she gets up and slips away without so much as speaking a single word to him, or even looking in his direction at all.

Sebastian's sitting in a nearly empty common room after curfew, flipping through his book as he normally does this time of day, when she sees him pause.

Although she's been waiting for this moment, watching him from the corner she's tucked herself away in, she feels ready to pass out from nerves. Her heart's ready to burst out of her chest as she watches him curiously pick up the letter she slipped in his book earlier, brow furrowed. She wrings her hands nervously as she watches him read the letter and flip over the page to see if there's more, and then he goes back to read it again from the beginning.

She wasn't expecting him to read it a second time, let alone a third time, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maybe she should have positioned herself closer so she could see every emotion flickering through his face as he reads - she's too far away to see anything and she curses her lack of foresight. If she moves now, he'll see her, and she doesn't even know what she was thinking when she wrote the letter, when she managed to convince Anne to help her get close to Sebastian earlier that night during supper, when she moved herself to sit in this corner just so she could watch him find and read the -

"Hello."

She nearly jumps out of her skin with a muffled shriek at the sound of his voice so close to her. Why does she feel almost guilty when she looks up at him? She's so, so afraid.

Emotions have never come easily to her. Showing them is something she's not sure will ever come naturally - Anne and Imelda can laugh and shout without a care in the world, but she always holds herself back. Hides a small part of herself away, that only she knows about. Baring herself completely to Sebastian in the letter she feverishly wrote the day before was like ripping out a part of her soul and giving it to him to keep. Once the words were written down, there was no way to take them back, not that she wants to.

But what if he rejects her?

Her eyes get hot and tears cloud her vision as she stares up at him, still wringing her hands together over and over, feeling like she's positively going to burst with the force of the emotions roiling around inside of her. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his bigger, rougher ones - reminiscent of that fateful day so long ago in Divination when he had flustered her so - and a thumb is gently wiping away the big, fat tears she didn't even realize were rolling down her cheeks and she lifts her face from watching their intertwined hands and gazes tremulously into his eyes.

They are so, so gentle and warm and full of love, but the emotions are still too much for her and she can't stop crying for some unfathomable reason, so the kiss they share is wet and lovely and full of incredulous laughter.

"I love you too," he whispers between kisses, over and over again, until the words almost lose meaning - but these words could never lose their meaning when they come from him.

  In the years to come, they always bicker about who was the first to say it. Sebastian says that writing doesn't count - that his words are the ones that decide who is the victor in this small argument - but she always just smiles at his insistence, knowing that he's kept her letter tucked inside whatever book he's reading since it first fell onto his lap.

[anna-scribbles]

chapter cards for thirteen: november - april

read on ao3

[notherpuppet]

Presale Open!!

Link to “My Deer Nanny” Let’s Dance Acrylic Standee:

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

to prove i have, in fact, been thinking abt (it was, in reality, not fine), here's a doodle abt Reader experiencing a real, actual Thought for the first time in like five years

(no this isnt the canon version of what happens im sorry y'all still gotta wait for that to happen in th fic lol)

(also their brain is the dvd logo hitting the corner of th screen in the first doodles. its hard to tell ik im sorry sdkjfhsjdfhs)

[skullbird]

An older sketch page, trying to figure out how his face works.

[felix-krain]

I am very sane and normal :D

[fanaticsnail]

Love you, Doc

Hey Doc Masterlist

Word Count: 4,400

Synopsis: Eustass Kid has come down with the non-life threatening ailment known as "the common cold." It is your job to care for him, no matter who orders you to do so.

Themes: Kid Pirates x gn!reader, platonic fic, you are the doctor of the Kid Pirates, you have been injured in the leg a few chapters ago by a person from your past, platonic love confessions, swearing, cuddling, Kid is sick, teasing, aged wound care, remedial massage, medicine taking, platonic kisses, swearing.

Notes: Shout out to @thenotsofantasticlifestory for being an absolute darling, listening to my rambles, and steering me into the right direction. Love you lots, Sto.

“Hey Doc,” a flash of a high, blonde ponytail flicks through the threshold from the doorframe, “You busy?” Placing down your medical journal you ordered, authored by a traveling doctor stationed on Drum Island, you turn towards Hop and offer her a two finger salute.

“Not if something’s broken, bleeding, or on fire,” you shrug nonchalantly while giving her a once over with your pointed gaze, “Didn’t go too hard sparring with Hip again, did you? Nothing sprained?” 

“No, no, nothin’ like that! I, uh-...” she trailed off, clutching the back of her neck while avoiding your gaze. Furrowing your brows, you turn your body fully towards her while remaining seated on your rotating swivel chair. 

“Spit it out, Hop. What do you need?” While your question was more tonally a statement punctuating your order, you still assumed your position of duty of care for your crew. She slouched her shoulders, hanging her head and gesturing a single pointed finger out to the side. 

“Cap’n needs you,” she whispered, barely audible. Feeling a little proud for a moment, you lean forward and raise your hand up to cup the shell of your left ear. 

“What was that, sweetheart? Come again?” you offer with a cocky smirk. The tall, blonde pouts while sucking in a large breath through her nose. Arching her back to full stature, she points more firmly in the direction of Kid’s quarters with her lips curled back in a soft snarl.

“The captain needs you, or,” she removes her hand from its outstretched position and crosses her arms over her chest, “Technically speaking: Heat told me to tell you that, Wire told him that he overheard Killer having an argument with the Captain about needing medical attention. Satisfied?” She offered the last part with a huffy taunt, prompting you to grin back at her. 

“Not for years,” you tease her, gesturing for her to come a little closer to your position sitting at your desk, “Come on, help me up. Leg’s still not the same since the spear incident.” You place down the book and 

Rolling her eyes, she casually strolled over towards you and wove herself beneath your arm. With one hand around your waist, the other clutching your wrist, she raised you to your feet and prompted you to let out a soft hiss at the impact of the elevation. The injury to your leg had only begun to crust over, the ooze from the coarse platelets itching at the skin. Bandages only did so much to ease the pressure from the wounds to the muscles, but you tried your best to push it aside to tend to the needs of your captain and your crew.

“Ah, shit,” you laughed through the pain, feeling the prickle of pins and needles pooling to your foot after having your leg elevated for so long beneath the desk. Hop chuckled along with you, giving your hip a gentle pinch while aiding you to stand properly. Without even finding the need to open your mouth, she wordlessly handed you the cane Kid fashioned for you to balance on. 

“Thanks, Hop,” you offered her a half-smile, removing yourself from her grip and looking to your desk. Scrunching up your nose briefly, you arch your brow up at her. 

“Did Wire tell Heat to tell you what type of medical attention he overheard the captain arguing with Killer about?” you offer her a sly smile, reaching for your satchel below your drawers, “Or am I going into this blind like the Reck incident a couple months ago?” 

“Honestly, I have no idea. Heat told me nothing,” she overemphasized her words by swiping her right hand in front of her chest. You shook your head, snorting out a soft laugh while throwing the loop of your satchel over your shoulder. 

Taking a moment to pause, you took a quick glance back at the medical journal and rolled over in your mind the last chapter of wound care and advanced treatment. Internally arguing with yourself for under a second, you decided to take a vial of oil extract from a medicinal plant to promote healing treatment for aged wounds and scars. If your captain was down with something, he might be more pliant in allowing you to experiment with your newfound knowledge. If not, there was always Killer who would always allow you a go at him with medicinal practicing.

“Alright,” you give her a soft nod, “Thanks again, Hop. I’ll go see to him now. Go back to whatever you were doing, or hide here to avoid duties. I don’t mind, just don’t touch the instruments.”

“Aye, Doc,” she offered you a soft salute, plopping herself down on your elevated bay bed and flicking through one of your medical magazines. You chuckle at her, shaking your head at the ease she made herself at home in your office, before hobbling your way down the hallway towards the steps up to Kid’s quarters. 

Slowly bracing yourself on the wooden wall, you took your time walking up the steps to not overdo your injury. While the Kid Pirates were more inclined to ignore the roaring ache you felt lingering beneath your skin, you wanted this to heal properly: taking your own advice, no matter how much you fought the urge not to. The Captain and the three commanders worked hard to save your leg, especially Heat, and you didn’t want to do wrong by them by having to lose it if you didn’t care enough for yourself. 

As soon as you made it up the last step, you heard a large rukkus and commotion from behind the door. Elevated voices, spluttered coughs, and mucusy sniffles ricocheted through the wooden walls and down the lengthy corridor. 

“I don't-,” the voice of your captain crackled, his usual tone more nasally than his usual cadence, “-And then I-!”

“-Get them, I swear, Captain. Doc needs to come and see you,” Killer’s soothing tone was more harsh than it usually was. It was unlike Kid and Killer to be fighting like this, especially for so long given the time it took to communicate it back to you. 

Exhaling more than what you had prepared for yourself, you hang your head while mentally preparing to deliver him his treatment of choice. Considering it was not that long ago that you, yourself, had suffered with this sort of affliction, you knew you would be able to endure being in the same room as your captain without much risk to yourself. Killer wore a mask, likely shielding him from catching the most of the illness, much to your joy. 

This could only mean one thing, and one thing only. Eustass “Captain” Kid had the non-life-threatening ailment known as: the common cold. 

With a lengthy inhale, you straightened your spine and rolled your neck around on your shoulders. With several pops of bone and muscle, you shrugged off the last of your inhibitions and readied yourself for an afternoon of treating your captain of his illness. Thanking your prior preparation of including several bottles of various tonics and honeyed anti-inflammatories, you brought your knuckles to the door and rapped on the wooden surface. 

You couldn't fight back the smile that rose upon hearing a repetition of “Please be Doc, please be Doc, please be Doc,” from the blonde first-mate. The door creaked open in a harsh tug, halting at three inches as the blue and white mask of Killer peeked through the small crack. 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Killer exhaled, his shoulders falling in a large slouch, “Please, in. In, in, in,” he ushered you inside Kid’s quarters with a hand floundering on your shoulders. You grimaced as you balanced out your weight on your injured leg, hobbling to adjust to a comfortable stature. Killer took a minute to insure you were safely tucked inside Kid's quarters before using a spurt of energy to flee from the room with a sheepish air to his actions. 

“He's all yours, Doc,” the jovial, teasing tone of the first mate cut through the air and prompted you to almost growl as Killer closed the door behind himself. Staring at the chipped paint of the wooden door, you heard a spluttering cough from the corner of your captain's quarters. Far away from the coziness of his bed, you turned to view the hulking figure of your captain hunched over his desk, his shoulders donning his large duvet as he scratched etchings onto a blank sheet of pressed paper. 

“Captain?” you slowly asked, turning away from the door and stepping towards his desk, “Captain, are you alright?” 

“Go away,” the nasally voice growled from beneath the shroud. His right arm continued to roll the utensils within his digits and scratch inked blots into the pages. “M’working. Go do doctor things, Doc. Find someone else to torment.” 

Rolling your eyes, you saunter over to the desk and peer over his shoulder. The page was littered with sharp lines of various sizes, neat notations within the marines depicting metallic elements on the periodic table, and heat temperatures for soldering purposes. You shake your head and slowly reach over your captain's shoulders, perching your hands over the duvet and giving the taut muscles a gentle squeeze. 

“I am not here to torment you, Cap,” you confess to him, tugging at his shoulders until his broad torso slunk against your chest. He pressed his head back against your chest, slowly leaning to the side and peering from the corner of his eye up at you. “I'm here to look after you.” You smile sweetly down at him, reaching up and smoothing your digits over his fluffy red hair. 

Eustass Kid’s bottom lip protruded, his eyelids swollen and puffy, and nostrils peeling skin from the swollen corners of his nose. His eyes began to water as he sniffed back another blocked rumble of air through what could manage to pass through his nose. 

“Do you want me to look after you, Captain?” you ask, truthfully knowing the answer he was desperately pleading with his eyes, but wanting him to speak it anyway. Taking a deep inhale through his raspy, crackling throat, Eustass Kid brayed out his answer in a forlorn whine. 

“Ye-es,” he wailed, leaning fully into your arms and closing his eyes. “I can't breathe, my mind is foggy, I can't lay down without my fuckin’ nose dripping all over the place, and I can't fuckin’ sleep while that's the only thing I really want to do. I haven't slept in three fuckin’ days.” The floodgates of Eustass Kid’s needs were broken like a dam, each word rolling over the other as you ushered him over to his large bed. Gently prying his duvet from his shoulders, you guided him to his bed while he continued to whine hoarsely. 

“My throat feels like I've swallowed glass, my eyes won't stop leaking, my ears keep popping and crackling, and there's this infernal ringing going on like a mosquito is trapped in my eardrum.” You ushered him to sit on his bed, propping him into a reclined position with his right arm propped over his stomach with a pillow beneath it, and his left stump elevated. Finding more pillows in his personal linen cupboard, you stuffed a few more up to hold him comfortably upright before tucking the duvet over his waist. 

“Sounds like you've got it bad, Cap,” you nodded sympathetically, locating your bag and popping the seal, “Tinnitus in which ear, hm? Left or right?” 

“Left, I think. It's like a buzz at this stage, don't pay it any mind,” he nodded, feeling the weight of his eyes falling like anchors over his glassy orbs. “What's really fuckin’ bad is my arm. It feels like it's still there, and it's like fire in my skin,” he looked down at his missing left arm with pain written on his features, “I can feel my hand gripping hard, like I can't let go of something important. S’always shit when I get sick, and this time it's just tauntin’ me.” 

You sigh empathetically, looking briefly down at your still healing leg before you continued to ready a cocktail of medication for your captain. Antibiotics, probiotics, pain relief, blood thinners, muscle relaxants, and sleep aid was calculated and lumped in according to his height to weight distribution, and adjusted for more comfort to his high pain tolerance. Usually, you would make fun of him for acting like this, but this vulnerability had you feeling closer to your captain than ever. You hastily clutched the vial you packed into your satchel within your palm before walking with your knees towards the reclined posture of the large red-head. 

“Take these with some water. I know it's shit, and it'll hurt your throat, but I'll get Killer to make you some lemon and honey tea to aid with the sting,” you nodded, reaching up your hand to his lips and popping the assortment of pills within his painted lips. Watching as he held them in his mouth briefly, you reached the top of his drawers for the glass of water you knew Killer put there a few hours ago and drew it up to Kid’s lips. He eagerly gulped down the contents, wincing at the hard pills lodging in his raw throat, before swallowing them down obediently. 

“You'll start to feel better in about ten minutes,” you nod to him, placing the water glass on the bench top beside the bed, “And while we wait, I'm going to see what I can do about your arm.” Reaching into your pocket, you uncorked the vial and poured a generous amount of oiled liquid into the center of your palm. Rolling your hands together, you warmed the liquid with the heat of your skin before drawing it towards the scarred left arm of your captain. 

“Keen for me to experiment a bit with your skin?” you quirked at him, hovering above and awaiting consent from the hulking figure of your captain. 

“You said you're gonna take care o’ me,” he grumbled, huffing and pouting like a petulant child, “So hurry up and do it already. I fuckin’ hate feeling like this, and I just-... I just-...” His eyes welled up, prompting him to turn to the side and hide his face from you, “...I just don't want to be in charge anymore. I can't be in charge anymore. I feel like absolute dog shit, and I just-... I need help sometimes.” He turned his orange eyes up at you, begging within his rounded orbs, “Please, Doc? Just make it stop? Please?”

Immediately pressing your hands to his arm, you give his muscles a constricting grip and roll the flesh beneath your digits. 

“Tense up with me,” you order him, squeezing his bicep with the intentional strength in a few key areas, “And then release.” You relaxed your grip on his arm, holding the grip over his flesh and thumbing along the veins. As he tensed his muscle, you tighten your grip, “Now hold it,” you nod, your hands shuddering beneath your strength, “And release.” 

You coached him through this method a few more times, rolling his skin between your hands and feeling the ripped and repaired muscles beneath his skin. Moving up your eyes, you focus on Eustass Kid’s face as it contorted in agony. The way he sucked in his lips and grit his teeth matched the telltale signs of him trying not to cry. 

Only ever seeing this expression on him once before, you decided to use a different method of care. 

“Doing so well, sweetheart,” you bore your fingers into his solid flesh, coating each morsel with the oil and sculpting his pain away with circular motions, “You are so brave, Kid. You bare the weight of our large crew, you have done so much for everyone. Captain I-.” Your words caught in your throat, feeling the tension in his muscles pull taught as you held firmly against his arm. 

“Say it. Whatever it is. Please, Doc,” Kid nodded, fighting back through the pain and urging you along. While the two of you were distracted by focussing attention on Eustass Kid’s pain, you remained ignorant of the door opening and closing behind the blonde-haired first mate reentering the room. 

You inhaled a deep breath, humbling yourself and giving him something truthful to focus on rather than gritting his teeth through the praise he often craved. 

“Captain, I'm proud to serve under you,” you utter to him, gently rolling your digits over the base of his healed scarring. Thumbing over the stump, you focus your eyes on his flesh, “We are all proud of you. I-...” You halted your motion, closing your eyes and lighting up your soft smile on your lips, “...I have loved every minute of serving you as your doctor, regardless of what I say most of the time. I love you, Captain.” 

Looking at the mess of oozing oils over his skin, you feel his right hand gently reach up to clasp your forearm. 

As Kid made to open his lips, using his words to mirror your admiration back at you, his mind did not match what curled on his tongue. 

“Hah! You love me? Pfft, what a fuckin’ softie, Doc,” he slunk back against the pillows once more, his eyelids growing heavy and weighted beneath the growing intensity of the medication. “You're a little shit most of the time. A real pain in my ass, and you ruin a lot of my projects and fun by banning them. Shoulda kicked you off the crew years ago.” 

Your jaw slackened, eyes widening as your brows furrowed beneath the weight of his words. Just as you were about to bark back a witty retort of your own, he silenced you by lazily rolling your name over his palate. 

“But I fuckin’ love you,” he confessed in a breathy tone, a dopey smile tugging up his face, “Take’n such good care o’ us. Keepin’ me in line when I start with the bullshit. Always bein’ nice, in your own sadistic way.” He gave your hand two warm taps before the medication pulled him down in a warm recline. 

“I love you so damn much, Doc. I need you to know that,” his tone grew slower, his yawn tugging his lips up and his voice muffled beneath the wide inhale, “I love you.” His head lulled to the side, his lips parting as sleep finally caught up with him. His breaths came out in rattled breaths, saliva mixing with mucussy underlay of his firey illness. 

“And just like that, you're out like a light,” you chuckle to yourself, cradling his left bicep and laying it down beside him. Gently tucking in his duvet over his broad torso, alongside removing the pillow from his stomach, you smooth over the plush material and secure the captain beneath the shroud. Giving a brief pause, your eyes raked over his face and noticed his breathing was relaxing with each inhale. 

“Rest well, sir,” you nodded, slowly inching yourself off the bed and wincing through the shooting pain up your leg. Just as you rose to stand at your feet, a slow drawl crooned from the corner of the room. 

“What? No kiss for your captain, Doc?” Killer teased you, finally making his presence known as you hobbled away from the captain’s bedside. “No little stroke on the forehead after the professions of love? Not even a gentle cup of his clammy, sick cheek?” 

If your scowl had the ability to sear through metal and bone, the look that bloomed in your eyes would've sent Killer to his grave. 

“Caressing and kissing my unconscious crewmates is not my forte,” you spat in return, upturning your lip and snarling at the blonde. He was taken aback by your menacing altitude, raising his hands at his sides while he shook his head softly side to side. 

“I meant no disrespect, Doc,” he lowered his head and stooped to your height, “I was just playing, as we always do. Are-... Are you alright-?”

“-No, I'm not,” you growl in return, reaching for the cane and propping yourself up with it. “I had to hear from Hop that Heat told her, that Wire told him, that he overheard you telling the captain to ask for medical attention from me.” You leaned on your cane, feeling your hand shake under the weight of your body. “Do you know how fucking ridiculous that is, Kil? How fucking stupid that is? How worthless that makes me f-feel?” You choked on the last few syllables, feeling the well of emotions finally simmer in your chest and rise in your throat. 

“Hearing Kid, joking or not, say he wanted to kick me off this crew while I'm treating him?” you fought back your tears, finally succumbing to the emotion and having the liquid sear down your cheeks and drop onto the floor. “I can take a lot of shit, Kil. But this? This? This fucking took the cake.” 

The noise from your deep confession managed to stir Kid from his medicated slumber, his body fighting the sleep in a bid to remain awake for your words. He heard every lick falling from your snarling lips, every passionate exclaim causing him to slink back down and listen intently. 

“And when I tell someone I love them? Platonic or not, I don't enjoy being laughed at, or made fun of when I say somethin’ fuckin’ stupid like that,” your eyes drew to Killer's mask as you bore your soul to him, unaware of Kid attempting to sit up in his bed further. “When I-!”

“-Get over here, both o’ you,” Kid interjected, causing both Killer and you to snap your attention over to the captain reclining on his bed. 

“Captain, I-,” you began, prompting Kid’s raspy growl to drown out your repose. 

“-I don't wanna fuckin’ hear it,” his left arm wobbled, patting the pillow in a bid to call you over further, “I'm not tellin’ ya’ both again. Get the fuck over here, now. You too, you big asshole.” 

Killer rolled his shoulders back, his muscles and bones clicking as he kicks off his boots and saunters over to you. Without giving you a moment to reject his order, Killer hoisted you up and slammed your back gently on the large bed beside your captain. Nestling you within the crook of his left arm, he tugged you closer into his embrace, cradling you against his chest, while Killer moved to Kid’s righthand side. 

“Now, you little shit,” Kid growled playfully into your ear, “You're gonna fuckin’ sleep, I'm gonna fuckin’ sleep, and Kil? You're gonna fuckin’ sleep. We're all sleepin’, ya hear?”

“Cap’n, I need to tell Wire that he's in charge-,” Killer attempted to convey, hushed by Kid harshly tugging him into his chest and locking him against his body. 

“-And I don't fuckin’ care. You're cranky as all hell, and Doc is too, ain't ya?” he chuckled down into the crown of your head, stroking it with his cheek, “Now you're both gonna sleep. I don't care how long you sleep for, but you're gonna sleep.” 

“Cap, I-,” you try him, prompting Kid to bark down at you in response. 

“-I don't fuckin' care. Go to sleep, so-...” he took a moment to yawn, his voice groaning at the back of his raw throat, “...-so I can sleep. You're both loud, and I need the people I love close to me. So shut up, and be close to me.”

He turned his face towards Killer, puckering his lips and pressing them against the top of his mask. Emphasising his kiss, he moans an overenthusiastic hum against the cool metal. 

“Mmm-ah,” he releases Killer’s mask from his lips, laughing as he watches the first mate gently punch his arm. “Night, Kil. Enjoy your snooze.” Kid then turns to you, using the stump of his arm to coax you towards his lips. 

Gently fighting yourself away from the captain's affection, he wins by pressing his lips to your forehead and offering the same exaggerated moan. 

“Mmm-ah,” his grin splits up his cheeks as he watches you becoming visually flustered by his actions. “Night, Doc. Sleep tight.” Kid rolls into his back, holding both you and Killer tucked tight into his armpits and sighs a raspy breath of glee. 

“Love you, Kil. Love you, Doc,” he smiled, closing his eyes and truly basking in his two crewmates offering him comfort. He felt Killer adjust himself to make his mask comfortable above his cheek, nestling against the redhead's side. You do the same, giving up on the notion of fleeing from the captain's embrace and drawing your own comfort within his bicep. 

“Love you too, Cap,” both you and Killer whisper in unison, feeling the call of slumber sing it's sweet song under the comfort of Kid’s warm embrace. 

It wasn't an unheard of thing, sleeping beside your crewmates and offering them comfort. Bubblegum often came to either you or Killer when he needed that extra care, and you would always give in when he needed that softness from you. 

But this felt different. 

The soft, likely cold medication-induced love professions after a hard cry with one another made you, yourself, vulnerable to this embrace. Your care for Kid and your crew, the love you all share unlike anything you had ever encountered before. Feeling raw, you draw your hand over Kid’s waist and tuck your face against his chest. As you felt yourself well up once more, a hand came up and cloaked your own beneath its warmrh. Slowly peaking from the corner of your eye up, you notice Killer's hand covering your own and thumbing over your knuckles. 

“Love you, Doc,” he whispered over Kid’s heavy breathing, giving your digits a gentle squeeze, “I mean it, and so does he. We all love you. You're perfect for our crew, and Kid has never wanted to ever kick you off. He was just sayin’ it to-.”

“-I love you too, Kil,” you whisper in return, gently rolling your hand up and squeezing his palm, “And I know. I was just being silly, and a little bit vulnerable after the injury. I know, okay?” You shifted closer to Kid, adjusting so you were comfortable and offering Killer one final quip before your eyes weighed beneath the call of sleep took you. 

“Now do as your told, and fuckin’ sleep would you.”

“You too, Doc.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @nerium-lil @sinning-23

[moonshine-nightlight]

Courtship Confusion: Part One

You’ve been working with your siren partner for a couple years now. A consummate flirt, you’d initially been put off by his whole charming deal, somehow he's become your best friend. You’ve been wanting to see if he’s still interested in dating, but unfortunately he’s not picking up your hints. A pair of visiting cubi remind you of the cultural differences that come with interspecies dating. Maybe you’ve both been misunderstanding each other. Maybe it’s time you set the record straight.

Modern Fantasy, friends to lovers, siren/harpy, male monster x reader, Part 1 of 8

Ao3: Courtship Confusion Chapter 1

Part One

“Start blocking the exits, people. They’re making a run for it. Team Lure, you’re up,” the static-y voice says from your radio.

“Confirmed. Lure moving into position,” you answer for yourself and your partner before clipping the walkie talkie back onto your belt. You glance over to your partner who, per usual, looks far too unconcerned and cheerful for the mission of stopping a crew of smugglers. “Where do you want to set up?”

Morgan grins at you, sharp white teeth flashing even in this dim warehouse. “You know where.”

You stifle a grin of your own, knowing one of you needs to remain professional, and roll your eyes instead. “Wherever you can be the center of attention, right.”

He preens as he fluffs out his feathers. You only asked once how exactly his wings can go from resting comfortably and unobtrusively on his back, hardly seeming to take up any space at all, to a full wingspan that was enough to carry him. The highly technical arcane answer he’d given had been enough to serve as a reminder that, despite his carefree attitude, he was a fully licensed arcanist and make sure you never asked again. You’re the investigator and rules side of your inspector partnership—Morgan was the technical and social side. You liked it that way.

A career as an investigator of potentially illegal arcane workings isn’t nearly as glamorous or exciting as most people think it is. Most of the time it was just about handing out fines to people dabbling in things they shouldn’t and accidentally flooding their apartments or conjuring too many hamsters. But, sometimes, like today, you end up having to bust an illegal coven.

When containment spells failed and the criminals scattered, it’s your job to pull them all back. Well, mainly Morgan’s job.

From his high quality suit to his expertly applied eyeliner, he didn’t look the least bit like an inspector. Even the other department arcanists didn’t have his flare. Lively and cheerful where most were bored and weary, he breathed life wherever he went. And he loved to show off.

As you enter the large open area of the warehouse, you quickly begin setting up the broadcasting equipment—probably not needed, but protocol—while Morgan picks his spot. Within a few seconds, your carefully managed set up, ready to unfold for fieldwork in record time, is ready to go. You’re long practiced after being partnered these last couple of years.

Looking up, you find Morgan spreading his gorgeous black and white wings to alight on a stack of old pallets the cult left in this warehouse they’d been using as their base putting him several feet above everyone else.

“Careful!” you call despite knowing it's a lost cause.

Morgan flicks his wings in a careless, shrug-like gesture. “Worrywart,” he teases. You only have to give him a look to remind him of the incident with the ice for him to pout, the dark red of his lipstick making the expression obvious even with the height and distance. “That was one time! Are you set up?”

His voice is easily audible, as always, but you have to raise yours to reply, “Yeah, ready to go.”

He looks at you expectantly.

You put your hands on your hips to communicate ‘really? Do we need to do this every time?’ and he grins in response.

“Let the show begin!” you grudgingly prompt.

He’s no longer a performer by profession, but you can’t deny that's who he is in his heart. It’s hard to begrudge him the little bow he gives. Not when his eyes glitter with simple glee as he does so. “Thank you, darling.” Morgan clears his throat and closes his eyes, thankfully keeping him from noticing the effect the endearment had on you. Regrettably, the effect of him calling you “darling” to you has only gotten stronger with time.

Before you can dwell on it, Morgan makes a sort of clicking noise in the back of his throat. He’s tried to explain to you once why all of his songs started that way, but you’ve never truly understood. Not that it really matters because it’s always followed by him opening his mouth to sing.

A beautiful wordless melody begins to flow from him.

Haunting and alluring on its own, you know his siren song must be far more potent to the criminals he’s purposely luring back here. Every member of the team was introduced to Morgan before the operation began, so Morgan was able to exempt them. His control is impeccable, but they’re still liable to get distracted. Nothing magical about that. It’s hard not to when a master like Morgan sings.

Morgan primarily sings in the siren’s language when he performs spells such as this one. He says that for spellwork there’s simply more nuance and specificity in Soprety than in any other language when it comes to the subject of things such as lures, madness, lullaby and so on.

Despite knowing very little of the language, you still understand the message the song is trying to convey: where are you going? Come back, join me, this is where true happiness lies. Such is the power of a siren’s song. It’s hard to articulate the difference between the magical pull of a compulsion and the mere auditory pull of Morgan’s smooth voice. He’s never truly tried to compel you, but each time you hear him you have to put effort into focusing, into not simply basking in his voice. That’s only gotten worse the longer you’ve known him too, the more times you’ve heard him.

You don’t think it's that his singing is better, it’s only that it had seemed in the beginning, despite it’s obvious beauty even that first time, somewhat generic. Artificially or distantly beautiful. Now, his voice is so clearly entwined with who Morgan is, you can’t fathom how you thought it generic initially. His coaxing nature, always ready to persuade you to follow his lead, is woven through the words he sings as clearly as it is when he tries to convince you to take a coffee break. His promise of something better, something more fun and entertaining, if you only would listen. Of course, in this case, the outcome will only be entertaining for him. His seductive way of complimenting those he wants so that they will make the best choice by choosing him.

The music he makes is all very compelling is the point. You huff and focus back on the messages from the team—text since they’ve all got ear plugs in and don’t want to interfere with Morgan’s spell.  You don’t need the plugs, as his partner he can exempt you easily and you’ve practice functioning while he sings. Besides it's always good to have someone who can hear him in case he does need help. You check again to confirm how many you are nabbing. Seven, natural for a coven, even a criminal one. That means the rest of the operation didn’t manage to catch a single member.

Usually illegal covens are more subtle, caught due to smaller disturbances or the wrong people stumbling upon them on the wrong night. This crew has been smuggling truly nasty ingredients for dark magical spells, bewitching or killing anyone who tried to interfere. They’d been making a big enough splash despite their travels and have caught major heat by now.

The National Investigatory Agency has been tracking them. They followed the trail of memory loss and death they left in their wake. That’s not even mentioning the longer term problems that would impact a community after they’d traded their illegal and dangerous wares—increases in love potions, poisoning, and general curses. You’d managed to catch a break locally. Someone had lost their nerve about this year’s shipment in your city and your department was coordinating with the NIA for this capture. Well, at least your team was—truthfully most of the local office was just providing backup.

Morgan, as always, had a habit of disrupting the usual with just his presence. His skills had been enough to catch the head NIA officer’s attention and your captain had vouched for your effectiveness. As such, while NIA coordinated a wide-spread tracking net, your team would try to simply pull them back. It was a common enough play you two ran and this was no different.

There was some worry a witch might have protection, but most aren’t prepared for a siren song, not given how rare sirens are and especially inland. Besides, you’d unclicked the safety on your tranquilizer gun, that’s why you were here to watch Morgan’s back. He’d be pissed if you let someone interrupt his song.

Movement on your left draws your attention. A woman stumbles out from between to shipping crates, her expression muddled but searching, urgent. You check for the signs she’s ensnared as she walks closer. You’re only supposed to handle the ones who weren’t, so you let her approach once you’re convinced. When she spots Morgan, high on his perch and singing his heart out, a look of joy and greed takes over. She hurries towards him.

You wait a second before nudging a fellow officer with your boot. A transfer from another precinct, he’s not been involved in one of these operations before. He shakes himself, tearing his eyes away from Morgan to look at you. You jerk your head at the coven member and he blushes. Hastily pulling out his handcuffs, the orc goes to secure her while you train your tranq gun on the man darting out from a different doorway. This time an NIA member snags him before he can press up against the base crate Morgan’s on, for which you’re grateful.

Technically, Morgan should have crafted his spell so that the listeners won’t be too desperate to get to him, despite how he was enticing them. People will still react differently than each other so there’s no guarantee when trying to pull in a group like this. Morgan said that the more people, the less control he had over anything more than the base aim of the spell. A lullaby could put ten people to sleep, but they would likely all end up sleeping for different amounts, whereas if it was just one or two, he could control how long they slept for.

Similar thing here. He can pull them in and do his best to keep them calm, but there’s more margin for error. And Morgan’s one of the best there is. Arcane workings are always more complicated and nuanced than most people assume. If they weren’t, you’d be out of a job making sure any mistakes or malicious workings didn’t hurt anyone.

There’s a text that the NIA agents caught a pair on their own, meaning three more to go. It’s not long for them to join the others. The officers who are familiar with these types of stings are efficient, cuffing the ensnared with practiced ease.

You wait for the confirmation, all using sign language to confirm the criminals are secured. That’s your cue to whistle, two fingers in your mouth and loud enough to cut through Morgan’s song—you’ve had to practice. The whistle lets Morgan know you had them all and he flips his hand to show he’s heard. He’d never just cut off the song—for specific arcane reasons, but also because he considers it poor etiquette from a musician’s perspective. He carefully and artfully wraps up and slows down, gentling the song until it fades out.

You can’t help but feel as enraptured as the criminals are, although you try to hide it. It's too hard not to when you’re in love with him.

[thewiglesswonder]

Remember everybody, if you're writing body horror and end up asking yourself "does this sound vaguely sexual?" the answer is almost always yes and you should proceed with even more zeal.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Beach Episode (Part 19)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

Danny and Jason talked out their issues and dealt with it. Jason didn’t think he’d fuck up again, he’d felt so fucking bad, but Danny didn’t trust that. Which was fair, even if it hurt, he was going to have to prove that he meant it and could hold to it even when he was angry. He needed to get into therapy too, he’d been putting it off because he was scared, and protective of his identity, so much of the shit he’d seen and done was so hard to explain in a civilian situation.

But now that he was on slightly better terms with the JL he could prevail himself of one of their therapists. That ended up being the favour that Danny demanded from them was providing Jason with a therapist, one that wouldn’t be too judgmental of his… ‘methods’. They asked for Wonder Woman’s advice on that, which she was very happy to provide, relieved that Jason was facing up to his bad behaviour and taking steps to make it right. She’d been worried she was going to have to physically knock some sense into him.

The other favour that Danny asked for, not of the JL but from Jason, was not to complain about the family vacation that was being planned between Dick, Tim, Danny, and Alfred. Jason still didn’t love the idea but Danny gave him puppy dog eyes and insisted that it was needed to make him forgive Jason for his slip up. Necessary to make things right with his family and moving on, so he accepted it.

It took a lot of arranging and planning to get the family on vacation. They had to find a time everyone was available, find people they trusted to cover their patrols or cities, and of course agree on a destination. That was harder than you would expect, especially when Bruce got involved and tried to insist it should be in the deep woods somewhere and be a training exercise more than anything.

In the end he was shouted down and it was decided that they were going to go to a beach somewhere warm and sunny. Far enough away from any of their usual haunts that they wouldn’t feel the urge to work as long as there weren’t any natural disasters and Tim was kept off his ipad. Since it was a family vacation Danny invited Ellie and Dan too, though he wasn’t sure that Dan would come. Half of him hoped he wouldn’t because having Dan there was bound to be complicated, but they had decided to be family so Danny was going to put his money where his mouth was. 

Dan had been doing well anyway, he hadn’t missed any check ins and hadn’t caused any chaos in space. So he at least deserved an invite, whether he wanted to come or not. They had a check in two weeks before the trip so Danny brought it up with him then.

“A family vacation huh?” Dan asked, they were ‘sitting’ on a broken satellite which was still orbiting earth through inertia.

“Ya, God knows the Wayne's need it. And honestly so do I. Ellie will be coming too, and you're welcome too if you want to,” Danny said with a little shrug.

“And draw more attention from the GIW onto both of you?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Ya, but they already know Phantom is back and working with the Justice League now. I really don't think they're brave enough to touch us now. And if they try to, with all three of us together with the bats? Frankly I'd like to see them try. Maybe it would give the Justice League the push they need to really give them the smack down.” 

Dan snorted a little at Danny, he still didn't expect that ferocity from his younger self. “Ya I guess so,” he agreed with a crooked little smile.

“But if that was an excuse and you just don't want to come, that's fine. I don't want to push you, I just don't want you to feel left out since we decided we're family now,” Danny explained.

“Nah, I want to come. I want to meet my future brother in law,” Dan said with an absolutely feral smile.

“Oh dear,” Danny said faintly. “That doesn't sound good. Is it too late to uninvite you?” 

“Oh absolutely,” Dan cackled wickedly. “If you're going to be my little brother I should get to vet your boyfriend,” he teased, reaching over to ruffle Danny's hair and laughing when Danny smacked his hand away.

“Fine, you'll be a better judge than some people since I'm assuming we have the same opinions about violence?” He asked, glancing at Dan.

“I think I'm probably even more down for it then you are, but ya. Why?”

“Batman tried to stage an intervention about Jason hitting me. Trying to explain to them that I was totally fine with it and kinda liked it suuucked,” Danny groaned, flopping back dramatically as Dan laughed at him.

“Poor you,” Dan said, entirely unsympathetic. Danny flipped him off. “I'll probably give him shit about it.”

“Just don't scare him off. I really like this guy. If you pull anything I swear I'll spend the rest of our eternity making sure you never get a date!” 

“Sheesh, that's a serious threat kid! As long as he's not a wimp I won't scare him off. If I do scare him off he wasn’t a good fit for you in the first place,” Dan pointed out reasonably.

“Fine, I'll be keeping an eye on you though,” Danny warned.

“Of course you will, I'd expect nothing less after everything I've done,” Dan agreed dryly. “I'm surprised you're letting me be around your new found family at all.”

“Ya, well, you're one of my new found family as well.”

“Shit.”

“If you didn't want to be part of my found family you should have killed me when you had the chance!” 

“IS THAT A FUCKING MEME?!”

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

All the Wayne’s could have asked their respective flying friends to give them a lift to the resort, but it had been decided no kryptonians were invited. They were trying to keep things to their family, though Dick was bringing Kori, that was fine they had been together off and on for years and were well settled together this time. She might as well be an in-law already. So she would be flying Dick in from Bludhaven, and everyone else was going to fly out from Gotham in the Waynes’ private jet. Well, the Waynes and Babs and Steph, who had taken a little more convincing to come, getting past their insistence they weren’t actually family being the trick. Thankfully the fact that the phantom siblings were coming too helped them see it wasn’t only a trip for the Waynes, and with different heroes and allies found to cover protecting Gotham they were bundled onto the private jet as well. 

 Which Danny and Ellie teased Bruce and Tim relentlessly about owning, Jason snickering in the background and egging on the two ghostly siblings in their teasing. They deserved it, no matter how much Bruce tried to defend that it was expected of him to have a private jet and he needed it for business! 

Teasing didn’t stop them from enjoying it though, Ellie chasing Tim around the isles, with Alfred chiding but not actually trying to stop them from having their fun and being kids for once.  Danny spent half the time exploring and stealing any snacks he found, and half the time murmuring in Jason’s ear about how they should steal the jet to join the mile high club. It was sweet torture and Jason did not want it to stop even as he shifted awkwardly and tried desperately to think unsexy thoughts so he wouldn’t get a boner surrounded by his family! Thank fuck Dick wasn’t here, the knowing smirks he’d be shooting the two of them would be too much.

It was a 16 hour flight, and once Ellie and Tim tired themselves out and fell asleep Bruce pulled out a sleep mask and settled in. Danny gave them this, it was much more comfortable to sleep in, and Jason and Danny slept soundly, at least until Ellie got bored and pounced on Danny. They phased out through the wall of the plane to go for a fly, racing the jet and flying loops around it until Ellie got tired and Danny had to help her back into the jet when she started to fall behind. 

Everyone else had started to wake up while they were gone, so by the time they got back it was just in time to have a family breakfast, and talk about what they were going to do once they landed. They had booked the entire top floor of the resort for privacy, which Danny thought was kind of overkill, but these were The Bats, they were incredibly security minded people, so he didn’t argue about it. Danny was mostly excited about swimming, this was a beach vacation after all!

Finally they landed, and grabbed as much of their stuff as they could from the plane before the bellhops could get them, as if all the staff hadn’t already been vetted by Babs. They were only staying for a week so they didn’t have so much they couldn’t reasonably carry it, and Danny suspected at least Tim had some stuff in his bags he would not want anyone else to see. He was going to keep an eye on the younger man to make sure that he hadn’t smuggled any work with him on vacation. 

They piled out of the plane, chattering excitedly about the vacation, Dick coming onto the plane to help Babs on the slightly too steep ramp from the plane. Kori was waiting for them on the tarmac with a warm smile, taking a couple of the heavier bag.

“We already picked out her room on the left side. I suspect Jason and Danny will want to be on the right, and the… single, and younger members of the family should be in the middle so we all have some place,” Kori suggested. 

“Kori!” Dick chided, though he clearly wasn’t actually shocked. Actually those who’d known the two of them for a while knew that was far more delicately put then she might have said it a couple years ago.

“What?” She said, blinking her bright green eyes innocently at Dick. “This is a romantic destination, and we love each other, we are only doing what is surely expected of a loving romantic union. I doubt your father wants to hear-”

“YES thank you Kori you’re right. We’ll make sure you and Dick, and Jason and Danny have your privacy,” Bruce promised.

Before the conversation could continue Ellie shrieked and dropped her bags, taking off running away from the group. It startled everyone, but hackles smoothed immediately when they spotted Dan, strolling across the lot to meet her at a more casual pace. He rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face as he bent down to scoop Ellie up before she could headbutt him in the gut at full sprint. He was wearing regular clothes, a black shirt and pants with white stripes down the side, and his fiery hair had been gathered into a low ponytail. He still looked obviously inhuman with his grey-green skin and red eyes, but there were all sorts of meta-humans around and he didn’t look like a supervillain at least. 

Ellie scrambled from in his arms to onto his shoulders as he grumbled at her without any real heat behind it. He shrugged his shoulders, making her squeak and hold on tight as he strolled over to the rest of the group.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Danny said, approaching Dan and patting his arm.

“Hey I told you I would,” Dan said ruffling Danny’s hair and ignoring the way the humans around them shifted nervously. Danny was either ignoring it as well or hadn’t noticed the nerves.

“I don’t believe we’ve met!” Kori said cheerfully, holding out her hand to shake. 

“Hey, I’m Dan. I’m these two’s big brother, by technicality,” Dan joked, gesturing to Danny and Ellie with his free hand, shaking her hand and squeezing too hard. He looked impressed when her smile only brightened and she squeezed back just as hard. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Kori, I’m Dick’s partner,” She said brightly. “You seem strong, we should spar some time soon.”

“I’d like that,” Dan agreed with a shark's grin. Grunting and dropping the smile when Danny elbowed him in the side. 

“Behave,” Danny grumbled at him, getting a growl and an eye roll in return, before his gaze landed on Jason. 

“And you must be Danny’s boyfriend huh?” He asked, letting go of Kori’s hand and offering it to Jason.

“Ya, I am. It’s nice to meet you. He warned me about you,” Jason said, standing up straight and shaking Dan’s hand firmly, trying not to wince when he squeezed it far too tightly. 

“I’m sure he did. I warned me about messing with you too,” Dan cackled, letting go of Jason’s hand before it could crack and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Right, well now that everyone’s met each other let’s head inside hm?” Bruce interrupted trying to shoo them all towards the door. They were starting to attract attention standing out in the open like this. “We should pick out our rooms and get comfortable.”

“Ellie, how do you feel about sharing a room with Dan?” Danny asked, glancing up at his young clone, still perched on Dan’s broad shoulders. 

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Both Dan, and Ellie said at the same time before looking at each other, startled as Danny laughed.

“You’d both be absolutely terrible babysitters,” He said fondly. He expected them to get into a good deal of chaos together, but he did think that Ellie would keep Dan from killing anyone, or get Danny if things got completely out of control. 

“Fine, we’ll share,” Dan sighed, and Ellie nodded. 

“Thanks guys,” Danny said, smiling at his siblings before grabbing Jason’s hand and tugging him towards the door. “Come on, let’s go find the most extravagant room we can!”

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

There was a bit of a scramble for rooms, not that there weren’t plenty of rooms, but Step, Dick, and Tim were petty and silly and argued over the ‘best’ rooms. And of course once they started Ellie had to get in on the action. Danny and Jason left the younger ones (and Dick) to their squabbling and went to pick out their own room as far away from the rest as they could manage. They found a lovely one with an airy, beachy theme and a window seat looking out onto the ocean.

“It’s beautiful here,” Danny said, sitting down on the padded bench in front of the window and making grabby hands at Jason.

“Is it,” Jason chuckled, going to sit with Danny, who practically dived into Jason’s arms. “I wouldn’t want to live in a place like this, but it is very nice to visit.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you're a Gothemite and a bat! If it’s not a little close, dark, or gloomy you stand out like a sore thumb,” Danny teased, nuzzling against the underside of Jason’s jaw, who laughed along. “I like our home and our nest though, it’s cozy,” Danny added before Jason could get insecure about it.

“Me too, do you want to unpack first or go exploring?” Jason asked softly.

“As much as I want to go exploring, I think we had better unpack before anyone tries to kick us out of our room by throwing out our bags,” Danny said with a put upon sigh, going nearly boneless against Jason’s chest. 

“You know you’re going to have to get up for us to unpack, right?”

“Noooo!”

-----------

The resort really was beautiful, and since they’d rented an entire floor it wasn’t as crowded as they were sure it usually was. Danny had never been to a place like this and he intended to make the most of it, all of it! The beach, the spa, and the incredibly fucking fancy restaurant and bar where he and Jason could actually drink since the Maldieves actually had a reasonable drinking age! 

Over the course of the week they got couples messages, got so drunk they had to lean on each other to get back to their room, and ordered far too much room service. But undoubtedly the beach was absolutely the main attraction. They spent a lot of time there, to the point Danny got a tan, and Jason was very glad he didn’t burn like Bruce did, who spent most of the second day laying on his stomach in bed with Alfred scolding him about not refreshing his sunscreen after swimming. On the second day Danny remembered he didn’t strictly have to breathe! And Jason spent the rest of the day sitting on the beach while Danny (and Ellie or Dan in turns) disappeared into the water for hours and came back to tell him about everything they saw.

On the third day Jason rented some scuba equipment so he could go down with his boyfriend and see all the wonders he’d been so excited about. At least the ones in shallower waters, he couldn’t follow Danny deeper where the pressure got too much, when Danny realized that he stuck to the shallower areas. By the time they got back to shore Jason was exhausted and very ready for supper, which was a family affair every night of the trip. It was really nice, since Alfred didn’t have to cook he could actually join them and he kept it from being too rowdy. 

They had to push tables together to accommodate the whole family, but the Waynes had more than enough money to get away with it and establish an extra long table for themselves for the entire week of their stay. They tended to eat late, which worked too because there were fewer people for them to disturb with their chatter and chaos, and the eleven of them were usually more than enough for the kitchen to contend with since most of them were big eaters. The dinners were really nice, it didn’t have the baggage of being at the manor, and though they’d met up in smaller groups all of them (minus Kate who had opted out) had never been in the same place. 

It was the perfect opportunity for… something, something that Dick unfortunately beat Jason too on the third night, during dessert when he got up from the table, and got down on one knee in front of Kori. Silence fell over the entire restaurant as Jason bit back a groan and quickly readjusted his expectations to be happy for his brother. 

“Koriand'r, you and I have been together for a long time, and we’ve been through a lot of shit. But never have I not been happy you were there with me for it. You’ve made all of it easier by letting me be by your side, and I hope you’ll let me stick by you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes!” Kori yelped, holding out her hand and letting him put the ring on her finger before she grabbed his wrist and his collar and hauled him in for a passionate kiss as the family cheered and everyone around clapped politely. “You’ll have to come with me to pick out a ring for you as well My Love,” Kori told him warmly while Dick grinned like an idiot. 

“Congratulations!” Steph cheered, practically leaping over the table to tackle both of them as Bruce ordered a few bottles of the best champagne the resort could offer and everyone else lined up to congratulate them as well. Besides Dan, who was being ignored as he grumbled in the corner about how ostentatious and cliche the whole thing was. 

Hey, maybe if Danny secretly shared some of those thoughts Jason had dodged a bullet not being able to propose on this trip. He’d come up with a new plan, one Danny might even like better.